#hoh!reader

[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.

[littlebirdygirlywriting]

Ooohhhh!!!! I love it. I love it SO MUCH!!! 😍

I’ve (surprisingly) thought a lot about how Matt would date a hoh/deaf individual.

And this was just the sweet, heartwarming scenario I thought it would be! It’s making me a little teary. 🥹

read my hands/read my mind

author's note: y'all ever had to finger spell directly into someones hands to communicate? nothing quite like it! also disclaimer, this is just one hoh voice and experience, and not universal for everyone that is deaf/hoh.

contents: fluff, matt murdock x reader, gender neutral reader, deaf/hoh reader & uses sign language while talking, sushi and a movie date night with matt

word count: 1.7k

Matt had started learning ASL quite early in your relationship, trying to find as many resources he could that catered to blind learners. You both knew it was a bit ironic that you were hard of hearing and Matt was blind, the major form of communication for one person was a struggle for the other. It made things interesting, and ultimately an interesting daily challenge.

Some days your hearing was better than others, and some days your hearing aids seemed pointless. Today was one of those days. You couldn't hear much, if anything at all, everything was unclear and wobbly, unstable and unmanageable. The first tell being waking up to Matt shaking you, mouth moving but no sound.

Matt kept his hands on your back, shaking you still when you opened your eyes and rubbed the sleep out of them. He was still talking, but to no avail.

Lipreading was an art and a science, and Matt unfortunatley in the morning was a mess of words, most of them slurred with sleepiness. The most you got from him was every other word. Something about him thinking you were awake when he got out of bed to find you still sleeping when he was doing the final touches.

And then he mouthed, 'oh you can't hear today.' He nodded and pointed at the side table where your hearing aids were charging. He waited for you to put your hands in his and sign. Sometimes your voice was reliable, but it was too early and silence filled your throat.

You put your hand against his and signed 'no' before throwing the covers off your body and sitting up.

Matt wasn't the greatest at sign, but could finger spell and have basic converstion. Once you stood, sliding on your slippers and making your way to the closet to find clothes for work, he waved to get your attention, pointing then to the kitchen and signing 'food' with his eyebrows down.

You hummed in affirmation, doing your best to wake up your vocal chords.

Matt smiled, signed 'i love you,' and left the room for you to get ready.

You could smell breakfast being cooked in the other room, unable to hear the sizzling of the skillet or plop of orange juice into a glass.

You put your clothes on, settling on something basic and casual to stay comfortable at work, before grabbing a pair of oxfords and sitting on the edge of the bed to tie them.

Matt returned to the bedroom doorway and waved again, waiting for you to look up at him and confirm attention verbally.

"Hmm." You looked up and whispered, "Matty?"

"Hi love," He signed as he spoke, hoping maybe your brain and ears needed to just adjust to being awake, "Breakfast is ready. Eat with me?"

You hummed again, standing up to join him, grabbing his arm to walk.

"Matty, looks so good." You voice sounded distant and un-resonant, having to trust your voice over your hearing to confirm you were making any sound.

"Let's eat" Matt signed and spoke, raising a glass to cheers.

When you both finished breakfast, Matty wrote down his plans for hte day on the dry erase calender in the kitchen. You wrote your own schedule, and once you had both reviewed, you confirmed dinner plans.

'See you later, baby' Matt signed, handing you your keys and bag before opening the door for you to walk together.

'Love you Matt.'

'Love you.'

Work went about as good as it could when you couldn't hear, most people opting to send you emails or write on the notepad you kept on your desk for days like these.

Eventually sounds came back to you, just a little bit, but making everything more tolerable and clearer. You hadn't brought your hearing aids thinking it wouldn't get much better throughout the day, which probably wasn't the brightest idea, but the decision you made regardless. As the clocks moved closer and closer to 5pm, you became impatient, unable to sit still, packing your bag far too early and having to look busy for about 10 minutes.

One of your coworkers, Alex, walked to your office, waving to catch you attention and started signing about office gossip they'd heard throughotu the day that you hadn't been privy to yet. Almsot no one knew ASL at work, and this was one of the moments where that was a good thing.

Once you both had finished the conversation, you signed goodbye to Alex, and made your way down the elevator and out the lobby, waving goodbye to the desk staff there.

Once you had gotten home, you unpacked your bag, put on clothes for dinner with Matt, and placed the hearing aids around your ears, turning them on and using a YouTube video as a sound base to adjust the volume levels correctly. You sat down on the couch and scrolled through Twitter for a while.

Matt got home not long after you did, opening the door and unpacking his bag once he walked around the entry way to the dining table.

You turned back to look at him, Matt immediatly lighting up with a smile.

He signed the beginning of his sentence before realizing he could hear the buzzing of your hearing aids.

"Better than this morning?" He loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt.

"Mmhm. Not a lot, but enough to wear them. Still fuzzy and muddled together but working through it." You signed as you spoke, both out of habit and as a method of confort even though Matt couldn't see it. "Missed your voice."

Matt appraoched you on the couch, sitting next to you to pull you into his chest carefully, holding you to him.

"Well then I should keep talking, hmm?" He was leaned in, mouth near your ears to make sure you could hear the nuances in his voice. He started kissing there under your ear and across your jaw.

"Keep it in your pants, tiger. We got dinner plans." You placed your hands in his to sign, trying to be slow enough for him to keep up.

"Let me get dressed and then we can go." He signed back into your hands, speaking as well.

He got up to change, leaving you on the couch happy and buzzed with affection.

When he emerged out of the bedroom, you took his hands and grabbed your bag to leave.

"Sushi still okay? That place on the corner is doing happy hour right now." Matt said grabbing his cane.

"Yes, please."

He led you out of the apartment building, taking your arm to look like you were guiding him.

"Just one more block, left at the light." He pointed ahead, signing key words to help you in the sound nightmare of NYC.

Once you got to the restaurant, Matt asked for a table a bit isolated to give you a better chance at focusing on his voice and not distracted by the cities distorition.

Once they sat you, the waiter came by with cucumber waters, giving you a minute to look over the menus.

"What're you thinking, baby?" Matt felt your body become overwhelmed, heart pounding. "Tell me what you want and I can order when they come back."

"Cali roll with crab, eggplant roll, hmmm, edamame, and maybe the fried tofu." You pointed as you spoke hoping it would help you remain focused.

'Drink?'

"Lemonade, please."

'Got it.' Matt signed, taking a moment to put it all to memory.

The waiter came back and Matt ordered for both of you with ease, looking over at you ever other word to make sure you were still okay.

"Sounds good. We'll have that right out." The waiter said, closing their notebook and walking away.

'How was work?' You signed and spoke to Matt, your hands in his again.

"Foggy and I goofed the whole day to Karen's dismay. I think she's sick of us." He said, laughing.

'People at work were kind to me today but I just think they feel bad for me. Alex told me the office gossip. Boring day.'

"Good thing we're here then."

The food was brought out pretty quickly, you and Matt eating everything without a word.

He payed the check and smiled. 'Home?'

'Home.'

You walked back together, Matt signing stories the whole way home with one hand while the other held onto your upper arm.

When he opened the door you about collapsed, exhausted from the day.

He half-carried you to the bedroom, supporting most of your weight.

'Let's get these off you.' He signed, reaching for your hearing aids waiting for confirmation to remove them.

Once you nodded he gently unwrapped them from around your ears, placing them in the case and making sure they charged by listening for the hum of the battery working.

You were slumped on the bed still, itching to get out of the clothes you had on.

'Too much. Hearing Fatigued?' Matt said working at the buttons of his shirt to start getting undressed. 'Help you?'

You signed, with a verbal yes, sitting up for Matt to start stripping you.

'Movie? Couch?'

"Yes, and yes."

He hung up both sets of y'alls clothes and grabbed two of his oversized shirts, one for him and one for you.

Matt reached a hand out for you to grab, helping move you to the couch. He grabbed the remote, scrolling through options.

'New or usual?'

Matt had messed with the TV settings so the sound was audio descriptions of each scene, and the text was captions for you to read.

"Usual."

Nights like this felt simple, even with all the complications. Matt would sign, you would speak. It was nice. It felt like being safe.

He sorted through your favorite movies in his head, eventually spelling out a few names. 'Crimson Peak? Shrek? Train to Busan?'

"Those are silly options."

'American Psycho?'

"That sounds good to me."

'Start?'

"Mmhm."

Matt hit the speak button on the remote, pulling up the movie and starting it with ease.

You leaned into his body, cuddling into his side, looking up at his face.

"I love you."

'Love you.'

[sillylittlespam]

say you wanna quit, don’t be stupid ! leo valdez x reader

summary : in which leo stupidly puts himself in danger under the assumption that no one on the argo ii cares. but when he comes back alive, he realizes (y/n) cares.

author’s note! this is short and based on an idea i had last night soooo enjoy!

warnings : cursing, leo is borderline(?) suicidal (canon tbh argue with the wall), may or may not have a sequel idk

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Leo had a habit of being reckless. It wasn’t as if he actively looked for ways to almost die, he just didn’t have that much to live for. Not in the attention-seeking, “no one cares about me” kind of way, just that for most of his life he didn’t have anyone who would be particularly distraught if he died.

He had assumed that was the way things still were, despite his change in scenery. Building the Argo II had earned him a bit of cred amongst the other crew members, but it was still an unspoken agreement that everyone had their thing going on, and Leo had his. With all of the couples and lifelong friends, Leo just didn’t fit into any of that, and he had accepted it. 

Which was why he didn’t think twice before nearly sacrificing himself during a monster attack. After a straight week of flying, Festus needed a break, otherwise the ship might just stop moving and pummel into the Mediterranean Sea. Thus, they made a pit stop on some Mediterranean island that Leo didn’t know the name of. 

He didn’t remember exactly how it happened, just that he ended up being the one to try and lure the monster away, before ultimately introducing it to its fire-y doom. There was the large chance that the monster would pummel him or slice him open with its poisonous claws (he still wasn’t exactly sure what kind of monster it was, but he learned the hard way that a scratch from the claws made his head spin sideways and his vision go blurry), but he didn’t mind. Either he came back alive, or… well, it wasn’t something he thought about too much. 

He wasn’t surprised to see the looks of relief that came over everyone’s face at the sight of his very much alive body. Yeah, they cared. But not too much. 

He let Piper drag him down to a sitting position and began to apply some sort of ointment on to the slash across his shoulder that sat dangerously close to his neck. The ointment had a cooling sensation, like when you put toothpaste on your lips. He had to blink a couple times in order to focus his eyes. He suddenly realized he felt hot. Very hot. And his arms felt very heavy.

“…definitely out of it,” Piper said, and he turned his attention back to her, flinching at the sight of her face far too close to him, “-must have some sort of toxin…bet he doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Yes I do,” he muttered. His voice sounded loud in his ears, as if it were competing with the drum beat of his heart.

Piper turned her head back to him, “Whadja say?”

He knew she had heard him, so he didn’t bother repeating himself. His eyes scanned the group that hovered just out of reach. Their eyes held concern, not for him, but for how they would’ve felt had he not survived. He looked across the crowd again, and again, and again, and his face fell. Where was (y/n)?

“Does it hurt? Sorry,” Piper muttered, her eyes picking up on his frown as she pressed something against his wound. He didn’t know what on earth she was doing. He had lost sense of any feeling in that side of the body after she had put the ointment on him.

“No, it’s fine,” he said, offhandedly. If there was one person on the Argo II that he thought would care more, it was (y/n). Leo had connected with her because they were the only two who weren’t romantically involved with anyone on the ship, so they had a lot of movie nights and late night discussions on a variety of topics. While he knew they weren’t super close, he liked to think that they were still friends. So where the hell was she?

He looked over the faces again, as if somehow hoping that (y/n) would appear next to them. Hazel, Frank, Jason, Annabeth, Nico. Nico, Annabeth, Jason, Frank, Hazel. Hazel, Frank-

Wait, where was Percy?

“Oh my Gods!” The sound of (y/n)’s cry made him turn his head so quickly it startled Piper and made the side of his body with the cut tingle. Maybe it should hurt? He knew it definitely shouldn’t feel this way. But he didn’t care. Not right now. 

Piper moved out of the way, and before he knew it, (y/n)’s face was buried in his unharmed shoulder, her arms were thrown around his torso, and she was practically sitting on top of him.

Looking over her head, he watched as the other crew members all awkwardly found something else to do. Annabeth walked over to Percy, who had made his appearance by jogging out of the woods, not far behind (y/n).

“She was so frantic, I had to tell her we found him like, three times before she understood,” he said to Annabeth, his eyes meeting Leo’s from around ten feet away, and Leo realized that he was the “he” Percy was referring to, “As soon as I said he was alive, she started running. That girl is fast.”

“Well, whatever that thing injected into him was some sort of venom,” Annabeth said, “We don’t think it’s life-threatening, but he's as high as Olympus and doesn’t know what’s going on.”

Speaking of (y/n), it wasn’t until he noticed the growing wet spot on his shirt that he realized she was crying. A lot.

“Hey, hey, it’s alright,” he wrapped his arms around her. Her arms tightened their hold around his torso, and he winced. He might have a bruised rib. He brought his hand up to pet her hair, like he had done on several previous occasions. Her hair was so soft. It reminded him of a patch of sweet-smelling moss, so comforting and-

Without any notice, (y/n) was on the ground next to him, and she used her hands to shove him. Then she began to hit him, but not hard. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t really feel it.

“The fuck?” he asked, surprised to see the angry look on her face.

“You- stupid- fucking- idiot!” (y/n) yelled, each word coming with another punch, “I thought you died! Why the fuck would you do that to me?”

The hitting had stopped, and she was looking at him as if she wanted a real answer. That made him think. Why did he do that to her?

“I dunno,” he said truthfully, and his lips felt heavy, “I wasn’t thinking.. ‘m sorry, (y/n).”

Watching the way he could barely sit up by himself, the anger slowly drained from (y/n)’s face, until all that was left was a sort of softness that Leo couldn’t place.

“Don’t do that shit ever again,” and suddenly she looked sad. Really sad, like she was about to start crying. She was that distraught over losing him?

“I won’t,” he said, and he meant it. If she cared that much about him… well, he cared too much about her to make her go through that again, “I promise.”

Her lips pressed together in an unstable line, and he opened his arms. Without hesitation, she accepted the invitation and hugged him again, this time her face pressed against his chest, her head tucked under his chin.

“‘m really sorry,” he muttered into her hair, his hand rubbing soft circles into her back. He still felt surprised. He didn’t know he meant this much to her. (y/n) was the type of person who didn’t let a lot of people in, so he knew it was a big deal for her to be holding onto him like he would disappear if she let go.

Percy and Annabeth watched from a good distance away, close enough to see the dazed but sensitive look on Leo’s face as he held (y/n), but far enough that the two demigods couldn’t hear them.

“I remember when we were like that,” Annabeth sighed, a sort of maternal look on her face.

“The one thing that kept me from dying was knowing that if I did, you would find me in the Underworld and make me regret it,” Percy grinned at the unamused stare that he received from his girlfriend.

The couple fell silent as they not-creepily continued to watch (y/n) and Leo.

“How long do you think it’ll take?” Percy asked.

“For them to realize they like each other, or for them to do something about it?” Annabeth asked.

“Both.”

“A long time.”

“This will be interesting.”

[digitalfishwish]

I wanted to put out a post asking if there are any black nonverbal or deaf/HoH people who use BASL who would be willing to consult on an animation project?

My junior year of art school starts this fall, and I will begin working of my junior-senior thesis 3D animation, where the main character is a black nonbinary person who, in the beginning and ending scenes, is seen communicating with sign language. I am white and more-or-less abled-hearing (I have Auditory Processing Disorder but I don’t know if that counts), but I know there are differences between ASL and BASL, and I wanted to have a lot of sensitivity around using this dialect accurately and respectfully.

The consultation would involve taking videos of your hands as you sign the ‘dialogue’ I have written, which would then be used as a reference in the 3D animation. I am a relatively broke student but I am willing to pay for your consultation. Please DM me if you’re interested!

Note: I apologize in advance if I have mistakenly used any offensive terms in this post, I tried to do a lot of research but I’m sure I have shortcomings and gaps in my knowledge.

[kikiiidym]

"Coward!!"

Warnings! : None!!

Pairing!: Nico di Angelo x reader (you).

A/N!: Angsty💔.

Nico di Angelo x Reader

The moon was full over Camp Half-Blood, silver light stretching across the trees like a quiet warning.You shouldn’t have been awake. No one should’ve been.But you were.Something pulled you from sleep—a sound you couldn’t place at first.

Footsteps over gravel, slow and deliberate. The faint rustle of shadows brushing past tree trunks like a breath exhaled from the Underworld.Your heart sank.

Nico.

You didn’t even bother changing out of your pajama shirt. You just grabbed your shoes and bolted.You knew this feeling. That ache in your ribs? It was dread. It wasn’t the first time Nico had disappeared in the middle of the night, but something about this time felt wrong. He didn’t vanish like this when he needed air—this was goodbye.

You found him just past the cabins, a black duffel bag slung over his shoulder, sword sheathed at his back. Shadows clung to him like loyal dogs. He didn’t even look at you.“Nico,” you said, breath catching in your throat. “Where do you think you’re going?”He paused mid-step. Didn’t turn.

“I’m leaving,” he said, voice flat. Resigned. Like it had already happened. Like he was already gone.

Your stomach twisted. “You’re what?”He turned slowly, eyes meeting yours—and gods, they were hollow. Dark bags under his eyes, jaw clenched tight like he was holding something back. The air around him felt heavier, colder. “I don’t belong here.” You shook your head before the words had even finished leaving his mouth. “That’s not true.”

“It is,” he said sharply, and it hit like a slap. “You just don’t want it to be.”

You stepped forward, fists clenching.

“You have a cabin here. You have friends. You have me.” He laughed bitterly. “And that’s supposed to fix everything? I’m still me. I’m still... wrong for this place.”

“No,” you snapped. “You are not wrong for this place. The gods put you here for a reason—” He cut you off. “The gods put me in a goddamn hotel for seventy years and forgot about me. You think they care where I end up now?” His words made your skin crawl. You took another step toward him, and he took one back.

“I’m the son of Hades,” he said, voice rising. “Do you even get what that means? I walk into a room and people get quiet. I talk to the dead. I am the dead. Do you know how it feels to sit at dinner surrounded by people who glow, who laugh, who have futures they can actually dream about—while I’m the damn grim reaper at the edge of the table?”

“That’s not who you are, Nico!”

“Then who am I?! ” he shouted, and the shadows around him flickered violently. “The kid who’s always too late to save anyone?!The one who watches people die and carries their names like tombstones?! The ghost prince no one knows what to say to?! TELL ME.”

Your voice trembled. “You’re not alone—”

“I am alone!” he roared. “I’ve always been alone! And don’t act like holding my hand in the dark changes that.”

You flinched.

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers trembling. “I tried,” he said hoarsely. “I tried. I built my stupid cabin. I trained. I sat at the campfires and watched people laugh and fall in love and find homes. And every time I thought maybe—maybe—I was getting close to that, I remembered: I don’t belong in the light.”

Tears stung your eyes. “You do belong.”

He looked at you like he wanted to believe you, but couldn’t.

“You don’t know what it’s like. To be so used to the dark that light burns.”

“Then let me stay with you in the dark,” you said, pleading. “Let me learn how to move through it with you.” He looked away. “I’ll hurt you,” he muttered. “That’s what I do. I push people away. I fail them. I let them down. I destroy everything I touch.”

“No,” you said through gritted teeth. “You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to make this decision for me. You don’t get to push me away and call it protection. That’s not love, Nico—it’s cowardice.”

His eyes widened a little, caught off guard by your anger.

“And if you think you can leave and I’ll just let you—no. I’m not letting you walk away thinking no one would care. You think disappearing will make the pain stop? You think leaving is the answer? It’s not.”

He looked like he wanted to say something. Maybe even scream. But he didn’t. So you stepped closer. Your voice cracked, loud and desperate.

“I love you, Nico di Angelo. And I’m not going to let you tear yourself away like none of this matters.” He inhaled sharply. “We’ll figure it out together,” you said, voice breaking, desperate and your nails digging into your palm. “Because I’m not going to watch you destroy yourself just to keep pretending you’re unlovable. I see you. All of you. The darkness, the pain, the fear—and I still choose you. Every single damn time.”

His lips parted, but no words came out.Your voice was shaking now, your hands trembling. “You want to leave? Fine. Go. But if you walk past that border, you walk out of my life like a coward. And I will come after you. Not to drag you back. But to remind you—every time you look behind you—that you left something worth staying for.”

Silence.

Then slowly, painfully, he dropped the bag. It hit the ground with a dull thud, and Nico just stood there. He looked at you like you were a sunrise he didn’t think he was allowed to watch. His hands were clenched at his sides, body shaking.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. He didn’t move at first.

Then he collapsed into you.

He buried his face in your shoulder and held you like he was afraid he’d fall apart if he let go. His grip was desperate, fingers digging into the fabric of your shirt.

“I know,” you whispered into his hair. “But you’re not alone anymore. Not ever again.”

Guys I'm on a ROLL w these angsty shots or whatever you call them, I'M SORRY. — Kiki Ი︵𐑼

[sunny-mercya]

Protective

Poly! Billy and Stu x Male Reader (Mention of HOH – Hard of Hearing)

Masterlist

Unfinished

Stu hadn't felt this nervous since.....actually, he doesn't remember being nervous in the past before. Clammy hands and the need to pick and pull at something, were clear signs of it though, that he knew.

Billy elbows him in the side, ringing for him the doorbell. It wasn't like as if they visit you for the very first time at your home—had been over more than once and the amount of sleepover and weekends staying were countless.

It's a bit different today though, so Billy gets it why Stu would feel hesitantly nervous.

«You think his Dad knows about what had happen today in school?» asked Stu, hands holding onto his school bag, whipping back and forth on his heels.

«Probably. He picked [Name] up during lunch and the nurse or Kelly might have said something.» Billy shrugged his shoulders, debating if they should just go through the garden and into the kitchen. It is, in a way, basically a sort of second home for them.

Billy and Stu had a few fears of their own, everyone does and a few of them they share in common would be; getting caught, losing you—be it by some cruel mishap of fate and accidentally killing you or you deciding to break with them, which they never would allow to happen though—and your dads anger.

They wouldn't say that your dad is one of those rumoured scary type of, single, parent—but the man does know how to bring out a knee buckling cold sweat from them. Especially when the anger might be directed at them, because they have done something to upset you and god forbid to upset you.

Billy was about to ring again, when the doors opens and coming face to face with Kelly, who looked at them with raised brows. As always she wore her sunglasses on top of her head, her brown hair—for once, a rare sight—not being open and in a messy bun.

«Aah! The double package. Before I let you two in, Uncle franny doesn't know details of what had happen, but he knows that something had happen.» Kelly tells them, chewing her gum annoying obnoxiously, moving just a bit away from the door to grant them entrance.

The seductive smell of Lasagna and Pizza—which lingers heavy in the air—was, besides the absolute musical silence today, one of the first things they took notice of.

«You two stay for dinner and overnight, boys?» Francis, your dad had insisted to be called by his first name—privileges only they got to have though—walking out of the kitchen, drying his hands up on a kitchen-towel and giving them a welcoming smile. Out of habit, he had signed the his question.

Billy only nodded his head, giving a return of "yes" and "okay" signs, albeit sloppy. Still getting the hang of sign language, even when he and Stu was learning it for 2 years now.

~~~

Walking about the stairs, the boys enter your room without knocking—you wouldn't hear their polite attempt of knocking anyways.

The roller blinds are completely down, window open to let the welcoming chilly air in—but no chance for the ever so sinking sun, to let her last few warming rays of light in—shrouding your room in a darkness.

Your small night lamp, which projected stars on the walls and ceiling, was the only light source. It justifies enough for Billy and Stu, to make out your silhouette of a body lump—being shallowed and covered in blankets—on your bed.

Billy hummed slightly, putting his school bag down—and while Stu mimicking his action and stepping instantly towards your bed—Billy looked around your room, searching for a specific box case.

Stu being a extrovert and overall more emotional person, knows his ways how he had to comfort his boyfriends in time of need. Though, when he gently pried the blankets away from you, he halted in his movements when he heard your loud ear shattering sobbing—which had been muffled with the blankets.

It only had deterred Stu from his mission for a second. Laying down on your bed next to you, Stu put his arms around you and pulled you towards his chest. Running his hand through your hair and down your back, shushing you—even though Stu knows you aren't able to hear it.

Billy rummaging through one of your drawers, being more than certain that the case was in there, had to be—Billy himself had put it in here, for cases of emergencies like these.

Hearing you crying wasn't a first for them, but it was always so damn loud, since you couldn't hear yourself. Though, still, this time Billy felt a kind of uncomfortableness, a squirming rising in his stomach. Giving Billy a ache in his heart.

Aah! There they are! Billy fished the case out, opening it and inspecting them—your old hearing aids, which are a bit broken already and having scratches, but still functional.

Walking over to your bed, Billy crawled over Stus long legs, sitting himself next to you. Stu sats up a bit, leaning against the headboard, pulling you up alongside.

Billy moved your hair aside, putting the aids in as gently as possible—too much force and roughness and it would hurt you.

Like a deer caught in the headlights, wide eyed you looked from Stu to Billy, after they repeated your name to get your attention.

Flushed red cheeks, stained damp with salty tears which keeps going flowing down from your brimming swollen eyes.

A flare of anger rises in Billy, just thinking of what had happen today.

[chokememaximoff]

Whenever you need help

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Abstract:In this heartwarming story, Y/N, dealing with hearing loss and annoying tinnitus, discovers solace and love in Wanda's constant care and sweet bedtime serenades. They tackle life's hurdles as a team, and their relationship grows even stronger through it all.

TW:Hearing loss

This is for my soul since I struggle with hearing loss and sadly can't get hearing aids so basically it's comfort for me but I thought someone else might relate too.

In the bustling corridors of New York's prestigious Eastside University, Wanda Maximoff, known not only for her striking beauty but also her sharp intellect, had always stood out. However, her eye was caught by someone entirely unexpected - a girl named Y/N Y/L/N. Wanda was captivated by Y/N's natural beauty, which seemed to radiate a certain mystique. Yet, despite her allure, Wanda found herself unable to muster the courage to approach her.

As the days turned into weeks, Wanda's fascination with Y/N grew. She couldn't help but steal glances whenever Y/N passed by. There was something about her that was simply enchanting, something that made Wanda's heart race every time she saw her. But for all her beauty, Y/N appeared to be an enigma. She rarely mingled with others, always seemed lost in thought, and seldom smiled.

It was during their shared lectures that Wanda's intrigue deepened. She couldn't help but notice that Y/N was one of the most attentive students in the class. Her eyes were always fixed on the professor, her posture was impeccable, and she seemed to hang on every word. Yet, there was an anomaly - Y/N's notes were a mess. Her handwriting was hurried and chaotic, as if she were trying to capture fleeting thoughts. It puzzled Wanda - how could someone so attentive be struggling to keep up?

The opportunity for an explanation came one fateful evening at a college party. Wanda watched from across the room as someone approached Y/N. The dimly lit room buzzed with music and chatter, making conversation a challenge for anyone, but especially for Y/N. She leaned in, her expression a mix of confusion and concentration, trying to understand what the girl was saying over the din.

After a moment, Y/N politely asked the girl to repeat herself. The girl, growing impatient and annoyed, raised her voice, but Y/N's struggle persisted. In frustration, the girl threw her hands up and walked away, leaving Y/N standing there with a slight frown, feeling awkward and isolated.

It was at this point that Wanda, perhaps fueled by a few more drinks than she should have had, made her way over to Y/N. Without thinking, she blurted out, "So, are you that bad at paying attention to everything, or do you just have something wrong with you?"

Y/N was taken aback by the harshness of the question, her eyebrows furrowing in disbelief. "You're an asshole," she retorted, her tone sharp and her eyes filled with annoyance. She pushed past Wanda, leaving the party in a hurry.

Wanda cursed under her breath, immediately realizing that her question had been entirely out of line. She tried to chase after Y/N, but the sea of people at the party made it impossible to find her. She was left with a gnawing sense of guilt and regret.

Determined to make amends, Wanda hatched a plan to subtly apologize. She decided to attend lectures with unwavering focus, meticulously taking notes. Each night, she would painstakingly copy these notes into another notebook, ensuring they were neat and organized.

After a week of this effort, she composed a message on a sticky note that read, "I noticed you struggle to catch the notes in class for some reason, so I made the notes for you. I'm sorry about what I said at the party; I didn't mean it in a rude way. Here's my number, and my name is Wanda Maximoff." She placed the sticky note on the first page of the notebook and left it in front of Y/N's dorm room.

Later that evening, Wanda's phone rang, displaying a message from an unknown number. It was Y/N, and she thanked Wanda genuinely for her kind gesture. Wanda smiled as she saved Y/N's number in her contacts, then mustered the courage to ask if Y/N would be willing to meet her at the benches in front of the dorms.

Y/N agreed to the meeting, and they found themselves sitting under the soft glow of the streetlights. Wanda sighed, apologizing once more, explaining how her curiosity had gotten the best of her at the party.

Y/N, her expression softer now, smiled politely and reassured Wanda, saying, "It's okay, I understand. I'm used to that type of stuff; it happens all the time." She seemed surprisingly forgiving, considering the rude encounter at the party.

Then, Y/N revealed her secret, the very reason behind her struggles. "I'm hard of hearing," she confessed. "I've been gradually losing my hearing for about a year now, so I struggle a lot with classes and conversations in loud places."

Wanda's heart ached at this revelation. She felt a pang of guilt for her previous behavior. She apologized once more, this time more earnestly. "I'm really sorry," she said, her voice filled with regret. "I had no idea. I didn't mean to be so rude."

Y/N placed her hand on Wanda's shoulder, and in that simple touch, a spark ignited between them. She reassured Wanda, saying, "You did the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me to apologize. Your apology is accepted, so don't worry."

Wanda's smile returned, gratitude shining in her eyes. She couldn't help but ask, "But if you struggle so much, why don't you have hearing aids? Wouldn't they help?"

Y/N chuckled bitterly, her expression somber. "Well, I believe I should have them," she began, "but the doctor explained my hearing loss as something related to my nervous system. He said there's no need for hearing aids, so I'm left to struggle."

Wanda groaned in frustration, feeling a surge of anger on Y/N's behalf. "He can't just do that," she exclaimed, her empathy for Y/N growing stronger by the minute.

Y/N shrugged, her gaze drifting into the distance. "I guess he can," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. The weight of her condition, and the helplessness she felt in the face of it, hung heavily in the air.

Wanda couldn't bear to see Y/N carry this burden alone. As they sat together under the night sky, she resolved to be there for her, to help her navigate the challenges of college life with a newfound friendship and understanding. And in that moment, amidst the swirling uncertainties of their young adult lives, a bond began to form, one that neither of them could have predicted when they first crossed paths in the crowded hallways of Eastside University.

...

Wanda and Y/N quickly fell into a pattern of texting each other regularly. They talked about their classes, shared funny anecdotes from campus life, and sometimes just exchanged random thoughts. Through these messages, their connection deepened, and Wanda continued to diligently take notes during lectures, just as she had promised.

As the weeks passed, Wanda realized she had accumulated another notebook full of meticulously transcribed lecture notes for Y/N. She decided it was time to meet up with her and hand over the notes. Wanda texted Y/N, "Hey, would you like to meet for coffee this weekend? I have something for you."

Y/N responded with an enthusiastic "Sure!" and they agreed to meet at a cozy cafe near the dorms on a sunny Saturday morning.

When they met at the cafe, Wanda greeted Y/N with a warm smile. She placed the notebook filled with neatly written notes on the table. "Here you go," she said. "I thought you might find these helpful. If you have any questions or need clarification on anything, don't hesitate to ask me anytime."

Y/N looked at Wanda with gratitude in her eyes. She reached across the table and gently held Wanda's hand. "I really, really want to thank you a lot for this," Y/N said earnestly. "But I also feel bad that you're spending so much of your time on my notes. You should be focusing on yourself."

Wanda shook her head, her own hand comfortably resting in Y/N's. "I want to help you out," she replied. "And you know what? I've noticed that because I pay a lot more attention and write everything down twice, I'm actually learning better as well. So, I'm doing the both of us a favor."

Y/N smiled softly at Wanda's generosity. "Only if it's not a struggle for you," she insisted. "If you ever feel like it's too much, you don't have to continue doing it."

Before Wanda could respond, Y/N insisted on paying for their coffees as a token of gratitude for the notes. Wanda initially resisted, but Y/N's determination won her over. She sighed in defeat and said, "Alright, you win this time."

As they waited for their orders, the waitress came by to take their preferences. She asked, "What type of milk would you like in your coffee?"

Y/N leaned in, trying to hear the question better, but her face showed confusion. She asked the waitress to repeat herself. The waitress repeated the question, but it was clear that Y/N was struggling to process the words.

Wanda noticed Y/N's discomfort and gently tapped her hand, making her look up. Wanda repeated the waitress's question, this time speaking louder and using hand gestures to illustrate the choices. Y/N nodded, her face blushing slightly as she responded to the waitress.

When the waitress walked away, Y/N smiled at Wanda, her eyes filled with appreciation. "Thank you for that," she said. "Sometimes, it's the little things that make a big difference."

Wanda grinned, feeling a warmth in her heart. "Whenever you need help," she assured Y/N, "I'm there for you."

As they sipped their coffee and chatted about their plans for the upcoming week, it was clear that their bond was growing stronger, and their connection was becoming something truly special. Wanda had found a purpose in helping Y/N, and Y/N had found a friend who not only understood her struggles but was willing to go the extra mile to make her life a little easier.

...

It was a special day for Y/N - her birthday. Wanda had been dropping hints about a surprise for weeks, building excitement and curiosity. As the day arrived, Y/N couldn't help but feel a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

Wanda arrived at Y/N's dorm room with a cheerful smile. "Happy birthday, Y/N!" she exclaimed, holding a blindfold in her hand. "I have a surprise for you, but you'll need to put this on."

Y/N's heart raced as she considered the blindfold. She was nervous about the idea of losing yet another one of her senses, but Wanda's reassuring presence put her at ease. As they settled into Wanda's car and started driving, Y/N's anxiety began to fade.

Wanda's hand landed comfortably on top of Y/N's knee, and Y/N immediately relaxed. She placed her hand on top of Wanda's, their fingers interlocking. Wanda couldn't contain her happiness, her cheeks turning red as she drove.

After a short ride, Wanda helped Y/N out of the car and carefully removed the blindfold. Y/N blinked, taking in her surroundings. They were standing in front of a private doctor's office specializing in hearing loss.

Y/N's eyes widened as she looked at Wanda. "Wanda, this is... How did you even get an appointment? And it's way too expensive; you shouldn't have done this."

Wanda smiled warmly, holding both of Y/N's hands. "My dad knows the doctor. He's a household friend, so everything is sorted out. Let's go in and get you the help you need."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, and she hugged Wanda tightly. Wanda hugged back, her own eyes filled with affection and happiness.

The appointment at the doctor's office was lengthy, but it was worth every moment. Measurements were taken for Y/N's hearing aids, and a few days later, they returned to pick them up. Y/N was overwhelmed with emotion as she heard again, almost like she did before her hearing loss.

As they got into the car after the appointment, Wanda asked, "Do the hearing aids feel weird?"

Y/N cupped Wanda's cheeks, pulling her in for a passionate kiss. Wanda was momentarily stunned before she eagerly kissed Y/N back, melting into the moment.

When they finally pulled away, Y/N said with a smile, "I've been wanting to do that for so long."

Wanda raised an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You like me?"

Y/N laughed softly. "Of course, idiot," she said, pulling Wanda in for another sweet kiss. They smiled against each other's lips, their connection deepening with every tender moment shared. Y/N's birthday had turned into a day of unforgettable surprises, and her heart was filled with gratitude and love for Wanda.

...

One quiet night, Y/N found herself restless, tossing and turning in Wanda's cozy dorm room. The room, usually filled with the warmth of their love, was eerily silent. Yet, it wasn't the silence that disturbed Y/N; it was the persistent ringing in her ears, a relentless tinnitus that had become a constant companion ever since her hearing had started to deteriorate.

The deafening silence of the room only intensified the sound, making it impossible for her to find peace. Y/N felt the pressure build in her ears, like a vice slowly tightening. It was maddening, and she had grown accustomed to sleepless nights and the frustration that accompanied them.

As Y/N stirred for what seemed like the hundredth time, Wanda, who had been asleep beside her, woke up. She had always been a light sleeper, especially when it came to Y/N's well-being. Wanda reached out and gently caressed Y/N's cheek, concern etched on her face. Her voice was soft and filled with love as she whispered, "What's wrong, love?"

Y/N sighed, her voice carrying the weariness of countless sleepless nights. "Well, a symptom of hearing loss is my tinnitus," she explained softly. "So, I haven't slept normally in a year since I started losing my hearing. My ears keep ringing, and sometimes, I feel intense pressure in them."

Wanda frowned, her heart aching for the person she loved. "You should have told me, baby," she said, her voice laced with concern. "I want to help."

Y/N sighed again, resignation in her tone. "There's no cure for tinnitus anyway," she mumbled. "So, what's the point of burdening you with it?"

Wanda, not willing to accept defeat, gently pulled Y/N's head onto her chest. She started running her fingers through Y/N's hair, a soothing gesture she had perfected over time. "Well," she began, her voice tender, "now I'm going to sing for you until you fall asleep. And then, I will sleep too, after you do."

Y/N protested softly, "But, Wanda, baby, you need rest too. I'm used to this. I don't want to keep you awake."

Wanda shushed her gently before she could finish her sentence. "I said, when you need help, I'm there. So now, let me help you."

And with that, Wanda began to softly sing. Her melodic voice filled the room, drowning out the incessant ringing in Y/N's ears. It was a sweet lullaby, a soothing melody that seemed to reach into Y/N's soul and calm her troubled mind.

Wanda sang the songs that held special meaning for them, their lyrics weaving a comforting cocoon around Y/N's restless thoughts. As Y/N listened, the tension in her ears began to loosen, and the relentless ringing slowly faded into the background.

Sure enough, in just a few minutes, the sound of Wanda's singing had worked its magic. Y/N had found solace in the familiar voice, and her eyelids grew heavy. She drifted into a peaceful sleep, cradled in Wanda's loving arms.

Wanda smiled down at her girlfriend, brushing a strand of hair away from Y/N's face. She leaned in and kissed the top of Y/N's head, whispering, "Sweet dreams, baby."

With Y/N finally at rest, Wanda closed her eyes, grateful that she could provide comfort and relief to the person she loved most in the world. She knew that there would be more nights like this, nights where Y/N's tinnitus would wage a battle against her sleep, but as long as they faced them together, Wanda was willing to sing every night if it meant bringing peace to Y/N's troubled dreams. The love between them was stronger than any challenge, and in the embrace of sleep, they found solace in each other's arms.

[mikey180]

I’m pretty sure I’m the single bastion of Hoh simping in this world, I am BEGGING you for anything of my boy

I understand if you don’t care about him, feel free to send me in my way lmao but if you have any ideas for him like relationship headcanons, kisses, date ideas, cuddles, I will do your bidding if you give me a crumb of content

Oh, you mean our beautiful baby girl? That's fine, darling, I like him too, there's just not enough content for me to get that attached to him at the moment*dramatic sigh*...I don't mind shouldering the weight of carrying his fan service. Choose headcanons for this, do tell me if you have ideas for a one shot.

Hoh-

This man is so shy at first, fidgeting with his nails, biting the dry skin on the sides of his fingers, rubbing his hands on his clothes, anything when he wants your attention or affection but is too scared to ask for it.

Will love hugs, anytime, anywhere. May say a complaint or two, but if you actually pull away he's ready to cry. Keep your arms loose unless he tightens his grip first, I feel he gets claustrophobic easily.

On the topic of kisses, he doesn't know anything. Probably hurts your lips kissing too hard and not in the good way, I mean trying to press a quick kiss to your lips only to be going way too fast and literally slamming his lips into yours. You're not kissing anymore, you're just bumping teeth.

He feels bad about it, especially if he made you bleed, will try again if you ask, might ask you to do it first so he knows how it's done.

I also feel he wouldn't find anything about you to be gross. Ticks you're too squeamish to take off yourself(same)? He's got you. Acne? His nails will pop or extract anything. Lice? He'd pick it out with his hands if the comb hurts. He may not like it, but he'll at least be neutral about it.

Will be protective...in a baby girl way. Just like "Yes, dear, please do yell at that guy that I'm taken because he put his arm around me and yes, I will make you your hot chocolate once we get back to our room."

Likes to be carried, is embarrassed about it, will admit it. He's not tsundere in my opinion, just very shy.

If you pamper him in any way, brush his hair, do his nails, take off his shoes for him, he loves you even more.

He probably has panic attacks often, I see him to have severe anxiety. He doesn't want to talk or have you ask him questions or hear anything, he wants all the stimulation to be taken away. Will probably sit in a corner with a wall to one side and his back and a nightstand to the other just to feel secure. Covers his ears and closes his eyes as he curls up there.(not me self-projecting, not panic attacks, but dang... overstimulation sucks.)

While speaking about hair, he loves his hair. It's naturally that good, but he takes care of it too. Will take care of yours if you let him or if you already do, me may just steal your hair care products or methods. Do wash his hair, he relaxes so well when you do, is practically putty in your hands even if you're just playing with it, will also fall asleep in your hands.

Man probably snores, not loud annoying ones, but the soft ones that are barely heard, ones that make you become accustomed to hearing.

Loves to hear you say his name, yeah baby names are nice, pet names and all, but...Hoh...just in nice quiet moments or maybe if hes emotional.

He likes to just be. With you. But just exist. Let him wordlessly stand up close to you and put his head on your shoulder. He doesn't want a hug or a kiss he just wants to be there, maybe have you tell him about your day.

Small story time as per usual-

You lay there, slightly sat up against the pillows, Hoh laying on top of you as you brush your fingers through his freshly washed hair. "Be careful," he reminds you "wet hair is most fragile". You nod a little, giving a small hum in acknowledgement. He's told you that a hundred times over, but you probably snagged a knot or something without noticing it. His hair smells faintly of rosemary, probably the oil he uses, and you can feel it slightly sticking to your fingertips. He'll probably apologize later when you inevitably wash your hands because of it, but for now you can see his eyelids falling. He's had a long day so you can deal with the oil on your skin till he wakes up. A small kiss to his head and a mutter of sweet dreams and goodnight wishes, you turn the lamp on your bedside table out.

[achqn]

Hmm is it still consider as spoiler now that Soundwave become leader in skybound comic

Bcs I've been waiting for someone to write him took S/O like queen/king

My vision or is it just me wanted to be his sic or such

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

we're in love - m. murdock

a/n: hi guys not dead just played a LOT of baldurs gate over break and now im back ay college with matt murdock brainrot this ones been floating around the old noggin a while. sorry. likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! <3 warnings: DEAD DOVE with a happy ending, hard of hearing reader, cannon typical marvel violence, probably badly written violence, matt being upset, once again im tired and sleepy and bad at doing warnings, reader gets kidnapped TWICE, reader has superpowers, reader is TECHNICALLY a hybrid but literally just in the way that she has small antlers and deer like abilities (strength, jump height), fucked up experiments, ANGST ANGST ANGST, memory loss trope but like... the one from the hunger games. matt is hopelessly in love with reader, reader wants to kill matt, kissing, implied sexual ideas, cursing. SHAMELESS USE OF REAL OR NOT REAL FROM THG, reader having anxiety, and allusions of sex. word count: 7.1k summary: when your past finally catches up to you, matt truly learns what 'in sickness and in health' means. pairing: matt murdock x hoh!wife!reader now playing: we're in love - boygenius "will you still love me if it turns out I'm insane?/i know what you'll say/but it helps to hear you say it anyway."

Falling in love with Matt Murdock was the easy part.

Falling back in love with him was the tough bit.

You had spent the years leading up to meeting him as a boxer turned vigilante— Your dad had taught you how to fight young, which led to a lot of trouble at school until he eventually started helping you enter teenage fights against your mom’s wishes.

It’s how you paid for college.

And then, after your college experience, you lose control. It was never supposed to happen the way it did. You had lost a fight and stole the guy’s motorcycle in defiance. But the roads were wet from an early snow and people of New York never knew how to drive.

Just like that, the nerves in your hands were shot. The accident got your hearing too since you got sick from the cold after your accident. The infection got so bad that it took the hearing from your left ear—And half from your right.

For months, you thought you’d never gain control of your hands again, snapping from a promising young fighter to a deaf and shaky temp. You were miserable. Fighting was your everything for so long.

And then The Doctor found you.

No, not the alien from the British television show, but a man who promised you your old life back. He found you while you were at your lowest and realized that you would do anything for your old life back.

He said in exchange for your old life, all you would have to do would be a test subject for a harmless new drug he was testing out.

You were so enamored by the idea of your old life that you had decided to take him up on his offer, so you were whisked away upstate with a group of other people desperate enough to try this experiment out.

Every morning you were given a shot of blue liquid into your arm, and then, you were to preform a series of tasks to record your progress. After three weeks you grew frustrated that you had seen no progress. You spent most of your time asking people to talk into your right ear and becoming mad at The Doctor.

About a month in, you started growing antlers.

At first, you freaked out. Like, truly, screamed and yelled, wanting an explanation. The Doctor celebrated, telling you this was great news—And to prove it, he had you pick up a pen and write a sentence out. Your hands didn’t shake and did everything you told them to do.

On top of the antlers and the newfound control of your nerves, you were strong—Fast, too. You could jump twelve-foot walls. The Doctor was obsessed with you. While other patients died off from whatever drugs you were being given, you were thriving.

At the end of your three-month stay, you were excited to leave and head back to your life. You’d just have to wear beanies everywhere to hide your antlers, you told yourself. A small price to pay.

But The Doctor wouldn’t let you leave.

How could he, he asked you, when you were his best test subject?

Being a prisoner was a lot worse than you thought it would be. Day in and day out, you were trained to be a soldier, you think. Fighting various guards, doing different athletic tests. The serum hadn’t fixed your hearing, but it had given you all of these gifts.

Until The Doctor became cruel.

He gave the guards these batons that had shock currents at the end of them, instructing them to use it whenever you talked back or underperformed. For months you struggled through days of electric shocks and experiments.

One night, a guard slipped into your cell, expecting you to be an easy target. You quickly showed him differently, knocking him out and stealing his weapons. And then, you ran. You ran until your feet bled—No shoes.

An old woman who had retired upstate welcomed you into her small cabin and fed you, never asking about the small antlers growing out of your head. She simply gave you a warm knit cap and a pair of boots for the cold.

You remember eating chili with her as she told you about her deceased husband. You changed your last name to theirs, knowing The Doctor would find you if you kept going by your name. You stayed with her for a weekend, coming back from gathering firewood to The Doctor’s men there, having killed the kind old woman and on the hunt for you. You stole her car and never looked back.

The next few weeks after that had been full of killing various soldiers and armies that The Doctor had sent after you, until you eventually pushed The Doctor off a building, believing to have killed him for good.

And that was that.

You went on with your life as usual, finding a permanent job as a secretary. In a law office.

Which, of course, is where you met Matt.

With Matt, you never felt the need to hide who you were. Of course, it was a lot easier to tell him that some mad scientist had infected you with a drug that turned you into a deer hybrid when he told you that he was Daredevil.

And with time, some of the effects of the serum began to fizzle out. Strength, Agility, Antlers—Those stayed. The control over your hands didn’t. But you made peace with that. Physical Therapy twice a week and hearing aids helped.

Especially because early Sunday mornings were filled with Matt running his fingers through your hair, running his pointer finger along the curves of your antlers. He takes your hands and kisses your fingertips as they shake, hushing you softly when you start crying as he does.

He spars with you and spends nights running around New York City with you, jumping from rooftop to rooftop.

He tells you about Elektra, Stick, his dad, and Fisk.

One day, when you feel safe enough, wrapped up in his arms and a layer of blankets as snow falls against the windows, you tell him about The Doctor.  You explain to him your nightmares, and why they will never go away.

He kisses away your tears and promises he’ll never let anything happen to you.

When he asks you to marry him, you don’t hesitate to say yes. There’s not a moment where you regret that decision. You insist to get married in the summer, during the short month where your antlers shed before they grow back. He agrees happily, just wanting you to be happy.

You’ve been married for about five months when you start to think about kids. You’ve been married six when you realize the worst possible scenario is your reality—When vials of blue serum show up at your front door with a note scribbled out—

‘My Best Test Subject,

I cannot wait to catch up with you soon.

-The Doctor’

You call Matt in a panic, begging him to come home and be with you. He obliges and holds you as you calm down. He promised to love you in sickness and in health, and that is what he fully intends to do.

This is the story of the greatest challenge that your marriage would face.

• • •

After the note you had received, you almost exclusively traveled with Matt. Even for just a casual stroll, a walk to the deli or home from work, He was there with you. He knew you could handle yourself, but you felt safer with him close by.

But Matt’s senses were never as focused when it rained, especially on nights like today. The rain pours, it almost stings against his skin. And it’s loud. You don’t have your hearing aids in, so they catch you both by surprise.

It all happens too fast—

In an instant, Matt is being pulled off your arm and slammed against the closest brick alley, and when he hears the click of a gun behind him, he realizes what’s happening. He tries to fight, but before he can make any process, someone is swinging that gun against his head, and when he wakes up, he’s all alone.

He calls out to you and gets no response other than thunder rumbling from miles away. He is filled with nothing but a rage, a determination to find you.

He scrambles for his phone and uses it to call Karen.

“I need you to get Frank.” He tells her, “Please. I.. I don’t know what happened, but.. He took her, I need.. Karen, I need to find her.” He tells her.

Frank is on his way to New York within the hour.

• • •

When you wake up, your arms are strapped behind your back in some sort of metal contraption. You can feel the ache in your hands, indicating that you had fought against whoever brought you here. The room is quiet. A small cot in one corner, but the rest of the room is barren.

You’re wearing white pants and a gray muscle tee, with no shoes. You’re suddenly thankful you left your wedding ring at home, so that it might not end up in his hands.

You wait a while, and then the door opens. The Doctor, flanked by two men in heavy armor, holding those batons you’re all too acquainted with, steps into the room. You simply stare, but The Doctor looks like a child on Christmas morning.

But there’s something else to his appearance. His left eye is this bright yellow, and his pupil is a different shape. Green scales travel up his neck and coat the bottom right half of his face, and down his arms, reaching his fingertips. He looks like a monster, but you quickly realize what has happened.

Whatever serum gave you your abilities, was given to him. Only, his was made from that of snakes, not deer.

“My beautiful creation!” He gasps and takes your face in his hand, planting a kiss to your head, right between your antlers. “It’s been too long, you know.” His ‘s’ sounds are elongated, and his teeth are sharper. He has become destroyed by his own mad endeavors. When you don’t respond to his greeting, he continues to speak. “It’s been an eventful few years for you, huh?” When this doesn’t get a response from you, he stands up straight and backs up just a foot. “New job, new name… New husband.” Your head snaps up at that. “What? You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and the boy? What do you call him, then? Matthew or Daredevil?”

Your eyes grow wide, unsure how he knows about your husband’s secret hobby.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.” You spit, your gaze hardening into a glare.

“Don’t I? You make quite the couple. The little deaf doe and her crime fighting blind husband.” He laughs, “And they say I like a project.”

“You won’t touch him or I swear to god—”

“Little doe, you misunderstand. I want nothing to do with your husband. I just want you to be the good subject I know you can be.” He tells you. “You and I are the only of our kind. I want to study you, replicate you.”

“You’re going to kidnap more people.”

“You weren’t kidnapped, you volunteered.”

“I won’t do whatever it is you want me to do.” You tell him. “I don’t care, I will escape, I will kill you.”

He shakes his head, taking one of the batons from the guards, before hitting you across the face with it. You groan in pain, turning your head back to glare at him. He sighs.

“I didn’t want to have to do this. But I did anticipate that Husband of yours interrupting things.” He hands the baton back to the guard before telling him. “Take her down the hall and get her ready, alright?”

You struggle your way down the hall, refusing to do whatever is coming to you without a fight. When the guards uncuff you to strap you to this big dentist looking chair, you manage to get out of the grasp of the guard, swinging a punch on him but this newfound advantage is short lived, as the other guard quickly grabs your arms and pushes you against the chair. You’re yelling and thrashing but they manage to get your arms and legs strapped down to the chair.

Your heartbeat is racing, and quietly, only in your mind, you beg. But not for mercy. Not from The Doctor. You beg Matt to come find you. Because you know that you do not stand a chance on your own, but maybe he could find you. He had to find you.

The Doctor sits in a chair next to you and holds up a small purple vial.

“This is hallucinogenic snake venom, mixed with a duller version of the serum we gave you. What this will do is allow me to go into your memories and alter them.” He explains as if you’re getting a simple procedure done. Tears fill your eyes.

“You’re going to make me forget him?” You ask, your voice breaking.

The Doctor hushes you softly, wiping your tears softly.

“Oh, no, little doe. I’m going to change what you do remember about him to make you hate him.”

• • •

Six months is a long time to be without your wife. For anyone, no matter who it is.

For Matt Murdock, it’s absolute torture. He spends all day half paying attention to his work while trying to research who The Doctor is. He spends all night trying to find you.

Frank lives, breathes, eats and sleeps to find you. He’s still technically a wanted man, so he pretty much stays under the radar as he looks for you. You remind him of a lot of guys he knew in the army, of himself.

Karen busies herself with research, looking through cases of old files at The Bulletin to try and see if there are any tips or stories that could maybe be connected to where you are. She gets about as little sleep as Matt.

And Foggy has the most important job of all.

Making sure Matt doesn’t kill himself in the process of trying to find you. Because for the first two months Matt didn’t sleep, hardly ate. And as he deteriorated, Foggy reminded him that to find you, he’d need to stay alive. He needs to shower, he needs to keep going to church, he needs to keep eating. The thought of hearing your heartbeat again keeps him going.

It’s as they’re packing up to go home one night that Frank comes into the office with blood-stained hands. They all know he wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have something, so Karen asks first.

“What? What is it?”

“Buddy of mine found a file. Some private medicinal corporation funding a project for some sort of doctor doing cancer research, upstate.”

The location peaks Matt’s interest, because one of the few things he knows of your first experience is that the lab was in upstate New York.

“Okay, but—” Karen starts, but Frank hands her the file.

“Report shows the guy had scales.” He told her. “And I don’t know what you guys make of that but sounds to me like a side effect similar to the serum that was given to her.”

“Where?” Matt asks.

“Red, just—”

“Give me a god damn address, Frank.” He demands.

“I’ll drive you. Come on, things are probably gonna get wild and I don’t want you going alone.” He told him. Matt agrees, but only because he knows he can’t drive and would wind up walking to you.

“Then let’s go.” Before Frank can argue, Matt is walking out the door and going to get suited up for the journey ahead.

• • •

Daredevil is my enemy.

Matt Murdock hates me.

I hate him.

We were never really in love with each other.

These are the thoughts that echo through your mind as you wait for your next round of testing. The six-month mark is pivotal, The Doctor tells you time and time again.

Overall, you’ve made tremendous progress. He tells you that within weeks, other serums will be ready to test on new subjects. Maybe then, he tells you, he’ll promote you from just being a soldier.

Maybe.

You almost don’t hear the alarm going off somewhere in the distance. Of course, you don’t. The serum has never helped your hearing.

The way you remember it, Daredevil, a man who once claimed to love you, fought you to the point that he destroyed the nerves in your hands, destroyed your hearing. It’s fuzzy now, but you know this: The Doctor helped you. He put you back together.

But you do hear the alarm, eventually. It concerns you; it means someone has broken into the building. Your thoughts linger on the masked vigilante that haunts your nightmare. You’re getting stronger to defeat him, The Doctor says.

It’s a cool summer night when whoever it is broke in, breaks down your door. You immediately stand, quickly identifying Frank Castle, a grin breaking across your face. Closely behind, you identify a man in red.

Your heartbeat races, but you just stare at the pair.

Matt strips off his helmet and approaches you, wanting to make sure this was real. That you were real. His hands find your cheeks, and tears fill his eyes. He says your name gently.

“I found you, I’ve got you…”

You blink, unsure of what sort of cruel teasing that was.

Because in an instant, your glare hardens and you’re pushing him against a wall, starting to throw punches at him. He’s too far in shock to react, but Frank is pulling you off of him, and you’re struggling against him.

“Let me go! I need to kill him! He’s evil, he needs to die!” You cry, and Matt is just saying your name softly, in absolute disarray. What had they done to you, his sweet girl?

Frank pins you down to the ground, unsure of why you, a woman he had perceived to be so in love with the man behind him, are so adamant that he dies.

“Enough, Enough!” He barks, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look at Matt. “That is your husband, girl. Stop acting like he’s torturing you when he is not the one whose been experimenting on you for six months!”

“Let me go, I need him gone! He’s cruel, He’s a monster!” You cry, and Matt has started crying. Putting you both out of your misery, Frank hits you in a way that knocks you right out. Matt goes over to your now unconscious form and pets your hair.

“Why was she—”

“I don’t know.. I just don’t know, red. Let’s get her out of here to figure it out, okay?” Matt just nods and grabs his helmet, slipping it on so Frank can’t see him crying anymore.

• • •

If you had a nickel for every time you woke up tied to a chair, you’d have more nickels than you had fingers.

Today is no different.

You’re surrounded by people you don’t recognize. And one you do. Your angry glare stays on him, and he looks upset by it.

You’re unsure why. You’re so sure he just wanted you dead.

The blonde woman in front of you says your name softly. When your gaze shifts to her, you notice her soft eyes.

“How do you know my name?” You ask.

She frowns.

“It—Because we’re good friends.”

“I don’t know you.”

“You don’t… My name is Karen.” She says softly. She goes over to a nearby shelf, pulling out a picture frame and showing it to you. “Here, that’s you and me. At your wedding.”

“My wedding? The one that he set up just to hurt me?”

Matt remembers you telling him that you had never been happier than when you were getting ready for your wedding.

There’s two other men, one held you down while you were meant to kill Matt, but the other one.. You vaguely remember him standing next to Matt when you got married.

He speaks next.

“Matt and Frank, they found these vials in one of the labs. We think the man that took you used it to... to alter your memories.”

“Why would The Doctor do that? He helped me.” You tell them, unsure what to make of this whole situation. Matt is growing extremely frustrated because he knows just how scared you were of that monster.

“Untie her.” Matt tells Frank, and everyone looks at him like he’s crazy. Including you because you know that you’ll just try and kill him. “Do it,” he tells him again and very hesitantly, Frank does untie you. When you’re free from the rope, you step forward to go towards Matt, but Frank grabs your arm.

“Don’t,” he says. But then, Matt reaches for Frank’s gun on the nearby table and hands it to you. Odd choice for a man you want to kill.

“Go ahead.” He tells you, facing you now. “Shoot me, kill me if that’s what you really want to do.” He says. You stare at the gun in your hand for a second, before holding it properly and aiming it at Matt. Everyone waits with bated breath to see what you’ll do.

Pull the trigger, you tell yourself, The Doctor’s voice echoing around your head. He hurt you, the voice says. He needs to die.

And yet, you just stare at the man on the other end of the gun, trying to build up the courage to kill him. To kill the man that for months you have been taught needs to die. That you have memories of hurting you, of maiming you.

Your hand tremors as tears fill your eyes, until you eventually drop your arm, so the gun isn’t pointing at him anymore.

“Look at the photo of you and Karen,” Matt tells you, “You have hearing aids in the photo. I didn’t do that to you, you got into a bad accident, you got sick and that’s how you lost your hearing. I had nothing to do with that. You even had your powers before me, you didn’t just get them in the past six months. The Doctor is an evil man who just wanted to torture people and turn them into science experiments.” He tells you, and you want to tell him to stop, that it’s not true. But something in you tells you not to. “I love you,” he says gently, and you flinch away from him when he says this.

It breaks his heart into a million pieces. Absolutely shatters it.

“I don’t know you.” You tell him.

Sensing that Matt doesn’t know what to say to that, Frank steps forward.

“Hey. I’m Frank, you remember me?”

“You pinned me down when you found me.” He sighs softly.

“Yeah, well.. You have memories of when the two of you got married, right? So those are real memories… What about the ones of him hurting you? Do they look any different?”

You take a moment to close your eyes and really focus on the memory you have so closely attached to the man in red. They’re.. Filmy. Like they have a filter on them or like glass shimmering in the sun.

Tears fall from your eyes as you open them, your hand quickly coming up to wipe your tears.

“I think we did enough for now.. She needs to rest.” The man whose name you don’t know, but he has this shaggy blonde hair. Then this question comes up in everyone’s mind—Where will you stay?

“I’ll take the couch,” Matt says, “You take the bed.” You don’t know how comfortable you are with being alone with Matt in this apartment, even if the memories are fake. They feel pretty real.

“I don’t know if—” Karen starts.

“I.. It’s fine..” you say softly, and that fills Matt with a fraction of hope. “It’s just over night.”

Frank sighs softly, taking his gun off the table and glancing at Matt.

“We’re only a phone call away, alright?” Karen tells him.

It feels sort of awkward that they only talk to him as if you can’t hear them. Well, you can’t hear them very well, but you can hear.

“There’s clothes for you in the bedroom,” Matt tells you, “Go take a shower and I’ll walk them to the door.” Very reluctant to turn your back on Matt, you make your way to the bedroom to gather your clothes and go to shower.

You really haven’t had a good shower in six months, so it’s nice to wash the dirt off your skin and from beneath your fingernails. You spend a long time under the hot shower, letting it burn your skin. Your whole life has been turned upside down because you’re slowly coming to terms with the fact that Matt Murdock isn’t your sworn enemy, and that maybe.. he just.. does like you..

Meanwhile, Matt walks the others out, or at least to the door, hesitant to go too far from you.

Foggy glances back to him before he leaves, curiously.

“How did you know she wouldn’t shoot you?”

He hesitates.

“I didn’t.” he says softly. “I just trusted that somewhere within her, my wife still loves me.”

• • •

Later that night, you stare out the window of his apartment at that bright billboard. You gaze at it curiously, and hear Matt call your name gently behind you. In his hands, he holds your hearing aids.

You put them on, and just look at him for a few minutes.

“You kept them?”

“I never stopped looking for you..” He told you. “I prayed every night hoping to hear your heartbeat again.” He tells you, and you don’t know what to make of it. He seems so devoted to you, yet you have these memories of him beating you until you’re close to death.

“I’m sorry I can’t be in love with you the way you want me to be.”

He shrugs gently.

“In sickness and in health, right?”

“And in torture and memory alteration.”

“Same thing.”

For the first time in six months, you smile.

Maybe your husband isn’t such a bad guy.

You can only hope he’ll love you long enough for you to get your shit together and not want to kill him anymore.

• • •

Memories are a tricky thing.

You decide to spend your days with Frank, hunting down various people who worked with The Doctor. You talk a lot about your memories with him. And no matter what, at the end of the day, you have dinner with Matt.

One night, he brings home Thai Food.

“We had this for our first date,” he recalls. “You got pad Thai, your favorite.” You try to recall the memory.

“You wore a nice blue button up, right?” You say softly. He smiles gently and nods.

“Yeah. I did.” He says gently.

“Can..” You hesitate. “Can you tell me more about it? Our life together? I can’t.. discern between what’s real and fabricated.” You’re making new memories, sure, but you know he misses the life the two of you had together.

But he’s caught off guard by your request. For the past few weeks, you’ve been hesitant to indulge in any memories you think might be real.

“You used to work for me.” He tells you. “Not in a weird way, but our office is small. We fell in love over Thai food and opening statements.”

“Why did you want to marry me?”

He hesitates for a second, not wanting to scare you off.

“Because I love you.” He tells you. “Because when you were with me, it was the closest thing I’d ever knew to peace.” He confesses.

“Oh..”

“Yeah.” He takes another bite of his food. “You know if you have a memory and you don’t know if it’s real, you can always ask.”

You smile softly.

“Thanks.” There’s a soft silence that fills the room before you ask, “I have this memory of us in bed, with you running your hand through my hair.. Your fingers tracing these antlers I have.. Is that real?”

“Yeah, it is..” He promised. “I have a thing about textures and your hair is soft.”

“I’m glad.” You smile. This is nice. This gentleness that’s between you. It’s a softness you aren’t used to, one that you don’t know if you’d ever quite get used to.

Later that night, when you were meant to be fast asleep, you wake up with a startling gasp in bed. You look around panicked. You don’t quite know who you’re looking for..

Until Matt comes into the room, a concerned look on his face.

“Are you okay?” He asks, and this calmness washes over you.

“Yeah..”

“Okay. Okay, good, I’ll be in the living room if you need me.” He says softly. He’s been so good to you, sleeping on the couch for so many weeks. He goes to leave, but you call out to him. He turns back to you.

“Can you stay with me?” You ask.

“Yeah, of course.” He says softly, climbing into bed with you. You think for a second, before shifting a bit, resting your head against his chest. You listen to the gentle thud of his heartbeat, as his hand finds your back, gently rubbing up and down. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He isn’t dumb—He knows you have nightmares. And that on the nights that you do, you’re quieter and more avoidant of him. It’s a bad habit, one you want to break. Because you recognize that your dreams aren’t real.

Matt has never done anything to you, and you’re sure of this.. For the most part. Sometimes when you wake up, you must reorient yourself and remind yourself that Matt has no malicious intent towards you and no reason to hurt you.

But it takes you a few minutes to accomplish this. On those mornings, you tend to keep your distance from him, and because Matt wants nothing but your happiness, he stays away from you. But tea is always placed in front of you, and he never strays far from you.

“Not really.” You finally answer. There’s another beat of silence. “We went as the couple from The Princess Bride for our first Halloween together.. Real or not real?”

“Real.” He confirms.

“You broke my nose once during an argument. Real or not real?”

“Not real.” He tells you. “I would never hurt you. Even when we used to fight at the gym, it was always for practice, never to do actual damage. And when we would spar, it would always end with us going home and taking a hot bath.”

You close your eyes, trying to recall that particular memory. When you find it, your face flushes with this unfamiliar heat.

“You’re still trying to protect me even though I wanted you dead... Real or not real?”

“Real.” He doesn’t even hesitate. He’s not sure if you’ve realized it yet, but he’d rather die than put you anywhere close to being in danger. His hand continues to trace patterns into your skin, as you think about his response.

You fall asleep like this, close to the man who you’re realizing has never intended to hurt you a day in your life.

• • •

The day you realize you’re in love with your husband is horrifying.

Which seems like a crazy accusation to make, and yet, you feel nothing but horror when you realize that you are desperate for him. Which is insane, because you’ve been living with him for two months when you realize you are desperate to kiss him like you’re drowning and need air.

It happens at the office. You decided to cook, because you remember really liking it, and to say thank you for all he’s done for you, you want to bring lunch to Matt at work. So you make this really delicious chicken pesto pasta, and you pick up sodas to go along with it. Matt gets the following text:

‘Your favorite soda is Dr. Pepper. Real or not real?’

Five minutes later, you get a response.

‘Real. Yours is sprite.’

You pick up a bottle of each and head over to his office. You’ve been there a few times before, but mostly it was because Frank needed to talk to Karen about something, but lately you’ve found yourself wanting to go to the office just to see Matt.

Matt is surprised when he hears the familiar beat of your heart on the other side of the door. He can also hear the slight buzz of your hearing aids.

“Sweetheart, you can come in.” He calls, but you hesitate even further. Not because you’re confused as to why he knows it’s you, but because your brain sort of short circuits when he calls you the pet name. But after a few minutes, you walk into the room and place lunch on his desk, as well with your drinks.

“Do you like pesto?”

“We had pesto pasta at our wedding.” Oh.

“So you do?”

“Yeah, I do. Especially the way you make it.”

“Oh, good.” You smile and sit at the chair on the other side of the desk. “Because I made chicken pesto pasta for lunch and figured you might want some.”

“Well, thank you for thinking of me.”

There’s a quiet calm between the two of you.

“This is a pretty killer first date, huh?” This makes Matt laugh, because in his mind, your first date was eating Thai food and listening to music. But this isn’t bad either.

“Well, Chivalry must be dead then, because I didn’t even buy you flowers.” He hums, and you tilt your head.

“I don’t remember you ever buying me flowers.” He frowns at this.

“Well, I’m going to have to fix that.”

And that’s how the afternoon goes. You sit with Matt in his office, eating a homemade chicken pasta and falling in love with him. As you go to leave, he asks you what you have planned for the day.

“I have some errands to run, but I should be home to make dinner.” And for a moment, Matt forgets all that’s happened, and he lets himself believe that you have all your memories of him perfectly intact and no one’s ever made you think otherwise.

You get back to the apartment a few hours later, and just as you’re unpacking your groceries, there’s a knock at the door. When you open it, a delivery man stands with a bouquet of flowers. Your face is warm as you sign off on them.

As you put them in their vase, you notice a note attached to it. You catch yourself grinning as you read his little note, that reads ‘I’ll buy you flowers until I’m old and wrinkly. Real.’

The urge to run back to the office and kiss him overwhelms you.

So you call Frank.

This leads to the pair of you, sitting at a booth in a diner, nursing coffees and toast.

“I hope you didn’t call me here just to complain about married life.” He tells you, making a joke out of the thing that terrifies you.

“No, I just wanted you to sit here talking to a chick with antlers so you can look like more of a freak than you already are.” You tease.

It gets you both laughing. These moments, in between all the nightmares and all of the filmy memories, fill you with a light you can’t quite describe.

“So, why’d you really call me to meet up?” He asks. “I have to assume you don’t just want to chitchat.”

“I think I’m in love with Matt.” You tell him. He raises an eyebrow.

“What? Why does that sound like you think it’s a problem?” He asks.

“I don’t know.” You confess. “It’s like I don’t want to love him, like a part of me still believes he’s the bad guy. I know he does.. Besides, I was so awful to him for so long. I pointed a gun at him and he still comforts me every night. What if I don’t deserve this?” You ask. “What if I don’t deserve him?”

Frank actually laughs—Okay, not like a giggle or a belly laugh, but it gets a good chuckle out of him.

“You and Red with that shit—Questioning if you’ve done enough for something good to happen to you. With the ‘Do I deserve this?’ and the ‘Am I worthy of this?” He shakes his head. “All that shit is irrelevant. Do you want it? Do you want to be with him?”

Tears fill your eyes as you realize what that means.

“You and him, you love each other like breathing, and I know you don’t quite get that yet, but it’s the same reason you didn’t shoot him that day. Something in you knows that you love him and deserve his love.” Frank is speaking from experience, because he knows that no matter what he’s done, he knows he deserves one more kiss from his wife.

But he’ll never get that chance.

He hopes Matt does.

• • •

It takes you a long time to make your way back to the apartment. When you get there, Matt immediately stands from his place on the couch and has this look of concern etched across his face.

“Is everything okay?” he asks gently, “Your heart is racing, I just want to make sure you’re safe and—"

“I’m fine.” You smile gently. “Really, I… Thank you for the flowers.” You tell him. His face softens.

“You like them?”

“I love them, Matt.” You confess. “I’ve spent.. So long trying to rationalize everything, sort out the real things from the things that aren’t..” You’re not too sure what you’re trying to say. “I just.. I want.. I want to try. I want to try and be with you, I’m ready for that. I’m ready to be happy with you..”

He hesitates. Not because he doesn’t want to, because he doesn’t want you, but he is worried that you’re only saying these things because you feel like you might owe him. You don’t. You don’t owe him anything other than what you want to give him, and he is desperate for you to know that.

“Sweetheart, You don’t.. I don’t need.. I don’t need you to pretend like you want me just because I’ve taken care of you. It’s more than enough to just—”

Matt is cut off by his first kiss from you in eight months. Your hands rest on the sides of his cheeks, and his arms are quickly around your torso. The kiss is passionate but soft at first—Until you push deeper, desperate to be as close as you can to him. Your hand even comes up to pull off his glasses to see his eyes.

Without thinking, you pull away from him only for your hand to come down to the hem of his shirt, going to pull it off.

“Off, off, off, off—” You softly request, and he just laughs, taking your hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Stop. Wait.” He says gently. “I just.. I want to make sure you actually want this.. That you really want me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You’ve been reserved for the past two months, rightfully so, but now you want to sleep with me.. I don’t want you to do something you’ll regret. Or something you do just because you feel lonely or bad that I—” You cut him off with another kiss, breaking it shortly after.

“I want you. I want to rebuild my life with you. I want to create new, untainted memories.. It won’t be easy, but I want to be with you.” You confess. “I want countless summer nights, I want you to be there for all the nightmares, I.. I want to give you the same peace you’ve been trying to give me.”

You’re both crying and you don’t quite know why. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a gold band. He slips it onto your fingers and kisses you again. He holds the hand with your wedding ring on it as he leads you into the bedroom. Into your life together. Into your arms. Where you were meant to be.

The next morning, you lay in the quiet of your apartment, the silk sheets tickling your skin. You focus on Matt’s breathing. He traces patterns into your skin.

“What are you thinking about?” You ask, and he takes a moment to answer.

“You.” He says gently. “You’re all I’ve been thinking about for three years.” He says gently. Then, when you don’t say anything, “Our anniversary was two months ago..” You know he misses the life you could have had together.

The life that he had planned out for the pair of you in his head. The life that oh so quietly, he longs for. The one without nightmares, supplemented by the laughter of any potential children you might have.

“I could get used to thinking about you, too, you know.” And it makes him laugh, as you lean up and bite his shoulder gently, before placing a kiss to that same patch of skin. He swats your arm gently before the pair of you break down into giggles.

“In the future, if you ever.. don’t want to do that, you don’t have to.”

“I know.” You tell him.

A comfortable silence fills the air again.

“I’m so happy you came back to me.” He says gently. “I was.. I spent so long worried that.. that we’d spend years just trying to find our footing again. That you wouldn’t get better..” For the second time tonight, you cut off his overthinking with a kiss.

“I love you.” You tell him when you’re finally ready to pull away. The morning light shines into the apartment, giving Matt this glowing effect. He practically shimmers in the golden light, and you just take a moment to commit the look of him to memory.

You try and take your time, studying him. He’s so beautiful this time of day.

“Real or not real?” He asks you softly, as one hand snakes up to your hair, his fingers gently running through it.

You lean forward and place a soft kiss to his lips.

“Real.”

[hetaliaimaginesin2022]

I'm sorry if this is weird, but do you have any head canons for a Hard of Hearing/Deaf America? I head canon him as HOH and I love your writing so I'd like to hear your take

Wow, I can't believe hoh America is canon

Hard of Hearing America Headcanons

He's not completely deaf, though he has severe hearing loss in his right ear and mild loss in his left

He became hard of hearing back during the Revolutionary War during cannonading, something that wasn't too horribly uncommon

At the time, before sign language (ASL) was established, he found the communication barrier between him and everyone else incredibly frustrating, so as a result, even now, he gets incredibly excited whenever anyone can speak any form of sign language

Most days, when he's out of the house at a meeting, at the gym, or grabbing food from somewhere, he often has his ITE hearing aids in, though when he's spending the day in, he prefers to keep his hearing aids out, opting for a break from them

He'll often converse with Canada via sign during times like this

Overall, he actually prefers conversing through sign as opposed to using his hearing aids

They're cool and all, but they can get pretty uncomfortable and just plain annoying after a while

This is a side note, but during World Conference meetings, he'll often turn the volume down on his hearing aids when other personifications are trying to argue with him

[cooljadejacksonthings]

ok so i’m hard of hearing and i just feel like the representation in our community is not represented enough or not completely factual, so… i would love to write something with either eddie munson or steve harrington being with HoH or deaf reader so if i could get some feedback on that it would be greatly appreciated

[wxnheart]

lining up the queue.

speaking of which, have I mentioned that I got drafts of things I never posted?

because I do. I absolutely do.

I found the draft that was the inspiration for Yandere40k, a list of your favorite primarchs and one deadbeat emperor-dad doing what they do best.

being the apex predator.

wanna see it?

[prince-steele]

hello friends, I'm looking into ways of making my convention setup more user friendly for disabled folks!

I'm working right now on a booklet with all of my listed products, with braille titles + prices.

I'm also considering offering a magnifying glass too for people who are sight impaired, but I'm not sure what the best magnification size would be!

I'll also offer the booklet to people who experience sensory overload and struggle to see a bunch of products all scattered around my stall.

are there any other ways I can be accommodating to other disabled folks?

[sknyuz]

hello!! I want to make a request ; is it alright if you can write about how seong je would be with a mute!reader? i just think it’d be an interesting dynamic ..! hmm other details i’d add is the reader often giving affection in a form of gifting (letters mayb?), cooking him a meal or quality time :) you may write this in whatever format you want!! thank youu and have a nice week (ps love your writing)

synopsis — seongje is a whirlwind of noise and chaos, but he finds unexpected peace in your silence.

now playing — sweet - cigarettes after sex pairing — geum seongje x gn!reader (hard of hearing, selectively mute) genre — hurt/comfort, slowburn, angst with soft moments, unconventional romance (nothing is conventional with seongje) cw — ableism/mocking of hearing disability, bullying, violence (including implied offscreen physical assault), power imbalance, toxic behavior, minor blood/bruising, strong language wc — ~2.1k

note: this was a pleasure to write <3 i hope i did ur request justice, anon. and please do not hesitate to tell me if i wrote something wrong or inaccurate to the experiences of hoh individuals.

masterlist | join the taglist | 400 follower event

seongje doesn’t do “quiet.” he doesn’t do subtlety, either. his entire existence is loud—his presence is a storm that makes everything feel tense and unpredictable. that’s how he’s known: the unpredictable, impulsive force, the mad dog. so, when he sees you for the first time, it’s almost like a challenge.

you’re sitting there, silently, in the bowling alley, a forced audience to the bullying happening around you. the union’s delinquents have gathered, sneering as they taunt you. they wave your hearing aids in front of you like a sick joke, expecting you to react. but you don’t. you’re quiet, your face unreadable, eyes glued to the floor, trying to stay as small as possible, like you’ve done countless times before. it’s a game for them, nothing more than a way to make you feel like an outsider.

“hey, freak, what’s wrong? can’t hear us?” one of them mocks, swinging your hearing aids back and forth with a smirk.

the noise is deafening to you in a different way—a slow, rising pressure in your chest. you want to speak, to make them stop. but your voice won’t come, and the words you want to say die in your throat, replaced by that quiet ache of helplessness.

that’s when seongje steps in.

he’s not supposed to be there. he’s supposed to be in baekjin’s office, probably arguing or being a general pain in the ass—but the noise coming from the alleyway catches his attention. he comes striding out, a curse on his lips as he surveys the scene, his eyes lighting up with the familiar flash of anger.

“what’s with all the fucking noise, fuckers?!,” seongje shouts, his voice dripping with disdain as he eyes the delinquents, but his gaze lands on the one holding your hearing aids, who freezes up as soon as he realizes who’s standing in front of him.

“aww, you guys are really fucking pathetic,” seongje steps forward, his mood shifting from bored to dangerous in an instant. he slaps the delinquent’s face, knocking the hearing aids out of his grip, and catches them before they hit the floor.

the delinquent stumbles back, startled, and seongje doesn’t miss the way his bravado slips. “hey, if you want to get your ass kicked, i’ll be happy to oblige. otherwise, get the fuck out of here,” seongje growls, and his voice carries an unmistakable warning.

the delinquents scatter quickly, realizing they’re not really looking forward to get beat up by the wolf himself. seongje watches them leave with a bored smirk, but his eyes return to you, where you’re still sitting silently, your gaze downcast. his anger bubbles under the surface, but it doesn’t seem to be directed at you—it’s more frustration at how they treated you. and, maybe… it’s confusion. because why would he be frustrated?

he despises those who put on a front, acting all tough and dominant when they're around someone they know is weaker, but turn into cowards the moment they face someone like seongje. the hypocrisy makes him sick—they don’t even have the balls to face him.

you look up at him then, your lips parting as if to say something, but the words stay locked inside. seongje stares back, a little too long, before he gestures to the now-empty bowling alley with a roll of his eyes.

“shit, it’s way too quiet in here now,” seongje mutters, half to himself. “i need a fucking drink. you coming?” his fist reaching out to you, making you flinch, but he simply turns and opens his palm to reveal your hearings aids, offering it back to you, his gaze not even meeting yours.

you hesitate, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. seongje doesn’t wait for a reply. he knows how this works—he doesn’t need words from you to tell if you’re okay. you’ve already said more than enough with that silence of yours.

it’s a few weeks later when seongje starts to notice something he wasn’t expecting—something soft. you’re not the type to speak, but you show him things. you leave him little letters. they’re simple at first, just words on paper—carefully written, neat and soft. but each one has meaning. you might leave him a note after a chaotic day, telling him, thank you for helping me today—a gesture he’s not used to.

seongje can’t stop himself from reading them over and over, even if he pretends they don’t matter. he tosses the first one aside in an exaggerated motion, but later, when he’s alone, he pulls it out again, trying to make sense of it. there’s something oddly comforting in your words. something real. his usual sharpness dulls just a little when he reads them.

it’s a typical night, and you don’t expect anything to go wrong. seongje has always been unpredictable, but you can’t stop yourself from trusting him. there’s a strange sort of understanding between the two of you now. he doesn’t need you to speak, and you don’t need him to be anything but… himself. still, you don’t expect what happens when he calls you to meet him in a parking lot late one evening.

the dim light from the streetlamps makes the whole place feel cold and detached. you spot him standing there, leaning against the hood of a car, his eyes narrowing slightly when he sees you approach. but there’s something different tonight—something unsettling in his stance.

"come here," seongje says, his voice almost too casual for the tense atmosphere.

your breath catches in your throat as the boy on his knees comes into focus. you've seen him around before—he’s one of the delinquents from the union. the same one who’d been taunting you in the bowling alley, waving your hearing aids like some cruel joke. that memory hits you sharply, and your stomach churns with discomfort as you recognize him now, his face bruised and bloodied, a lip split open, looking like he’s been through hell.

but why is he here? why is he on his knees, shaking in front of seongje? what happened to him?

seongje stands over him, his posture casual, his grin wide and wicked as he watches the boy with almost bored amusement. he kicks the delinquent’s side lightly, like it’s a game, and the boy flinches.

"come on, kid," seongje says, his voice teasing but edged with something darker, something almost amused by the kid’s fear. "just like we practiced."

the delinquent on his knees doesn’t speak, his eyes downcast, probably too terrified to even look up at seongje, but his shaky hand lifts. you watch as he tries to make the "a" handshape, his fingers clumsy as he attempts to sign. seongje looks down at the boy, his grin stretching wider as he watches him fumble.

the delinquent hurriedly completes the sign, his hands shaking, his breath coming in short bursts as he struggles to perform it correctly. he spins his hand in a half-hearted clockwise motion, and you can tell how hard it is for him to even try. he looks humiliated, and maybe that’s what seongje wants—to make him feel small, to show that he’s the one in control now. like how the boy probably felt back in the bowling alley with you.

“sorry.” he signed.

as the boy finishes, seongje pats his shoulder with an almost affectionate thud, a grin still plastered on his face. “good job,” he mutters, voice dripping with mock praise. but his eyes flick to you, then back to the delinquent, as if waiting for some kind of reaction.

the delinquent scrambles to his feet, not daring to say a word, but you can see the fear still fresh in his eyes. without another glance, he stumbles off into the shadows of the parking lot, and seongje doesn’t follow him, not bothering with any more theatrics. “now that’s how you apologize,” he sighs contentedly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye as he walks back to where you two came from.

you don’t respond, but you follow him. because, despite everything—despite how messed up all of this is—he’s still the one who, somehow, happened to feel like the safest person to be around. despite his… unique antics.

despite the way he does things no one else would dare to. because even if he’s rough around the edges, unpredictable and loud, seongje never made you feel small. and that, weirdly enough, was enough.

seongje’s desk at the bowling alley becomes a quiet sort of shrine to you—littered with your letters and notes, half-crumpled from him rereading them over and over. he never bothers to clean it up. they’re scattered across the surface like leaves in a storm, but he knows exactly where each one is. it’s an organized mess, chaotic in the same way he is. but if anyone even looks at them too long—tries to pick one up, makes a joke about the handwriting, even breathes too close to the edge of his desk—they’re basically asking for a death wish.

“touch it and you die,” he’ll mutter without even looking up, one foot kicked up on the desk, cigarette dangling from his lips. it’s not even a threat—it’s a promise.

somewhere in between the late night meetups—where the world is quiet and it’s just the two of you—and the stolen moments in back rooms lit by vending machine glow, seongje softens. not in a way that’s obvious to most, but in ways you catch. like when he plays bowling with you late at night at the union headquarters, just the sound of pins crashing echoing through the empty lanes. he’s terrible at it, but he doesn’t care. he would fair better hitting someone at the back of the head with these bowling balls. he only really lights up when it’s your turn.

you roll the ball, knock down every pin, and before you can even react, he’s throwing his hands in the air, exaggeratedly signing applause, a wide grin stretching across his face.

“that’s what i’m fucking talking about!” he shouts, clapping loudly on top of the sign for applause he just made, just because he’s still him—loud, obnoxious, impossible—but now he’s loud for you.

yeah… to seongje, you’re like a stray puppy at first. small, quiet, following him around without saying a word, eyes always wide and watching. at first, he thinks it’s kinda funny—endearing, even. you don’t talk back, don’t flinch when he’s loud, and you’ve got this habit of showing up with little notes or food like some soft, strange ritual he doesn’t understand. he starts calling you “puppy” just to mess with you, ruffling your hair whenever you come around.

but somewhere along the way, that fondness stops being just a game. no, you’re not a pet to seongje. but maybe, you became an equal.

he starts waiting for your notes. starts leaving his office door slightly cracked, just in case you come by. he catches himself watching you instead of his phone. gets weirdly pissed off when other people so much as look at you wrong.

and the night he realizes it’s different—that it’s not just him babysitting some quiet kid—it’s when you sign “stay” with soft hands after a long night, and he does. no grumbling, no jokes, just settles next to you and doesn’t leave.

after that, it’s not a question. you’re not a puppy. you’re his person.

and yeah, maybe he never said you were dating. but everyone knows. you leave your food in the union’s fridge, your letters in his desk, your comfort in the chaos of his life. and he protects you, respects you, listens to your silence more than he’s ever listened to anyone’s voice. and no one in the union dares to bring it up or even question your soft presence in the nitty gritty bowling alley.

seongje is loud. like, really fucking loud. he talks with his whole body, yells when he's annoyed, laughs like he owns the air around him, and never knows when to shut up. he's noise and motion and chaos wrapped in one, dangerously sharp-edged boy. but you—you're quiet. not just in voice, but in presence. you move gently, offer kindness without demanding attention, speak in ways that don’t need sound.

and somehow, in all the noise of his world, your silence is the only thing that ever made sense. he used to think silence was empty, but now it’s where he finds comfort. he’s still loud, still volatile, still the type to throw a punch first and maybe ask questions never. but now there’s this... softness around the edges. a space he carves out just for you. like you’re the eye of the storm, and he’s always, always circling back to you.

in your quiet, he feels understood. and maybe that's the wildest thing about this whole mess—that a boy made of sound found peace in someone who never had to say a word.

note: aaa i feel like this so short >><< i wanted to give them more of a backstory but for now this is what i’m going with. if you’d like to see more of them that’d be nice 🫶 this is such a different take from collarless tho, and it’s nice to also write a softer character to contrast our tough collarless!reader to explore more dynamics with seongje.

i don’t aim to reform or soften seongje, but have the peaceful presence of the reader be incorporated into his life without changing his ideals and personality.

𐔌 . ⋮ taglist .ᐟ weak hero class ֹ ₊ ꒱ @kstrucknet | @loserlvrss @nanamiswifesatorusgf @hateateez @slytherinshua @winnie-bunnie @rexxiiia @mrgzzarella @ilyhachii @youmeshii @actuallynarii @midnight--raine @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @trasshy-artist @crowneve @juicyjam @xh01bri @onyourlisa345 @triciawritesstuff @prettywhenicry4 @dripoftheseus @rosieparkk @gacktsa @sopitadearvejas @satorustorm @d4ily-s-nsh1ne @mirwors @sqacewalkr @l5byrinth @vovoloyo @keumbaku @sarcastic-cookie @v3n0m35 @vitaminbtob @armani78 (ask to be tagged or removed)

[nondivisable]

look accessibility can and will be contradictory

I love a high toilet seat bc it means in don't have to put effort in with my legs, but people doing a chair transfer might hate it

an audio transcript at the end of a video might make it annoying for people using a screen reader

loud music for hoh people might make an event inaccessible for people with noise sensitivity

speaking longly and specifically for people who struggle with tone might make your message confusing for people with cognitive disabilities

and the list goes on

but if you never start making your life and content accessible, then you're not helping anyone either. there's not a golden rule of accessibility but if you don't even put in an effort, that's when you become an asshole