The Miranda to His Ferdinand
this is actually the response to this ask from the lovely @yarrystyleeza!!! i was so frickin inspired and ended up writing this :)
Ship: College!Matt Murdock x f!Reader
Rating: 18+
Wordcount: 1.3k
Warnings: lots o' Shakespeare, kissing, suggestive material
Series: Request Fulfillment
Your dorm's mattress creaked as you and Matt settled on top. He sat to your left, braille script clutched in his hand, with his sunglasses tucked into his shirt collar and his hair ruffled after a long day. An easy smile settled over his full lips.
"What's the play, again?" he asked, an eyebrow cocked as a large hand swept over the front page of his script. Long fingers traced the raised bumps on the solid white pages.
"The Tempest," you replied with a sighed chuckle, "It's about a woman, Miranda, who's lived on an island her whole life, knowing only her father and their slave, Caliban. Ferdinand shipwrecks on their island, then he and Miranda fall in love. Typical Shakespeare stuff."
Matt laughed at your synopsis, shaking his head, "And you're auditioning for Miranda, I'm guessing?"
"Nope, Caliban," you snarked in return. Matt rolled his eyes as you stuck your tongue out at him.
"Alright, Caliban. Which scene are we reading?"
"The last part of Act Three, Scene One," you said, flipping your script to the correct page, "Should be page ten in your booklet."
Crinkling pages filled the comfortable silence between you. It was quick work to find the correct page, considering the section you'd be reading from was labeled "MIRANDA AUDITION." The booklet lay open in your palms as you scanned briefly through the lines. You could almost feel the adoration formed by the prose, the pure affection woven into the words. Shakespeare truly was a genius.
"Okay, page ten," Matt announced, breaking your silent reverence of The Bard. You cleared your throat.
"Right. Ready?" you asked as you straightened your posture. Matt nodded, gesturing for you to start. A deep breath filled your lungs, chest expanding like a balloon, as you tamped down your nerves.
"Do you love me?" you read from the script. You glanced at Matt out of the corner of your eye. His lips ticked up in the corners as he read his part.
"Oh heaven, oh earth, bear witness to this sound," he began, fingers rapidly skimming over the pages, "And crown what I profess with kind event if I speak true. If hollowly, invert what best is boded me to mischief. I, beyond all limit of what else in the world, do love, prize and honor you."
You couldn't breathe. Not when Matt's sightless gaze was fixed right between your eyes. Not when this profession of love came from him so earnestly. Not when your years of pining after him had finally bubbled to the surface.
"I-I am a fool," you stuttered. You shook your head, clearing the distracting thoughts, then tried again, "I am a fool to weep at what I am glad of."
Matt placed his free hand on your knee. Your heart pounded against your ribs, anticipation leaking into your blood like ink in water.
"Wherefore weep you?" he read softly. His dark eyes traced the space around your head. Almost searching, scouring for your answer in the planes of your face.
"At mine unworthiness, that dare not offer what I desire to give, and much less take what I shall die to want. But this is trifling. And all the more it seeks to hide itself, the bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful cunning, and prompt me, plain and holy innocence. I am your wife, if you will marry me. If not, I'll die your maid. To be your fellow you may deny me, but I'll be your servant. Whether you will or no."
A tense silence fell over the two of you like a sudden burst of snow. Your pulse coursed rapidly under your heated skin. The weight of the line you'd read felt world-encompassing. Would he understand that it wasn't just you reading words? That the meaning behind them is what you felt?
"My mistress, dearest, and I thus humble ever," Matt whispered, a faint glance of understanding passing behind his eyes. You swallowed a lump the size of a baseball.
"My husband then?"
The hand nearly burning a hole in your knee wrapped its fingers around your own.
"Ay, with a heart as willing as bondage ever of freedom. Here's my hand," Matt breathed, fingers tangling with yours. Your breath caught behind your lips. This is happening.
"And mine, with my heart in it," you said shakily.
That same silence. Charged like the static before a lightning strike. Nearly choking you with how intense the moment felt. The pad of Matt's thumb rubbed circles into the back of your hand.
“Does Ferdinand get to kiss Miranda in this scene?” he asked, gaze landing on your lips. Your heart leapt like a horse over a hurdle. Swirls of anxiety and finally! chased each other through your mind.
“It-it’s not in the script, but I think ad-libbing is more than okay,” you said as your heartbeat roared in your ears. Matt’s signature, cocky smirk pulled at his lips.
His hand seemed to move in slow motion as it lifted from his braille script and cradled your jaw. Palm warm, almost searing, and calloused like you could barely believe. Yet you’d never felt anything softer. His thumb passed over your flushed cheek slowly, giving you plenty of time to pull away, before it caught on your bottom lip.
“Is this okay?” Matt asked, voice barely above a whisper, as his thumb pulled gently on your lip. A shudder rolled over your spine like rumbling thunder.
“Yes,” you uttered with a quick nod.
Before you could blink, his lips were pressed against yours. Lightning struck your mind and rendered you breathless. Shocks coursed through your veins. Your heart nearly stopped beating.
He was kissing you.
Matthew Michael fucking Murdock was kissing you.
You quickly reached out and clung to him like he was your lifeline. You didn’t want this moment to end. This singularity that felt impossible, your whole life building to this one kiss.
Warm fingers carded through your hair and tangled in the strands. Matt pulled you closer, your chests pressed together. He swiped his tongue along your lips to silently ask permission. You more than welcomed the intrusion as an involuntary moan kicked up your throat, opening your mouth to grant him entrance. A groan of his own matched yours in kind. He licked into you like you were the first drop of water after a month in the desert. Drinking from you, clinging to you, almost desperate.
Your head was spinning. You could barely breathe. Your hands shook where they clung to Matt’s t-shirt.
And just like that, it was over. Matt parted from you like separating two strong magnets. His forehead rested against yours, heaving breaths puffing along your cheeks. You screwed your eyes shut at the loss of his lips on yours.
“I could… I could do that forever,” Matt laughed breathlessly. You grinned as you opened your eyes. His sightless gaze was fixed on you. Pure adoration flowed from his joyful expression, how his eyes crinkled in the corners and how his dimples dug into his cheeks. You couldn’t help but match his wide smile.
“Me too,” was your clever response. You inwardly groaned at your quick wit. Matt chuckled, placing a chaste kiss to your hairline.
“When’s your audition?” he asked, like how close he was didn’t render your mind completely useless. You took a moment to gather your deteriorating thoughts.
“Tonight. At eight,” you said. Matt hummed.
“And what time is it now?”
You glanced at the digital clock that sat on your nightstand. In bold, red letters, the clock displayed “4:48 pm.”
“Almost five,” you replied. Matt ran the tips of his nails over your scalp. Pulses of pleasure coursed through you, your head tipping back in his hands, as your eyes fluttered shut.
“I think that’s plenty of time to run the scene some more, don’t you think?” he suggested, voice a low rumble deep in his chest. All you could do was nod.
And if rehearsal ran long, who were you to object?
