hii i love your work
can I request Bullseye with blind reader where he thought she saw him vigilante-ing but turns out she couldn't see so he just following her around.
or Dex x blind reader where she ask to touch his face to try and visualize how he looks to her and he lets her touch other part of him too. And she cried after discovered many scars of his (she just love him so much) and he start panicking and stuff.
thank you thank you thank you i hope you have a wonderful day
hello anon!!! i will write both because these are both amazing ideas :3
so, reader has low vision, which in her case means that she can identify light and shadows, but not shapes. which means she can't identify people's faces, has limited depth perception, and generally struggles to get around. but she is familiar with her neighbourhood, so she is a bit more okay with getting home and to work :3
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dex saw you across the street on a dark, dark night. regrettably after he had maimed about fourteen anti-vigilante task force agents without a mask on. it had been ripped off during a moment of hand-to-hand combat and he figured it didn't matter since who'd be walking around hell's kitchen this late at night?
then he saw you seemingly looking directly at him from across the street, in perfect view of the scene.
he stared at you for a moment, contemplating how to handle this inconvenience. with his remington? his knife? his colt? he couldn't be certain that he was actually considering it, since he knew he would've done it by now if he really wanted to.
by the time his hand reached for a throwing knife, you had begun walking away. he just tracked your receding figure before stalking back to his apartment.
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dex couldn't sleep that night. hours passed and he was trying to grasp how he could've possibly let this happen. from letting his mask slip to not noticing you, then to not taking care of the problem that you posed.
he gave up on the farce of trying to sleep and paced his apartment. he was sure he'd walked miles within these walls.
he ran through every action he took, he would've done it all the same again, but he just couldn't fathom how he reached such a problematic outcome.
all he knew was that he needed to find you, he needed to make sure you wouldn't tell anybody what happened.
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finding you wasn't hard for him at all. your face had been engraved in his mind's eye since he saw you. he went back to the place he saw you the day after at a similar time, and there you were. maybe this was a part of your routine.
he tracked you from a distance to you apartment, furrowed his brows at how often you bumped into objects on the way. he assumed you must've been drunk.
(if so, he thought, did you even remember what you saw that night? had you been drunk then?)
he kept coming back to your apartment after discovering where you lived. he slinked in through your fire escape when you had left, presumably for work. he left a knife on your pillow. engraved on the blade with a threat, keep quiet.
if you had remembered what you saw that night, he was sure you'd get the memo to forget.
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after months of monitoring you, dex assumed you understood. he didn't catch wind of any anonymous tips or reports. good, he thought.
for his own piece of mind—as was his excuse—he continued to follow you. he followed you to your workplace. he found out that you were a court stenographer. he sat in on a few cases when he could; he wanted to watch your dedication. he enjoyed it, too. you looked more focused than he'd ever seen you, certainly more than watching you stumble your way home at night.
eventually, he became emboldened to approach you. he "accidentally" crossed paths with you a few yards out from the courthouse. you dropped a lip balm tin and struggled to find it as it rolled away just outside a bakery.
dex, or rather—as he would later introduce himself as to you—tony picked it up and held it out to you from a short distance. yet, you still crouched down to the ground, palming the concrete in search of the product. he cleared his throat to grab your attention. "ma'am?"
you stood up uncertainly and faced him as your eyebrows furrow. he watched the way your eyes didn't seem to focus on his face, the way your body wasn't exactly facing him head-on. were you...?
"here's your...chapstick?" the upward inflection of his voice made it sound like he had never heard of cosmetics, but he was re-evaluating everything he had spent the past months doing.
you just smiled shyly and held out your hand, inches off from where his hand was. "sorry, i-- thank you."
you pocketed the lip balm and started heading home. dex felt suddenly embarrassed that he had left a menacing note for a blind girl.
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dex felt insanely guilty in a relationship with you. he wanted to enjoy your presence, but the way he got to know you (stalking you with ill-intent) was poor form.
he didn't tell you; it's still early days. but he couldn't deny the churn in his stomach when you mentioned the one odd time you laid your head at night and felt a blade under your hair. thank goodness you didn't know what it said.
one day, you asked to feel his face. dex was glad that you couldn't see the look of hopeful bewilderment on him.
"i usually rely on people's voices to recognise them, since i can't make out features." then, to dex's surprise, you started running your hands down the sides of his face. "but i wanna try and build your face in my mind."
you didn't wait for an answer before first feeling the prominent bones of his face. you could feel the slight wrinkles on the hinges of his jaw down to the dimple in his chin. you traced your fingers along his cheekbones and across his forehead. you could feel what you thought was minimal scar tissue, the old remnants of tiny cuts and scratches.
then, you felt the scar. the unmistakable gash on his cheek under your hand. you brushed your thumb along it from from the very top to bottom. dex watched you frown slightly.
"oh, tony...wh--" you cut yourself off. the cut in his flesh was deep, so would be the emotional wounds, you assumed. you didn't know if it would upset him to ask.
you only leaned into him and nosed his cheek gently. dex tried not to let his tears fall, but he felt you shuddering against him as shaky breaths escaped your lips.
he'd never, not once in his life, been touched so tenderly. your hands on his face told him everything: you were the one person in his life that didn't look at him as volatile. you didn't know what he was capable of—what he had done and will continue to do.
the way you spoke against the side of his face when you wrapped your arms around him, "you're beautiful, tony," gentle as if he would shatter if you spoke too loud. he would do anything to hold onto that.
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thank you so much for this request, anon!!
