SO TAKE MY HEART AND DON'T LOOK BACK
DISCLAIMER!: The following story is purely fictional and is made for entertainment purposes. I do not own any of the characters mentioned in this story.
DOUBLE DISCLAIMER!!: DAREDEVIL: BORN AGAIN SPOILERS!!
Warning: Matt is emotionally constipated, but he makes up for it. Slightly spicy (I don’t know how to write smut). Karen appearence (with a conversation that i feel Matt and Karen should have had imo, I wrote it for my own peace of mind for them; they deserved a better ending) Mentions of death. Awkward, silly moments.
Matt Murdock x Reader
WORD COUNT: 13630
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Matt sat on the couch, his gaze fixed on the floor, the weight of the silence pressing down on him. He knew, deep down, that he had no real reason to be upset with her. She’d only reacted because she cared. That much was obvious. She’d seen the bruises, the way he was pushing himself too hard, and she’d tried to do what she always did—look out for him. But somehow, he’d managed to twist it all into something else.
The fight had escalated, like all their fights seemed to do, and it was his fault. He could admit that much. But it wasn’t easy. Acknowledging that he’d been reckless, that maybe the wound was worse than he’d let on—it didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t like feeling weak.
And yet, he was still too stubborn to say the words. To apologize. His pride was too big, too loud. It always was.
He wasn’t angry with her—not really. He was angry at himself. For snapping. For not hearing the worry in her voice and instead turning it into something he could fight against. But he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t know how to ask her to stay without feeling like he was losing himself. So, he did the only thing he could do.
He reached out, took her hand in his, and gave it a gentle squeeze. A silent apology. A reminder that he was there, even if the words wouldn’t come.
Y/N sat beside him, her gaze distant, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. She knew Matt. She knew the stubbornness that ran through him like a river. But it didn’t make the silence any easier to bear.
She’d tried. She had. She’d tried to help, to make him see that he didn’t have to do everything on his own, that maybe this time—this time—he could let someone in. But all he’d done was push her away, like he always did.
When his hand squeezed hers, she sighed. She knew what it meant. The apology that wasn’t said, the one that hung in the air between them. She could read it in the way his fingers tightened around hers, like he was holding on to something precious, something fragile.
"Yeah," she whispered, her voice soft, tired. "I know."
It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had to offer. And somehow, that was enough for her, for now.
Matt was the kind of man who could never admit when he was wrong, even though she knew—she knew—he was. He’d been selfish, pushing her away when all she’d wanted to do was care. And she was frustrated. Frustrated with him, with herself, with the way they always ended up here. But still, she stayed. Still, she held his hand.
When she finally stood to leave, she did so slowly, the weight of the moment pressing on her chest. Her jacket was on the table. She reached for it, already halfway to the door, already preparing herself to walk out.
His heart sank when she moved, when she pulled away. He couldn’t let her go—not like this. Not when everything still felt broken between them. Not when he hadn’t even found the courage to say the one thing he knew he should.
"You don’t have to go," he said, a little too quickly, his voice betraying the desperation he was trying so hard to hide. It was pathetic how quickly the words left his mouth. He cursed himself silently under his breath.
But then he gathered himself, his voice softening, more certain this time. "Stay."
It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an offer. It was a demand, quiet but firm, as if he knew that the only way he could keep her there, keep her close, was to speak with the same force he used when he fought his demons.
She paused, her hand still on the jacket, her back turned to him. His voice, raw and vulnerable, made her stop. She turned slowly, her face betraying her frustration but also something else. Something she wasn’t sure she could name.
"Why?" she asked, the word sharp with a frustration she couldn’t hide.
Matt didn’t hesitate. He leaned forward, his sightless gaze steady, and his hand still holding hers with a strength that made her heart skip a beat.
"Because I don’t want you to go," he said, the words raw, genuine, and completely unguarded.
There it was. The admission he’d been avoiding all this time. He didn’t want her to go. He didn’t want to be alone again. Not when she was the only person who ever saw through his walls, who ever cared enough to fight with him when he couldn’t fight for himself.
His grip tightened just a little, as if he was afraid that if he let go, she’d slip away for good.
She could feel the change in him. The way his stubbornness was cracking, piece by piece. And for the first time in a long while, she didn’t feel the need to leave. Maybe it was because he’d finally said what he hadn’t been able to say before, or maybe it was just the silent promise in the way his hand still held hers. But whatever it was, it was enough.
She didn’t answer him right away. Instead, she stepped closer, her hand still in his. The fight wasn’t over. Not by a long shot. But maybe, just maybe, they could start again.
"Why?" She asked, her voice cutting through the tension that hung thick between them. The question was simple, but the weight of it was enough to crush him. She wanted the truth, and Matt had no idea how to give it to her.
“Because I—” He started, but he stopped himself, the words caught in his throat. His chest tightened as he tried to look at her with his sightless eyes, and for the first time in a long time, he couldn’t hide behind his pride. He didn’t want to admit the real reason. He didn’t want to admit that he was scared. Scared of her leaving. Scared of losing her.
But he couldn’t say that. He didn’t know how to be vulnerable like that, not even with her. Vulnerability had always been a weakness, and Matt wasn’t ready to show her that side of himself. Not now, not ever.
After a long, painful silence, he finally shook his head.
"Just don’t go. Please." His voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, but the desperation was clear. He wasn’t asking anymore. He was pleading. But it wasn’t enough. Not for her.
The room felt suffocating, thick with tension that neither of them could seem to shake. He stood there, his body stiff, his gaze shifting away from hers as if he could avoid the inevitable storm brewing between them. She was waiting for him to speak, her eyes pleading for honesty.
“Why?” she asked, her voice trembling, desperate for the truth. “Why are you acting like this?”
Matt opened his mouth to speak, but the words caught in his throat, strangling him. He never had been good at this. Never been good at admitting anything that left him vulnerable, that laid bare the mess inside of him. The truth felt like a heavy weight pressing on his chest, suffocating him. He didn’t want to admit that the thought of losing her—of her walking out of his life—scared him to his core. He didn’t want to admit that he was terrified, that he was weak.
He stayed silent for a few moments, the tension between them thickening, before he finally shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. “Just don’t go. Please.”
It wasn’t enough. She could feel it. His words were a plea, but they weren’t the truth she needed to hear. She shook her head, pulling away from him gently, her frustration building.
“No. Not good enough,” she said firmly, her voice steady, but her heart was pounding.
Matt’s jaw tightened at her rejection. His hand shot out to catch her wrist, keeping her close. He hated it. He hated how powerless he felt, how she could break through all the walls he’d so carefully built. But he wasn’t ready to let go, not yet. Not before he said something—anything—that would stop her from leaving.
“What do you want me to say?” His voice broke with a sharp edge, a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. He couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand how weak he felt, how vulnerable. He wanted to fix it, to make everything okay again, but he had no idea how.
“Just talk to me! Tell me the truth!” she snapped back, her eyes flashing with frustration.
“The truth?!” His anger flared up at her words, his frustration boiling over. “The truth is I don’t want you to leave. The truth is that I hate it when you leave. The truth is, I hate when you get mad at me, and I hate that I’m constantly worried that you’re mad at me!”
His voice was louder now, his words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. The weight of the truth, the ugly truth, was finally crashing down on him, and he hated it.
Her eyes flashed with hurt, and for a moment, she was silent. She had to collect herself before the words came tumbling out, fierce and unforgiving. “Have you ever considered that I do that because I care about you? How am I not supposed to worry when I don’t know if one day I’m gonna call you and you’re not gonna pick up the phone?” She took a deep breath, her voice rising. “Because that sure as hell has happened before, Matt!”
The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Of course, he’d thought about it. All the time. He knew the worry in her voice was because she cared. He knew that her anger was just a reflection of the love she had for him, of the fear that came from him pushing her away when she only wanted to help.
But it didn’t make it any easier.
“Do you think I like worrying you?” His voice cracked, raw with emotion. “Do you think I like pushing you away?”
“That’s not the point, Matt!” She groaned in frustration, her hands balling into fists at her sides.
“Then what is?” His voice rose again, the anger returning with a vengeance. He stepped forward, his chest tight, his heart pounding in his ears. He felt like he was losing control of everything, of the situation, of himself.
“You want me to admit that I hate being alone? That I hate fighting with you? That I hate being scared? That I’m terrified that one day, I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone, and it’ll be my fault?” His words were sharp, each one a jagged piece of truth he couldn’t stop from falling out. He pushed himself off the couch, pacing in frustration, his steps quick and unsteady.
“Yes!” She shouted back, the urgency in her voice matching his. “I want you to remember that you’re still human, Matt! I want you to realize that you’re not invincible; you’re not untouchable! You’re just a man, and it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to need someone. It’s okay to be vulnerable!”
The silence that followed was thick and suffocating. Matt’s breath came in heavy gasps, his anger still simmering beneath the surface, but something else was there too—something softer, something more fragile. He opened his mouth, but the words didn’t come right away. Instead, he stood there, shaking his head, his gaze dropping to the floor.
“I know that!” His voice was tight, barely contained. “Don’t you think I know that?” He turned to face her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Don’t you think I know that sometimes I can’t win? That I get scared? That I’m afraid of losing you and not even knowing why it’s happening?”
The words hit him with the force of a freight train, and he could feel the cracks in his composure, the walls he’d built around himself crumbling. His sightless gaze dropped almost in shame, feeling his hands shake uncontrollably. The control was slipping away, and for the first time in so long, he didn’t know how to stop it.
She moved toward him, slow, deliberate. The soft sound of her steps on the hardwood floor was the only noise in the otherwise silent room. When she reached him, she didn’t say a word. Instead, her hand, warm and steady, gently touched his arm. That single touch was enough to send him spiraling. Without thinking, without hesitation, Matt’s body moved, a magnetic force driving him forward.
He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close, pressing her tightly against his chest as if her presence was the only thing keeping him from shattering completely. The familiar scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin—it was a comfort he never realized he craved until this very moment.
She could feel him shaking, his breath uneven as he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder, his hands gripping the fabric of her shirt like it was the last thing holding him together. He held on with desperate, almost frantic strength, as though he might disappear if he let go for even a second. She wrapped her arms around him, rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles.
"Matt," she whispered softly, her voice like a balm to his tortured soul.
His grip tightened at the sound of her voice. Her words pierced through the fog of his emotions, breaking through the walls he had built around himself. She wasn’t going anywhere. He could feel the promise in her touch, in the way she held him. It was a promise that made the suffocating weight in his chest lift, just a little, enough for him to breathe again.
A shaky sigh escaped his lips, the sound of it so quiet, so raw, it almost broke her heart.
"I’m sorry," Matt muttered, the words ragged and raw, the kind of apology that didn’t come easily for him. The kind of apology that felt like swallowing shards of glass.
She didn’t pull away from him, didn’t ask him to say more. Instead, she simply nodded against his shoulder, a gentle pat on his back as if to tell him it was okay.
"I know, Matty," she whispered back, her voice firm but soft, as if to reassure him that she understood.
He swallowed hard, the lump in his throat threatening to choke him as he forced himself to speak again. His voice, barely above a whisper, came out muffled against her shoulder. "I can’t promise it won’t happen again... but I’ll try."
Her heart was stung at his words, tears threatening to fall. She nodded, her breath shaky. She understood more than he knew, but she swallowed her protest. She didn’t need more than this. "Okay," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.
Matt’s hand slid to the back of her head, pulling her even closer, if that was even possible. His arms wrapped around her with a kind of desperation, a need to hold on to something real, something constant in a world that felt like it was crumbling. She was the only thing that made sense, the only thing that made him feel like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t completely broken.
"I don’t like fighting with you," he confessed, his voice barely audible, the words vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
Her heart broke for him at that moment. "I don’t like fighting with you either," she admitted softly, the words slipping from her lips before she could stop them.
In the silence that followed, all the words left unsaid lingered between them, but none of it mattered. They didn’t need to say anything more. The way they held each other, the way they clung to one another, spoke louder than any apology or promise ever could.
The silence between them was deafening, thick with unsaid words and unspoken truths. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, suffocating him. His heart pounded loudly in his ears as he watched her, hoping for the one thing he needed to hear. He could hear the way her heartbeat spiked at the admission, the way her breath hitched when she spoke, a subtle tremor in her voice betraying the sincerity in her words. But it wasn’t enough. Not yet.
He needed more. He needed to know that he wasn’t the only one who felt this way, the only one who had been clinging to a fragile thread of hope for far too long. He was a hypocrite, stubborn, selfish—everything he hated about himself. But right now, he just wanted to hear her say it. He needed the reassurance that they were both fighting for the same thing.
“Then why do we always end up fighting?” His voice cracked on the last word, the question hanging in the air like an accusation, yet a plea all the same.
She took a deep breath, her gaze softening as she met his eyes. “Because we care too damn much.” The words were gentle, but the truth in them hit him like a punch to the gut.
And that was just another thing that made Matt hate himself. Because it was him, it was always him who started the arguments. He was the one who snapped at her, who pushed her away when what he wanted was to pull her closer. He was the one who let the tension escalate to the point where he couldn’t take it back—just like he had done tonight.
“Yeah.” Matt’s response was a quiet, bitter laugh—more like a breath of self-loathing than anything else. It wasn’t aimed at her but at himself. He couldn’t stop himself from pushing her away, from destroying the very thing he was desperate to hold on to.
She pulled away slightly, her hands reaching up to cup his cheeks, her touch so tender it almost broke him. “You know I would never actually walk away from you, right?” she asked softly, concern flooding her expression.
“Unless I push you too far.” The words slipped from his mouth before he could stop them, bitter and hard. His hand came up to rest over hers, his thumb slowly tracing the back of her hand, as though that simple touch could ground him.
“I do stupid things,” Matt continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “I push people away when I shouldn’t. I push you away when I shouldn’t.”
She looked at him, her eyes soft yet unwavering. “Hey,” she said firmly, her voice low but steady, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Matt’s lips twitched into a small, half-hearted smile, the kind of smile that never reached his eyes. He wanted to believe her, wanted to take her words for what they were, but doubt gnawed at him. How could she promise that? He couldn’t even promise it to himself. He always found a way to mess things up. He always found a way to push her away.
“How do you know that?” His voice cracked, the bitterness seeping through again. “How can you guarantee that I won’t push you past the breaking point?”
Her hands moved to the back of his neck, fingers curling gently into his skin as she took a deep breath, steadying herself before speaking. “Because—” she paused, her gaze intense, unwavering, “because it’s you.”
Matt’s breath caught at her words, and a shiver ran down his spine. She didn’t just say it; she meant it. He could see it in the way she held him, in the certainty in her voice.
“I can’t imagine—not spending a single minute with you,” she whispered, her words a quiet promise.
Matt’s heart stuttered in his chest. Her words sank deep into him, resonating through every fiber of his being. His hands moved instinctively, lifting to grab her wrists, holding her hands in place against his neck. He needed to feel her, needed to ground himself in her presence.
“Y/N…” His voice was gentle, barely more than a murmur, as his head lifted slightly from her shoulder, gaze trying to lock with hers. The intensity of the moment, of the weight of her words, was almost too much to bear.
“I know.” Her voice was soft, filled with a quiet understanding. “I know—and it’s okay.” She smiled gently, a little sad, but accepting. “I’ve never asked you for anything—not to feel the way I’ve felt—and that’s okay.”
The words made Matt’s chest ache. He wanted to say so much, to tell her everything that he was too afraid to admit, but the knot in his throat tightened. He couldn’t find the right words. His pride kept him silent, kept him from saying what he needed to say.
“I just…” She trailed off, her hands sliding off his neck as she gave him a look that was filled with hope and weariness. “I just don’t want you to push me away, Matt. That’s all I’m asking.”
And there it was—the simple truth of it. The very thing that had been eating away at him for so long. She could see right through him. She always had. She always knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he was feeling. And it made him hate himself a little more, for the walls he had built up, for the distance he had tried to create.
“It’s not that easy,” he muttered, barely above a whisper, the frustration heavy in his voice.
Her smile was weak but understanding. She didn’t argue. She didn’t have to. She knew.
Matt swallowed hard as her hands slipped away from him, the warmth of her touch fading with each inch that separated them. His heart raced in his chest, panicked and uncertain. He wanted to reach for her, to pull her back, to tell her everything that had been sitting inside of him for far too long.
The tension in the room was palpable, thick with the unsaid words that hung between them like a suffocating fog. Matt could feel the weight of it pressing down on his chest, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. As she stepped back, her face flushed with embarrassment, and he felt the impulse to stop her, to keep her close.
"I um—I’m gonna go make some tea," she muttered, her voice faltering in dejection, and that was enough for him to snap.
Without thinking, he stepped forward, his hand reaching out to grab her arm, preventing her from moving any further.
“Wait.”
The word slipped out more forcefully than he intended, and he immediately regretted it. He softened his touch, trying to calm himself, but his fingers still gripped her arm firmly. He could feel the pulse of her heartbeat under his hand, and it only made his pulse quicken.
Her gaze flickered down to his hand, her eyes searching his, full of confusion. “Why?”
The question was quiet, small, and it made his stomach turn. Matt tried to gather his thoughts, the words jumbled and scattered in his mind. Everything he had been holding back, everything he’d been too afraid to say, felt like it was fighting to escape all at once.
"Because I'm not done talking." His voice was a harsh whisper, but there was no mistaking the urgency in it. “I’m not even close to being done talking. I still have so much more to say.”
Her eyes never left his, and her voice was soft but full of anticipation. "Then say it, Matty."
The floodgates of his mind opened, and the words tumbled out faster than he could stop them. But even as his heart raced, he hesitated. This was it. This was the moment. Everything he had been afraid to admit for so long was right there on the tip of his tongue. And it terrified him. But there was one sentence, one thought that stood out from the rest, one truth that he had been too scared to face—until now.
“I think I’m in love with you.” His voice was barely a whisper, so soft that it almost seemed to be swallowed by the space between them. But the moment the words left his lips, his heart nearly stopped. The silence that followed was deafening.
Her breath hitched, and Matt could feel it—the way her heart skipped a beat. He could hear the stunned silence in her breath, the way she stopped breathing altogether for a second. Her eyes roamed over his face, searching for something, anything, to anchor herself. But the longer she stayed silent, the more his chest tightened, the more the doubt crept in.
Did I mess this up?
His anxiety surged, his thoughts spiraling out of control. Was she going to laugh? Was she going to walk away? His heart raced, too fast, too hard.
"Did—Did you hear me?" Her voice was small, shaky, the nervous tremor cutting through her words. He could tell she was struggling just as much as he was.
"I heard you." The words came out quietly, almost as a reassurance to herself more than to him, but he couldn’t hide the way his heart pounded in his chest. His hands were shaking, and she could barely bring herself to look him in the eyes.
“Then why aren’t you saying anything?”
Her words were blunt, cutting through the air between them like a knife. She was angry now, and Matt felt it in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t blame her—he was angry, too. But more than that, he was terrified.
He needed to know if she felt the same. If his feelings weren’t just some foolish mistake that he had made.
“I don’t know,” she said softly, her voice trembling with uncertainty.
Great. Fantastic. Matt’s frustration bubbled up to the surface, bitterness creeping into his tone. “I just confessed my feelings, and you don’t know?”
His grip on her arm tightened slightly, not consciously, but because his emotions were getting the best of him. He hated himself for sounding bitter, for lashing out at her. But the fear—the uncertainty—was eating away at him.
Her face softened, her eyes filled with something close to guilt. “I’m—confused—I don’t know. Matt—” She sighed, a heavy, distressed breath that seemed to carry all of her doubts. “I don’t know what to say.”
Matt’s frustration grew as he pushed himself to stand a little straighter, the words coming out sharper than he intended. “Confused about what? You’re too vague. I don’t know what that means—that’s not—I don’t know what to do with that.”
The bitterness in his voice made him cringe. He hated how he sounded—angry, frustrated, and broken all at once. It wasn’t her fault. It had never been her fault. And yet, he was so terrified of the unknown that he couldn’t stop himself from pushing.
But then, she snapped back at him, her words sharp and laced with her hurt.
“Maybe I’m confused because I’ve spent the last 12 years being in love with you, and now, suddenly, you’re telling me that you’re magically in love with me?” She practically spit the last part, the frustration and pain in her eyes impossible to ignore.
Matt staggered back as if her words had physically knocked the wind out of him. His heart thudded painfully in his chest, and for the first time, he could hear the toll it had taken on her, too. He had pushed her away, ignored her feelings, and now he was finally standing here, confessing when it was almost too late.
“I—” He stopped himself, running a hand through his hair, unsure of what to say. Everything he wanted to say felt inadequate. The silence between them was deafening again, and Matt wasn’t sure what came next. All he knew was that he had just told her the truth—after years of hiding it. And now… now he had to face the consequences of his fears.
Matt's hands were still trembling from the confession he had just laid bare, but before he could fully process the weight of it, something in her eyes caught him off guard.
His voice, quiet and full of a strange mix of disbelief and sadness, cut through the air like a knife.
“Say that again.”
Her words hung there, almost suspended in time, as though she couldn’t believe what she had just said. Her eyes widened, searching his face for any sign that he might be joking, that he might take it all back. But the quick pounding of her heart and the sweat pooling at the back of her neck made his heart ache.
His throat constricted. He could barely believe the words that had left her mouth, the confession that had slipped out before he could stop it. “I—” He stopped, his breath catching. “You’ve been... in love with me for 12 years?”
His voice cracked slightly, his chest tightening as he spoke. The enormity of it hit him harder than he had imagined. His mind raced as he tried to understand how it was possible—how it could have gone unnoticed for so long.
“Why didn’t you tell me?!”
She scoffed bitterly, a sad laugh escaping her lips. “Are you kidding?” Her voice trembled. “We grew up together, Matt. I watched you go out with tons of girls during our friendship. You never once felt that way about me, not like the other girls.” She sniffled, looking away to blink the unshed tears from her eyes before she looked back at him. “Then came Elektra—and Karen, Jennifer,” she added softly, her voice breaking at the mention of the names.
The moment the name "Elektra" left her lips, something inside Matt snapped. He stepped forward quickly, his hands moving to grip her shoulders as he tried to steady himself. The memory of Elektra—her influence on Matt’s life, her hold over him—was still too raw, still too fresh.
"Don't bring her up," he hissed, his voice low and bitter, the anger rising in his chest at the thought of Elektra’s name being associated with anything that had to do with him and her.
But she shook her head, shoving his hands off her shoulders with more force than he had expected. “Our history will never matter to you because she has a hold on your life that you just can’t seem to shake, Matt,” she spat, her words dripping with hurt and frustration.
Matt recoiled slightly, his jaw clenching as her words hit harder than he wanted to admit. She was right. He had never truly let go of Elektra—he had always been bound by her memory, even if he didn’t want to admit it. And now, here was the woman he had loved, standing in front of him, pouring her heart out. And what was he doing? Pushing her away.
"I said don't—" He cut himself off, his frustration boiling over. “Not tonight. Not when I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you,” he said, his words coming out sharp and desperate. “Can’t you see that?”
Her eyes met his, and for a moment, there was nothing but raw, unfiltered emotion between them. Her voice was quieter this time, and her anger had faded into something else entirely. “Why?” she asked, her voice soft, almost broken. “Because it reminds you of who you’re really in love with? Because I’m just a safety net to you?”
Matt’s chest tightened as his sightless gaze softened, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He took a step forward, his eyes narrowing slightly as he tried to lock onto hers.
"You're nothing like her," he said, his voice fierce and passionate. "You're a safety net? Are you kidding me?" He took another step closer, the words coming faster now, each one a truth he had kept buried for far too long. “You’re the only reason I’m still sane. You’re the only reason I can keep going after everything—the fights, the broken bones, the nightmares. You’re the reason I’m still here. And you think you’re just a safety net? You think you're some kind of replacement?"
Her eyes were wide, misty with emotion, and she faltered as if she couldn’t understand. “I don’t know what to think, Matt,” she whispered, shaking her head slowly.
Matt swallowed hard, forcing himself to breathe as he tried to push down the swirling emotions that threatened to overtake him. He needed her to understand. He needed her to know that he had never, in any way, seen her as second best.
Then, with a deep breath, he took her hand carefully and brought it to his chest. His heartbeat was frantic against his ribs, pounding in his ears. "Let me tell you what I think,” he said, his voice quieter now, laced with vulnerability. "I think I’m terrified. And I think I’m tired. And I wonder..." he trailed off, his eyes searching hers. "Why didn’t you ever give up on me?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, it felt like the world was holding its breath, waiting for her response.
Matt’s chest heaved, and he took another step forward, his heart bare, exposed for her to see. “You’ve known me since we were eleven—since we were still kids. You’ve seen me at my best and my worst. You’ve seen me at my lowest, when I was broken and angry and lost. And you stayed. Why?”
Her eyes softened, the sorrow and longing evident in them. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words didn’t come. Instead, she just sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to carry the weight of years of unspoken feelings.
Matt wasn’t done yet. "So the next time you ask yourself why I’m in love with you, the answer is everything," he whispered, bringing her hand gently to rest over his frantically beating heart. "I love everything about you. You’re my best friend. You know me like no one else ever could, and you’re still here. Still with me."
His heart was racing now, the words tumbling out faster than he could stop them. "I love that you’re stubborn. I love that you’re a sarcastic little shit half the time. I love that you push me to be better, that you tease me for always being so serious.” He moved closer, his voice barely audible. “I love that you’re braver than I am, smarter than I am. I love the way you stand up to me, to everyone. I love that you make me laugh. I love the way your voice sounds when you laugh.”
Her gaze never left his, and Matt could feel the power of her love, the depth of it, in the way she looked at him.
“I love your hands. I love the way they feel against my skin. I love the way you touch me,” he said, his voice growing softer, more intimate with every word.
Her hand rested on his chest, and Matt’s eyes fluttered closed as he felt the weight of her touch. He shivered at the sensation, the feeling of her closeness overwhelming him in the best way.
"I love the sound of your heartbeat," he whispered, his hand tightening around hers. "I love the way you smell. I love the way you—you feel. I love that I’m not afraid when I’m with you."
Her thumb pressed gently into his bottom lip, and his breath hitched again. The moment her hand touched him, everything inside him unraveled.
"Matty..." she whispered, her voice low and soft.
Matt’s heart skipped a beat as his unseeing gaze looked down at her, his eyes full of everything he had kept hidden for so long. "I love the sound of your voice when you say my name."
Her lips brushed his thumb, and Matt’s world tilted on its axis.
With no more words, no more hesitation, he pulled her into him, his arms wrapping around her tightly. Her body pressed against his, and he let her feel the frantic beating of his heart, the raw emotion that he could no longer keep inside.
"I love the way you say my name like you’re the only one that ever could," Matt whispered, burying his face in her hair. "I love everything about you."
She held him close, her hands threading into the back of his head, pulling him tighter as she whispered, "I love you."
And in that moment, nothing else mattered. They were finally, truly, together.
The world around them faded into a mere whisper, the clamor of everything else falling away as their lips met. The second he felt her warmth pressing against him, a rush of longing poured through Matt, igniting a fierce fire that he had kept buried for far too long. Her whisper of a whimper sent shivers down his spine, and he responded instinctively, grabbing onto her even tighter, his hands clutching her waist as he pressed his mouth against hers with a fervor that both startled and thrilled him.
This kiss was different—it was electric. Gone were the gentle caresses of earlier moments; this was fast and frantic, a raw desperation that filled the air between them. It was rough, a wild clash of passion that felt as though they were reclaiming every unspoken feeling that had built up inside them over the years. It was everything he had yearned for, a tumult of emotions spilling out where words had failed.
“Matty—” Her voice came out as a soft whine, strained and filled with an uncharacteristic vulnerability, wrestling against the warmth of his arms. The sound pulled him back from the edge of his fervor, an uncharted territory where he feared losing himself entirely.
He felt the sobering weight of her tone, and his heart raced—not with passion now, but with sudden concern. “Are you okay—do you need me to stop?” He breathed the words into the space between them, his grip instinctively loosening, releasing her just enough to gauge her reaction, tension coiling in his chest as his unseeing gaze searched her eyes for reassurance.
The moment she met his gaze, the desperation in her voice wrapped around him like a lifeline. “Please don’t stop,” she begged, urgency lacing her words, and instantly, a wave of relief crashed over him, the anxiety in his gut slowly dissipating.
Matt closed his eyes briefly, savoring the sound of her plea like a melody that ignited something deep within him. He let out a shaky, breathless sigh, feeling his shoulders relax just enough to allow him to fully embrace the moment. “I don’t want to stop. God—I don’t ever want to stop,” he confessed quietly, the words tumbling from his lips like a prayer, heavy with longing and intensity.
Her expression shifted, eyes glistening with something profound—a mix of vulnerability and trust that twisted his insides. It was a moment of reckoning, a shared acknowledgment of the fire that had always burned beneath the surface. He could see reflected in them the same fervor, the same desperate need, and it propelled him forward.
In that instant, the hesitation melted away, replaced by an urgent yearning that compelled him to lean back in, their lips finding each other again with an immediacy that felt like home. Each kiss deepened, a frantic symphony of gasps and moans that reverberated through the night, intertwining their souls in a way words never could.
This embrace, this connection, was everything they had denied for too long. It was raw and powerful, a beautiful chaos that drew them closer, binding them in a moment that felt timeless. Lost in the tide of emotions, Matt knew this was just the beginning—an awakening of something that had always been there, waiting for permission to burst forth.
The world around them became a distant memory, and in those stolen moments, nothing else mattered. All that existed was the two of them, woven together in a dance of passion and longing, the past melting away, leaving only a future crackling with possibility.
Next Morning
The robotic voice of Matt’s phone rang out insistently.
"Kirsten?" he murmured, his voice thick with sleep and lingering affection. As he listened to his friend's familiar, eager voice on the other end, Matt felt a smile tugging at his lips despite himself. Kirsten was nothing if not persistent, and Matt could already envision his friend's excited rambling about work, unphased by the late hour.
But all of that faded the moment her lips brushed against the sensitive skin of his ear, drawing a shudder from him. He stifled a soft groan, the friction of her teeth grazing his earlobe sending jolts of electricity down his spine. Every shake of Kirsten’s voice melted away, replaced with the intoxicating presence of her hands on him, the history of their shared moments flooding back. A rush of affection threatened his focus, distracting him from the task at hand—any semblance of responsibility slipping through his fingers like sand.
"Uh, hold on, Kirsten," he said, a bit breathless as he hastily covered the receiver and turned his attention back to her. "Could you stop that for a second?"
She giggled softly, and that sound ignited something fiery deep within him. Her eyes sparkled with mischief, the sunlight filtering through the curtains casting delicate shadows on her face. With a pout, she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned in closer, daring him with a playfulness that made his resolve waver.
"Is that any way to talk to your boss?" she taunted, her breath brushing against his lips, tantalizingly close, revelling in her new power of being an ADA.
Matt chuckled, the tension crackling between them palpable, and he couldn’t help himself. He leaned in, stealing back the reality they had built—lost in her smile, her laughter, and everything that made them her. "You know we're not supposed to mix work and pleasure," he teased, but his resolve blew away like a whisper in the wind.
"That’s not a rule I intend to follow," she quipped, framing his jaw with her hands, and without thinking, he found himself surrendering to the magnetism drawing them together again. Her lips took his with fervor, and everything else faded away—the buzz of the phone, the responsibilities, the world outside; nothing mattered beyond this moment.
The kiss deepened, both of them losing track of time in a way that felt both liberating and dangerous. Their chemistry filled the room, each caress igniting a familiar fire within him. But in what felt like mere seconds, reality intruded once more with the sound of Kirsten’s voice echoing through the receiver.
“Matt? You still there?”
With a reluctant sigh, he pulled away, his breath ragged. He gave her a guilty smile mixed with frustration and vulnerability—a perfect blend of emotions churning in him, caught between the wild depths of desire and the mundane world that was pulling him back.
"Yeah—sorry, Kirsten," he said, his voice steadier than he felt. She smiled, tilting her head, a spark of understanding passing silently between them. Even in the chaos, they managed to find their rhythm together, a blend of sweetness and determination.
As Matt’s conversation with Kirsten unfolded in the background, he could feel her gaze upon him, her fingers trailing softly along his forearm, drawing circles that sent shivers up his spine. The steady rise and fall of her breathing filled him with warmth, grounding him even amidst the chaos of everyday life.
Matt’s heart swelled with anticipation for what lay ahead—the dreams, the fears, the trivial moments that intertwined to create something so authentic and beautiful between them. He finished the call, chuckling as Kirsten rambled excitedly about a new case, but all he could think about was the girl beside him, the warmth of their connection, the words he longed to repeat—the words he felt deep in his soul.
Matt let out an annoyed huff as the call with Kirsten came to an end, the weight of duty settling heavily on his shoulders. He reluctantly released his grip on the phone and turned to her, his voice grumpy and low in the dim morning light. “I have to go in to work.”
“No,” she whined playfully, pressing her cheek against his as if to anchor him to the moment.
A soft chuckle escaped his lips at the feel of her adorable pout, a smile hidden beneath all that weariness. Matt’s hands found their way to her face, his thumbs grazing the corners of her mouth in a gentle caress. Instantly, her frown transformed, casting away any lingering shadows. "I'll come back later," he murmured, leaning down to press a tender kiss against her lips.
“No!” she protested, the playful defiance glinting in her eyes.
Matt laughed softly, his grip dropping to her hip, giving her a gentle squeeze. “Well, I’m not staying if you keep whining.” It was a tease—a way to lighten the mood, though the unspoken truth hung thick in the air.
“I love you,” she mumbled, almost shyly.
The three simple words struck him like a sudden storm, sending his heart racing and breath hitching in his throat. His hand slid to her waist, holding her tighter as he fought to regain control, to remain anchored in reality. “You’re not making this easy,” he murmured, his voice thick with unvoiced longing.
“Good,” she giggled, enveloping him in her arms, pulling him closer into her warmth and safety—the very essence of everything he wanted.
Yet, surrendering was a dangerous game.
Matt chuckled again, a sigh escaping him as he leaned down to bury his face in the crook of her neck. “You’re not playing fair, you know that, right?” he murmured against her skin, pressing soft kisses against her pulse point, relishing in her intoxicating scent.
“Mmm,” she hummed, tilting her head back, inviting him to continue his assault.
But just as he felt his resolve begin to crumble beneath her touch, the blaring ring of her phone shattered the moment like glass hitting the floor.
“Ugh,” Matt groaned, annoyance creeping in once again. “Your phone is ringing.”
She sighed in frustration, throwing her head back dramatically. “Yeah, I know.”
He chuckled at her exasperation, his hands trailing up her sides one last time before he reluctantly pulled away, knowing he had to let her face the outside world. “You should probably answer that,” he murmured, giving her hip a gentle pat.
She sighed deeply, clutching the sheets to her chest as she reached for her phone, the delicate fabric slipping down her arms. Matt bit back an instant protest, wanting nothing more than to hold her close, to forget about responsibilities and the outside world.
“Michael?” she answered, her tone shifting to one of authority. “Yeah? Yes, I know about the meeting. I’m the ADA; she should wait for me—no, absolutely not! That wasn’t the deal—”
Her words sparked tension in Matt’s chest, the name ringing loudly in his ears. Michael. The sound of it twisted the knife of jealousy deep within him. The thought of her speaking with anyone else, especially this Michael, melted away his cheerful demeanor.
“Michael, I don’t need you to protect me, just because you’re the head of security now—don’t get cocky,” she said, exasperation lacing her voice.
Matt's expression darkened with every syllable that came out of her mouth. This Michael was a ghost that had slid into their life, taking root uninvited. The fact that he held a position of authority only fueled Matt’s inner turmoil. Wasn’t it his job to protect her? And yet, here was this man, spending more time with her than he ever could.
Her laughter floated through the air, bright and carefree. “You’re a dick. The car better be here in 10.”
It was a sound like shards of glass gouging into his heart. Why did she laugh at something he said? Why did she sound so familiar with him? The very thought sent a wave of fury rushing through him, clenching his fists as the turmoil bubbled to the surface.
She hung up the phone and turned to him, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “I gotta go too,” she stated, but Matt barely registered her words.
“Who is this Michael?” he asked, the tense edge in his voice barely held at bay.
“You remember my dad’s right-hand man? Former head of security? Isaac Cain? It’s his son, Michael. Do you remember him? He used to come by during our time at St. Agnes.”
Matt frowned instinctively at her words, nodding reluctantly. The memories of Isaac and the unease they had always stirred surfaced at the mention of his name. “Yeah, I remember him,” he replied, the words laced with a bitterness he couldn’t quite suppress. “He’s head of security now?”
“Yeah,” she continued, her tone explaining yet oblivious to the tension thickening in the air. “Isaac stepped down a few months after I got promoted alongside Blake; he’s doing business, so Michael stepped up in his place.”
Matt’s jaw locked in frustration. Isaac’s son taking over—this was not a fair arrangement. It fueled a raging inferno of jealousy. The idea of this Michael spending time with her while he had to sit back and wait gnawed at his insides.
“Right,” he muttered, reaching down to grab his discarded boxer briefs, the very action grounding him.
“You okay?” she asked softly, her concern a whisper that only deepened his turmoil.
“Mhm.” The lie slipped from his tongue effortlessly, but even he could hear the strain in the response.
He didn’t want to admit that his jealousy wounded him, didn’t want to let her know how unsteady he felt under the weight of these emotions.
“Matty,” she said softly, concern lacing her voice so he was left frozen.
His head turned at the sound, but his expression remained neutral as he continued to fixate on anything but her. “What?” he replied, his voice void of warmth.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, almost hesitant to pry.
The guilt that surged in him felt like a tidal wave threatening to drown him. He closed his eyes against the swell of regret coursing through him. “Nothing,” he murmured, but his heart wasn’t in it. The words felt hollow, devoid of truth.
“Honey—” She gave him a look–though unseen– that said she didn’t believe him, that she saw right through his facade.
His heart rate quickened at the sound of the endearing nickname, the world around him coming to a standstill. But it did little to extinguish the burning jealousy in his heart. “It’s nothing.” The words came out softer this time, less convincing, and more like a whisper fading into the void.
Her frown deepened, and though she nodded, a flicker of concern lingered in her gaze. “Okay,” she whispered, brow slightly furrowed, though unease hung between them like a thick fog.
Matt felt the guilt rising again, a suffocating wave as he heard the resignation in her voice. The sound of acceptance, the way she didn’t push him, twisted something deep within him. A sharp pang of regret struck his chest, pushing him closer to the brink of despair, and he wanted to reach across the divide between them, to apologize for the tension that hung in the air like a storm cloud.
"You don't want to be late," he murmured eventually, his own words heavy, emerging more as a quiet statement than a question.
“You’re kicking me out?” she asked softly, her chuckle laced with confusion and concern, her eyes searching his for clarity.
Matt sighed again, frustration flickering through him. “I’m not kicking you out. I’m telling you that you should go. If you don’t want to be late. You have a firm to run.” His voice was rough and quiet, the effort to avoid her gaze feeling like a bitter punishment. He rubbed at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair as he tried to steady the maelstrom within him.
The awkward tension seeped into the room, and his behavior made her hesitate. For a fleeting moment, she reevaluated the night they had shared—the laughter, the warmth, the intimacy that had blurred the lines of their friendship. Did he regret it? Did he wish he hadn’t crossed that line?
“Yeah! Yeah, of course—um—I’ll just—I’ll see you?” she finally stammered, grabbing her purse with an uncertain smile that made Matt’s heart ache again.
Reluctantly, he tried to look up at her, the doubt in her tone striking a solemn chord within him. He wanted to reach out, to take her face in his hands and reassure her that he didn’t regret a single moment. That he loved her—desperately. But he shoved those feelings down again, fortifying the walls he had built, keeping himself neutral as he spoke in a voice that belied his turmoil. “Yeah,” he murmured, nodding. “See you.”
“You can’t,” she joked awkwardly, cringing at her own words afterward.
At her attempt at humor, Matt felt another pang in his chest. The lightness in her voice only made him hate himself even more for the discomfort that hung between them. He forced a smile, knowing it was likely to come across as more of a grimace. “Good one,” he replied, attempting a thread of dry humor even as his heart twisted unpleasantly.
Her smile faltered then, and Matt could see the nervousness run through her. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, taking a step closer, desperate to bridge the divide. “I should go?” she asked softly, her voice laced with vulnerability.
Unable to help himself, Matt stepped closer as well, his hands clenching at his sides. The urge to reach out, to pull her close, was nearly overwhelming. “You...” He swallowed hard, fighting against the urge to let his heart reign free. “You should go.” The words came out reluctantly, each one like a tiny dagger.
Disappointment settled in her eyes, the slight offbeat of her heart that made his world feel infinitely darker. His heart raced at the sound of her pain, and he regretted everything in an instant. “Yeah—okay,” she mumbled sadly. She stepped forward as if preparing to kiss him goodbye but instead turned for the door, the weight of unfulfilled desire heavy in the air.
Matt’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to her retreat. The heart that beat within him felt shattered. All he wanted was to wrap her in his arms, say the words that would reassure her that nothing had been ruined, that their friendship could withstand the tremors of this new territory. The desperation coursed through him, yet still, he held back. He couldn’t find the strength to pull her back—to say, Stay.
As she walked out the door, his hands clenched into tight, tense fists at his sides, frustration and longing battling within him.
With a deep sadness, she made her way to the car waiting for her, each step echoing in Matt’s heart like a funeral march. What if they had just ruined everything? What if the warmth they had shared would be eclipsed by awkwardness and uncertainty?
The moment the door clicked shut behind her, Matt felt the heaviness of her absence, like the light had dimmed and the room was left in shadow. The laughter, the warmth—all of it had faded, leaving him isolated in a silence that felt suffocating. His chest felt as if it had been torn open; his whole world crumbled in the wake of her departure.
He shut his eyes against the swell of emotions crashing over him. A long, shaky breath escaped his lips as he covered his face, trying to block out the torment swirling in his mind. “Idiot...” he murmured to himself, the word bitter and biting. The regret gnawed at him relentlessly. Why couldn’t he admit the truth? Why couldn’t he let her know just how much she meant to him?
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? The fear of losing her if he opened up. The fear of what this new dynamic could mean for them. As he stood alone in the dim apartment, the silence settled around him like a shroud, damping the echoes of possibility into nothing more than a ghost of what could have been.
10 a.m. at the DA’s Office
She sat at her desk, the morning light spilling through the office window, casting a warm glow on the papers scattered before her. Yet, her focus was elusive, her mind swirling in a tempest of uncertainty that kept drifting back to him. Matt. The very thought of him sent a torrent of emotions crashing against her heart, each wave seemingly stronger than the last.
10 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie
Meanwhile, Matt spent the day pacing his small apartment like a caged tiger, restlessness consuming him. The walls felt like they were closing in, every shadow a reminder that she was out there, living her life—without him. He knew he was being irrational, a voice in his head insisting that the feelings were mere paranoia. But that voice was doused in self-doubt.
Matt pressed a palm against his forehead. She loved him, he told himself, yet the knowledge that she knew Michael loomed large, casting a dark pall over his thoughts. He envisioned Michael—tall, effortlessly charming, and everything Matt felt he wasn't. The creeping dread filled his chest, suffocating him; it was an anxiety that he couldn't shake off.
11 a.m. at the DA’s Office
As Matt spiraled through his thoughts, she struggled to maintain her composure in her office. The soft knock of her assistant disrupted her reverie, an unwelcome reminder that life outside her head continued beside the clamor of her racing heart. “Get out,” she dismissed, the urgency in her tone forcing the girl to retreat before she could say a word.
11 a.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie
Back at Nelson and Murdock, Matt continued to pace, lost in a whirlwind of fear. He replayed that fateful conversation over and over again. Had he ruined everything between them? Could he have pushed her closer to Michael? The questions twirled chaotically, thoughts colliding in a cacophony of self-loathing. The idea of her building a life without him felt like a dagger to his soul, every insecurity igniting his anxiety.
12 a.m. at the DA’s Office
Heavyhearted, she decided to escape the confines of her office for lunch, her feet instinctively leading her to Nelson and Murdock. The thought of seeing Matt brought a mixture of hope and dread, an uneven pulse of longing that thrummed in her veins.
12:30 p.m. at Murdock & Mcduffie
Matt sat in his office, surrounded by open files that he could hardly focus on. He craved her presence, but the panic coursing through him clouded his ability to think clearly. The door creaked, and he barely registered Y/N’s soft knock as he kept his head down.
“Hey,” she chimed, stepping into the big office beside Kirsten.
In an instant, Matt’s heart leapt at the sound of her voice, as if she were a beacon drawing him back from the depths of his spiraling thoughts. He looked up slowly, color flooding his cheeks, and he felt a rush of breathlessness as he focused on her, the world around them fading into the background.
“Hey,” he murmured back, standing up uncertainly.
The presence of her brought a surge of bittersweet emotions, longing mingling with fear. Kirsten stepped aside, sensing the tension, her understanding crystal clear.
“Um—these are for you guys,” Y/N said, her voice faltering slightly as she lifted the bag of bagels and coffees, an offering of comfort amid the confusion.
Matt’s sightless gaze flickered down to the food, a pang of guilt slicing through him. He moved carefully around the desk, the small space between them feeling charged. “Thanks,” he said quietly, their fingers brushing as he accepted the coffee, making his heart race even more.
Kirsten caught the unspoken connection and quickly excused herself, offering Matt a brief pat on the shoulder before vanishing from the room, leaving just the two of them in the charged silence that felt almost palpable.
“Have a seat,” he gestured awkwardly, taking a slow sip of the coffee.
“I don’t really want to,” she admitted, twisting her fingers together nervously. “Especially if you don’t want me here.” The hesitance in her voice hit him like a physical blow.
Matt felt his heart clench painfully. The mere suggestion that he didn’t want her there twisted the knife deeper. He swallowed hard, shaking his head slowly. “I... that’s not…” he trailed off, frustration bubbling to the surface. “No, I—I do want you here, I...”
“But you don’t want me in your apartment?” She circled back to the coldness of his earlier dismissal, each word laced with uncertainty.
He felt the guilt flood back in waves, a reminder of the morning’s hurtful words. His response, the one that promised he wanted her close, battled with the fears that had gripped him for so long. Opening his mouth felt like stepping into a minefield. “I’m… sorry about this morning,” he mumbled, the apology escaping like a whisper choked with regret.
“Yeah, but—what are you sorry for?” she pressed gently. “What made you so upset you practically told me to skip rocks?”
At her question, Matt flinched. He could feel her hurt, could see it in the tension of her shoulders. “I just…” He struggled to articulate the truth he feared more than anything. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped.” His voice fell to a whisper laden with vulnerability.
“Matt, I could never feel trapped when I’m with you.” Her eyes softened, an earnestness sinking deep within his chest. “I feel—the most myself I can ever be around you. Don’t you get that?” She reached for his hands, entwining her fingers with his, grounding him in the moment.
Matt felt something shift within him as she spoke, her words resonating against the chaos of his thoughts. “I do, I promise I do,” he breathed, the sincerity behind her affection dawning on him. “I just… I don’t want to burden you with—” The implication hung in the air, unspoken yet heavy, aching to break free.
“Stop.” Her voice was firm, yet tender, the strength woven through her conviction a lifeline. “That’s not what this is. We’ve been friends since we were kids. I’ve never looked at you differently. And now—knowing that you’re Daredevil? After everything that has happened? It doesn’t change anything for me, either. You’re still you.”
As she cupped his cheeks, her touch ignited warmth across his skin, breaking through the barriers he had erected around his heart. “You’re still my Matty.”
In that moment, the weight of the world shifted. Matt’s chest tightened with possibilities, the fear that had engulfed him starting to dissolve under the light of her unwavering gaze. It was a realization that whispered of hope, of a future he dared not imagine — one not dominated by shadows and insecurities, but instead bathed in love and understanding.
As he tried to hold her gaze, the truth felt like a promise, a step closer to what they both needed. And in that heartbeat of silence, he knew he had to let go of the past, to be brave enough to embrace the love that had always lingered just beneath the surface.
Matt stood still, his breath hitching as she cupped his cheeks, an unexpected wave of warmth flooding through him. Leaning into her touch, he could feel the sincerity radiating from her, a gentle reminder that pierced through his clouded mind. It was exhilarating and terrifying, overwhelming his senses in a way he hadn’t anticipated. The sensation of her honesty and love washed over him; it was intoxicating and achingly poignant.
As the emotions churned within him, Matt closed his eyes, savoring the moment. With vulnerability creeping in, he finally spoke, his voice a low murmur cracked by unspoken fears. “I really am an idiot, huh?” he managed, a soft laugh escaping, one laced with both self-deprecation and affection. The catholic he is.
“Yes. Yes, you are,” she replied lightly, a teasing smile blooming on her lips.
Matt couldn’t help but snort, amusement mingling with the tension that had enveloped them. He shook his head, half-laughing, half-choking back the flood of emotions that threatened to spill over. “I’m really sorry,” he murmured, genuine regret lining his voice. “My head’s just a mess right now, and—and I’m sorry... I—” His words faltered, grappling with the whirlwind of feelings too tangled to unravel.
“Honey, my head was hurting just thinking about you. Why do you think I’m here? I can’t concentrate when we’re not okay,” she chuckled, wrapping her arms around him, coaxing him into her embrace.
When she pulled him close, Matt’s heart swelled, aching with a bittersweet blend of longing and relief. He instinctively returned her embrace, sighing softly as he pressed his cheek against hers. “I missed you,” he whispered, the desperation in his words betraying just how deep his feelings ran.
“I missed you too,” she whispered back, lifting his head gently to meet her gaze before leaning in to kiss him softly.
The moment their lips met, everything fell away—guilt, anxiety, insecurity dissipated into the air, leaving only the intoxicating warmth of her presence. Matt’s heart raced with fervor as he kissed her, an urgent blend of longing and need driving the connection deeper. His fingers curled around the fabric of her shirt, pulling her closer, as if trying to erase the distance of their troubles with every brush of their lips.
She hummed contentedly against him, losing herself in the sweet cadence of his kiss.
As they melted into one another, Matt's attention focused solely on her. He pressed her gently against the wall, his hands finding their way down her sides, tracing the soft curves of her body.
She kneaded his biceps slowly, savoring the warmth of his embrace as she kissed him languidly, rewarding his careful touches with her explorations.
Lost in the moment, Matt let out a soft moan as her hands roamed across him. His fingers, now more at ease, settled on her hips, feeling the fabric cling to her form. He pulled back slightly, kissing a path down her jawline and dipping lower along her neck. His breaths came in ragged bursts, mixing passion with tenderness.
In bliss, she smiled, opening her eyes lazily to steal a glance over his shoulder. That’s when she saw her—Karen, standing there with a look of shock that froze Y/N in place.
Matt hadn’t registered her entry through the haze of emotion and warmth that surrounded them. As he instinctively pulled back, the sudden realization of their audience washed over him like ice water. “Karen,” he murmured, his voice low and breathless, hands still lingering at Y/N’s hips as he pulled himself away from their intimate sphere.
“I—I brought bagels,” Y/N managed to blurt out, her face pale as she scrambled for normalcy.
“Right. Yes, bagels. Thanks for that,” Karen replied, fumbling for composure as he and Y/N stood there, their lips still swollen, the reality of their affection stark against Karen's disbelief.
“You’re welcome,” Y/N said, an embarrassed smile struggling to break through the awkwardness. She offered an awkward thumbs-up, trying to navigate the tense atmosphere that had suddenly enveloped them.
Matt swallowed hard, the sound of Karen’s quickened heartbeat only amplifying the embarrassment that filled the air. It dawned on him that in their moment of vulnerability, they hadn’t fully closed the door. “Right,” Matt finally murmured, clearing his throat as he released his hold on Y/N, taking a step back to create some distance. “Well, we should... get back to work.”
“Right! Yes! Of course. I’ll get out of you guys's hair,” Y/N said, her voice tinged with awkwardness as she adjusted her dress, reaching for her purse with shaky hands.
Taking a moment to collect himself, Matt thought desperately to reset the situation and sound slightly more professional. “Thanks for bringing bagels, by the way,” he said, forcing a casual smile.
“Yes, of course,” she replied, her smile a little strained as she reached up, planting a gentle kiss on his cheek for parting. “I’ll see you later. Tell Kirsten I said bye. Great to see you again Karen.”
Matt nodded, though his heart still raced in the aftermath of the unexpected interruption. He watched her leave, the heat creeping up his face, ignited by the kiss, his hand running through his already disheveled hair in nervousness. As she walked past Karen, Matt felt a pang of anxiety twist in his chest. What had Karen seen?
Once Y/N disappeared from view, Matt turned back to Karen, swallowing hard as his voice dipped to a hesitant murmur. “Did you... want a bagel?” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, trying to shake off the remnants of embarrassment that lingered in the air.
Karen stood frozen, her expression dazed as she processed the whirlwind of emotions swirling in the aftermath of what she had just witnessed. She turned to face Matt, her gaze flickering over his tousled hair and slightly crooked tie, evidence of the chaos that had only just unfolded. The tension in the air hummed between them, and Matt found himself shifting under her scrutiny, her heartbeat echoing in his ears like a drum.
Clearing her throat, Karen finally managed to speak, her voice still tinged with breathlessness. “Uh... no, I’m good,” she said awkwardly, her hands fidgeting anxiously at her sides.
Matt swallowed hard, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. He took a slow step back, retreating to his desk, rubbing the bridge of his nose in an attempt to relieve the exhaustion that suddenly engulfed him.
For a heartbeat, silence reigned between them before Karen hesitated, the words hanging heavy in her chest. “So... are we not going to talk about what I just saw?” she finally blurted out, her tone suggesting she was unsure whether it was a question she wanted to ask.
Matt rubbed at his forehead once more, taking a moment to gather himself before responding, his voice quiet and strained. “Which part?” he murmured, letting the weight of his defensiveness color the air.
Karen fell silent for a fleeting moment, her heart racing beneath the surface of her skin. Then, frustration bubbled over. “The kissing part, Matt! I don’t know if you’re aware, but that was a little more than friends, y’know?” Karen snapped, her irritation slicing through the tension that filled the room.
Matt's breath hitched, a slow exhale escaping his lips as he struggled with the storm of emotions churning within him. Hands curling into fists before releasing, he met her gaze, voice low and slightly agitated. “Look, I know it's startling, but I don’t think it’s any of your business.”
Immediately, he regretted the bluntness of his response as Karen’s irritation flared further. “Seriously? You’re gonna play the ‘not your business’ card?” she huffed, the tone of disappointment unfurling between them. “You’re one of my closest friends, Matt. I think a little explanation is warranted.”
Guilt flooded Matt's chest as he recognized the hurt in her expression. He took a steadying breath, rubbing at his forehead again, trying to suppress the turmoil that had rooted itself deep within. “I’m... I’m just not comfortable discussing this right now, Karen,” he admitted wearily, running a hand through his hair.
“Not comfortable discussing it or not comfortable discussing me?” she shot back, stepping closer to his desk, an air of defiance crackling between them.
Matt's shoulders tensed as he felt her encroaching presence. He knew exactly where this conversation was headed, and it filled him with trepidation. “Karen... this has nothing to do with... us,” he muttered, referring to the brief romance they had shared before coming to the disheartening realization that their bond was strictly platonic.
At the mention of their history, Karen paused, her heart rate quickening. “Then... what’s different with her?” she murmured, vulnerability creeping into her voice.
Matt hesitated, battling against the urge to shield Karen from the truth. But deep down, he recognized the necessity of honesty, even if it risked deepening her wounds. “She... gets me. In ways that you can’t. In ways that nobody else has. She... knows me,” he confessed quietly, his voice as fragile as the space between them.
The admission hung in the air, thick with emotion. Karen remained silent, hurt creeping into her tone as she asked, “How so?”
Matt swallowed hard, acutely aware of his role in this painful exchange, the guilt twisting like a knife in his gut. “She... accepts me for what I am,” he said softly, the weight of vulnerability heavy on his tongue. “My whole life, I’ve been trying to hide my... my darkness... It’s in my blood. But with... with her, I don’t have to hide. She knows that I’m a damaged person, but she still trusts me.”
His words hung between them, bruised and raw. “She doesn’t see my darkness as a flaw like everyone else does, including you,” he muttered, feeling the weight of Karen's gaze pierce through him. “She makes me feel... accepted. Loved. She... she knows the worst parts of me, and she loves me anyway.”
“And before you ask, she knows all of my darkest secrets, all the things I’ve done that I'm not proud of.” He thought back to his moment of violent vulnerability, when he had pushed Ben Poindexter off the roof of Josie’s in retaliation for losing the most important person in his life–his best friend– besides Y/N.
“And she still loves me. I feel the same way about her.” Matt continued, each word dragging him deeper into a chasm of mixed emotions.
“She cares about me, even when I drive her away for her protection. She gives me advice to help manage my... my emotions. She listens to me ramble about law stuff when she's won bigger ones than I have. We talk for hours... hours about everything and nothing. She brings me coffee, and she... she makes me laugh.”
He could see the realization dawning in Karen's eyes, the hurt echoing through her silence. “She’s seen the worst of me. I’ve seen the worst of her. And despite everything, nothing has shaken her faith in me. Nothing has shaken my faith in her,” he pressed on, conflicted resolve stitching his emotions together. “Which is more than I can say for you and I.”
Matt saw the flicker of comprehension cross Karen's face, her heart heavy with the implications of his words. “You can’t deny that you’ve given up on me at some point. You’ve doubted me. You’ve questioned my actions. You’ve accused me of being reckless and impulsive. You’ve judged me, just like everyone else did. But not her.” The weariness of his voice deepened, guilt gnawing ever harder.
In the aftermath of his pouring out, Karen stood silent, the weight of Matt’s words anchoring her in place. “I’m not saying you're a bad friend, Karen,” he finally offered softly. “I care about you deeply. But... but us... not happening.”
The air thickened with a heavy silence, tension radiating off both of them as he braced for her reaction. She inhaled sharply, the tremor of her breath betraying the tumult of emotion surging within her. “So... so where does that leave me?” she whispered, her voice cracking with raw heartbreak.
Matt winced at the sorrow that laced her words, his heart breaking anew. “Karen... you’ll always be my friend,” he assured her, a muffled gentleness in his tone. “You mean the world to me. But... but I can’t be what you want. You were right to start anew in San Francisco. I don't blame you for that. I just wished we could still be friends. Even if–”
He choked, ‘Even if Foggy’s not here anymore.”
The finality of his words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken pain. Karen took a shuddering breath, her emotions swirling helplessly at the surface. “I... I understand,” she murmured, the ache in her heart evident even amidst her acceptance.
When the day ended, the weight of the conversation lingered in the empty spaces between them. The office held an air of strained civility, yet their bond felt irreparably frayed. Matt tried to push through the tension, his mind wandering to thoughts of Y/N, the warmth of her laughter flickering like a beacon in his heart.
Even amidst the awkwardness, hope stirred deep within him—a hope for a connection that felt rooted in acceptance, for someone who dared to love him in his entirety—his light, his dark, and everything in between.
Matt sat at his desk, engrossed in paperwork, the weight of the day leaning heavily on his shoulders. The hum of the office buzzed around him, a steady backdrop of typing and quiet chatter. But when his phone rang with a familiar name ringing out in the space of his office, an exhilarating flutter erupted in his chest, cutting through the monotony of the day.
“Hello?” Matt greeted her, his voice already imbued with an unmistakable warmth that he reserved only for her.
“Hey, babe. I was thinking about you. How do you feel about Italian?” Her voice, sweet and melodic, washed over him like a gentle tide, banishing his fatigue and wrapping him in a cozy embrace. He couldn't contain the smile that spread across his face at the sound of her.
“Italian? Sounds perfect. You’re thinking of going out?” he asked, a playful lilt dancing in his voice, buoyed by the anticipation of her reply.
“I was hoping you’d be available for a little date night?” she asked shyly, and he could almost picture her biting her lip, excitement shimmering beneath a veneer of bashfulness.
His heart did a delightful flip at her words, a glimmer of joy lighting up his spirit. “I’m always available for you, sweetheart,” he replied, his tone affectionate yet teasing as if they were locked in a private world together. “Just say when and where, and I’ll be there.”
A soft giggle fluttered through the phone line, and he felt his heart swell. “Um—how about in 5 minutes? I’m already on my way.”
Matt chuckled, his smile brightening even more, the delight bubbling over. “Five minutes?” he repeated, mock incredulity threading through his voice. “You’re very eager today, aren’t you?”
“To see you? Always,” she replied smoothly, and his stomach twisted joyfully at the weight of her words, a warm glow spreading through his chest.
“Careful, sweetheart,” he teased, the playful grin on his face betraying the joy he felt. “Making me feel very special here.”
“Then it’s working. See you soon.” The line went dead, leaving him grinning as he hung up the phone, disbelief and delight swirling together in a zesty blend of emotions.
Amusement bubbled in his chest as he gathered his belongings. He grabbed his cane, ready to step out, and poked his head into Kirsten’s office, letting her know he was stepping out for a while. “Taking a quick break,” he said, unable to contain the glee that was evident in his smile.
Once outside, the cool evening air greeted him, sending a delightful shiver down his spine. He leaned against the wall, anxiety and excitement intertwining as he eagerly awaited Y/N's arrival. Every passing second felt like an eternity; the world around him blurred as he focused entirely on the thrill of seeing her.
He replayed their conversation in his mind, the way her voice had wrapped around him like a warm blanket, soft and inviting. Had it just been moments? Time skewed in his mind, every second apart magnified, charged with anticipation.
Finally, the sound of approaching footsteps broke through his reverie, and his heart raced as he turned his head. There she was, her familiar heartbeat thudding and the sweet scent of her detergent wafting over him.
“Hey, you!” she called out brightly, her smile enveloping him in a wave of joy.
“Hey,” he replied, his voice almost breathless. “You look amazing.”
“That line doesn't work cause you can't see me, Matty. But I have to say, you look devilishly handsome,” she said, her eyes sparkling mischievously. “Now, let’s get that Italian food before I get too hungry.”
As they began to walk, side by side, the cool air filled with easy laughter and comfortable conversation that flowed effortlessly between them. The evening stretched before them, full of endless possibilities as they headed toward a night woven together with warmth, fun, and affection.
With Y/N at his side, every moment felt vibrant and alive, painting the canvas of their shared experience in rich hues of excitement and romance. In that moment, under the open sky, with laughter hanging in the air around them, Matt felt something click into place within him. He was exactly where he was meant to be.
The End.
