The Boondock Saints xReader One Shots (Taking Requests)

Sense Of Touch Alone (Murphy)

Request: I guess this could be for either brother really. Okay, so the reader is blind, (born that way) and is walking home from their job or a shop, and someone tries to rob them or tries to kidnap them, and they fend off the baddies. Well, the brothers were looking for the guy, and all they see is a woman standing there, staring up at the sky and three unconscious men at her feet. In the struggle, the reader was hurt, so they offer to take them back to their house and patch them up.

A/N I thought this was a cool idea!!

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Five to nine, the clock read. But of course, you couldn't see that. The numbers on the wall were almost as nonexistent to you as the light blue color of your shirt, or the small mud stain on your shoe. You grasped another box of cereal and put it on the shelf in front of you, feeling carefully to put it down evenly and in the correct spot. You got off work in five minutes, but there was no way for you to know that, so you continued stocking, unaware that freedom was so close. This is how it was every single day. You would work until maybe three minutes before it was time to leave, and your manager would come find you and tell you it was closing time. You never really had any complaints about working in the small grocery store. You stocked shelves, something you could do with your inability to see. It was something you could do by feeling, and that you liked a lot.

You had never been able to see a day in your life, and you often enjoyed when you were little hearing your mother tell you about trees and the sun and snow and animals. You would tell her stories too though. Your lack of vision had sharpened your sense of touch and your hearing, and you relayed to her the feeling of wind on your skin, and footsteps in your ears that told you exactly where someone was. You had never understood all the pity you received when you informed someone you had been born blind as a bat. You never felt at a disadvantage in most things.

"Y/n," came your manager's voice. "Closing time. You need me to help you gather your stuff?"

"No thank you, Jim," you smiled in his general direction and stepped off the little ladder you had been standing on to stock the top shelf. "I've only got my purse and walking stick."

"Okay. I'm going to lock up. Be safe." You could hear the faint whisper of his yawn as he walked away. You knew the layout of the store in tedious detail, so you didn't need your walking stick to navigate through it anymore. You found your purse and your long walking stick in the back where you'd left them and made your way to the door.

The night was a clear one, you knew. The air had no trace of humidity in its musty Boston scent. The busy bustle of humanity got quiet at night in the direction you were going to get to your home, but the life of the city itself never really seemed to sleep. There was always a crowded bar to be found somewhere or another.

You breathed deeply of the night air before setting off in the direction of home. You'd long since memorized the route to your house, so going to and from work hadn't been an issue for you in a long time. For a while, the only sounds that echoed off the tall brick walls of the buildings that's formed the alleyway was your own footsteps. You idly swung your walking stick back and forth in front of you to make certain you didn't stumble on something.

At first, you thought the noise you heard was something your stick had bumped into, but you had felt no vibrations meet your palm, so you slowed your pace to a stop and listened hard. Footsteps, you confirmed, far off. Getting closer. Running, from the sounds. Two at least. Maybe three?

Your resumed your walk, a little faster than before. You hardly ever met anyone in the alleys on your way home from work. You didn't want to assume trouble, but you didn't want to take the chance either. Besides, there was no guarantee that whoever was running wouldn't turn off before they even cought sight of you. Somehow, this thought failed to console you as you listened to the footsteps growing closer. Voices soon joined the mix of sounds that met your ears and you could vaguely make out urgent half-shouts being exchanged.