(t/w mentions of r@pe, sexual harassment)

I pulled my long h/c hair into a braid, which I then threw across my shoulder. Today just felt like a special occasion. Couldn't tell you why, it just did.

Anyway, I'm y/n Stark. Fifteen, deaf, product of a one night stand. You know how it is. My mom ended up dying in a car crash when I was one. For some reason, whenever I or my dad brings this up to people , they seem to think that's why I'm deaf. Nope, I was just born like this. Apparently my mom's dad was deaf, but I never met him. It's just what I read in her journal.

I stood up and walked through the compound. The whole civil war thing had happened a few months ago, but things were being patched up. Little by little. I mean, Natasha moved back in. I have always liked Nat. She always called me маленький which is apparently just Russian for small. 

There had been a new hero during the whole thing. He was called Spider-Man but his suit looked nothing like a spider, which I thought was weird. Sure there was this little spider thing on his chest but it was so small, one would hardly even notice it. I just really think my father fucked up when he made it.

But anyway, as I walked through the compound, I noticed dad walked around with a young boy. Probably my age, if not a little older. He had chestnut brown hair and the face of a prepubescent child. That's all I took in before walking over to my father. 

"Who's this?" I signed. Dad sighed and even without being able to hear, I heard that shit loud and clear. "Y/n, this is Peter. He's an intern. Peter, this is y/n. She's my daughter." I read his lips. I looked at Peter. He still had a prepubescent child face but I now noticed that he had brown eyes as well.

"Hi, y/n. It's nice to meet you." He said, holding out his hand. I reluctantly took it. "Nice to meet you too." I signed, after removing my hand. I did not mean it.

My dad had hired interns my age before. The vast majority were asshats who were constantly trying to get into my pants. I broke the last one's nose. After the first few times, I stopped thinking that maybe the next one would be different.

I would like to clarify I have never been r@ped before but I've been groped and harassed in other ways. One even learned sign language to better hit on me. He was the one whose nose I broke. 

But anyway, he turned to my father and asked him something but I couldn't properly read his lips. He was probably just asking what I said, as dad repeated my words. He thankfully didn't make me talk to him any longer I soon walked off to my room.

I wondered how long it would be until he started being a little bitch.