Inspired by all the peoole who are insecure about their skin and need reminders that skin doesn’t need to be flawless to be beautiful
Basically I just wrote about my own skin issues and what I’d be insecure about it
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You didn’t hear the first knock on the door.
Everything around you kind of ceased to exist as you stared at yourself in the mirror, eyeing the giant zit on your chin with distaste. You had felt the small bump this morning while washing your face in the shower, but now it seemed to have finally sprouted up completely, taking up a decent chunk of real estate directly below the corner of your lip.
Scowling, you clenched your hands, struggling to smash down the impulse to prod and poke and squeeze. It really was disgusting, and you needed it to go.away.
You knew that if you messed with it, the bump would grow angry and inflamed, until it looked twice the size. You had grown up with and continued to have hormonal acne, so you were used to ones that were red and painful, the ones that sat deep underneath your skin and stuck around for longer than you needed them to, really.
And normally, you wouldn’t care too much. You worked from home, and if you were required to be on camera for a conference call, no one thought twice about someone who didn’t put on make up just to work from their kitchen table. Slap on some concealer and you’d usually be ready to go.
But tonight you had a date.
You hadn’t been dating Matthew Murdock for very long, to be honest. Just a few months, but long enough for a strong sense of shared intimacy, in all the ways that mattered. You’d been taking it slow, feeling it out, still very much in the beginning stages of your relationship. With his busy schedule, and yours, you sometimes found it hard to spend dedicated time with each other.
But tonight was your weekly date night, and you had a giant zit on your chin that didn’t look like it would be going away anytime soon.
You knew he wouldn’t care, of course. As a blind man, he had no use for societal beauty standards. There was no need for him to care about the fact that your hair had split ends, no need to care about teeth that were ever so slightly an off white from years of drinking too much black coffee, no need to care about the stretch marks on your hips or thighs. You knew he didn’t care about any of it.
But that didn’t make you feel any less self-conscious about it.
Your friends had all grown out of their awkward teenage phases and sported clear, smooth skin, while you hadn’t been so lucky. No matter how much water you drank, no matter how many dermatologist visits you went to, no matter how much money you spent on high-end cleansers and scrubs and clay masks, you still had moments like this.
And it was date night.
Matt, you knew, was a very tactile person, which made sense when you thought about it. Even though he could do things, impossible things, things that even sighted people would likely be unable to do, it didn’t change the fact that Matt still used his hands very frequently to get a sense of the world around him.
He loved holding your hand, loved playing with your hair, loved kissing your forehead. He loved having his hands on you, whether it was strictly G-rated when in public, or while he was pushing into you from behind. Everything and anything was fair game when it came to you.
And, without fail, every time he kissed you hello, he’d tilt your head up with a finger underneath your chin and his thumb right underneath your lip. It didn’t matter if the kiss was sweet and gentle, or intense and passionate; he used his hand to draw your focus on to him, as if you could ever be focused on anything else but him when he was near.
You knew that when he greeted you tonight, he’d feel this giant pimple right there, and you were already cringing at the thought.
You brought your hand up to your chin, still tempted to mess around and pick at it, but jumped when a second knock sounded at the door.
Speak of the devil.
Sending the mirror one last rueful glare, you shut off the light and walked out of your bathroom. Your apartment wasn’t very large, so you made it to the front door in just a few steps, and you tried to not make it obvious that you were internally freaking out and drawing in deeper breaths than usual to calm yourself.
Opening the door revealed handsome Matt Murdock in all his glory, looking so effortlessly attractive that you almost hated him for it.
He was still dressed in what he probably wore to work that day, signifying that he most likely didn’t have time to go home and change. Not that you minded; the way his ass filled out his slacks and the way his broad shoulders stretched his collared shirt never failed to bring a small flush to your cheeks, knowing exactly what all that muscle and skin looked like underneath his clothing.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted you, suit jacket slung over the arm that was holding his cane, warm smile on his lips. His glasses were still on, but you avoided looking directly at the lenses where you knew you’d see your own reflection.
“Hey,” you responded instantly, unable to stop your own grin, despite the anxiety. You weren’t sure when the pet names had started, but you both knew you were absolutely putty in his hands everytime one slipped from his mouth.
Matt took a quick step inside your apartment, before reaching forward to grab your chin the way he always did, that telltale sign he was about to greet you again, but this time with his mouth on yours.
The insecurity spiked again, and without even thinking about it, you turned your head to the side. You took a sudden step to the right, effectively avoiding his grasp, much to his surprise.
He let his hand fall to his side, a sudden frown relaying his confusion. His head tilted in your direction, sightless eyes behind red lenses landing just to your left, and he didn’t bother masking the brief flicker of hurt that crossed his face.
“What’s wrong?” He questioned after a second, and you knew he could feel the awkward tension that had just landed between you two. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment, knowing that this was all your doing, but unable to get the right words out to apologize. You plastered on a fake smile instead.
“Nothing.” The answer came out quickly, an obvious lie, easily detecable even if it hadn’t been given to someone who couldn’t decipher facts from falseties by heartbeat alone.
“We both know that’s not the truth,” Matt said slowly. He hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, as if unsure if he was welcome inside. You cringed. You hadn’t wanted to make him feel unwelcome, especially when all you thought about was how seamlessly he fit into your life and how much you wanted to keep him there.
But still, this stupid, small insecurity had reared up as suddenly as the zit that had grown on your chin, and you found yourself reluctant to let him in on the secret.
“Everything’s fine,” you answered brightly, trying to put him ease, even while you knew you were failing. “Are you ready to go?”
Matt was still rooted to the spot and didn’t look like he was going to move until he figured you out.
“I will be, once you tell me why you just flinched away from me.” A brief flash of his own insecurity flickered across his face, and you hated that you had caused it. You knew there were alarm bells going off in his head, and you watched as he took a deep breath as if he was already preparing for the worst. He licked his lips, something he often did when nervous. “Did I…do something?”
You sighed, closing your eyes.
“It’s stupid.”
“Clearly it’s not, if you didn’t even want me to kiss you hello.” Matt finally took another step forward, crowding you backwards into your apartment as he shut your front door behind him. “Is everything ok?”
“Yeah, everything’s fine, can we just-”
“Please don’t lie to me.”
You groaned and took a step back into the walk behind you, letting your head tip back against it with a loud thump.
“They never said having a super-powered boyfriend would be this hard. I can’t get away with shit.”
With a fond roll of his eyes, the tension in Matt’s shoulders seemed to ease a little, but he still didn’t let up. “Just answer the damn question.”
You looked briefly down at your shoes and took a deep breath.
“I have a giant zit on my face.”
“A…wait,what?”
“A zit. A pimple. A blemish. A giant red bump on my chin.”
If you thought Matt had looked confused before, it was nothing compared to how he looked now. He raised his eyebrows, seemingly not prepared for this. He looked like this was honestly the last thing he had ever expected you to say.
“You do realize I’m blind, right?” He asked dryly once he had recovered.
“Yup.”
“As in, I can’t see you.”
“That’s right.”
“Like…at all.”
“Absolutely.”
“No light perception.”
“Got it.”
“Ok, so…why do you think I would care? Why do you think I would care even if I could see you?” Matt’s hand came up to your chin again, and you smacked it away with a gasp of indignation.
“Don’t touch it!”
This time Matt full on laughed, as if overjoyed at this new insecurity he had found. You glared at him, arms crossed over your chest. “It’s not funny.”
His laughing quieted as he shook his head, but his grin was still there as he finally took his glasses off and placed them on the table next to your door that you reserved for your keys.
“Why does this bother you so much?”
“Because you can feel it.”
“What does that even mean?”
Groaning, you moved to cover your face with your hands, but he gently took them away and held them to his chest instead. “Tell me.”
“You…you rely on touch so much. Like, I know your hearing and sense of smell are insane, but you use your hands and skin and touch to navigate everything, too.”
“And…?”
“You like soft things,” you finally breathed out the root of this particular insecurity, specific only to him. “Silk sheets. Silk boxers. You use super high end detergents for your clothing to encourage maximum softness. You buy very specific paper towels and toilet paper and kleenex. You like everything to be so incredibly soft…and my skin isn’t.”
A look of realization had settled across his face as you spoke, which was soon replaced by a small frown. Gently, so very gently, he released the hands he had cradled to his chest, before he reached out to take your face in his hands. This time you didn’t flinch away, and he moved closer to press his forehead against yours.
“How come you’ve never said anything before?”
“Because I haven’t really needed to. And because it’s so stupid.”
“It’s not stupid if it’s bothering you like this, sweetheart,” he said quietly.
You looked up at him, staring at the pretty brown eyes that weren’t quite focused on yours, before reluctantly diving in.
“It’s just…I can feel my face starting to break out and it’s just something I’m super insecure about, I guess.” Your hands slid along his chest to fidget with one of the buttons on his shirt as you rambled on. “My skin gets like this every once in a while, where I’ll go through a phase of pimple after pimple after pimple. And for the most part I’m fine with it because there’s really not much I can do about it, as much as it sucks. And like…my skin isn’t even that bad right now, but that doesn’t mean I won’t wake up tomorrow with eleven more pimples along my chin and jaw. And then I started thinking about how you’ll feel every single bump and scab, more intensely than anyone else, and my brain just ran with it.”
Matt made low soothing sound deep in his chest as he lifted his head off of yours and pressed his lips to your forehead instead.
“You don’t have anything to be self-conscious about. Not with me.”
“But-”
“I can’t see any of the scars on my body,” he interrupted. His thumbs were absentmindedly stroking your cheeks as he spoke. “I can’t see them, but I can feel how rough and twisted and bumpy they are. And sometimes, I wonder what you think about them.”
“That’s not the same, Matt.”
“I know it’s not.”
“You got those scars saving people.” You tried to jerk away from him, but he didn’t let you. “Those scars meansomething.”
“It’s just skin.” He lips moved to kiss one eyelid, then the other.
“Matt-”
“It’s just skin,” he repeated. “And skin isn’t supposed to be perfect. And if you’re not bothered by anything you feel on mine, how could I ever be bothered by yours?”
“How can you even compare the two, Matt?” You objected. Again, you tried to move away, but this time he moved one hand down to your right shoulder to hold you in place against the wall. His hand may have been gentle, but you could feel the band of steel under the surface. There was no getting away from him if he didn’t want you to.
“I’m not comparing the two,” he said shook his head.
“Then why-”
He interrupted you again. “I’m not comparing them. I’m just saying that you’re self-conscious about something that’s out of your control. And maybe I’m a little self-conscious, too, when you run your hand over one of my scars.”
“But you’re beautiful.” The words slipped out without thought, and you went to cover your mouth with your hand before he grabbed it with a laugh.
“Shut up,” you grumbled at his laughter. He shook his head, still grinning at your embarrassment.
“You know you’re beautiful, too, right?”
You rolled your eyes. “You literally can’t see me, Matt, as you just pointed out, repeatedly.”
“You’re beautiful on the inside.”
“Gross, Matt. You’re so cheesy.” He laughed again.
“Maybe,” Matt shrugged, unbothered by your lighthearted insult. “But we both know I don’t need to see you to know you. And you don’t need to have perfect skin for me to enjoy touching you.”
You were quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say next. Finally, you just sighed as you leaned your body into his, letting your arms wrap loosely around his waist. His hand left your shoulder to rest at your lower back, further anchoring you to him.
“This isn’t an argument you plan on losing, is it?”
Matt kissed you lightly on the nose. “I wasn’t even aware this was an argument, sweetheart. Certainly doesn’t feel like one.”
“A disagreement, then.”
“It’s not about winning or losing,” Matt said simply. He rubbed your back lightly, knowing it would make you arch into him just the way he liked. “I spoke my truth. You spoke yours, even if you’re being silly.”
“I’m not silly!” You gasped out in outrage, pulling away abruptly. He only let you get so far before tugging you back in.
“I said you’re being silly, not that you are silly,” he clarified, more quietly. “And I definitely didn’t say that this…insecurity is silly. It’s just silly that you think something like this would bother me.”
“It bothers me.”
“I know,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss one check before moving to kiss the other. “But it shouldn’t.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know,” he repeated, and you knew it was because he had his own suitcase of insecurities he was always dealing with, and how difficult it could be to move past the negative voices in your head. “But for the record, your skin is soft. Not always smooth, maybe, but always soft. I love feeling it against me, I love feeling it beneath my hands, beneath my lips.”
His hands dropped to pull your hips flush against his, and lowered his voice into that deep tone he knew always worked on you like a charm. But this time, it was laced with something extremely soft and tender.
“And if you’re okay with staying in tonight, I’d love to spend the next several hours kissing and touching every inch of your skin, if you’ll let me.”
As if you could ever say no to that.
Damn this man for knowing you too well already.
Matt must have heard the skip in your heart beat, the one that so often happened when he was near, because he slid a hand back up to the back of your neck and pulled lightly on your hair. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
Moving closer, he grasped your chin slowly, with one finger under your chin and his thumb right below your lip like he always did, as he tilted your back to kiss you.
