A Knife In The Back

A Knife in the Back

A/N felt like coming back to writing here now that it’s summer and i’m working on rediscovering myself in order to deal with some mental health stuff. What’s a better thing to come back with than my roots? 

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader 

Background: This is very much inspired by the main relationship dynamic in the Hulu show ‘The Great’ (if you haven’t watched it and have a hulu subscription and are old enough I’d def recommend it). Basically this is just playing into the ‘i love you, but i’m supposed to want to kill you’ trope. Also inspired by Taylor Swift’s ‘My Tears Ricochet’ (i’m obsessed with the line ‘you had to kill me, but it killed you just the same’) 

Summary: Y/n has been groomed her entire life to take over as head of a major gang. Recently, she’s been working with the Crows. Tonight, though, she’s being put to the ultimate test of loyalty. No longer is this a game of cat and unaware mouse, because now she’s supposed to kill Kaz Brekker. 

this ends on a cliffhanger bc i wanted to do a two-part thing, so let me know if you’d be interested in that or want to be tagged :))

I was first exposed to the concept of taking someone’s life when I was about seven. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember that Cassandra hadn’t meant for me to find out about it. She didn’t take any care to keep it from me, but she didn’t exactly want me walking into her office after she slit the throat of the merchant that tried taking advantage of her.

She had blinked at me, then, before telling me that forcing death was just a part of life. She didn’t react when I ran out into the hall to throw up after the man’s blood soaked into my socks. She rubbed my back gently and told me that soon I’d learn how to kill efficiently so that I wouldn’t have to stomach much.

I was ten when Cassandra made good on that promise. I still remember the day she taught me how to kill with calculation. We spent the day together, plunging blades into foam mannequins. She presented me with my first dagger that day. 

That was years ago, and somehow, by some kind of miracle, I had avoided ever having to kill someone. Cassandra raised me, meaning that there’s always been someone else around to do the dirty work. Either Cassandra would do the ugly part of a job for me or one of her upper ranking underlings would be around in order to spare me.

But today is the day where all of that changes. Not only do I have to kill someone, but I have to kill Kaz Brekker. The pit in my stomach should only exist because of my fear of retaliation. I should only be concerned about what the Bastard of the Barrel will do if he realizes my betrayal, but that’s not why I’ve felt sick all day. 

When I first started playing double agent, I didn’t think it’d end like this for so many reasons. Cassandra never told me that her overall goal was to have Kaz Brekker killed. I also really, really didn’t expect to see Kaz as a person, let alone... 

I don’t even know. I just--I hated him. I was supposed to hate him and being exposed to his cruelty and lack of regard for life made it easy. And then--then one day it started to seem like maybe he isn’t made of darkness. Maybe he’s only touched by it, maybe he only wears it because he needs to. Maybe he’s more like Cassandra than I was supposed to realize.

“You alright, dovey?” 

I should roll my eyes at Jesper’s question and relax into my seat. I should act normal so that no one will suspect anything of me. All I can manage to do is slump into my seat. “A bit of a headache,” I mumble, “You know it happens from time to time.” My dagger is sheathed beneath layers of fabric but somehow I still feel the coldness of the metal. It forces a chill through me. “And don’t call me ‘Dovey’, we’ve talked about nicknames.” 

Jesper lets his head fall to the side dramatically. My eyes move to the glass in his hand. The amber liquid sloshes with Jesper’s movements. “You’re no fun when you’re in a mood.” I open my mouth to comment on how dramatic he’s being and the fact that I’m feeling perfectly fine, but he beats me to it. “Then again, with what boss-man said, I’d be in a mood, too.” 

What--what Kaz said? “With what who said?” 

Sobriety attempts to grasp Jesper, but he quickly dodges it. His eyes briefly shut as he takes a sharp inhale. “You don’t know.” 

Something in my stomach knots. Did Kaz find out who I am? “Know what?” He brings a finger up to his lips, signaling that it’s a secret. “Jesper.” 

“Y/n,” he copies the sharpness of my tone. I continue to glare at him. “C’mon, don’t put me in this position, today’s been hard enough. Our job went off without an issue, don’t drag--” I don’t stop glowering. “Y/n--” He sighs once. “Fine--I don’t--I didn’t hear much, just that your name--” Jesper pauses, struggling to arrange his sentence. “Your name came up during a deal. I couldn’t quite hear everything.” 

“Well, what did you hear?”

Jesper hesitates again, eyebrows pinching together in an unsettlingly pitiful way. “Some kind of contingency thing--something that would’ve--would’ve given the other man the rights to you.”

Something in me bursts into flame. The ice of the knife strapped to my skin is suddenly welcome. An old instinct in my chest understands the meaning of Jesper’s slurred words before the rest of me does. “The rights to me?” 

Jesper shifts uneasily. “If your headache’s not going away, maybe you should just have a drink for your nerves and go to bed.” I don’t move. 

“How can someone have ‘the rights’ to me? I’m not indentured--” 

“Kaz knows how to run with an assumption when it’s convenient.”

Something in my chest turns to stone. Jesper’s drunken testimony has left gaps in the story, but it’s not exactly hard to fill in. For whatever reason, Kaz put me on the line for a deal. It wouldn’t have been hard for him to make good on his promise. Kaz could slip something into my drink. He could overpower me or have someone do it for him. He could force me into something at gunpoint. He could--he could have sold me. 

I swallow once, wiping my eyes with my palm. “Listen, y/n, Kaz says whatever he needs to--” 

“His word means something, Jesper, you know that.” 

My voice must reflect how hollow I feel inside because Jesper sighs once. “Y/n-”

I swallow once, “I’m fine, Jesper. You didn’t hear everything, and you’re drunk, and nothing happened. Everything’s fine.”

Something in my chest has stopped. He was willing to sell me. I was wagered like the gambling chips from the Crow Club. Everything Cassandra said was right. Kaz Brekker may be a criminal like the woman that raised me, but he lacks Cassandra’s one redeeming quality. He lives without humanity.

I have heard the stories, I have seen what becomes of women sold and bartered. Cassandra has stolen so many women that were owned by men like the man Kaz just did business with. The man he was willing to sell me to just to get an edge on Pekka Rollins.

Thousands of images reflect in my mind. I can see them now, their empty eyes offset only by the litter of bruises against their skin.

“Y/n--” 

“I said I’m fine, Jesper. I know how Brekker is.” I repeat, voice stern. “I just need to go to bed.” He looks like he wants to say something. “I’ll sleep it all off.” I stand, staring at a blank spot on the wall. “Don’t drink too much, alright? Just make sure you eventually find your way to a safe bed. It doesn’t even have to be yours.” 

Jesper grins, “You get me.” He sighs, adjusting his hold on his glass. “Will do, Doves, make sure to take something to make sleeping off that headache a little easier.” 

No matter how tonight goes, if I survive, I’m going to need to drink something strong. “Yeah, Jes, I’ll take care of my headache.” 

I am a phantom as I approach the stairwell. In another life, another version of events, I never entertained the idea of being Jesper’s company as he drank in celebration of our success. In that reality, what I need to do is less possible.

With shaking hands I reach towards the pocket of my dark pants. In a single slash, the blade my fingers are touching can take a life. I can extinguish a flame of destruction and Cassandra will be proud of me. She’ll realize that the child she took in was worth it.

“Y/n--” 

I turn, trying to hide how ambushed I feel. Okay...there’s nothing weird about jumping about someone’s sudden appearance. “Kaz.” 

His name stumbles awkwardly from me. Act normal. “I need to speak to you.” Speak to me, how kind of him to waste his valuable time communicating with someone who’s basically cattle. “I have some business to attend to first. Meet me in my office before the hour ends?” 

Why, is my purchaser going to be expecting me? The urge to lash out pulses through me, but that will get me nothing. Kaz is beyond reason. If I could change him, if I could spare him, I would. So I swallow the lump in my throat and nod. 

“The color’s drained from your face.” His observation is a blow to the chest. “You’re not ill. Does Nina--” 

“I’m fine.” His concern is only practical. Illness would only slow me down or make me less valuable. “Just a migraine. I’ll sleep it off tonight.” 

His eyebrows draw together for a moment. “Hm.” Please let that be the dismissal I’m looking for. “If you’re feeling uneasy, you don’t need to over concern yourself. That’s what I wanted to meet with you about.” Kaz pauses, an odd affliction crossing his features briefly. “You did good work today.” 

An unnamed feeling wedges itself between my hurt and fury. Grief--crushing, undeniable grief has found itself in me. “Thank you.” 

Kaz won’t stop looking at me directly in the eye. “I know that you’re adverse to killing and much of what I do, but you never let that translate into weakness.” 

His voice is low and uneasily patient. My chest flutters, all of my emotions curdling in my chest. Even on a normal day I wouldn’t be able to think of a good response to that. “I’ll see you before the end fo the hour.” He nods once and I turn. “Kaz,” his name comes from me without my permission, “I appreciate your acknowledgement of my lack of weakness.” 

For a second, I think he might smile. “I never said you lack weakness.” 

“I know, but your gushing approval made your true feelings clear.”

“Dear, y/n, light of my existence,” Kaz approaches me, extending a hand slowly. I become perfectly still as his pinky latches onto mine for a brief moment. My heart stops. “I have never once ‘gushed approval’.” His sarcasm seems to settle me. The corner of my mouth turns upwards. “Now, get out of my way, I have some business to deal with downstairs.”

“Doubt I could get you to ask more nicely.” 

He takes a single step forward. “Please, excuse me.” 

A final good moment with Kaz. My chest swells as I step to the side. “That’s more like it.” 

He disappears down the stairs. Okay--within the hour. I have time to-to think and to--I don’t even know. Cassandra sent me here to ruin him, to work against him so that our gang could do better. I’m a mole, not a killer. But I should have known that one day our relationship would end like this--the knife of one buried in the back of the other. 

That final thought echoes in my chest, shattering me. I make it to my room, lock the door, and sink against the wall, suppressing a sob. 

I stay like that for as long as I can justify it, but there is no putting off the inevitable. Kaz Brekker will die at my hand, and it is deserved. I wipe at my tears with the back of my palm and wash my face in the sink. Once I’m convinced that I’m presentable, I leave my room, checking for the blade secured to my thigh. It hasn’t been that long, so there’s a good chance I will have the element of surprise. That’s the only way to end this. I’ll be efficient, just like Cassandra taught me. He will not suffer, and it will not be personal. 

I walk to his office, my steps methodical. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. He would have sold me. I take a deep breath, reaching for the handle of the door to his office. I pull the dagger from its place, squeezing the hilt. He would have ruined me. 

Pushing the door open silently, I stop breathing. His tall figure is turned away from the door. Good, this way he won’t have to see me and I won’t have to feel his reaction. My steps are even until I’m within arms reach of him. Think of Cassandra, think of all he’s done. 

My blade plunges into his back. The world stops. I pull my knife out before pushing it back in. Tears swell in my eyes. Again and again, I stab him. He takes two unsteady steps before falling to his knees. I yank the knife out one final time. He collapses in front of me. 

Everything in my body shatters. Dead--Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the boy who stayed up with me after an injury left me too sore to sleep, the man who would have sold me. He used me as currency, he has disrespected and threatened me so many times, and he linked his gloved pinky with mine in order to ease me. 

I stare at his body, forcing the hurt to crash into me like violent waves. All of my fury, all of my desire to win Cassandra over, vanishes. Now all that’s left is a burning agony. 

What have I done? 

The question is screamed so loudly in my head that it feels silent. I tear my gaze from the body--his body--and stare at my knife. The end of it is coated in so much sticky, red liquid I could throw up. My hands and clothing are covered in the same thing. I drop to my knees, letting everything I’m wearing soak into his blood. My free hand covers my mouth in hopes of silencing the sound that is ripped from my throat. The urge to touch him, to feel him while he’s still warm, pours through me. But the one thing I can still offer him is the protection of his will. I will respect his wishes. So instead of dropping over him, I just stare, my fingers still gripping the damn knife. 

What have I done? 

Collected footsteps snap me out of the trans I’ve fallen into. I take two deep breaths before turning my head. If I have been caught, I deserve whatever fate I will be met with. Blinking twice, I force my eyes to adjust on the person who has found me. There is no energy in me for fear for myself, there is only heartbreak. 

Kaz. It’s--he’s alive. By some Saint granted miracle, he’s alive!

He’s standing there, watching me with the blankest expression I’ve ever seen him wear. I don’t care. I don’t care. I jump to my feet, disregarding the only man I’ve ever killed. Whoever he was, that’s something for me to feel guilty about later. Eventually, the relief will become a feeling I can manage and I’ll be able to regret the life I just took, but right now all that matters is Kaz. 

I drop the dagger, letting it clatter against the hardwood floor. I run towards him, desperate to be close enough to see his open eyes and to be aware of the rise and fall of his chest. “Kaz,” a lament, a prayer, a lifeline. 

My hand moves forward without a second thought. I link my pinky with his, the same way he did earlier. I squeeze his finger as tightly as possible, desperate to feel the fact that he’s alive. Kaz owes me nothing, but he gives me what I need. His pinky squeezes mine back, his eyes holding mine. 

I think we could have stayed like that forever. But the man that I attacked shattered our silence with a pained, exhausted groan. Our hands fall apart. 

omg i loveeee the great too 🥺🥺🥺 that show is sooooo underrated seriously. so excited to see what you come up with

it's such a good show!! even though it's definitely a comedy it doesn't feel cheesy and i'm still invested in the emotional state of the characters which is something i feel like is pretty rare!! thanks for the support :)) i'm working on something for it and i'm very excited for it :))

happy christmas if you celebrate! <3 -ry

aww thank u!!! happy christmas to you as well 💗💗

the fact that this has 80 views on wattpad has me so excited lol,, i was really nervous about publishing something with an original character as the main character,, hope yall liked it :)) let me know if you’d like me to upload the chapters on here as well bc chapter 2 is coming soon (i say this as i scroll through matt edits on tiktok instead of actually writing lol) 

I would definitely want that link to the Wattpad story about Matt. Honestly the lack of mat fanfic out there is a crime

the lack of fanfics for matt really is criminal 😭im trying hard to make up the difference.

I made this on wattpad and it's a multi-chapter fic idea have and it is an OC bc im trying to get more comfortable creating my own characters. If you check this out, i really hope you like it :)) if anyone is interested, i'd be happy to upload it on tumblr too

https://www.wattpad.com/1170694507-nightmare-in-hell%27s-kitchen-chapter-one

Wattpad

Nightmare in Hell's Kitchen - Chapter One

Read Chapter One from the story Nightmare in Hell's Kitchen by emmaisfrommars (emilia🌙) with 2 reads. fanfic, matt, m...

48 hours - chapter one

a/n im almost done with my matt x ex black widow! fic, and i really wanted to have it done before my friends come visit for NYE but im not sure it'll happen and i really wanted to give you guys something before i disappear for my tiny reunion bc yall have been so supportive with the BW fic so here's a very mini series idea that came to me...

i wanted to write this bc this idea has been so soft in my head for the past couple of days and ive been binging jane the virgin again so im all over the ‘even when im pissed off, i’m going to show up bc that’s what family does’ trope bc it fits so well with matt bc of all the secrets he keeps lmaoo

also the timeline for the actual show was not my priority in making this and you can kinda tell lol so pls don’t dwell on the details on who knows matt’s identity and other stuff

summary: After finding out that Matt Murdock, the lawyer you’ve been working closely with and befriended faster than you thought possible, is actually Daredevil, you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to trust him again. But that doesn’t mean you have the heart to leave him to face his demons on his own. So you agree to stay around for 48 hours, because that’s the only way to assure that he won’t do something stupid (which is extortion if you think about it, but what are you going to do) Too bad the main problem with being alone with him is that it makes ignoring those budding feelings you’d been fighting against that much harder to ignore.

trigger warnings: i cant write someone being mad without sounding kinda annoying bc i only know how to be petty lmao, emotional dependency (not the healthiest relationship take lowkey lol but it gets resolved by the end of the mini-series, i promise), matt lowkey being toxic 😳but that one's on me (it gets fixed and kinda justified lol it just doesn't look great without the context that you get at the end of the mini-series)

----

Foggy and Karen left. Either my (not so) subtle jabs and dirty looks were too much or they came to the conclusion that the only person that should and could deal with the real fall out of what happened a few hours ago was Matt. What made them think it was a good idea to let such an injured man face the blunt of my anger, I have no idea. I guess it has to do with the fact that apparently Matt can take a lot more than he’s been letting on.

He’s still slumped on the couch, body wilted in on itself, broken and bruised. A strange combination of guilt and fury twist in me. I want to help him; I want to pick up the stupid vase on his ottoman and throw it at his head. How could I have been so stupid?

Matt shifts, a soft groan falling from his lips. Great, he’s awake. That’s part of the reason everyone left so quickly...they knew that I’d have stormed out of Matt’s apartment if anyone else was there to make sure that he didn’t bleed out to death on his couch. A very unlikely thing, but my conscience wouldn’t let me walk away until I saw him awake.

And now I’ve seen him awake, so there’s no point in still being here. He’s silent, and his face is turned away from me, so I can’t see if his eyes are open, but I know that he’s awake. Which apparently means he knows I’m standing here.

“I know you’re awake,” I mumble, “and that that means you know I’m here.” I scoff, crossing my arms in front of me. “Apparently.”

He twists his body against the couch. His movements are rigid, pained. I want to move. I want to help him, but all of my energy is going into staying together and not succumbing to the strangled feeling in my throat.

It’s choking me. The feeling of shock, of worry, of anger, and of--of betrayal. All of those sentiments swirl in my chest, pulsing through my body at a rate that’s nauseating.

And now he’s just staring at me--wide, brown eyes swirling with emotions I don’t understand. Emotions I don’t want to understand, because if I let myself think about it, about how alone he must feel right now, I’ll push aside everything I’m feeling.

He’s not a villain for this. He doesn’t owe you anything. The rational part of me reflects on these thoughts as he blinks at me, waiting for some kind of response. He’s in pain, that much is clear, and just standing here goes against all of my instincts. I’ve never seen him this broken before, but I guess I apparently have. I’ve helped Daredevil--I, I cleaned deep wounds for him at least three times, and I’ve aided Matt Murdock more than I can count. But apparently all of that was unnecessary.

“Can you tell what I’m thinking too or do you still need me to say that out loud?”

The corners of his mouth pull down, he’s practically wincing. “I can’t--I’ve never been able to read minds. Being able to hear someone’s breathing patterns isn’t exactly telepathy.”

I grind my teeth together. “You’re not actually trying to be funny right now.” He can’t brush this aside, smooth over this revelation with his soft little half smiles and heart torn eyes. “Because I’m not even sure if you’re actually blind or if that’s all a cover so that people don’t know that you’re--”

“I’m blind.” He moves like he wants to sit up, but the motion is never completed. Matt cuts himself off with a wince. My nails dig into my palms to stop myself from rushing towards him. “I can’t see the way other people see, but I can--there are things I sense, things I hear, things I smell.” He swallows once. “And I--I don’t tell people, obviously. But I--I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll listen, I’ll--”

“Don’t waste your breath.” I mean it, I mean it with my entire chest and a small part of me hates myself for it. And I--I resent him for making me feel this way about him. “I won’t believe any of it anyways, and to be honest, I don’t see the point in talking when I don’t even know who I’m talking to.” My voice almost wavers, his eyes turn into even deeper vats of emotion. Don’t look at them. Don’t fall for it. “So Matt Murdock, good guy lawyer, or the illusive Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, or whoever the hell you are--goodbye.”

The last word hurts the most. It’s an ending without a conclusion. A sore wound destined to never heal. I swallow the grief that lumps in my throat as I turn towards the door to his apartment.

“L/n.” My name is tired but not soft. Keep walking. I hear him shift against his couch, and once again the urge to help him is drowning me. He doesn’t need your help, if he’s capable of jumping over dumpsters and fighting crime bosses, he’s capable of walking in his own damn apartment. “Y--y/n, don’t go.” My nails dig even further into the palm of my skin. Go. “It’s not--this isn’t about me, there are people that want to hurt you and I--I can’t protect you right now.”

How hurt must he be for him to openly admit that he can’t do anything right now? My stomach knots. Stop caring. “Have you ever stopped for a second to consider that maybe I don’t want your protection? I’ve lived most of my life without you, placing myself in risky situations for my career, and I’ve managed. So just--stay here, try not to get anything infected, and leave me alone.”

“The people that you’ve written those articles about are nothing compared to the kinds of people I’m dealing with. And they’re going to go after you.”

The seriousness of his tone is enough to make me hesitate. I’m furious at him, but it’s not like I can dismiss facts. “What--what makes you think they’d go after me?”

He hesitates, expression still mortally wounded in a way that makes me desperate to comfort him. “They’ve seen you with me.”

“You mean they’ve seen me with your vigilante alter ego.” He’s silent, I cross my arms over my chest. “Who I’ve--cleaned wounds for and-and talked to about personal things, and the entire time it was actually you. And you let me come into the office the next day and you--you knew what I was thinking, what I had gone through the night before, and you didn’t--” This is such a stupid thing to dwell on. “And--and Foggy knew, and Karen knew, and--you all knew and you let me be such an idiot!” I clamp my mouth shut after those words. There it is, for both of us to see--the deepest part of my emotional wound.

Matt stills for a moment, and then all of his strength goes into him shifting into a sitting position. His expression remains hard, pained. I push down the instinct to do something, anything. “L/n.” I should run out of here. I should have run out of here the moment I realized he was still alive and my conscience was made clear by the fact that I didn’t let him bleed out on his couch. “That’s what this is about.”

“No, this is about the fact that you’re an untrustworthy liar that made me feel like I was going crazy.” My stomach knots, but its too late to back down. “And also, maybe, a little bit about the fact that I finally felt like I found people. My people, good people that I could trust.”

“You did. You have.” I scoff. “We just wanted to protect you.” The pleading behind his eyes is unbearable. “I just wanted to protect you, and I made them keep it from you.”

“You know my entire life I’ve always felt like I’ve cared more about other people than they do about me. I’ve had so many people use me for stories or my--my family, and I thought I finally found something more than that.” My voice is shaking, and I’m torn between running out of his apartment and punching him in the stomach or something else stupid and petty. “And you took that from me--and that--that really sucks.”

“I know.” He has no defense. There is no defense.

My shoulders fall. “I have an article due tomorrow night, so...” Not the ending I want, but maybe that’s for the best. I’m not in the headspace to get closure...nothing permanent will bring me peace right now. “I um--I don’t think I’ll be in the office tomorrow.”

He shifts again, with a little more force. I think he’s trying to stand. Don’t help. “L/n.” My last name again, what he’s called me most since the day I first met him. It no longer makes my stomach flutter the way it once did. Or, I guess it still kind of does, but these butterflies are different...these hurt. “Don’t.”

“Don’t what? Have a totally normal reaction to realizing that every important person in my life has been lying to me?” I shake my head, the irony of it all making me want to laugh. “You know I thought the biggest lie I’d have to deal with this year is finding out about all the criminal things my dad had been doing and the origin of our family money. But no, the biggest lie has to do with my dad’s enemy who happens--”

“It wasn’t like that. You know it wasn’t like that.” A lie is a lie. It doesn’t matter. “Your father lied to manipulate you into thinking he changed, I kept a secret so that you’d be safe.”

Whatever. It doesn’t matter. “I won’t be in tomorrow,” I repeat, voice a little more settled. Resigned. I wish I could say I never want to see him again. I wish I could feel like that--like I have the strength to not care about what happens to him. “If you could um--if you could text me or get someone to text me every day or every other day?” My face burns. I wipe my face with the back of my palm. “I don’t think I’ll text back, but I’ll be able to sleep, and I don’t know what you owe me, but I think it’s at least that much.”

I reach for the front door, finally pulling it open. The air in the hall feels a lot colder than it did before. Some sound I can’t name forces me to stop. It’s--it’s broken. I turn around despite myself...he’s...I think he’s crying, but there’s something more to the sound than tears. Something desperate and breathy. Is he hyperventilating?

“Matt?” My voice is smaller than I wanted it to be and my hand has yet to let go of the door to his apartment.

I turn on my heels, nervously looking behind me. He’s slumped forward, his back hunched in a way that makes it impossible to see his face. Is he--no, walk away. You don’t care. I will myself to move, to remember all the lying and the confusion I felt and...screw it, who am I kidding? I give into my instincts, rushing to his side on the couch.

My hand is on his shoulder before I can stop myself. “H-hey, you’re okay.”

He shakes his head. I catch more of the bruises on the left side of his face than I had before. Pity pulses through me. “Don’t go.” Now his voice is small. Smaller than I’ve ever heard it be. “Don’t--I don’t know what--”

“Matt...” Okay, I don’t have to be vindictive about the whole walking out on him thing right now. There will be plenty of time to be angry with him later, once he’s more stable and--and better. “This isn’t fair.” He says nothing, still too lost in his crisis. “You really hurt me, and I’m allowed to be mad at you. I should be able to be mad without feeling guilty.” I run my hand up and down his arm as gently as possible. He exhales lightly at the extended contact. I bite my tongue to avoid losing anymore self control. “I’m going to go, and you’re going to be okay.”

My fingers slowly detach themselves from him. I pull away with a patience I don’t feel. I move to stand, but at the last second his hand latches onto my arm. “Don’t go, I--I know what they’re planning.”

“Planning?”

He winces when I pull away from his touch. “They’re going to go after you because of me.” The guilt in his voice is another knife in my stomach. “You know it’s true.” My breath catches in my chest. Matt must sense it, or hear it, or whatever he does, because he shifts again. When he grabs my forearm, I let him. “Be as mad as you want, but be mad here.”

I swallow once, forcing my back to straighten. A clean, healthy break. We need it. “Matt--”

He moves again, his fingers tactfully pressing into my skin. “I need you.” The words hang there, as heavy as my heart. “And that’s not--that’s not something that I can just say.”

Oh my god...Okay, I have to get out of here. Now or never. Just stand up, just--ugh. Who the hell am I kidding? “You know you’re really good at laying on the guilt when you want to.”

“One of the many benefits of being a devoted Catholic.”

If things were any better, I’d laugh. But they’re not. “I um-I really appreciate what you said, I know that that’s not easy for you.”

His eyes are doing that terribly compelling, kicked puppy thing. How can I want to be away from him as badly as I want to be near him? He moves his hand slowly, cautiously. I let him intertwine our fingers. Matt drops his head slightly, lifting our joined hands to his forehead. I sigh, ignoring the sentiments that bubble in my chest. Okay, two minutes, I can sit here for two minutes--that won’t kill anyone. Probably.

He moves my hand again. I let him until I feel the brush of his lips against the back of my palm. Even before I was this angry, I was wary of soft gestures like that. “What are--” No, don’t ask what he’s doing, just make sure he stops it. “What you’re doing isn’t healthy and it’s not going to work.” I mean it--or at least, I want to mean it with every fiber of my being. “I can’t trust you anymore and that hurts and I--I need time to deal with that. Alone. And there’s nothing you can do or say to change that, to change what you did.”

Matt’s silence is not safe. It doesn’t feel like acceptance because that would be too easy. He’s plotting, he has to be. “Are you sure?” What kind of question is that? “I’ll do anything.” I stay still, ignoring the nerves swelling in my chest. “I’ll do anything you want, l/n. Just--just don’t go.”

I press my lips together into a hard line. His stupid, soft eyes and messy hair...and the-the needy look behind his eyes. I’m only human. I have weaknesses. Okay--I’ve hit my limit, if I don’t get out now, I may never follow through. “What I want is to feel like I can trust you.” I pull my hand away, creating the distance between us that I need to be capable of rational thought. “And to feel like you’re not going to do something stupid while all those ribs are still broken and your lung is partially collapsed or...”

“Okay.” His voice is so assured, so certain, my panic stalls.

“What do you mean okay?”

He still looks like a rejected puppy. “Stay and--and I’ll take the night off. I’ll focus on meditating and I’ll answer all of your questions if you want to ask, and--”

Is he really using the fact that I don’t want him hunting down dangerous criminals while he’s half dead to his advantage? “Are you seriously trying to extort me right now?” I sigh, anger and dread spiking in me all over again. “And--and meditating? What does that have to do with anything?”

“I heal faster when I meditate.”

Uneasy laughter cuts through me. The sound must be more nervous than I thought because Matt stalls. “I’m sorry--you heal faster when you meditate? Why did you never call Tony Stark? You have enough going on to be a freaking Avenger or something.”

His expression makes it clear that he doesn’t know whether or not I’m actually snapping. “It’d get in the way of the day job.”

“Right, the ever important separate worlds thing. That’s why you kept me around, right?” I scratch the back of my arm, discomfort settling in my stomach. “Everyone in your circle knew the truth and you wanted to feel normal and you met me and could tell how much I wanted to belong somewhere and--”

“No,” he tries to sit up further, but his body is too tired, “it wasn’t like that at all. You know that.”

“Do I?” I sit up a little straighter. “What um--what was real and what was fake?” My eyes focus on the wall in front of him. “About us, I mean, because I--I really cared about—I still care about you because I’m still sitting on this couch even though I should have left the second I was sure you weren’t going to bleed out.”

“All of it.”

“Even when you were comforting me over my father? Or were you just trying to get the information you needed to stop him?”

He frowns. “Y/n--”

“Forget it.” I wipe my hands on my jeans. “It doesn’t matter now.”

“It does.”

I shake my head once even though he can’t see it. “So you think people are after me?”

Matt hesitates. “...I know they are.”

His tone is clear--he’s not going to give me any details on how he’s so sure that I’m in danger. “And if--if I stay you’re not going to do anything stupid until you’re better?”

“I think Hell’s Kitchen will survive a night without me.”

Oh--he’s insane. I blink twice, shocked at how one person can be so deluded. “A night? No--I saw how much blood you lost.” He opens his mouth to protest, but he’s gotten his way enough today. “And keep in mind how angry I am and what you’re asking of me. You need a full recovery.”

“I’ll be honest about how I’m feeling in the morning.”

He is in no position to negotiate. “The only person in any position to make arguments here is me, and I saw you throw up blood, and--and Foggy had to say a lot to keep me from dragging your ass to a hospital.” I should have just left him outside of an ER. “72 hours--that’s standard for—“

“You don’t know what I need--”

“No, but I know that our entire friendship was based on lies.”

Now it’s his turn to press his lips together. “It wasn’t.”

“Tell that to my father, who you got arrested with information that you got from me when I thought you were just my friend.”  I fold my hands on my lap. “You know I would have helped you if you had just told me the truth.”

Maybe my voice sounds just small enough to appeal to the part of him that’s decent enough to feel bad about all the lying. “48 hours. I’ll stay if you stay.”

I wipe my face with the palm of my hand, inhaling sharply in an attempt to clear my thoughts. Two days with him is the last thing I want right now. “Fine.” This doesn’t mean anything...he’s feeling panicky now, but that will pass, and then I’ll be able to walk away and deal with my own hurt. “But I’m not going to be nice to you, and I’m only doing it so that I don’t have to end up writing a news article about a dead body in a devil’s suit found in a dumpster.”

His expression is still tinged by that sad, innocent look. “The people here need me in that suit, I’m not going to apologize for that.”

“And I needed you.” Great, this is a level of vulnerability I didn’t want to reach here. “I needed you as a friend, as someone I trusted.” I grip the arm of his couch as I force myself to stand. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

These next 48 hours are going to be so much fun.

----

if youre interested in part 2 lmk :)) and if this is really bad bc i wrote this while very tired i am sorry!! im still getting used to writing matt and even though i love him very much im still working on his voice :)

i want to get back to writing on here tbh