#hard of hearing!reader
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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.
#matt murdock#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#matt murodock hurt/comfort#matt murdock angst#matt murdock imagine#daredevil fic#daredevil x reader#daredevil fanfiction#hoh!reader#hard of hearing!reader#deaf!reader#self indulgent
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Not a request for your picture drop but could I request a little drabble on soulmates? Someone on my timeline reblogged a lot of soulmate fics today and I'm hooked again.
Maybe for Steve or Bucky?
It was the moment the door opened and they’d been cast into the decked out theme, that made them question whether or not they actually wanted to be here. It was the moment the smell of freshly made popcorn hit their noses followed by the shrieks and laughter of kids running as best as they could, that made them wonder if being roped into Stark’s charity event was as accidental as he claimed.
Neither Steve nor Bucky was opposed to being present at these charity events, neither one of them would truly negate the chance to give back however it was working closely with whatever whims Tony Stark had for them that was anxiety inducing.
All he had told the two super soldiers was to arrive exactly at 2pm and show up in their uniforms with their personas on full display. With the two men closely aligned, as being each others soulmates and just missing one third of themselves, they could detect more than most who were without any indicators of who their other half was.
“Its captain America!” A little boy with an oxygen tank being wheeled behind him had scooted toward Steve, and in a single bound had made all hesitations dissipate from the soldiers body.
“Sick kids hospital, didn’t Tony tell you?” Clint had slipped past the two, watching them as they were getting nearly bombarded with kids. “They’re raising money for new beds, new monsters, a new intensive care unit-”
“And the Winter Soldier!” Bucky was tugged forward, caught off balance and nearly stumbled flat on his face as a little girl reached for his arm in wonderment.
“Still wanna leave, punk?” Bucky teased Steve, looking back at one half of his soulmate with questioning gaze that centred entirely on Steve’s daze. “Steve? Ya alright, pal?”
Steve had felt the cusps of full colour slowly radiating into his field of vision, the hues of faint light hitting him with the all too real sense that he was in the same room as their missing piece. The kids around him were eager for attention and he was not one who wanted to disappoint them however he was held captive by a woman talking with Clint.
“Bucky-” Steve spoke his name, his throat and voice cracking as an air of suspense whipped around him and his world became brighter and more Saturday’s.
“Captain America! Captain America!” Kids scrambled to gain his attention as the world around him shifted into a new direction and dimension.
“Holy shit-!” Bucky cursed, coming to stand straight and tall, his eyes likely also becoming overwhelmed with colours that had never yet been see .
“THE WINTER SOLDIER SAID A BAD WORD!” The kids around them chortled, cackling and screaming in glee as Steve and Bucky were completely enraptured by a woman on the other side of the room.
Coney Island indoors, a fair inside for kids who may never have the chance to go. It was a fair to raise money for sick kids, and it was a cause Steve could get fully behind. He was a sickly child once, he was a child who could’ve died any number of times over and over again.
It was a Coney Island theme filled with colours and sensations, and yet all he could focus on was the missing part of himself and Bucky.
“Colours-”
“I never knew the world could be so gorgeous.” Steve inhaled and exhaled slowly, his eyes fixated toward their soulmate who was as equally shocked and in awe.
Steve’s smile was slow to rise, and he had awkwardly raised his hand to wave twice, back and forth to somehow acknowledge their soulmate.
Bucky had watched Steve, eyebrows furrowed and a soft chuckle threatening to spill from his lips. He was equally endeared by Steve’s continued awkwardness and embarrassed.
“It’s her.” Steve mumbled under his breath, falling back into his task at hand when he crouched and started interacting with the kids surrounding him.
He had only ever raised his head when two additional people joined their little space, and then Steve locked onto a gorgeous pair of eyes that stole his breath and his heart.
“Steve,” Clint addressed Steve and Bucky before introducing his friend, his fingers poignantly moving, “this is Y/N, a volunteer for the sick kids hospital. Y/N this is Steve & Bucky.”
Bucky stood from where he was crouching and inhaled sharply, just as captivated as Steve was.
“I lost my hearing when I was 16,” you used sign language to communicate along with your verbal explanation, fingers forming each word despite them not knowing ASL, “I had meningitis. I recovered but…”
You tapped your left and right ear and then shook your hand to signify your ability to only partially hear. It was a message that was received with the weight of the two soldiers finding out you were theirs, another layer to the life-altering news of the day.
“I can talk and I use sign language but-”
“Bucky,” Steve drew his hand between Bucky and himself, “Steve-”
“I think she knows, pal.” Bucky nudged Steve, attempting to save him from further embarrassment, only to falter himself when the sound of your laughter rang in their ears.
#soulmate!Stucky x deaf!Reader#soulmate!Stucky x hard of hearing!Reader#deaf!Reader#hard of hearing!Reader#hearing impaired!Reader#Steve rogers x deaf!Reader x bucky Barnes#Bucky Barnes x deaf!Reader x steve Rogers#Bucky Barnes x hearing impaired!Reader x steve Rogers#Steve rogers x hearing impaired!Reader x Bucky Barnes#soulmate au#stucky x reader soulmate au
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hhhmmm ythink ghost talks you through it? just… think about his quiet murmurs of, “jus’ like that, sweetheart. s’right, jus’ like that.” or “on your knees, sweet girl.” or “open y’r mouth wider – look at you, y’r takin’ me so well, love. so greedily too.”
#simon ghost riley x reader#hes drunk off of u 😔🫶🏼#gnashing my teeth so hard i can hear my braces squeak in protest#suns#i’m procrastinating instead of doing homework so pls feel free to ignore me 😭
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the real reason suguru doesn’t care if his roommate hears you moaning louder than ever when he fucks you is because he’s heard satoru turn into a whining mess when his girlfriend fucks him more times than he can count. he thinks you crying out his name is reasonable payback.
#and suguru lowkey gets painfully hard hearing satoru whine#even if they were straight (they’re not) they’d still be into each other#stsg is love stsg is life#stsg smut#gojo satoru#geto suguru#geto smut#gojo smut#smut hcs#jjk smut#jjk#jjk x reader#geto x reader#bakubunny
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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.
#male reader#x male reader#scream 1996#scream x male reader#billy x stu x male reader#billy loomis#poly!billy and stu x male reader#stu macher x male reader#stu macher#billy loomis x male reader#poly! billy and stu x male reader#hard of hearing male reader#hoh!male reader#x hard of hearing male reader#fluff#oneshot
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steve harrington is a secret hopeless romantic. at least he thinks he’s secretive…. his girl sees right through him, though. she knows better, knows her boy like the back of her hand.
her stevie is long love letters spritzed with perfume that he’s too shy to actually give to you, he’s your lipstick stains on the collar of his shirt, his lover’s scent clinging to him. steve is the color yellow most times, warmth and light and affection, but with his baby he turns red, passionate and desperate and devoted. he is hand holding, shared clothes, wearing his girl’s ring on his pinky finger, heart lockets. written by women, described by taylor swift’s lover album. completely enamored with his baby, loyalty and commitment clear, heart-eyes, forehead kisses. the definition of a puppy boyfriend. head pat, belly rubs, back scratches, butterfly kisses. steve is intimacy, morning sex, make out sessions in the backseat of his car. going down on you for hours, turning his hearing aids up to hear your moans better. your favorite flowers sent to your door with a note filled with his devotion, his adoration. the flowers you give him are kept safely in between pages of your favorite book that became his favorite once you gave him your annotated copy. date nights, drinking wine in the bathtub, cuddling under the night sky. stargazing on the hood of his beamer. slow dancing under the refrigerator lights. talking the ears off of anyone who’ll listen about his beloved. his angel. his best girl. his. your picture on the visor of his car, his bedside table, taped to his mirror, inside his wallet. hand in your back pocket, arm around your shoulder, your smaller hands holding onto his fingers. pinky promises, late night talking and early morning love confessions. dinner at candlelight, picnics surrounded by wildflowers, forehead to forehead touches. kisses. all the kisses. steve harrington is love, reds and pinks and rose gold, ready to kneel at your feet, to worship your body, to shower you in praise. heart racing at the sight of his baby. pulling you closer for a kiss by the necklace he gifted you with an ‘s’ on it. heart-shaped chocolate boxes, teddy bears, red roses, flower petals on the floor, on the bed. the princess treatment. helping to put on and take off your heels. opening doors, hands at the bottom of your spine, carrying you around, piggyback rides. the promise of forever.
#fairy writes#steve harrington (harmo’s version)#hoh!steve#hard of hearing!steve#steve harrington x fem!reader#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x y/n#steve harrington fluff#shy!reader#friends to lovers#mutual pining#hopeless romantic!steve#lovesick!steve#steve harrington imagine#steve harrington hc#steve harrington thoughts#steve x you#steve x reader#st x you#st x reader#tooth-rotting fluff#steve harrington blurb#steve harrington smut#steve harrington
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I love you mobility aids.
I love you canes I love you forearm crutches I love you compression gloves I love you compression sleeves for knees and elbows. I love you rollators I love you wheelchairs I love you back braces and neck braces I love you power chairs I love you leg and arm braces I love you screen readers and hearing aids and everyone who spends the time and energy to actually help physically disabled people of all kinds.
I love everything that helps disabled people live our fucking lives
#PLEASE TAG SUCH IF YOU REBLOG AND ARE NOT PHYSICALLY DISABLED#i am a hearing and seeing person#disabilities#physical disability#chronic illness#disabled#chronic pain#disability#deaf#hard of hearing#blind#paralyzed#this post is about physical disability#compression gloves#compression sleeves#wheelchair#ambulatory mobility aid user#dynamic disability#screen readers#rollator#cane#forearm crutches#back braces#neck brace#leg braces#arm braces#power chairs
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when you're fifteen
Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."
It is and isn't a surprise.
Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson; Steve Harrington & Mike Wheeler
WC: 4044 | Rated T | Tags/Themes: Good Babysitter Steve, Period Atypical Depictions of DnD, HoH!Steve, Disabled!Eddie
Ao3
Eddie prided himself on his ability to manage a table. A forever DM, four years into a lifetime sentence, he can keep a story on track and, more importantly, keep tempers in check for hours at a time.
He kept track of a thousand little details across notebooks, binders, and just trapped in his own brain. He knew everything about his NPCs, the world, his player’s characters, and the things that drove his players nuts. He had plans, backup plans, and vague ideas of shit he could do if things went completely and totally off the rails despite all of those plans. That was one of the things he held fast on his tongue the first time he failed senior year. Of course he didn’t pass. He’d taken on the mantle of Dungeon Master. He had to put together a story that took into account: Jeff’s high stakes backstory with the missing mother and bounty on his head, Gareth’s need to flirt with anything age appropriate that had a pulse, and Joey’s tactical mind when it comes to battle. Wasn’t it enough that he was going to class, he had to do shit at home about it too?
He didn’t like saying it. He liked to bitch about it a lot, actually. Eddie wasn’t really sure what he’d do with himself if he wasn’t The DM. It was like a core part of his identity.
It made the current situation he was in more world rocking than he really wanted to deal with.
He liked to think, if he couldn’t feel the remaining muscles in his side screaming in agony because he was sitting wrong -- or for too long or both -- and if his lower back wasn’t seizing and spasming for the same or maybe a brand new reason it had decided to come up with today, that he’d be able to manage this table just as well as he always had. Eight really wasn’t that different from three.
Except that combat is impossible to manage, each round took forever and that’s when everyone was paying attention. Except that there hasn’t been a satisfying story moment for Jeffrey the Jovial or Dustin’s Sir Rathington in the last four sessions. Except that Erica has been scribbling something in her notebook that probably wasn’t campaign notes since she hadn’t called him on the plot hole he caught session planning a month ago and hasn’t been able to fix -- and is more likely to have something to do with the way he noticed her looking at Uhura and Chapel when she was watching Star Trek reruns with Steve.
Except that Mike has been screaming at Dustin and Lucas for the better part of five minutes and Eddie really isn’t sure how to fix it.
“The plan is stupid. Did you even spend more than ten seconds thinking about it or did you decide that Will could just roll another character and we could save the resources.”
“Will could roll another character. It's not the first time he's rolled another character.” Lucas points out for what might be the third time, Eddie’s lost count.
“This whole thing is about resources, Mike.” Dustin snaps, “We’ll all be rolling new characters if we go into this stupid fucking fight while Gareth has no spell slots, Lucas is down to three arrows, Joey’s already used his second wind, and half the party is below half health.”
“It doesn’t matter, if we don’t go into the fight now Will is going to turn into some bloodsucking vampire spawn.”
Eddie knows this is the point that he should grab the reins again. He should prompt one of them to make a decision, or better yet, take the decision away from them entirely. But there’s a numbness in his thigh that has somehow spread to his mouth; it’s different from the pain the rest of his body is in, not really better or worse, and just as distracting.
The rest of the table is quiet, boredom and annoyance plain on their faces. But they’ve also stopped looking to him to fix the problem. That’s the worst thing the Upside Down took from him, he thinks, even as his body is radiating pain from places he used to be able to forget he had.
“Or maybe it’s a trap,” Lucas points out. And it should be, but Lucas is a far better tactician than Eddie who already knows he won’t want to deal with the work it would take to do that well. “Y’know since you made all your weak spots pretty clear to Lord Ellias.”
“Or,” Dustin drawls out with a Harrington’s level of bitch and ire, “we could trust Eddie to turn this into a fucking story moment.”
“You guys are both so full of shit, just-” Mike has his nose curled and lip snarled, Eddie can feel the breeze of the blade swinging down to deliver the death blow to this campaign and adventuring party.
“Alright time to take a break.” Steve claps his hands, an angel come from on high to save Eddie. “Get up, get a snack, move your feet. Give my dining room some time to air out before it smells like nerd forever.”
Mike turns the full weight of his aggression on to Steve, who hopefully has a damage immunity or advantage on saves at the very least otherwise this is looking like a short talk, “We can't just take a break. Do you not get what the stakes are here? We've got to save-”
“Save someone who will still be in danger in twenty minutes.” Steve steamrolls over Mike’s argument with an unaffected ease. Eddie can feel the mood of the table lift just a bit, now that they’re about to be rescued.
“You just don't get it.”
“I get that it's pretend.” In a pre-Vencapocalypse world that would have been enough to get Eddie fighting on Little Wheeler’s side, but much as DnD is still his life. Fuck, it is all just pretend. “Go take a lap.”
“Ugh why do we even come over here. We could do this at my house without washed up jocks interrupting us.” Mike says but he gets up. Storming off to god knows where in the monstrosity of Steve’s house. Will, quiet as he always seems to get when he’s the center of one of these drag outs, trails off after Mike with an eye roll at the other two sophomores and an apologetic shrug for Steve.
And Eddie has his table again. Quiet and still, waiting for him to say something. Like there’s even anything to say when his very own Deus Ex Machina is leaving the room without so much as a backward glance at the poor schmucks he’s saved. “Well,” he says with a clap of his hands, “My blood sugar is dropping, so I’m going to shove as many of those cookies I smelled earlier into my mouth as I can in twenty minutes.” Because as much as they weren’t looking to him before, they need the DM to break the spell of the table. That’s how the whole thing goes.
And they scatter once it breaks. Eddie’s original Hellfire boys stay at the table, their ease at the Harrington house has been hardwon and the argument has rekindled something nerdy and skittish in them. Erica has headed off to the corner of the house Steve has let her claim as her own, nose still buried in her notebook. He doesn’t know where Lucas and Dustin are, but wherever they’ve gone they aren’t around to watch him struggle to pull himself out of his throne with his cane. He should just give in and let Steve raise the seat, half the problem is that it sits too low -- but knowing that and being willing to admit it at any point other than when he’s in PT levels of misery from pulling himself up are very different things.
Steve has his back to the door again, by the time Eddie makes his way to the kitchen. He has a bizarre semi-awareness of his surroundings that can be hard to predict. Sometimes it’s freaky how Steve can call out Dustin or Erica from a different room with an almost parental ‘eyes in the back of his head’ sixth sense. Other times his own soulmate can get the drop on him, managing to get her arms wrapped around his middle before he even realizes they’re in the same room.
It’s better to slam his cane against the floor a couple times. To let Steve feel the vibrations through the floorboards with his sock feet, that way nobody has to get hurt or feel guilty for doing the hurting.
Getting to see Steve’s grin bloom across his face as he flips that famous hair and catches sight of Eddie isn’t so bad either.
Next to Steve, it’s safe to prop his cane against the counter. He can rest his hips against the sure, solid surface and relax in the presence of his boyfriend while the blood returns to his limbs and a new kind of discomfort settles in. A hand, warm and sudsy finds the back of his neck. A strong thumb digging into a knot that had been there since at least last week with an erotic precision.
“You’ve got to stop letting them keep you in that chair for so long.”
"If we take breaks we'll just be here longer."
He shrugs, pulling his other hand from the dish water to pull Eddie into a gentle hold. "So be here longer."
"You'd get sick of the fighting. I'd get sick of the fighting." Actually it was probably better not to remind Steve of that. "You know I really did want one of those famous Stevie Henderson cookies."
Even as he hands over the platter of chocolate chip miracles he makes, Steve sighs. It's a full bodied affair that makes Eddie nervous on instinct. "We need to talk about Mike."
It is and isn't a surprise. "I know the yelling is a lot, Sweetheart, I'm sorry. You don't have a migraine, do you? I can talk to him and make him chill out a bit." That last part is absolutely a lie; he doesn't think he could get Mike under control right now if he had a stun gun and half a pound of Argyle’s primo Cali weed.
Not that it matters Steve has on his scrunchy faced 'you're wrong about something,' look, Eddie just needs to give him the minute it'll take to get his thoughts together. "You know I love you right?"
“In this dimension and any others,” Eddie supplies.
Steve smiles, feather soft, and runs a soothing hand through Eddie's hair the way he always does right before he says something atrociously bitchy. "I turn my hearing aids off the second you all start playing. If I had to listen to your game three different times, three different ways I'd drive my car into a portal."
He keeps going the way he does when he's afraid he's been too mean and wants to try to soften his edges for general consumption, like Eddie hadn't fallen in love with him the first time he called Dusin a butthead. "This way you and Dust can still use me as a sounding board for your plots and theories and I don't have to listen to my favorite nerds try to remember if 5+7 is 11 or 12."
“So what’s?”
“I’m worried about him!” Steve insists. Eddie might pride himself on his ability to handle a table, but he knows Steve is proud of his way with the kids. His relationship with each of them is rich and distinct, the way he handles each of them unique.
But it’s Mike.
Something must cross his face. He can only call it something, because he’s honestly not sure what emotion he’s feeling other than headache and how many cookies can I eat before they start tasting like nausea. But something else must have been there that causes Steve to cross his arms and glare.
“Yeah, of course, you’re worried about him. We are worried about him. Why are we worried about him, other than worried about what an asshole he’s been lately?”
That was not the right thing to say either, Eddie’s really rolling straight ones today. Steve’s glare shutters even further closed, and seriously it’s Mike. The same kid who called Steve a washed up jock not ten minutes ago. Who takes every single offered opportunity, and even some that he makes himself, to bitch and glare at Hawkins own #1 babysitter and monster hunter.
“He’s a teenager with more trauma than a ‘Nam vet. But even if he weren’t he’s not an asshole for being barely fifteen and not knowing when to shut the hell up. Do you remember the kind of shit you were saying back then?”
Big brother Steve has successfully landed a critical hit. Eddie does remember the kind of shit he used to say. Just like he knows Steve remembers the kind of shit he used to say. And they both remember the shit that they used to say to one another. How Eddie called Steve a braindead future Reganite who wouldn’t know good taste if it spit in his mouth. How Steve had called Eddie a tryhard that was so desperate to be different because that was the only way he could hide having nothing to offer.
“So we’re worried?”
“I just don’t want him to say something he can’t walk back because he forgot the thing he’s getting upset over is pretend.” He runs a finger down Eddie’s splayed hands. A tickling sensation he can feel down the path it traces from the back of his palm and down his middle finger and, in a phantom mirror, down his spine. “I know you get into your characters, or whatever, I’m sure this is bringing up a lot of memories but he’s going to regret lashing out if it means he pushes away Dustin or Lucas or one of the other guys.”
“I notice you left out Will.”
“Yeah well, Will is more likely to get hurt by something he says when lashing out while they aren’t playing exposure therapy the game. I mean seriously, you had to kidnap him? That’s where your, ‘Stevie, baby, what should I do with them this week? They decided to do something stupid,’ bitching and moaning landed you?”
Eddie doesn’t even really have time to let himself feel the fluttery, squishy feeling he wants to feel -- cause Steve does actually listen when they’ve got their feet tangled on the sofa together, each working on their own things -- before it’s getting smacked by down by the paladin of his heart. “No, no, that isn’t where I landed. I had a perfectly acceptable diplomacy mission prepared, with a back up fight that they were supposed to run away from. What do you want me to do, Sunshine? I gotta give the game some stakes. It’s not exactly fun for Will if he knows he’s indestructible.”
Maybe, he thinks, he should just stop talking today. Just cancel the rest of the session entirely. Will gets carried off by the vampire spawn, half dead and unsaveable, the party on its last legs, unable to agree on a course of action; and actually that’s where we’re gonna end things come back next week and hope Steve even lets us in the house after the screaming we’ve all done. Why? Because he can feel every joint in his body and every one of them is in pain. Because there’s been the dull throb of a low grade headache beating an even pulse in his temples since he woke up this morning. But mostly because every time he opens his stupid fucking mouth to talk Steve stops touching him, and that sucks absolute balls.
“I maybe had an idea,” Steve says. His voice dips and slides while he keeps his hands small, quiet, and close to his chest. Something Robin told him, and he’s now noticing, means Steve has thought about this idea a lot, long enough that he’s convinced himself it’s bad. Eddie’s noticed that even when these ideas aren’t phrased well, they’re never bad.
“I know it’s like rule number one: don’t split the party,” Steve can’t help but roll his eyes when he says it, an instinctive bit of brotherly mockery of Dustin, he would guess. “But what if you split the group a bit. Mike can go after Will, I’m sure Erica would be down to kill some vampires. She loves a chance to test drive her new feats and shit. Then Jeff and Dustin and whoever else can finish up that thing? With the missing girlfriend or whatever? And once that’s done they reunite to do whatever’s next on the list, save the kingdom.”
Eddie sits with that for a bit.
Impulsive is still his middle name, but sometime between being eaten alive by other dimensional hell creatures and getting a thousand and six tiny, itchy stitches removed he’s started giving things second and even third thoughts. Though in this case the second thoughts are less ‘is this a good idea’ and more ‘will Steve bend me over that solid oak dining table and critique my DM notes while he rails me.’
As his stomach swoops, his lower body twinges in a much less enjoyable way. Letting him know that now he’d been standing too long, or leaning against the counter the wrong way, or maybe something else entirely that made his legs tired of doing one of the few things they were made to do.
Figures he finally lands a hot boyfriend and he's got chronic pain keeping him from getting his dick wet.
“If you’ve already got another idea-”
“No,” he rushes to assure Steve, who needs to stay confident in his own ideas for all kinds of reasons but right now mostly so he’ll be willing to play into this new fantasy of Eddie’s once his body is willing to cooperate with the standing and the bending it’s going to require. “No, it’s a fantastic idea. I’m plotting as we speak.”
And that isn’t a total lie. Forever DM, he can think about all the fun ways the love of his life and reason he’s still living could degrade his current campaign -- An oath of vengeance paladin questing to save a lost love, isn’t that a little played out. Oh wow, rat swarms in a dungeon, they’re never gonna see that coming -- and figure out how to trick the group into thinking splitting the party was their own idea.
“How long,” he asks his resident child expert, “do you think it would take Will to roll up a new character?”
The smile that tips the corners of Steve’s face is the best part of his day. “Will always has an extra character rolled up with the rest of his stuff in his folder."
Things are slotting together in his head now, and as Steve's hands come around to do something magical in a spot on his back that probably has a name but mostly makes his legs feel like they should really belong to a baby deer.
“So Will…”
“Can convince Mike, and get a chance to try out the new thingy he built. He’s been waiting to talk to you about it.”
Eddie’s getting excited now, hands shaking in the good way. He doesn’t even care that his knee locks as he tries to bounce on his toes, just lets his hands get out the excited energy. “And the band can go do the story side plot shit I’ve been putting off…”
“With Dustin,” Steve reminds, “cause he’ll want to go wherever there’s the best chance to stir up shit. You already know Erica is going to go where there’s a chance to prove she’s the best at fighting, Lucas too. Not the fighting thing. He’ll go to round out the group, and so his mom doesn’t have to worry about keeping track of one more thing on the family calendar.”
“You’re a genius, Sweetheart.” He snags Steve by the collar, ignoring his bitching that the two fingered pinch he’s got it in is going to stretch it out, and pulls him close. Pressing a kiss on the corner of his perfect boyfriend’s pleased little smile. “I gotta go talk to Will about this character.”
“Send Mike down when you do?”
He’s surprised when he gets no argument, barely gets acknowledgement, when he finds Will and Mike in the guest bathroom and separates them. Mike slips from the room with nothing but a backward glance at Will, who smiles supportively. Once he clears the room, it takes next to zero prompting to get Will to talk about his backup character. The ‘thingy’ he'd been working on a tricked out ranger build that's going to annihilate.
There's something fresh, brightening, about Will's enthusiasm for the character that infects Eddie too. It gets him excited, for the first time since everyone arrived, to sit down around their over crowded table and play the hour of set up it's going to take to get the party ready to be split.
And Will doesn't duck his head anymore when Eddie pushes at him and his DnD expertise, he just pushes back. Together they work out a couple tweaks that will make the build fit better in the party, flesh out a backstory that they can integrate even if it doesn't end up going anywhere, and it doesn't really feel like time passes at all. Until Sinclair is sticking his head through the door, surprise artfully hidden at who he finds, as he asks if they're ready to go.
Mike is conspicuously absent from the table when Eddie makes his way to it, and that won't do at all. He's not an asshole, he's just 15. Something like shame crawls up the back of his throat as Steve's reminder sounds in his head. He remembers 15 and the things he said but more than that, as he looks around the table, he remembers being the last to arrive at a hangout of people you're already worried hate you only to find them having a good time without you.
Eddie has always prided himself on his ability to run a good session. "Stevie, gimme back our paladin, do I need to bring in a hostage negotiator."
A cookie held in one hand while the other smooths down the ruffled fringe of his bangs, Mike re-enters the dining room. The back of his Hellfire shirt is bunched and, if that weren't sign enough he'd been on the receiving end of a perfect Harrington hug, he looks settled. A smile tugging at his face that Eddie hadn't realized how much he missed, he looks boyish and happy and if Eddie didn't before he understands Steve's mission to keep these kids kids by whatever means necessary.
"Alright, now where were we?” He says once Mike is back in his seat beside Will, “Ah yes, you all watch in horror as the vampire spawn, hastened, dash away from you all with the unconscious, but still alive, body of Sir William the Wizened." Before anyone can restart the shouting, and he knows there will be shouting now that they’ve all had a chance to look over their notes and their character sheets, he barrels on. “From the hill behind you comes a shot. An arrow flies, thwip thwip. It slices between you all, before sinking into the back of one of the spawn at the back of the pack. He stumbles to the ground and the rest of the pack leave him to die.”
“We can interrogate him!”
“Worry about who’s behind us, dude.”
He doesn’t let Mike or Dustin derail him, Eddie continues, “As you turn the hill behind you is nothing but mist. You all know the range of an elven bow, but whoever fired it is nowhere to be seen. You wait, breath held, as a figure all in black slowly approaches. You get the feeling you see him now only because he wants to be seen.
“Will, describe your new character for us!”
#steddie#steve and mike#mike wheeler#good babysitter steve harrington#hard of hearing steve harrington#disabled eddie munson#its the mikes not an asshole he's just a traumatized teenager fic#yknow the one no one was waiting for#for my tag readers will homebrewed a prototype gloomstalker#and the author borrowed the hardwon vampire arc from naddpod#my fic
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i need to make out with him and have it be dirty
funny thing is i was just writing something about making out with james the other day. i will transfer it here instead.
he's bodily pulled you onto his lap, your legs bracketing his thighs as he sloppily presses his lips to yours in a desperate kiss. there's a groan low in the back of his throat that vibrates through you as you grip the ends of his hair, the sounds of your lips meeting filling the room.
he's gripping your hips, pulling you down over the growing length in his jeans and smirking against your lips at the sound of your whine, silencing the sounds as he licks at your lips and makes his way into your mouth. you accept him gratefully, letting his hands wander from your hips to your ass, up to your back and slipping under your shirt.
you're entirely focused on the feel of his lips, hands fisting into his shirt and rolling your hips down onto his crotch to gain some relief from the growing ache between your legs.
eventually, the kisses die down to slow pecks, stealing one last kiss before pulling away and gazing at his bruised lips and relishing in the taste of him still lingering on your tongue.
both your chests are heaving, eyes on each other's faces before you glance down to his crotch.
"want me to take care of that?"
he smirks at you when you not so subtly grind down on him, his air debonair as he shuffles down in his seat and bounces you once in his lap.
"would be nice."
you smile, pressing your swollen lips to his in a heated kiss and sliding off his lap, onto your knees.
#alana's thoughts#metallica#james hetfield#james hetfield x reader#heavnlyhetfield#alana's faves ♡#oh fee#you get it#i want to have the most disgustingly sloppy make out session with him#just lazily grinding into his crotch#not doing anything but kissing#and hearing his grunts when you grind down particularly hard#his hands everywhere#all over you#just not being able to get enough of each other#ugh.
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Jaime Reyes x HoH!Reader Headcanons
Chubby!Fem!Reader ○
💙 Jaime is so sweet and he's doing his best, but he's overprotective at times. He thinks he has to do more, and it's nice when he's helpful, but he doesn't. He doesn't mean anything by it, he just has this idea that he has to do the most for Reader so she doesn't have to do more. She has to assure him constantly that she's okay and doesn't need him to do everything for her.
💙 On the other hand, if they're in a crowded, busy place and she doesn't hear him, he won't get louder but tap on her shoulder or snag her shirt sleeve if they're moving through places so they can stock together. It's no worry though because Khaji Da always has her in its sights/sensors.
💙 I feel like Khaji knows a lot about human culture, but maybe not everything. I think it would be cute if Reader wears hearing aids and Khaji Da is fascinated by them until it has fully inspected and studied them. Just the idea of Dangerous Alien Weapon loving nonviolent devices makes me giggle.
💙 Carries an extra set of noise-canceling headphones/earbuds around for her, especially when they're going out to a crowded place. The headphones especially help protect her ears when he wants to take her flying. He has one arm around her soft waist and his other hand keeping her headphones on, but Khaji is also helping hold onto her so they're good to go.
💙 If Reader uses Sign Language, Khaji learns and understands it very easily. Jaime does too, but Khaji usually ends up translating and Jaime finds it so annoying when he's just trying to have a conversation with his girlfriend.
💙 Loves chilling with Reader and holding her curves while they watch TV or a movie. If he ends up on the news, he doesn't really want to watch himself on TV but she does and so he'll watch her watch him on TV because he thinks it's cute. It doesn't matter what they're saying about him, the "great Blue Beetle" saving the day once again is the usual story, but she just likes seeing him in action.
💙 Him teaching her to dance, but the music can bother her ears on any given day if her ears are irritated, so he hums the melody as they go through the moves. She eventually knows it so well that she hums along.
#jaime reyes x reader#jaime reyes headcanons#jaime reyes x chubby reader#hoh!reader#hard of hearing reader#blue beetle headcanons#blue beetle imagines#blue beetle x reader#blue beetle
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Sun and Moon never really liked adults, never had a reason to.
To them, Sun and Moon were just a thing the adults could control. Forced to serve because they were 'programmed' to. Adults only spelt trouble, only wasting their time on them to order around, complain, or reprogram. At least until you came along.
You were different.
Maybe a friend is all they needed, and maybe that's all you need too.
#fnaf security breach#dca fanfic#fnaf fanfic#fnaf daycare attendant#fnaf sb#fnaf#fnaf dca#fnaf sun and moon#fnaf moon#fnaf sun#daycare attendent#daycare attendant x reader#moondrop#sundrop#moondrop x reader#sundrop x reader#sun x reader#moon x reader#dca x reader#point you in the right direction#chapter 1#archive of our own#first chapter lets go!!!#Don't Forget to Like Comment and Share!!!!#I'm excited to hear your thoughts!#i worked really hard on this!#Already started on chapters 2 and 3!#FINALLY!!!!!#Over 10000 words lets go!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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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.”
#matt murdock#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x y/n#matt murdock x you#daredevil fic#daredevil#matt murdock fic#matt murdock angst#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock hurt/comfort#matt murdock love of my life#frank castle#karen page#foggy nelson#marvel fic#mcu fanfic#marvel comics#hard of hearing!reader#hoh!reader#deaf!reader
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Hii you know how you wrote about reader getting hurt because of their job please could you write that with graves or nikolai x
Hey! Sure I can!
Graves’ and Nikolai’s S/O Gets Hurt Because of Their job
Graves: On the outside he may seem calm and collected, but on the inside he’d be seething with rage. However, he won’t show you how angry he actually is, keeping it all to himself instead. He needs to be the big, strong man in your relationship, so he needs to keep his cool in front of you, no matter what. I don’t think he’d be too surprised you’d have gotten hurt, though. While he may have hoped it would never happen, that was just wishful thinking. You’ll either be on Shadow Company’s medbay or in the best hospital he can find nearby. Either way, you’ll be well taken care of. If you’re at Shadow Company, then he’ll station some of his most competent and trusted people to take care of you for the time being. You will be protected by them, and you will get whatever it is you may need from them as well. Or anything you may want, really. No cost is too high for Graves while you’re in recovery. While he may try to make time for you as well, he really does, he will also have someone track down whoever hurt you. This person will then be abducted to Shadow Company for a rough time. Graves himself would take care of them, and he can be pretty effective when he wants to be. However, if you’ve recovered by then, and are among the more vengeful people, then you’re more than welcome to do as you please with the bastard yourself, Graves has no qualms about that. In fact, he’d welcome you doing what you need to do. An eye for an eye. I think he’d become a bit more protective of you afterwards. If you’re okay with it, then he’ll leave you in the hands of some of his Shadows since he can’t always be there for you. If it was up to him, he’d combine you with his work and have you just live on base with him so he could always keep an eye on you, but you likely wouldn’t agree to that. It may seem a bit overbearing, but he will reach out to you more often and does expect you to respond within a few hours, or else he’ll get worried and send someone to check up on you, even if you’re alright.
Nikolai: While Graves may be furious, Nikolai is entirely calm about all of this. Yes, you got hurt, but seeing him panic would likely only worsen the state you’re in. He is well aware of the fact that you will pull through, he made sure of that himself. However, he won’t do anything drastic until you’ve recovered completely. That way your perpetrator has enough time to kill themself before he has to take action. Naturally, you mean the world to him, so any violence against you will not be excused. Nikolai runs a PMC, so he knows what he’s doing, he knows how to deal with violence. Violence for violence is the rule of the beasts and Nikolai’s cruelty is akin to that of a starved animal. However, that can wait until you’re alright again. He’ll visit you every day, even stay at the hospital, and bring you gifts, tell you stories and keep you company otherwise. But he won’t mention the plans he has for the sorry fuck who hurt you, those are for him to know and for you to never find out. Once you’re home again, going about your day, he will seek out the bastard himself and drag him to some place in Siberia. As mentioned before, Nikolai can be cruel when he wants to be, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he let that person run aimlessly around Siberia for a few days, hunted down by him and his people, only to capture and torture them later. Death is a kind of mercy that is not for them, though, so he’ll keep them alive for the time being. They almost took you from him, there’s nothing they could ever do to make up for that. They’ll be a new chewing toy for Chimera until they die for one reason or another. Nikolai won’t get too overprotective, but he will be keeping a closer eye on you. He won’t station one of his people in front of your home when he’s away, but he will try to make more time for you. Calls become more frequent and he will try to find some excuses to spend more time with you, even if it’s just by video chatting with you when you have the time. He won’t freak out, but he won’t forget about that incident either.
#cod#cod x reader#phillip graves#phillip graves x reader#cod nikolai#cod nikolai x reader#I was thinking about wanting a request for Graves again not too long ago so this came at an ideal time#they're both very powerful people who are also war criminals and not afraid of breaking every law in existence#so yeah they'll have their fun with whoever hurt you#thinking about an angry Nikolai scares me so bad actually. he'd be so calm and quiet and that's just the most terrifying thing to me#if you're in an especially bad condition then I think Graves would become more strict with his Shadows#he knows he shouldn't be like that at work but he can't help it since he's just that worried about you#he's usually a fun and caring boss but he'd become very different when you get hurt#of course he'll go back to normal once everything is alright again but you being hurt would hit the Shadows pretty hard as well#I like to think he does talk about you to his Shadows so they definitely know who you are#and just by hearing about you most of them would like you as well. especially because Graves loves you this much and they like him a lot#so I think a lot of Shadows would also grow protective over you and I think that's so very sweet#I always liked to think that the people at Shadow Company were very close with each other#especially because Graves is a good boss and makes sure the work climate there is ideal. despite the war crimes#Graves is actually a pretty fly guy in my eyes. he's just cocky but he does worry a lot about his Shadows and you deep down#he loves his Shadows and he loves you too
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Dabi: Would you take a bullet for me?
Hawks: …yes?
[Tomura bursts into the room]
Dabi, running away: GREAT THANKS
#dabihawks#tomura: you WISH i had a gun because at least your death would be quick#dabi: sorry i cant hear you im too far away#hawks: what did he do this time#tomura: he ratioed me on twitter#hawks: maybe if you had good takes you wouldn't have been ratioed#tomura: ill count to three#hawks: i can fly you wont be able to catch me#tomura: come to think of it i did buy a gun yesterday#hawks:#tomura: three...two...#incorrect lov#dabi#bnha hawks#takami keigo#shigaraki tomura#college apps are due this month im almost free guys :sob:#im now fixated on omniscient reader's viewpoint but i still have a soft spot for dabihawks#it's so hard to ship them now though with the manga being the way it is#dabihawks truthers im so sorry for your loss#or just any hawks liker who wanted him to have a conscience#and feel any form of guilt#my condolences
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Y’all are going to hell if you post x reader and then describe them as white. TO HELL!!
#you have no excuse ur gross sorry!!! sorry but try and gain clout another way ur fic is automatically trash#reading such a good fic just to get hit with the BLONDE line. excuse me ??#and this may be hard to hear hold ur pearls#but //omit// the lines that are about you before posting it. that’s pretty out there Ik Ik#but if ur tagging shit x reader w a white subject I’m gonna bully you in my group chat LMAO#ur getting posted on the shame board
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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.
#marvel mcu#mcu#marvel#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff#hoh#hard of hearing#hearing loss#hearing aids
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