happy the pitt thursday i guess im just gonna write a blurb every thursday until the season ends! (don't hold me to that)
dr robby x hard of hearing!younger!reader
and another thing, fuck ai (but i do love dr al-hashimi she's growing on me)//
you've been focusing on your breathing for less than two minutes. you know that. you're sitting at the hub, a half finished chart staring at you.
your head is killing you. but worse than that, there's a painful ringing in your ears. what little you can hear is blurring together, making it impossible to focus.
which, is pretty much the story of your fucking life.
your hand comes up to your ears, and you turn off your hearing aids, before pulling them off your ears.
the ringing is still there, but the extra noise is gone. your eyes flutter shut, and your hands clasp together, your hearing aids between your palms-- holding very gently, sensitive little buggers-- and you rest your forehead on your hands.
you reflect on the day, thinking about your seven your old with a 3rd degree burn. you think about your forty eight year old with a head laceration in central seven, and you think about the twenty nine year old that you got killed. well, if anyone heard you say that, they'd remind you that no one could've prevented that heart attack.
you want to cry.
but you have a feeling that if you cry, you wouldn't stop and you still have hours to go.
a hand on your shoulder makes you jump, and you open your eyes-- you glance up and your eyes soften when you see robby. your stupid, twice your age, motorcycle riding boyfriend. your boyfriend who's abandoning you to go on a three month trip. you try not to think about it.
'everything okay?' he signs.
'yeah. my head kind of hurts. tinnitus is a bitch.' you sign back. robby offers you a sympathetic smile.
'i'm sorry.' he signs back .
'not your fault.'
'want to hear a secret?' you nod, and robby gets this look on his face. 'you're really beautiful.'
you roll your eyes, but smile anyways.
'don't try to flatter me, old man.' then, your hands move and you're picking up your hearing aids before putting them back on. you turn them on, and now on top of the ringing and extra noise, there's a light buzzing, but you know that'll go away when your ears readjust.
"catching up on charting?" the newly familiar voice of dr. al-hashimi breaches your ears. "i didn't know you two knew sign language." she says, and you shrug.
"well, now you do." you smile, because you really do like her-- she's a good teacher, she's obviously qualified and competent. but you don't make it a habit to have your first conversation with someone be about your being Deaf. "i'm fluent, but robby's just picked up a few things since we've been working together."
robby started learning sign language after your first date. he's pretty good. but, that would maybe tip people off to the fact that after a long shift, the two of you can't keep your hands off each other.
"that is good information to know." she smiles, and you turn back to your charts, and she continues, "you know, if you're having trouble catching up on your charting, you can use my ai app to help it go faster. it's shown to improve all around patient and doctor satisfaction." she says, and you know she's just trying to be helpful, that she obviously sees you as a valuable resident, and that she truly has faith in those words.
but robby has listened to many, many rants about your loathing for generative ai. his eyes flick between the two of you, and he wants to grab the nearest person to him, nudge them and tell them to watch what's about to happen.
"while i really do appreciate your insight, dr al-hashimi, and your passion for the ways ai can be used in medicine," you start, closing out your chart and standing up, turning to face her, a very polite smile on your face, "i prefer to do my own charting, even if it takes longer and it cuts into my off hours. i understand that some ai can be helpful with things like preemptive detection, but i also know that generative ai not only deteriorates your critical thinking skills, ai data centers are often strategically placed in both low income areas, and in communities largely populated by people of color, using an excess amount of water and energy that negatively impacts those communities." you shrug to her, with your hands in your pockets. "but i encourage everyone to do what works for them, as long as they let me do what works for me. i gotta go check on my burn in pedes." you tell both robby and al-hashimi.
as you walk away, whitaker approaches al-hashimi with a question, and robby follows you towards the vending machine. sugar surely will make you feel better.
"i want to tell you how impressed i am with the restraint you just showed." robby's voice is teasing, and you roll your eyes.
"i was thirty seconds away from telling her i couldn't hear her." you scoff, and it makes him snort. "but i like her. i just can't stand her ai thing," you mumble, reaching to your pocket to put money into the vending machine, but robby is quicker than you are--
he's swiping his card and pressing the buttons for your soft drink of choice before you can even stop him.
"you're bold today." you observe, "feeling cocky before your sabbatical?" you wonder, and he just shakes his head.
"i just wanna help you feel better. what else is wrong?" he wonders, and you want to tell him you can't stop thinking about the patient you lost, but you don't. instead, you start to ramble about something that doesn't matter.
"i lost my fucking chapstick this morning." you grumble, opening the soda, taking a sip and continuing, "and i can't stop chewing at my lip, so it's all fucked and, mm--"
robby places a kiss to your lips before you can continue, and it's only momentary, but it's enough for you to taste his own chapstick. you blush a deep red and your eyes dart around, trying to see if anyone was around to see that.
but luckily, the vending machine is in a dark corner of your beloved ed.
"better?" he asks, and you huff.
"i know you're going on sabbatical for three months and you have some sort of mission to cause as much trouble as possible before you leave," you start, "but i still have to come into work tomorrow and be around these people. i would rather not have them think i'm fucking my boss."
"you are fucking your boss." he reminds, and you give him the same sort of trouble making smile he always gives you.
"no, i'm not. dr. al-hashimi and i are just friends, dr. robinavitch." you tease right back, "and given that you're leaving me to go ride your death trap of a bike, i feel like that wasn't nearly as low of a blow as it could've been."
robby looks at you for a long time. like he's trying to figure you out.
you lick your lips, holding your soda can in your hand.
"what is that," you start, licking your lips again, "strawberry?"
"cherry." robby answers, and hands you his chapstick. you look at him. "consider it a parting gift." he shrugs.
you take the chapstick from him.
"shouldn't you get me something more expensive? like, jewelry, or something?" you wonder, and robby just gives you one of his signature, 'hmmph's, before nodding over in the general direction of pedes.
"don't act so spoiled, sweetheart." he says, "c'mon, let's go check on your burn wound, huh?" and you have to speed walk to catch up with his long legs.
the truth is that robby does have a more expensive parting gift for you-- in a small block box at the bottom of his backpack. no, it's not a ring-- it's these earrings that hang off your hearing aids, silver, with moon and star charms, from this company called 'deafmetal'. robby intends to give it to you after your shift, and then fuck you as many times a he can-- he has to get three months of it in in one night, and michael robinavitch is nothing if not stubborn.
//end note:
you can read more about the harmful effects of generative ai here!
and deafmetal is a real company, which you can check out here!//
Oh god inspired by the increased number of HOH or deaf reader Stranger Things drabbles Ive seen over the past few days imagine this fucking nightmare:
Reader being cursed by Vecna but being entirely deaf. Yes, yes, I know it’s still possible to enjoy music in other ways than traditional “listening” but when you’re about to be snap crackle and popped by a dude who is making his L to a 7 year old everybody’s problem it’s a bit harder than just slapping on headphones and pressing play.
Edit to this: I’m just more interested in what kind of other memory jogging shit they would try instead. Because the whole purpose is music can reach parts of our brain or whatever so what would they try instead?
Summary: Tom learns sign language so he can communicate more easily with you.
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I am Hearing. I studied ASL for two years and had quite a few Deaf/ HoH friends but I moved across the country and unfortunately have regressed in my knowledge of the language because I’ve had a hard time getting reacquainted. I had a difficult time writing this because I know that the Deaf/ HoH community has such a large range of ability to hear, speak, write, and/or lip read. I tried really hard to assume as little about the reader as possible but for the sake of this fic, I did not include any verbalization on the reader’s end or details on perception of sound. I also had a difficult time trying to figure out how to describe what was being signed, as I wasn’t sure whether or not to write it in English or gloss because I didn’t want to perpetuate the idea that ASL is just English signed word for word but I wasn’t sure if it would be more confusing written in gloss. ALSO I’m aware that this would most likely be taking place in the UK and I described American Sign Language but that’s simply because I don’t know any British Sign Language. Anyways, please let me know if this was alright or accurate or inaccurate and please inform me on how to write better fics like this! I’m open to criticism and to learning more about this but please don’t be rude about it.
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Tom arrived at Haz’s new apartment way before anyone else had to help set up for his housewarming party. It wasn’t a huge affair, only about fifteen or so of his closer friends, but he still wanted everything to look presentable.
People began to show up around seven-thirty that night and soon it was all snacks and drinks and hanging out with everyone. For the most part, Tom found himself at least acquainted with most of the people there, since he and Haz were practically inseparable so it was a fairly comfortable party.
“You are never allowed to drink that much beer again, Harry, I swear.” Tom spoke, reminiscing about the night before with a bit of a cringe tainted laugh.
Harry looked offended, “I was not that bad!”
“You were dancing on the table and waving your fucking shirt in the air!” Haz continued the story between sips of his beer, “I swear, I let you come over to my new place and you nearly wreck the place.”
Sam chimed in, “Honestly, I’m embarrassed to be your twin sometimes.”
Harry’s hands flew up in defense, “Okay, okay, don’t you blokes go acting like you weren’t all drinking either! I was not the only one who had a little too much!”
The group of men laughed and joked, remembering Harry dancing like a stripper with his shirt off on the table. He did have a point: None of them were exactly sober the night before.
Just as Haz was about to say something, Tom saw him look at the door over his shoulder, “Oh, wait. Someone just got here. Let me say hi real quick.”
Tom let his gaze follow Haz as he walked over to the door, which had opened to reveal you standing there with a bottle of wine, looking like the most beautiful girl at the event, at least to Tom. He watched your face light up with a smile as you waved at Haz. He leaned down to hug you tightly and-
“Wow, Tom, stare a little harder, why don’t you.” Harry laughed.
Tom whipped his attention back to his brothers, “What? I wasn’t staring.” He scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest with a feigned attempt to look nonchalant.
He was staring.
Sam gestured behind Tom with his cup, “Well, you better stop being weird cause she’s coming over here now.”
“What?” Tom asked, eyes wide as he turned to check but by that time, Haz had already brought you and another blonde girl over to meet the group.
“Tom, Harry, Sam, this is Y/N and Katy. I think you’ve met Katy before, though. Right, Tom?” Haz introduced you and your best friend Katy to the three other men.
Tom nodded, “Yeah, I think we’ve met but hi again anyways.” He laughed as he shook Katy’s hand again just to complete the interaction. He got to you and shook your hand. “Hi, I’m Tom.”
You took his hand with a smile but when he was finished speaking, he watched in momentary confusion that quickly turned to curiosity when you pointed to yourself and then (with a pointed finger moved from your ear to your chin/ moved two fingers from right to left).
“Sign language? Oh shoot, I don’t- I can’t-” Tom stuttered, not really knowing what to say.
You gently waved a single hand in front as if to say, Don’t worry about it. Tom watched as you tapped your thumb against your chest with an open five palm. Then you held up one finger. Wait a second. You dove down to grab your phone and quickly began tapping.
“She says it’s fine, just wait a sec.” Katy translated for Tom, just in case he didn’t understand the very obvious signs like Hearing people often didn’t.
Tom looked at her, “You know sign language too?” He asked in surprise and amazement.
Katy nodded, “I’m an interpreter. Me and Y/N actually met at an event that I was interpreting for and we’ve been friends ever since.”
“Oh, so do you interpret for her?” He asked, watching in amazement as her hands moved as she spoke, signing along with what both she and Tom were saying. He glanced over to see you waiting with your phone in hand, watching as she signed.
She shook her head, “No, we’re just friends. I mean I help out in times like right now where there’s a conversation between Hearing people so she’s included but she’s capable of communicating herself.”
You took that as your cue to hand him your phone:
Hi! I’m Y/N but I think Haz already said that. Yes, I am (Deaf/ Hard of Hearing) but if you want to talk we can write :)
Tom read the message quickly and looked up to see you waiting patiently for him with a kind smile.
Hi :) I’m Tom. I’d love to keep chatting. Sorry I can’t sign :(
You took the phone back and giggled: It’s fine. Most people can’t. I can show you your name if you want?
Tom read the message and nodded excitedly, “Yeah that would be cool!” He voiced, cringing when he did. He wasn’t used to communicating like this.
You laughed at his flusteredness. On a bad night, maybe the communication barrier would have annoyed you. Of course it got annoying having to baby step every single person who didn’t sign through this process. But there was something about Tom that you found cute.
Slowly, you walked him through the signs. Your… name… T-O-M.
He followed, trying his hardest not to mess up. He was even doing pretty well with the exception of mixing up his “T” and “M” with “N.” But he persisted, nonetheless, and got it pretty quickly.
The way he looked so proud of himself made you giggle and you twisted both hands in the air, celebratorily. You texted back to him: Good job!
That was probably terrible but thank you, he responded with a laughing emoji.
The rest of that night had been filled with you and Tom talking quite a bit over a few glasses of wine. The conversation became natural quickly, even over text, which was an adjustment for Tom but he felt that you made it easy. You were nice and easy to talk to. Even after the night ended, Tom found himself wanting to see you again.
“So how did you and Y/N meet? I mean, I didn’t think you knew sign language?” Tom asked Haz the next morning, helping him clean up from the night before.
Haz shook his head, “I didn’t. I still don’t know much, honestly. But I was friends with Katy and I met Y/N at one of her parties and, I don’t know, we just sorta became friends. Katy’s been helping me learn sign but we still mostly just text to each other cause my signing is terrible.” He laughed.
“Do you think you could teach me what you know? I want to be able to actually talk to her, y’know? Make it easier for her.” Tom asked, placing the chip bowls from last night in the dishwasher.
Haz stopped sweeping the dining room long enough to make an immature face at Tom, “You like her! I freaking knew it!”
“So what if I do? She was really nice!” Tom wasn’t having any of Haz’s teasing, especially when it was all true anyways. Why deny it?
Haz nodded, smiling at the way his best friend looked just thinking about you, “Yeah, she is pretty nice, isn’t she? Don’t worry, mate. I’ll teach you what I know.”
You and Tom had gone almost a month without seeing each other again. It wasn’t until you and Katy had just happened to run into him and Haz at a bar that your paths crossed.
Tom and Haz sat in a booth in the back of the bar, celebrating a new role Tom had landed with a few drinks. “Hey! Look who’s here!” Haz drew Tom’s attention to the bar where you and Katy had just sat, “Katy!” He yelled just slightly above the noise.
Katy looked over her shoulder around the bar until she saw the person calling her name. Her face lit up and she waved before tapping you on the shoulder. You glanced over your shoulder to see where she was pointing, waving at Tom and Haz when you saw them. The two men waved you over, inviting the two of you to sit with them. Once the bartender slid your drinks across the bar to you, you and your best friend joined them.
Tom’s heart sped up a little when you slid into the booth beside him while Katy sat on the other side beside Haz. Before anyone could really say anything, Tom caught your attention, thinking for just a moment before signing, “Nice to see you again.”
Your eyes widened in surprise. “You learned sign?” You asked, shocked. Tom looked like a deer in headlights when you signed back and he tapped his fingertips against the palm of his other hand. Again? Slower this time, you signed, “You learned sign? Understand?”
Tom looked adorably proud of himself when he understood, moving his fist up and down, “Yes. A little.”
You began to blush a little and your face sparkled, as if to say no way! “Thank you! That’s so cool!”
Tom loved how expressive you were, how even with a language barrier between you two, he could still understand at least part of what you were saying.
You and Tom found yourselves caught up in each other again for the rest of the night, him trying his hardest to communicate in your language, even if it was still a little messy and imperfect. Nevertheless, you couldn’t believe he’d actually taken the time and effort to learn sign language for you! It was definitely flattering to say the least.
Seeing their best friends so enamored with each other, Haz and Katy watched the two of you. “I haven’t seen her like this with a boy in forever. She’s been talking about him non-stop since your party.” Katy ratted you out, not really even having to whisper since you and Tom were so concerned with your own conversation that neither of you would have noticed they were speaking anyways.
Haz nodded, “Same with him. He’s been practicing almost every day so he could talk to her.”
“I think we just accidentally played matchmaker.” Katy laughed, “Ten pounds says they’ll be dating by the end of the month.”
The blonde man scoffed, “Ten pounds says they’ll be dating by the end of the week.”
“matt,” you mumble, shaking his shoulder gently, “maaatt,” you try again, “baby, wake up, it’s important.”
it’s not that matt doesn’t believe you, or doesn’t care or doesn’t have any concern for your health, it’s just that as he lifts his head from the pillow, blinking away sleep, he seriously doubts that.
you’ve woken him up late at night before, scared that you’re dying. you got a root canal when you were younger and when you’re stressed, you clench your jaw, so that spot hurts. matt remembers dating you for a few months, then getting woken up late at night by your sobs as you tried to wrap your head around a potential infected abscess in that tooth.
matt couldn’t tell you at the time, but he knew it wasn’t an infection. he listened really closely and knew there was nothing flowing in the empty space beneath the replacement crown you had in the back of your mind.
at the time, he had kissed your tears away, given you some ibuprofen and told you to get some sleep, that if you were still in pain in the morning, he’d get you to the dentist, but there was nothing the two of you could do about it so late at night. he held you tight until he could tell by your heartbeat that you’d fallen asleep. of course the next morning, you felt much better.
this had happened a few times over the course of your relationship. you, overthinking, would make yourself even worse off by imagining all the horrible things every little ailment could be. a pain in your nail was accused of being ingrown, a bump in your mouth was accused of being cancerous, and ringing in your ears was tinnitus (okay, that one actually was tinnitus, so your hypochondriac tendencies weren’t always unfounded)
but no matter how many times matt had found himself woken up after a long night of being daredevil, he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad at you. you were scared, you just needed to be reassured. it was his job as your boyfriend to gently talk you off the ledge, get you to rest, and deal with it in the morning.
“what is it, honey?” he asks and you bite your lip.
“nothing, it’s stupid, i’m sorry.”
matt lets out a deep chuckle, one that makes your head spin. his voice is thick with sleep, and he rests his cheek back on his pillow, head tilted towards you.
he sleeps in nothing but his boxer briefs, and right now, he’s sleeping on his stomach, arms around his pillow. his hair is messy, and the lights of nighttime in hell’s kitchen barely illuminate his features. his back is the sexiest thing about him, especially in this pose. you can just make out the shape of his nose.
“i’m already up, sugar. what’s up?” he yawns. you melt. sugar is his ‘i’m too tired to not be horrifically in love with you, you’re not bothering me and i would do anything for you’ nickname.
“my tongue looks weird.” as soon as you say it, you’re embarrassed.
“looks weird how?” it’s been a while since matt has seen a tongue, but he knows how one should look.
“like.. it’s got weird edges.” you try to explain, “like the sides of my tongue have a squareness to them.”
matt runs through all the likely possibilities, before deciding on,
“i think that can be a sign of clenching your jaw. driven by stress.” which, you know you suffer from. “maybe we should look into getting you a mouth guard.” his words are laced with sleep, and you slink down into the bed, curling into his side. one arm removes itself from his pillow to wrap around you, pulling you close so he can inhale your scent.
“i’d look like a dork.” you grumble, and matt smiles sleepily.
“somehow, i don’t think i’d mind.” it makes you half laugh, half scoff.
“i’m serious.”
“so am i.” he kisses your shoulder. “if you think it’ll help you sleep through the night, you can at least try it. whatever’s gonna make you the most comfortable.” he promises, and you melt like ice cream.
matt’s pretty much the only person who never dismisses your anxieties about your health, instead trying to gently help you to overcome them.
“thank you, matthew.” you kiss whatever patch of skin your lips can reach. he hums in response, already falling back asleep.
happy the pitt thursday. except its not happy. but great episode for people who love the nurses (me).
anyways.
dr robby x hoh!reader (and a hint of whitaker x reader IF you squint) who has a very bad day. can be read in the same universe as this but doesn't have to be!
also just a general warning of internalized ableism and complicated feelings about being Deaf! also, a hint of nsfw towards the end!!//
"what do you want to do next?"
"another round of epi."
but your hands are shaking. your entire body is shaking. you refuse to cry, but you want to. fuck, you want to. you haven't had time to breath today. you haven't had a pulse in sixteen minutes.
but this man, the man who's ribs you cracked seven minutes ago, has a daughter who isn't sixteen yet. and everyone is staring at you. you hate that most of all, maybe even more than you hate how this is all your fault.
sweat drips down your forehead and onto your nose-- sweat is pretty much dripping down every inch of your skin, and not in the fun way that happens when you and robby get a few hours alone.
"check rhythm, see if we have a pulse," you say, "holding compressions." you pull your body off the man's, and are met with the one long agitating beep that comes with asystole. you move to resume compressions when one large, steady hand rests on your shoulder.
"i think we're done here." robby says, and something else fills your chest. "time of--"
"no!"
your voice surprises everyone in the room-- every nurse, med student and resident, you, and robby. you're robby's little deer-- you, on your clumsy, two left feet, have followed him around every shift, with big, curious eyes, and a desperation to be his favorite. but it was more than that, robby would reflect when you got together. you had this passion, this need to be good at what you did, especially when it came to medicine. it stirred something in robby that hadn't been touched in a long time. it amused him at first, your eagerness. maybe it was more than that.
maybe even he could admit, if prompted, that you had charmed him in a way he didn't think was possible. by the third time you two had spoken, you were matching his humor, his rhythm, his.. well, you just fit right by his side. there was something about him that pulled you to him just as strongly as you pulled him to you. it took him three months before he caved and asked you to grab dinner after your shift. he wound up fingering you in the bathroom, covering your mouth with his hand, the same hand that just stopped you from continuing your compressions, telling you--
"shh, little deer, don't want anyone to hear, do you?"
and as your relationship with him went from a few dates and a couple of fucks to a green toothbrush in your bathroom, a spare pair of hearing aids in robby's dresser, and the constant swapping of clothing, you found your footing. you were still a little deer like, eager eyed and passionate, maybe a little clumsy, but you were more confident, a little more social with your coworkers, and good at your job. everyone noticed.
and even if they didn't say it, they knew robby was fond of you. he let you get away with a few too many mistakes, never held anything against you. you were the first thing robby had done right in a long time. he didn't want to fuck it up. and he knew if he held work things against you, he would do just that. there was a betting board of when the two of you would hook up-- something you only found out because one of the nurses who usually worked the night shift asked you if you knew if dr robby and the 'little fawn like resident' had finally hooked up.
so, yeah. it surprises everyone in the trauma room.
it especially surprises robby. but he gives you the benefit of the doubt.
"kid, this isn't--"
"no!" you snap, "we can keep going, we can save him, i can--" your defiant statement flickers out into a weak whimper, your hands are shaking still. your lips pull into a frown, and you know you have about thirty seconds before you break down into sobs, right into your secret boyfriend's arms.
"you're done." robby's voice is firm. just like the senior attending should when one of their residents is losing it over the death of a patient. "take five. get some air. we'll debrief when you feel better."
and yet, you hate him. rage burns in your chest, and you want to yell at him, tell him to fuck off, tell him you wanted nothing to do with him, tell him that he isn't your dad--
instead you peel off your gloves, violently rip your gown off as you storm off, barking out a 'what?' at whitaker, because he just gives you the biggest, most curious brown eyes, and you can't stand him, only in that moment. you'll apologize later.
you reach the ambulance bay while your mind rushes, faster than you can keep up. you can't breathe. you're angry. you're angry at robby for not letting you keep working on him. you're angry at robby for distracting you all day with his cute quirks and little mannerisms. you're angry at the patient for not waking up, even if that's insane, and maybe cruel. and most of all, you're angry at yourself. you did this. what if you checked on him earlier? what if you hadn't went to grab the half of a bagel robby had left in the fridge for you ten minutes earlier, and had asked him if he needed something?
what if you had been able to hear the monitor when he went into afib? what if you had been able to hear him dying? what if you had been able to hear?
your shaking hands come up to your ears, and you turn off your hearing aids before taking them off. you stare at the wall of the pitt for a good thirty seconds when robby's hand is back on your shoulder. you jump, and flinch away from him.
if he notices that, or your wet eyes, he doesn't say anything. but you're sure he does notice.
he sighs, before his hands begin to move.
'are you okay?' he signs, and you feel anger bubble in you again.
'fine.' you respond, and robby looks at you for a long moment.
'don't lie to me, baby.' because you're alone. because princess is the only other staff member to know asl, to your knowledge. and she's not here.
you glare to him.
'don't lie to you? fuck off robby.' you scoff, 'you're chief avoidant issues, remember?'
it's a low blow, and robby hates how the two of you are mean in the same way when you're fighting. and he knows you're upset right now, and that you'll apologize when you feel a little better, when you come up for air from this meltdown.
'yeah, i am.' he signs back, 'and you did everything you could--'
your hands move as you realize what he's starting to do.
'no! don't do that, i fucking lost him, robby, that was all me! he was ten years younger than you, and i couldn't save him!' you sign back, and you ignore the tears that are running down your cheeks.
'i know, it's been a long day, but you did your best. that's all you need to do today, any day. you're a good doctor. half the doctors i know would do anything for a fraction of your skill, so i know you did everything a good doctor would.' he signs back, and you just shake your head, closing your eyes.
'his wife, and his daughter..' you sign back, and robby shakes his head, walking towards you for a moment, and tilting your head towards him, prompting you to open your eyes.
'let's calm down before you think about that. we have a minute, dana has to clean him up.' he signs, and you exhale through your nose, and blink your eyelashes at him.
'i should've been able to save him.' you sign, and robby frowns.
'you can't save everyone, baby.' you know that. of course, you know that, but it doesn't stop you from melting, right into a puddle of tears. robby's arms are around you in a second, and he holds you for a long while. longer than he should, probably. then, he's pressing a kiss to your forehead, and mumbling,
"i've got you, kid." with your head pressed against his chest like this, you can feel the rumble of his vocal cords. you take a moment to breathe, to collect yourself before you're pulling away, wiping your tears. robby doesn't want to invade your space, or he'd wipe them for you.
'i'm sorry about what i called you.'
'well, you aren't wrong.' robby shrugs. he's too fond of you to be angry at you for calling him out. you're one of the only people who can pull that out of him.
'but you're also a very good teacher and a million other wonderful things.' you sign, and it makes robby smile. he presses a kiss to your lips, and then mumbles against them,
"take a second to catch your breath" he pulls away and you realize you've gotten very good at reading lips like that, "and come join us for a debriefing when you're ready. i love you, doc, and i'm sorry you're going through this." he confesses, before leaving you to collect your thoughts. he knows he's needed else where, and he knows you just need a second.
all of eight or nine minutes later, after watching javadi cut off a cast and addressing a grease burn, an unfortunate event with a pan of bacon grease and a clumsy frat boy who recently broke his foot playing hockey a month ago, robby walked by the hub, and watched as you approached whitaker, the first he's seen you since snapping at him.
he notices your hearing aids in your hands and frowns. he grabs your arm gently to grab your attention.
"hey, uh--" he hesitates before he does the sign for cry, dragging his pointer fingers down his cheeks, "why are you crying? are you okay?"
that, admittedly, pulls a smile out of you. he's a sweet guy.
"i lost my patient, mr. olsen, the one who came in for the head laceration with the uh.. violin prodigy. yale, remember?" you muse, because you're trying to make yourself feel better. maybe if you pretend hard enough, everything will be okay.
"oh. i'm sorry, that's.. that's tough." whitaker's been there. "well, let me know if you need anything, okay?" he wonders, and you smile.
"yeah. thanks, whitaker." you say in earnest, before putting your hearing aids on and turning them on, before giving him the best smile you could.
"no problem." he smiles.
from across the hub, robby watches the whole thing, peering over his readers at you and dr. whitaker. when he hears dana snicker beside him, he looks back at his chart.
"what?" he asks of her, and she shrugs.
"just wonderin' if the great dr. robinavitch still gets jealous." robby, as dana would tell it, was quite the player during his rotations and eventual residency.
"jealous?" he peers up at her now, "of who?"
"who d'ya think? little deer and the farm boy. it's like a fairytale." she teases, knowing exactly what her teasing is doing to him.
"me, jealous of huckleberry?" robby lets out a half amused, half annoyed 'hmmph!' before dana edges a little closer to him, lowering her voice before asking,
"little deer gonna be okay?" she wonders, and he sighs. he looks at you, and he can see that you're chugging a bottle of water, but based on the way your eyes skitter around the ed, he can tell you're looking for him. he should've known you'd go right to whitaker and then to him-- you don't do well with guilt or unresolved feelings.
"they're a tough cookie," robby says, "but i've got a three day weekend planned for us and a trip to salem for halloween. the robinavitches," he says a tad more firmly as he stands up, tucks his glasses away and catches your eyes as you step towards the hub, before motioning with one nod for you to come over, "will not be working halloween." he says decidedly, a smile on his face before you get to him. "hi." he greets, waiting for you to set the tone of the conversation.
"hi." you smile softly, and you greet dana as well. "i want to go talk to mrs. olsen and her daughter about mr. olsen. can you.." you hate that you don't feel confident enough to do it by yourself, so dana tells you,
"i got a seven year old with a cut to the palm whenever you're ready." she says, as if to save you any embarrassment, before wandering off wherever she is needed.
"yeah," robby grabs your attention. "we should do that. do you want to take the lead?" he wonders, and you nod, softly. you want to get better at this.
telling family members about the death of a loved one is never easy. but, it's part of the job, and although his death is felt deeply by those he loved.. they don't blame you, and in fact, thank you for doing what you could, promising to send you the information for the service..
by the time they leave, you're beat. you wrap up your shift, a deep, tired ache in your bones as you pull on robby's hoodie, and pull your duffle bag over your shoulder. robby meets you by the exit of the hospital. you don't mind, you needed a second to think.
"hey, baby." his affection is not restrained as he wraps his arm around your torso and presses a kiss to your head. robby and you go back to your apartment, and you find two packed suitcase and two tickets to boston. then, he explains, he'll drive the two of you to salem, and you'll spend all weekend there. and you won't have to think about your work, or what happened today at all.
you want to say thank you so you offer to suck him off, but robby, ever the giver, asks to eat you out, "for as long as i want to," was his exact words. so, of course, you let him. but as he knelt between your knees, kissing your thighs as he made his way towards your cunt, he started to talk.
"you," he said, willingly bringing up work for the first time outside the walls of the pitt, "are someone who reacts to other people in pain in a very real, and very honest way. i know you think getting emotional over your patients is a weakness, but i'd rather see that than see you numb to it." he kisses your knee, robbing his other hand along your thigh, "fuck, i love you."
and then, for as long as the old man can, he proves that to you.
dr michael ‘sleeps with the tv on’ robinavitch and his hard of hearing girlfriend who has to have some sort of white noise when she sleeps or else her tinnitus keeps her up
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.
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.
