Daredevil overload

THIS IS WHAT DREAMS ARE MADE OF.

Thank you anon ❤️

pssst - The leap updated 😉

“Claire,” he starts, but there’s not enough space for words. One exhale sends him one step away from them.

Matt takes a breath, holds it like a lungful of smoke, then: “Please,” he exhales. He begs.

“Matt, I could kill you.”

Matt closes his eyes. If he needs to say goodbye, if this is it, then—

He tips his ear, just a fraction, to the other side. Searches for that internal cacophony that he’s weaved into a home. A heartbeat that sounds as warm as the sun.

“I trust you.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63775234/chapters/167589175

Thoughts drain out of him, spatter at his feet with water and blood.

It’s like he is still drowning, oxygen can’t make it past the river in his lungs. His thoughts float, adrift.

Then, a voice.

“Where’s Matt?”

At first Matt thinks he is dreaming.

“What’ve you done to him?”

Foggy?

His legs hit a solid wall of nothing. Matt takes the next step with his whole body.

Foggy?

The echoes of Foggy’s whisky-soured smell rebound in each parallel universe, every time in a difference cadence, a tannin of relief.

Foggy. Foggy.

Safe.

Matt feels the hand as it cuts each one of his strings. Snip, snip, snip.

He falls like a puppet but is gone before he hits the ground.

Matt is breaking. Foggy shatters with him.

It’s a funny thing to leave a fandom behind and then come back. I wasn’t sure I would. Best part is, it wasn’t Daredevil coming back that made me step into the writing ring again — it was you. About a year ago, I felt like I’d been missing a part of myself, and this story came pouring out.

I know things have changed. I'm mostly walking into a room full of strangers. But — I guess this is my way of saying hi. I'm wawalux. And if you're still here... well, you're my hero.

📖 Chapter 6 now up: hurt, heat, helplessness. And Foggy, always Foggy.

“Foggy’s brain runs in overdrive, each sensation a million overlapping details that fail to anchor him in place. It may be the beer, but Foggy is pretty sure that he is at least partly floating right now. He wants Matt’s touch to brand his skin, he wants it to tattoo his memory.”

Matt breaks. Foggy stays. (He always does.)

The leap

“Close your eyes,” Matt instructs, “no point in both of us being blind.”

Foggy chuckles but it doesn’t come out right. 

His eyes slip shut and shit, dark is worse. Boy is darkness so much worse. Before this moment, Foggy probably would have bet his life that there couldn’t possibly be anything worse than feeling Matt’s breath fan his face, the startling heat as inviting as a summer breeze, to have to watch his lips part and his tongue dart out to wet them in a way that is so inviting that Foggy’s longing turns into something solid and heavy in his chest.

Darkness zings at Matt’s proximity. Anticipation builds in static zaps that tease the unkempt stubble on Foggy’s neck. Foggy wants to peek, just squint and find a way to calculate the trajectory of Matt’s fingers. Maybe if he can warn his skin he will be able to stop the blush that is rising to meet Matt’s grubby mitts.

“Make a wish, Matty.”

What does he want?

He blows, chest trembling, and the flame bends like an arrow before turning to smoke.

Chapter 4 out now...