#college!matt

[sunshine-daydreams0809]

thinking about making out sloppy style w college!matt in his cramped dorm room when foggy is out.

on his twin sized bed and stupidly soft sheets, sitting in his lap while some song plays from the dingy old ipod dock. his soft, hitched moans when you move just right, or his bruising grip cause everything feels too much in just the right way - his warm breath fanning over your lips everytime u pull away for a few moments to breathe.

[swoonwrthy]

" somehow i always seem to get the attention of the prettiest girls in school. foggy thinks it's my superpower. "

[farfromstrange]

Chapter Two: Election Night

Silver Spoons And Butterknives

[Previous Chapter | Silver Spoons & Butterknives Masterlist]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x President's Daughter!Reader

Chapter Summary: On election night in 2008, your life changed forever. And your father has one more surprise in store for you...

Chapter Specific Warnings: Angst, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of cheating, violence/abuse, daddy issues (not the sexy kind), mentions of corruption, plot heavy

WC: 3.1k

A/N: I wanted to establish some backstory right off the bat and introduce some of my OCs that will become important down the line. No Matt in this chapter, but after this, we will dive headfirst into College!Matt territory, I promise. That’s why I’m double posting, so you guys don’t have to wait another week. So, check the next chapter out as well!

Read Me On AO3!

November 2008.

“...NBC News is now projecting that Theodore Grey, the former Governor of California, will be the next president of the United States.”

You stood there, frozen in place, as chaos erupted around you. A confetti cannon went off somewhere to your right, or maybe it was a balloon that popped. It might as well have been gunshots to your already ringing ears, echoing off the high marble walls that felt both foreign and familiar. 

Growing up, there had been no home for you to come home to, only scarcely decorated dormitories at expensive boarding schools and a bedroom in a house that felt nothing like home; you’d been told on more than one occasion that it was supposed to be, and in your childish innocence, you had waited patiently for the feeling to set it, finally, but it never came. 

The only thing that this house, its marble walls, and its people taught you, in the end, was how to play a flawless game of pretend. 

You came to accept that you would never get what you wanted, because what you wanted didn’t matter. “One day, you’re going to carry on the Grey legacy,” they’d told you. 

They trained you to be their poster child—extraordinarily gifted, always on top of all her classes, well-behaved, and oh-so-kind. You had to serve some kind of purpose—to be profitable enough for them, to earn the bare minimum of parental care. For a few months every year, they doted over you and made you feel loved before inevitably sending you away again. Eventually, you grew used to it. 

A dollhouse family was supposed to make him likable, voteable. The first time he ran for governor, you still believed they meant it. The second time, you ignored your better judgment. But then he put his name on the ballot for president, and you finally woke up.

Against all odds, he won the primaries, and the doors to the White House burst wide open. Next thing you knew, your life was filled with flashing lights and gossip blogs writing about the clothes you were wearing. Sometimes, your name and picture would even appear as the hot topic on a talk show, and you had to watch yourself being torn apart by strangers. 

A smarter woman would have run a long time ago, but the seeds of doubt your parents had planted in you had long grown into a parasite that was slowly eating away at you. And it wasn’t just about you anymore, either.

Your eyes drifted to where the little girl was running in circles on the other side of the room. She kept cheering, “We won!” And she passed you by with a grin on her face that screamed of childish innocence. 

Oh, she had no idea. 

Isabella was a brighter child than you’d ever been, and a better person than you could ever be. That she shared the same blood as you was an unfortunate circumstance, but she was living proof that not all fruits from a poisoned tree had to end up the same. 

Political corruption was a foreign concept to her young mind. She believed the world and its people were either inherently good or bad, and her parents couldn’t possibly be bad because they were always fighting for something good. When you were ten, you held the same beliefs. You’d been wide-eyed, too, but with time came the realization that narcissists don’t stop being narcissists once they have kids. 

You’d sworn a long time ago that you would protect her until you found a way to get you both out, even if that meant letting her believe that she was, indeed, right with her childish assumptions. 

Your parents finally had what they had always wanted. They had the White House. Your father did, anyway. He’d burned everything and everyone in his path to get there. At least it all would be over in eight years, or four, and you would have finally served your purpose.

You took another look around before turning on your heels, away from the main room and the festivities around you, into the hallway. The air was thinner there. 

The television was still playing deafeningly loud in the background, the sound muffled only through the cotton in your ears, and you faintly picked up on another round of applause as glasses clinked and a speech was made. 

You reached under your dress, pulling out the silver flask you’d hidden there that morning. For emergencies, you’d told yourself. That definition, though, was expandable. You’d already refilled it twice so far, and you probably needed to go for a third soon. The sharpness of the high-end vodka that you stole from the bar burned the fine hairs of your nostrils, and it tasted even riper when you swallowed a sip too big for your throat to handle.

You smelled him even before you heard him, reeking of champagne and cigar smoke. His hand wrapped around the flask from behind, and he took it from you.

The sound of his voice was like a knife to your jugular. 

“Vodka,” he observed. “You been drinking all night?”

“That’s none of your business,” you said, trying to snatch it back from him. “I’m not breaking any laws.”

“Oh, yeah? Is that why you’re hiding it under your dress like contraband?”

“I don’t like sharing, Marcus.”

He tutted. “That’s not very nice.”

“Go to hell!”

Marcus sighed dramatically and took a sip of your drink. His dark hair glistened almost entirely grey in the soft yellow light of the chandelier streaming down from above. 

“You know,” he said, leaning against the wall beside you, “the only reason why we’re here today is because of me. I worked my ass off to get him here.”

You scoffed, “Right.”

“You know it’s true. I taught your father everything he knows about politics. I made him a great Governor, and I made sure people would vote for him so that he could be an excellent president.”

“What are you saying?” you asked.

He inched even closer until his arm wrapped around your shoulder and his breath tickled your ear. “I’m saying that if you try to ruin this for him, for all of us,” he cooed, “I won’t hesitate to make your life a living hell.” 

His piercing blue eyes impaled you with the force of a thousand suns, nailing you to the cross. 

“Are we clear?” he asked again.

You barely managed a nod.

“Good.” He brushed a wrinkle out of your dress and finally handed you the liquor back. “Now, have another drink. Smile a little. And for the love of God, try to at least pretend you’re happy, yeah? I need tonight’s pictures to turn out great.”

You took another sip of the bitter liquor, not daring to breathe while he was still so close to you. 

He nodded approvingly. “Attagirl.”

And you almost threw up a little in your mouth. 

When your father dragged you out on the stage that night, you could only stare in horror at the crowd you’d spent months smiling at through hundreds of cameras. The color blue was everywhere, dissolving in bright white flashing lights that blinded you.

The country chose him to be their president—a young Democrat with a vision—but at what cost?

You didn’t get scared often or easily, but the knowledge you carried around with you was enough to bring you to your knees and, for the first time in your life, pray. But no one answered.

Instead, they sent you guard dogs dressed in black, and hell opened its doors. 

A few days later, you were making your way across the hallway on the first floor of your childhood home, the rain tapping against the windows as unrelenting as the iron fist around your heart. The place had never felt stranger to you, never more foreign, and the sky seemed to be mocking you. 

There he sat, in the first room to your right, behind his Mahogany desk. Not as the soon-to-be leader of the free world, but as your father, and you didn’t know which one was worse. 

“You wanted to see me?” you asked.

He offered you a smile. “There you are,” he said. “Come on in. Have a seat.”

So formal, you thought. It wasn’t new, but there was something in the air that day that made it harder to breathe. 

You chose not to sit. 

“How was your day?” 

You didn’t react to that, either. “Why am I here?” 

“Am I not allowed to have a conversation with my daughter?” he asked.

“We both know my day isn’t why I’m here, so let’s just cut to the chase,” you said.

Another sigh, and then, “I made some calls.”

You frowned. “Calls?”

“To a friend in New York. He’s on the board at Columbia University.”

“Okay? What’s that got to do with me?”

“He gave me the president’s number,” he said, “and I managed to secure you a last-minute spot for the spring semester. Classes start after the inauguration, so you’ll have plenty of time to prepare.”

He wasn’t suggesting it, not even asking. Your heart dropped further into your stomach. You could feel it dissolve in the acid, slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but mangled flesh and a sour taste on your tongue. 

You only managed to stammer a weak, “I’m sorry?” 

He said your name, riddled with the kind of disappointment that sounded like you were an inconvenience to him—a disobedient child he had to discipline. “We talked about this,” he said.

“Oh, did we?” You stepped closer, heart pounding against your ribcage and threatening to break through. “Because I remember telling you that I wanted to stay at Stanford, and you said okay.”

“No, I said we’ll see.”

You were stumbling over your words, and that treacherous, familiar burning behind your eyes ate its way through your brain. 

You shook your head. “No, you said I could stay at Stanford as long as they made me an offer, and they did,” you said. “You wouldn’t even have to pay–”

“Money is not an issue, you know that. Besides, Columbia has one of the best law programs in the country.”

“So does Stanford!”

“And Harvard, but you said you didn’t want to go there, so I found you an alternative,” he said.

You threw your arms up. “I thought that was a hypothetical!”

You wanted to scream and tear the place apart, every inch of it more fake than the last. You wanted to burn the world to the ground, right then and there. It was your mistake, thinking he could never be this cruel when he had proven time and time again that he was. You may have been an adult, but your life was not yours to command, and it never had been. 

“Columbia is a well-connected Ivy League university, and it will position you better for the future. Look,” he said, “I only want what’s best for you. And the reality is that I’m gonna be president soon, and I want my children to get the education they deserve.”

“And it’s closer, right?” you said. “That’s what this is all about. You want me nearby, in case you need me to smile and wave. In case you need me to be the perfect daughter. In case you need to make yourself look better in front of the millions of people who voted for you because you lied to them!” 

You knew that look on his face all too well. The way he turned away, the way he sighed and tried to hide his face from you; he was not always an open book, but that day, you could read him better than ever. 

He couldn’t deny it. He couldn’t deny the truth you had just thrown at his feet, and he couldn’t manipulate you into believing otherwise. Of course, he couldn’t. For a politician, he was a terrible liar. 

“I do want you closer,” he admitted. “But because it’s important for this family, not because I have ill intentions. I do believe it’s what’s best for you.”

“For me?” You laughed, once. “I think it’s what you think is best for you!” 

You didn’t often raise your voice, but if you hadn’t yelled, if you hadn’t opened the valve to release all the pent-up steam inside you, you would have fallen apart. 

He did not deserve the satisfaction of seeing you cry, so you swallowed the onslaught of tears and drowned them in rage. “Did Marcus put you up to this?” you asked.

He paused, his eyebrows furrowing closely enough to form a straight line on his forehead. “Marcus?” he said, dumbfounded. “No, your mother and I made this decision. We–”

You cut him off, “Oh, so you’re just really that heartless, huh? You’re taking away the only thing I asked for because it’s what’s best for you? Because it matters more how people perceive the president’s daughter than what your daughter wants?” you said.

“That’s not–”

“Got it. No, I see it now. It makes sense. I have to play the part so you don’t have to feel bad for deceiving an entire country,” every word dripped like venom off a snake’s tongue. “You know, if you’d just been honest with them, if you’d been honest with yourself, none of us would be in this situation right now.”

“Hey!” he snapped. “I know you’re not happy about how things have gone, but I didn’t lie to anyone. I ran a damn good campaign, I got the votes, and I won. I did that!”

Oh, how blinded he was.

There was a darkness in him that had been running in your family’s bloodline for generations. His father gave it to him, and he probably gave it to you, but instead of being better, he had given in to his greed without a second thought when the right person came along to tell him that it was okay. 

The devil slithered into his pocket a long time ago, and you lost both of your parents before you were even born. 

“I’m still your father, and I expect you to treat me with respect,” he said.

Again, you could only laugh. “That’s rich, coming from you,” you said. “If you had even an ounce of respect, you would have been honest about the fact that your marriage was already broken when you ran for president instead of using it as advertisement.”

“Watch your mouth!”

“No, you cheated on Mom with your campaign manager, and when the girl became a threat that could have exposed your affair to the entire world, she disappeared, just like that!” You snapped your fingers. “Like it didn’t happen. You just told millions of people that we are a picture-perfect family.”

Your voice echoed off the walls, threatening to break glass, and you set fire to the distance between you. 

“You pretend that you didn’t have children solely to get elected because that’s what your daddy wanted. First, you had me, and then, when no one wanted you to become governor because people didn’t like that you were your father’s son, Mom somehow got pregnant with Izzy,” you said. “And people love babies and family fathers, so of course, they elected you. They elected you because I smiled, and Izzy smiled, and even Mom smiled after you almost destroyed her. How many drinks does she have a day? Three? Four?”

He rounded the table and stalked toward you.

“If you had been honest about all of it, this country probably wouldn’t have elected you to be their president, yes, but at least you would have been known for being honest,” you spat. “But people like you and Marcus don’t care about who gets hurt because in the end, at your core, you are cut from the same corrupted, rich, white cloth as the people you claim to despise!”

The words were barely out before he slapped you, the force of it pulling at your skin with the strength of a thousand suns. He liked to build weapons of destruction with his words, and they hurt, yes, but this was the first time he had hit you. 

His hand was still mid-air when you met his eyes. They were like yours, just emptier—dead. There was no remorse in them. You touched your cheek, feeling the skin pulsing underneath your fingertips, wondering if you pretended it hadn’t happened, it would become less real, but the sting remained. His fingers were branded into your skin in a way that made you want to peel it off with your bare hands.

He growled, “You are an ungrateful, spoiled little brat who doesn’t know the first thing about politics or the sacrifices it takes, so don’t you dare lecture me!”

You tried pulling away, but he caught your wrist. “I made mistakes, I admit that,” he said, “but my mistakes are what led us here. My mistakes are why you have a roof over your head. My mistakes are why you’ve never had to work a day in your life, and why Stanford was even possible. Your mother and I have our problems, but we make it work. We make it work so that you and Izzy never have to worry about a goddamn thing. That is a privilege, and if you want to keep that privilege, I suggest you start learning your place in this family.”

You exhaled a broken sob.

“You are moving to New York, and you are going to Columbia. That’s final! Because quite frankly, I don’t give a shit about what you want.”

Your heart fell to the floor and shattered, bleeding all over the white carpet and the walls, and he just watched as you fell apart inside.

The floorboards creaked behind you. One of the Secret Service agents stepped in. Your father lowered his hand just in time, turning his back to you. 

“Agent Davis,” he said, “would you please escort my daughter back to her apartment?”

The agent nodded. “Yes, sir.”

“So that’s it?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. 

“That’s it.” He didn’t look at you twice. “Don’t forget to close the door on your way out.” 

There was nowhere for you to run, nowhere to hide from who he had become. You were an adult with the misplaced hope of a child, quivering at the raised hand of your father. In the end, he was right; you were nothing without him. And that was why, as much as it sickened you, you could never say no to him.

Tag List: @sunshine-daydreams0809 @op1astriontop @murdockchronicles

[moth-murdock]

I was gonna start writing a Matt thing but I found this gif and even though it's unrelated to what I was going to write, it is important that everyone see this. Thank you for cuming to my Ted talk.

[archivedjuice]

the costume department deserves several awards with how young they made charlie look. he doesn't even look like charlie cox as a young man. that's barely 21 year old matt murdock

[archivedjuice]

i think matt should bring back the white t shirt layered under the black sweater with the black necklace and jeans look

[readerhead]

The fella over there

summary: you are at a frat party and you see you ex, what could be a better distraction than meeting Matt? (part 2 here)

pairing: college!Matt x reader (I made this thinking of a female reader but I think it there's just one word that can imply it so any pronuon can feel free to enjoy the fic)

warnings: none really it's just pure fluff

word count: 1.5k

a/n: this is my first post and also the first time publishing something I worte in a social media. Actually, it's the first time that I wrote a "story" in English, probably you're gonna notice that it isn't my first language but I tried my best. Feel free to correct any mistake you found. I just wanted to share this fluffy meeting between the reader and Matt during college because lately I'm so obsessed with him that I couldn't stop thinking about this. I really hope someone enjoys it :)

----------------------------------

This was a bad idea. You should've not try to get your ex jealous when you were over him, but come on! Can someone blame you? He was a dick with you when you two were together and this other boy was standing there so gorgeous. You couldn't help it! When your narcissistic exboyfriend shows up with a hot model-level girl in the party where you were celebrating that you got over him and you see the guy with the best hair and that can make you forget that he was there obviously you're gonna make a move.

You started shaking your hips to the best pop song, it was playing and you began to stare at him, not in a creepy way more like in the sexy way most people are only able to have the confidence when they have alcohol in their veins. He seemed not completely oblivious but you couldn't tell because he was wearing black shades. Who the fuck wears shades at an indoor party? Your ex long forgotten and all your thoughts were in why this boy wasn't looking at you. You weren't Jessica Biel but when you're at a frat party and a decent-looking girl is giving you her full attention, the least you could do is glance at her. That didn't stop you, instead you started to go in his direction while dancing. When you were a few feet away, you saw his blond-haired friend whispering him something and then, finally, he turned into your direction. In that moment you saw why he wasn't looking at you, you saw that cane. You scolded yourself for getting upset at him for being blind, even if you didn't know it. Without giving you time to process it, he was bumping into you because his friend pushed him.

"Hi, I'm Matt. Sorry, my friend insisted that the pretty girl who was coming closer wanted to dance with and that I should do it" he smiled apologetically and that was the moment you were doomed. If that dark perfectly combed hair wasn't enough, those white almost shiny teeth and rosy lips sure were.

"Hi, Matt. I think your friend might be right. What do you say?"

"I'm not really a good dancer and I might trip into the people. And you know, this whole not being able to see doesn't help" he laughed through his breath and you couldn't help but laugh a little, too.

"Well, now is my task to show you how to dance and keeping you and the people around you safe" you winked at him but then you felt stupid because he couldn't see it.

"Do I get to know the name of my new teacher?" you could swear in that moment that that one-sided smile was going to bury you alive and you would happily let it happen.

"Only if you survive the night."

At first, he was kind of weird, dancing inside mass of people being blind couldn't be easy. But after half song and your hands always touching his shoulders or his arms, he became more confident and you could tell he was having a great time too. And to be honest, after you started you couldn't stop touching him. You didn't care if it was only one finger on his chest, you didn't know him for more than an entire song and yet you were craving his touch. Just in that moment, your favorite part of the song came: the bridge. It was just a coincidence that this was the song that was playing, wasn't it? It didn't matter, you started to dance like you was possessed by some kind of demon and singing like you would die.

Hey, hey, hey

Just think, while you've been gettin' down and out about the liars

And the dirty, dirty cheats of the world

You could've been gettin' down to this sick beat

My ex-man brought his new girlfriend

She's like, "Oh my God!" but I'm just gonna shake

And to the fella over there with the hella good hair

Won't you come on over, baby? We can shake, shake, shake (yeah)

Yeah, oh, oh

"That sounded a little to personal."

"It may has been. But I can assure you that the fella with the hella good hair made me forget about every other boy in the room."

"Then he must be a lucky guy." and that fucking beautiful grin again.

Then you both danced to another song and the next and the one that followed and without knowing half of the dance floor went home. You decided it was time to call it a night so you stopped dancing and grabbed his hand to get you two out of there. Once you were out of the house you felt a little preoccupied. What if you scared him? He couldn't know where you were and he didn't know you.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I thought it was time to go to sleep but I didn't want to let you there so I drag you out here. Do you want me to search for your friend? I think he has your cane." you started rambling, all the security that the few drinks you had sobered up a while ago.

"Hey, relax." that lowered tone and his hands around your arms was what you needed to calm you down. " I think that my friend Foggy right now will be in his girlfriend's dorm."

"I can walk you to your dorm." you offered, of course you would be a girl in the middle of the night walking but he was a blind man without his cane. A very handsome man.

"Or I could walk you. I'll be good on my own."

"Oh no. There is no way I'm letting you go alone. You could stay at my dorm but my roommate is already sleeping there." the blush rushed into your cheeks when you realized how that sound like an innuendo. You heard him let out a chuckle.

"Or you could come to mine. Foggy's out so if you're uncomfortable I can sleep in his bed."

"That would be nice." the scarlet still lingering in your cheeks with a big stupid smile. "Shall we?" you offered him your arm and somehow he knew and intertwined them.

You two talked all the way to his dorm. And you discovered something you didn't need to know: not only he was nice to see, he also was kind and sly. And a fucking flirt. He made your cheeks hotter than they have been in your whole life. You tried to throw back some cunning comment but it was never at his level. When you arrived to his dorm he search for his keys in his pocket and in all the time it took him to find them and open the door he didn't let go your arm. And when he let it go was to slide his hand to yours. Once he drag you in he stood in front of you with one hand still intertwined with yours and the other in your waist. You could tell how your breathing hitched, but that didn't stopped you from raising your hands to took his shades.

"Damn. I wanted to do that all night." He laughed in a whisper. "Of course your eyes had to be fucking pretty, too" And now he laughed more loudly and your heart started racing.

"I'm sure your eyes are great also, but I can tell you that your voice is the sweetest and more beautiful sound I have ever heard" he surely was smooth.

You started to get flustered when he started to lean in. You closed your eyes expecting when the hand that wasn't at your waist went to your cheek. It was a hungry kiss and he was holding back enough to be gentle too. You got drunk in that kiss and you needed more, your hands went to his nape to intensify it and he pulled you closer by your waist. Your chest pressing into his was a sensation you will treasure all your life, but it still wasn't close enough. Your tongues were fighting in a delightious way and in that moment neither of you were fighting to win, you were fighting to lose in each other. You didn't want to back up but if you wanted to experience another kiss like this you had to do it or you were going to pass out. Not that it wasn't a good way to go anyways. You finally pulled apart and open your eyes.

"I think I survived the night successfully." you where a little confused, was it the lack of oxygen or he wasn't making any sense? "Can I know your name now?"

"You tried so hard to get it." you hum to make it look like you were thinking it. "Okay, I guess you deserve it."

"I'm really grateful, your Honor" any of you could hide your smiles.

"You'll make a good lawyer, Matt" you pecked his lips and then tell him your name. He repeated it and you could swear your name had never sounded so good.

----------------------------------

a/n: first of all, thank you so much for taking your time to read it! I have an idea for another part, but I don't know if I will post it, I have to write it and see if like it. Also, in case someone didn't recognize it, the song was 'Shake it off' by Taylor Swift :)

[hellskitchenswhore]

#college!Matt

Tell Me by @ola-elaina

Blurred Lines by @ola-elaina - FWB fic

Four Words by @murdockparker - FWB to lovers, a little angst

Need by @peterman-spideyparker - Friends to lovers, angst and fluff

"Matt, are you high?" by @hoewkeye- pure fluff and fun

You oughta know by @pedrito-friskito - You confess your love for Matt. #smut

Treacherous by @peterman-spideyparker - #FWB to lovers w/ angst

Make Me Your Maria by @mattmurdockspainkink - friends to lovers, #smut

Go Ahead and Laugh It Up by @courtforshort15 - fluff w/ Matt and Foggy

just the tip, princess by @saintmurd0ck - #smut

Late Night Study Sessions by @1800-fight-me - #fluff

Gentle Touches by @1800-fight-me - #fluff

I Get Along Without You Very Well by @cellophaine - friends to lovers, #angst, #idiots in love

cat and mouse by @grogunotfound - rivals to lovers

Flushed Skins by @cellophaine - #smut

"Stop pretending you care." by @pedrito-friskito - jealous!matt

chance by @briefcasejuice - #smut

incandescent by @briefcasejuice - matt helps with your anxiety

columbia calling by @saintmurd0ck - you call your best friend to tell her you're in love with your college best friend, # fluff

you by @erosso - your crush shows up at the library

No Interruption by @cellophaine - you make matt stay still while you finish a movie, #smut, #kinktober

Listen by @itwasthereaminuteago - matt gets carried away listening to your audio notes, #smut

The Roommate and the Best Friend by @peterman-spideyparker - You've been Foggy's best friend since childhood, but this new thing with Matt might change your trio forever, #love, #smut

How Sweet It Is (to be loved by you)  by @courtforshort15 - Matt Murdock is so many things, but your favorite thing that he is…. is sweet. #college!matt, #smut