#matt mrudock

[peterman-spideyparker]

Horses and Zebras (College!Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: I wrote this a bit ago with the intention of having this be smutty, but what I was coming up with just didn’t feel right, so I pivoted and turned it into this. I wanted to use a gif of college Matt but this one popped up, and I will never not use a gif of Tristan Thorn if given the chance and I’m also sorry for the sucky title. It might have a second part, but that’s TBD. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You’re in the medical program at Columbia, but you have some space in your schedule to take an elective, so you opt for a health policy and law class. What you don’t expect is meeting a handsome, blind law student.

Warnings: Fluff, flirting, medical jargon, angst (mentions of death, medical diseases), swearing

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson

Word Count: 2,184

“Is this seat taken?” you hear a smooth, deep voice ask to your right as you take out your notebook and pencil case.

“It’s up for grabs,” you say with a smile as you turn to look at the asker. You feel your cheeks burn hot when you see the handsome man with brown hair, navy sweater, and sunglasses standing with a soft smile. He shifts the cane in his hands as he puts his bag down and begins unpacking his things. “I’m (Y/N), by the way.”

“Matt,” he returns as he settles. “Are you a 2L or a 3L?”

“I’m actually a med student—year and a half left.”

His thick eyebrows scrunch and his lips turn into a confused frown. “They’re letting a med student take a law class?”

“Well, it’s a health law and policy class. I’ve taken some summer courses to get ahead, and my advisor vouched for me. I figured if I’m going to be a doctor, I should try to help them and advocate for them as much as I can. Even if I know a little of it, I hope it would be a big help for some patients.”

“Wow,” he says softly. “You don’t really meet people that think like that.”

“Tell me about it. There’s this guy in my class, right? Stephen. He’s thinks he’s a real hot-shot surgical godsend, when really he’s just an egomaniac that always has to be the one holding the knife.”

“Sounds like a real dick,” he says with a sympathetic pout.

“There’s always people like that in any profession, I guess. Any people like that come to mind in the law program? Or am I talking to one?”

“I guess it depends on who you ask.”

“Mm,” you hum with a little smirk. “Sounds like a yes for the second to me.”

Matt smiles and licks his lips. It looks like he is just about to say something else when the professor walks in with her briefcase.

“Good morning and welcome to Intro to Health Law Advocacy. Now, we will be starting with medical ethics, and from there, segue into medical malpractice—which is slightly askew from the way it’s organized in the book. If you’ll open your textbooks to chapter eight . . .”

“How are you not worried about this exam?” Matt asks, flipping through his notes on his bed, taking off his glasses and putting them to the side, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Well, so far, I’m already familiar with these things,” you sigh as you turn on the chair at his desk. “We covered them the first or second year of the med program. I really haven’t learned anything new that will help me as a doctor. This class isn’t what I thought it would be, and I’m starting to think that’s why they let a med student take a law class.”

“So, what exactly are you studying right now, then?”

“Advanced abdominal and reproductive anatomy and diseases.”

“Ew,” he grimaces.

“Eh, it’s not bad. Some of my friends and I have done the ‘What’s my disease?’ game with all the symptoms and stuff, it’s just making sure I get these muscles right.” 

“How can I help?”

You lightly scoff. “Matthew, are you trying to get out of studying?”

“I would never,” he says in mock offense, a wry smirk almost immediately pulling at his lips. 

“It’s good you’re practicing your lying now,” you laugh as you move to make a highlight in your notes. “You really wouldn’t want something that bad presented in court.”

“Seriously, though,” he offers after he stops laughing. “I need a bit of a study break, honestly. How can I help you?”

“You could always just sit there and tell me how pretty I am.”

“(Y/N).”

“Matt, I appreciate it, but I don’t know if you can. Unless you want to be a live model, that is.”

“How so?”

You sigh, regretting even having brought it up. “It’s one thing to read it and look at diagrams, but it’s another thing to actually do it on a person.”

“Okay. So,” Matt draws out, putting a tab in his book. “I could lie down, and you’d poke and prod and tell me what you’d feel if I was a patient with one of the things in your book?”

“Yeah, I guess. Would you be comfortable with that?”

Matt nods. “I need a break from these laws—my fingers can’t take it anymore.”

“Alright, then.”

You know to do this, Matt would have to take his shirt off, but you’re not quite prepared for when he does. You can tell that Matt is in shape just by looking at him, but seeing how sculpted he is, the defined dips and curves of his muscles on his taut and smooth skin, you’re not prepared for how your mouth waters. Laying down on the twin bed, he lifts his arms, folding his hands behind his head, resting all nonchalantly with a cocky smirk on his lips.

“You alright there, doctor?” he asks, shifting ever so slightly and making his muscles flex.

“I’m not a doctor yet, Matty,” you tell him, grabbing your notes before you get up.

“You don’t need those.”

“How do you expect me to tell you which uncommon disease that you fictionally have when I poke you in certain places? It’s not like you know the symptoms.”

“You use your memory, sweetheart, that’s how.”

Your cheeks burn hot at the nickname, but it’s enough to convince you to put down your notes. 

“Okay,” you start, moving forward as you retie your ponytail. “Let me start with something easy just to get going. Appendicitis. Appendix becomes inflamed from infection and fills with pus. Pain is caused in the lower right abdomen, usually starting right around here.” You apply light pressure near his belly button on his rock hard abs. How does he have abs this great? “Pain will lessen the pressure is applied, but will get worse when my fingers get removed.” I mimic my motion with my words.

“Ow, it hurts really bad,” Matt adds for effect with a pout, making you giggle. “Doc, you gotta help me.”

“Well, you don’t have a fever,” you play along, feeling his forehead with the back of your hand. “Not nauseous, either. Could just be gas. But, if you do later on, it hurts when you cough, walk, or laugh, and the pain shifts here and your abdomen becomes rigid—,” you continue, moving your fingers lower, “—that’s then we have an issue. An ultrasound will confirm it’s an appendicitis.”

“Easy enough.” Matt’s tone is cool, but the blush on his chest, neck, and cheeks say otherwise. “What’s one of the rarer ones?”

“Well, that’d be something like Hirschsprung’s disease. It’s when there’s a lack of nerve cell bodies in part of the bowel. People are born with it, but it might not develop until later in life. Pain can present anywhere.”

“Well, that doesn’t make diagnosis sound easy.”

“It’s not as common. One of the first things you’re told is to look for horses not zebras; what someone might thinks is uncommon is actually something common presenting differently.”

“Then what happens when it’s actually uncommon?”

“People end up going to multiple doctors,” you sigh. “Or, they realize it’s uncommon when it’s too late. And the sad thing is, it happens—it happens a lot more to female patients than male patients because . . . fuck, I don’t know, people think women are weak.”

“You sound like you’re talking from experience.”

“Cuz I am.” You sit down on the edge of the mattress, your shoulders slumping forward as you hang your head. “One of my closest friends in high school, she was so incredibly fit and healthy, but she hadn’t been feeling right. One doctor said it was the flu, a physician’s assistant said it was PMS, another said it might be something carcinogenic. Then one day our senior year when she was at home, she just collapsed. After a week, they figured out it was a neurological disease. It ran in her family, but it hadn’t manifested in anyone. And by the end of that week, she was gone.”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Matt says softly, sitting up and putting his hand on yours.

“I’m so afraid of turning into one of those doctors,” you breathe quietly. “I don’t want to worry anyone for no reason, to put them through unnecessary tests that insurance might not cover and they might not be able to afford. But I’m so worried that one day, I’m just going to convince myself that one of those zebras is a horse, and then someone else will lose their best friend.”

“We haven’t known each other for long, but I like to think that in the semester I’ve known you, I’ve gotten to know you well. So I know that when you become a doctor, you will treat every one of your patients with respect, kindness, and compassion. You’ll listen to them and their concerns, and do the absolute best to give them the care they need. If you think there’s a zebra in the room, I know you’ll trust your gut and approach it in the right way. It’s not gonna be easy, and it won’t be without its difficult times, but I have every last faith in you and your abilities.”

“I don’t think you know how much that means to me to hear,” you admit, your voice thick with emotion. “You really are going to be a great lawyer, Matt. And I’m not just saying that. A lot of the same nice things you just said about me apply to you, though. You’re kind, compassionate, and you just want to help. There’s nothing more admirable than that.”

You feel electricity move across your skin when he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. Your noses touch before you tilt your heads to the side so they slot better together, your lips millimeters apart before the door to his dorm opens.

“Guess who just got a date with Marci!” Foggy cheers triumphantly as he comes into the room, stuttering to a halt when he registers how you and Matt slide away from one another. “Sorry, I di—.”

“No—,” you start.

“Fog, we—,” Matt says over you.

“I should get going, anyways,” you say as you stand to gather your things. “I’ll see you in class tomorrow, Matt.”

“I’ll see you,” he says softly. “Text me when you get back to your dorm safe.”

“Will do. Night.”

As soon as you close the door to their room, you can immediately hear Foggy start profusely apologizing.

“Dude, I didn’t know! I’m so sorry—,” he starts.

“Fog, keep your voice down!” Matt hushes him urgently. “She can hear you!”

“She’s probably all the way down the hall at this point. Is that the hot med student you’ve been telling me about?”

“Fog—!”

“Don’t pull that ‘How would I know they’re hot’ shit—you always find the prettiest girls and ensnare them in your Murdock charm.”

You can’t help but giggle as you walk down the hall and start back to your place. So . . . Matt has talked about you to Foggy. You guess you can tick that off of your curiosity list. You wonder what exactly he’s told his best friend about. You’re so lost in thought and reliant on muscle memory that you don’t realize you’re back in your place until you slump your bag off your shoulders and it hits the floor. Pulling out your phone, you lean against the door and begin to text Matt.

“Your hot med student friend is safe in her dorm,” you type, grinning like an idiot as you bite your lip.

It takes him a little bit to respond.

“I’m glad,” he says with a little smiley face emoji. Another text bubbles before it disappears, reappears, and I have a new text on my screen. “I’m sorry for what Foggy said.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“So you did hear it. Eavesdropper ;).”

“I heard enough of it.”

You grow nervous when he doesn’t text back right away. In an effort to shake off the discomfort at the potential crater you might just have carved into your friendship, you change into your pajamas and grab what you need to start studying for you other classes. Just as you get in the right study spot, your phone buzzes to life with a text.

“You’re not mad?” it reads. 

“At you? Impossible.” Your finger hovers over the send button, wondering if it would push the envelope too much for the night, but then you remember the initial text you sent over, getting enough courage to click down on the blue circle with the arrow. “If you need me for anything, I’m just a text away.”

“Good to know. There’s no way I’m making it through this without you.”

Does . . . Does he mean the test? The class? He is too flirty for his own good. But you know one thing for sure: you have a big, fat, undeniable crush on Matt Murdock.

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[gwensy]

gwen stacy shouldkve torn out matt mrudocks heart and eaten it infront of him

[mattelektras]

scott summers and matt mrudock swap their lives for a week. what is most likely to happen?

they both cry and then matt fucks scott’s wife

[peterman-spideyparker]

Dust to Dust (Matt Murdock x fem!Reader)

Author’s Note: Hey everyone! I have had this one in my drafts for *literally* ever, and I’m finally getting around to posting it. Enjoy! :)

Summary: You finally move in with Matt, working to make his apartment feel like a shared space that you both can call home when the unimaginable happens.

Warnings: Fluff, domesticity, angst, The Snap, hurt/comfort, mentions of grief, not proof read/edited as well as it could be

Other Characters: Foggy Nelson, Karen Page (mentioned)

Word Count: 1,519

“Hey, Matty?” you ask as you climb in the step stool. 

“Yeah, angel?” he calls from the kitchen.

“Did I leave the duster on the barstool?”

“Why would it be on the barstool?”

You let out an exasperated sigh and smile as you twist toward him, watching how he stands and smirks in the kitchen, leaning forward on the butcher block counter. He is a sight to behold, truly. You never would have thought that if someone had told you two years ago that one of the alumni attorneys talking to your trial ethics class would become your boss for an internship and your boyfriend, you would have thought that you were living some fantasy—especially when you found out about his secret. Now that you’re officially moved in, fantasy and reality are meshing in the best kind of ways.

“Stop being sassy, Murdock. I can see it right there.”

“Then why don’t you come over yourself and get it?”

“You’re right next to it, Matty. I’d have to walk across the apartment.”

“Walking is good for you. It’ll get your blood circulating.”

“Uh, badgering, counselor.”

“Stating the facts of the case, counselor,” he smiles right back. 

“If you bring the Swiffer over here, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Mmmhm. I’m also gonna shower in a bit, so if you bring that over and help me, your reward might be more than a kiss.”

“That sounds quite nice, angel. It’s also bribery. It’s unethical.”

“But is it working?”

“With the promise of your kisses? Of course it’s working.”

“Then grab that duster and get that cute butt of yours over here.”

You both laugh, and you turn your attention back to the shelf, moving things down on the top of the cabinet bookshelf below for the time being.

“Would you be okay if I hung some pictures while I’m up here, Matt?” you ask, only to hear the soft plastic clatter of the duster hitting the floor. Matt doesn’t drop things. You turn around and see the Swiffer on the floor, Matt no where to be found.

“Matt?” you call into the apartment, every second where you don’t see or hear him making you grow more worried. “Matt?” You step down and slowly walk through the apartment. “Matthew, if you’re trying something, this isn’t funny!” You franticly move around the apartment, feeling nauseous as ice runs through your veins and your skin burns hot when you officially run out of places to look for him. “Matt?. . .”

He’s gone.

“I don’t know,” you sigh as you fiddle with the key ring, swinging the door open and just dropping your purse and keys on the table by the door, putting your briefcase in the living room as you move through the apartment. Even though it’s been five years and you’ve added some touches of yours here and there, the apartment still doesn’t feel it belongs to you in the slightest. The thing that’s missing—the person that would tie it all together—has been missing for five years, just like your friends and half of the population.

“I think I just need to shower and wash the day off,” you continue to tell your mom. “I’ll text a bit later. I have a lot of files I need to sort through for my case. Love you, bye.”

Hanging up, you let out a tired sigh and take off your clothes, letting the hot water roll down your body to loosen your tense muscles. You run through the things you need to do—which files to go through first, what you need to grab at the grocery store, how soon you can go to sleep. You hum as you scrub the shampoo deep into your scalp, like you’re trying to physically reach past your skull and smush your brain between your fingertips. As you do so, you feel a large pair of hands and hairy arms wrap around you, and you scream at the top of your lungs.

“Angel, angel, calm down!” you hear a voice you’ve missed for five years cut through your screams. “It’s just me! It’s me, sweetheart!”

Turning around in his grip, you see Matt, just like the day he disappeared.

“Matt?” you whimper, on the verge of tears.

“Yeah . . . (Y/N), what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

The tenderness in his voice, the way he says your name, the way he holds onto you, it’s enough for you to break down in tears. Matt just holds you, letting you cry into his strong chest, whispering sweet nothings in your ear. You don’t know how long you cry for, but it is long enough for the shampoo to be completely washed from your hair and for your fingers to be far past pruney. Matt kisses your forehead, grabbing a towel to dry you off before sliding his shirt from the floor onto your body. Picking you up as you cling onto him, he walks you to the bedroom and sits you down on the mattress.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” he asks softly once more, tucking a thick, wet tress of hair behind your ear.

“You . . .” you sniffle and wipe tears off of your cheeks. “Matt, you were gone for five years.” 

“I . . . What?”

“I thought you heard something and had to run and help, but you don’t drop things, and you dropped the Swiffer. I couldn’t find you. I couldn’t find anyone. So many people just disappeared. Just gone, Matty.”

A million questions rush across Matt's face in a second, but he doesn’t ask any of them. Instead, Matt kisses you again, holding you into his chest. “How’d you get through it?”

“I threw myself into work. I kept the practice alive. It was hard, but, Matty . . . the people that come to Nelson and Murdock needed someone. If I stopped to think—if I didn’t help—I would’ve drowned in grief.”

“You . . . You kept it going? All by yourself?” 

“They needed help. You had to come back. I had to do it.”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“I spruced the office up a little. I got a new table for the conference room, and a new coffee table. Some plants.” 

“Doing well for yourself, there, angel,” he says with a little smile. “I mean, Foggy and I could never dream of office plants.”

You smile softly back at him. He’s actually here. “I always told you I was the better attorney.”

“I never doubted that for a second, sweetheart.”

As you lean in for another kiss, you gasp when a thought crosses your mind.

“What is it, (Y/N)?”

“Foggy and Karen! If you’re back, they’re back!” You lean over to where you threw your phone on the bed and call each of them quickly, hanging up as soon as they answer, but not without an excited squeal before you lean forward and knock down Matt with a hug, tears streaming down your face once more. “You guys are back! Oh my God! Everyone’s back!”

The way that Matt’s lips feel on your skin after so long is like heaven, a blessing that you never thought you were going to feel again. 

“I’m not going to have to fight off any new boyfriends that walk in and see us like this, am I?” Matt asks softly into your shoulder, but you can sense the genuine nerves behind it, and it’s written clearly across his face when you lean back.

“No, Matt.”

“Because, I mean, I could always use the blind card.”

“It’s cute when you do that to get extra waffles. But it’s not something you have to worry about, Matty. I swear.”

“So, not once in five years?”

“No. Not once.”

Matt brings his lips to yours, rolling you over and letting you feel every muscle of his that you’ve missed. God, you’ve missed him. You’ve missed his warmth, his weight, the way that he knows exactly what to do make your heart skip a beat and feel like the only girl in the world. You’ve missed the callouses of his fingers, the hair on his arms, the rough stubble on his jaw, how his big, beautiful nose smushes against yours. But most of all, you’ve missed how everything feels right when Matt is with you.

“Matt . . .”

“We were already planning to do it, and my sweet girl hasn’t felt good in five years,” he hums as he kisses your neck. “Please. Please let me show you how much I love you.”

“I—ah.”

“Sweetheart?” he says softly as he pulls off. 

“I just want to hold you, Matt,” you say, listening to how your voice cracks. “We can do that any time, but I just need to hold you some more.”

His face softens before he leans forward to kiss your forehead. “Of course, angel. I can never say no to your snuggles.”

“Good, because I’m not letting go.”

“And I’ll hold on tight.” You hear Matt let out a faint hum as he wraps his arms around you and gives you a gentle squeeze as you let yourself fall asleep, relaxed for the first time in five years while his heartbeat echos in your ear.

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[peterman-spideyparker]

I was hoping you could help me im looking for a fic we’ll mostly multiple one shots series involving Daredevil and Spider-Man there’s one where the reader gets into an accident and Peter takes them to the hospital that’s when Matt shows up and tries to calm him down and he ends up calling him dad this was all after NWH I just can’t remember who wrote it🙏🏻

Nonny, I know I've read this, but I can't think of who wrote it for the life of me!! I've gone through my blog, likes, and reblogs, and I don't see a trace of it anywhere.

Can anyone help Nonny out?