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Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

I call upon the power of the author(s) of those really good Fisk/Matt/Vanessa fics out there! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧ *prayer circle* haha ;-)

Okay. So. Matt gets into a relationship that he’s reeeeeeeally reluctant to be in with Fisk and Vanessa, because they’re creepy and he’s expecting a knife in the back at any second (literally and figuratively).

And yeah the sex is fantastic in that so-wrong-it’s-good kind of way. And well… after a while he makes the mistake of letting his guard down and allowing himself be vulnerable around them and he foolishly allows himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, there’s something genuine starting to form between them.

And then ~something~ *hand-waves* happens to make him think it really was all just a trick to humiliate him and that they were just dragging out the long-con to maximize the hurt. And Matt’s just completely devastated by it. Worst sub-drop feeling you can imagine. Foggy and Karen et al are too worried that he’s going to go off the deep end to even think about saying “I told you so."

And then Fisk and Vanessa come looking for him after and Matt thinks it’s to gloat and he just cannot. face. them, because he’s going to make an even bigger fool of himself and cry, offs, because we all know what a terrible liar he is.

I kind of want it to be all a really big misunderstanding and not an actual double-cross. But if you’d like to make it angsty and rip my heart out with an actual betrayal I’d be okay with that too, hahaha.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

*joins prayer circle*

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

Mmmmmm yess @v@

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

talk to me about this idea, OP, because what if.

what if, roughly, I don't know why, but let's say that a couple of years down the line, Matt runs into something Bad Enough he can't handle it by himself. He doesn't have the a) money, or b) manpower, or c) whatever else that it would take to solve Problem X.

(new player on the scene? new, even more alien drug causing havoc in the city at levels just below what would draw official Attention? who knows)

"don't do it," Foggy says, and "how in the name of fuck is this a good idea," Karen says, but Matt is running out of options.

So he goes to see Fisk (does Murdock go? Does Daredevil? I have no idea, but in this vague beginnings-of-a-story I've got here I think that not everyone knows who Daredevil is, but Matt isn't quite so worried about his identity. He figures, hey, at this point, things are so bad that I'm willing to owe these murderers a favor. (not killing. killing is off the table. but. Matt's hands aren't clean, y'know? and straits are - for whatever reason - DIRE.)

And surprise surprise, Fisk admits that he's recognized the problem - whatever it is - and he's willing to help. "My fiance needs a bodyguard," he says, for a couple of days - and Matt's the most talented and dangerous person Fisk knows, honestly, so there you go.

like. that kind of a direction, perhaps?

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

OP - I'm liking where you're going with this, potential author anon. :3

Because Vanessa is a really strong, interesting woman. And I think Matt would get along with her really well, despite himself.

And meanwhile, behind his back, she and Fisk would be like "Oh my god, he literally just walked right into our open arms, what an idiot."

But then they realize, after y'know, actually getting to KNOW this annoying idealist beyond their business agreement, what a walking disaster Matt is. And then, whoops, they've actually developed.... feelings..... for him, when the fuck did that happen?!

y/n?

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal

[(Anonymous)]

OP - Also, but can you imagine the first time Matt gets injured on his new job? Nothing like protecting a man's fiancé to get on his good side.

Also, also: "No no, it's fine, it's only a little blood, I'll just meditate through it."

".... You've been STABBED."

actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

"People know where I am," Matt had said, to start with, because he was already in a shitty position and wanted to avoid as much of the (inevitable, awful) posturing that was bound to happen. (And because - honestly, although he hated to admit it - Fisk scared him, a little, and it was hard to be scared and anxious without hitting someone.)

"Yes," Fisk had said, carefully. "I imagine they do." And then, because Matt hadn't been quite sure how to - where to go from there: "I never expected to see...Murdock, here."

"Yes," Matt said. "I didn't - Reinhart is a problem."

"Our city is infested with costumed do-gooders," Fisk said. His heartbeat had picked up, in anticipation. "One or another of them will dispose of him eventually, I'm sure."

"No," Matt said. His fingers felt a little numb. It was humiliating, to say - but Spiderman had said I think he knows who my family are, and I gotta go, and Spiderman was the youngest one Matt had ever met. He needed to be protected, and - and Matt would've stepped up, but. There was something in the way that Spiderman had said my family that had made him pause, wonder exactly what Reinhart knew. He couldn't bring yet more trouble into Foggy's life. Karen's. "They won't. They...can't."

Fisk didn't move, for a minute.

“I understand him to be a crude man,” he said. Yes, Matt thought; you like to think you're not crude, don't you. Just a murderer. (He didn't like to be this close to Fisk, knowing what he was capable of; the potential for violence hummed between them, even here, in a very quiet office building, six stories up. There weren't enough exits in the room. Matt was pretty sure it was at least 20% on purpose.)

“I'm afraid he's not a priority,” Fisk said, fuck's sake, they really had to do this? Matt wanted to scream, a little; he knotted the fingers of one hand around a scrap of his pants leg.

Fisk sighed, and said “your time is valuable, of course, but it can be bought." Literally true, and exactly the kind of thing that made Matt want to punch him in the face ninety percent of the time. “Daredevil's time, however.”

He swallowed. There was no helping it; he'd assumed that Fisk would have figured it out by now, but to hear it put so baldly still send his heart racing. The chance that this meeting would end well for him had never been good. The elevators were slow. He wasn't sure if there was a stairwell in the building, nor how it might be accessed. He should've demanded a more public meeting; it had been shame that led him to letting Fisk set a private meeting, and now he was - “I won't kill for you,” he said. Fuck. He hadn't meant to -

“Of course not,” he said, and he sounded surprised and confused. “It's not in your skillset; why would I ask a specialist such as yourself to – engage in work you have no experience in?”

It shouldn't have been quite this fucking irritating to be told that you'd make a terrible killer.

“My fiance,” Fisk said, “finds herself alone for two or three nights: I have...business, and she's reluctant to accompany me. I'd like to know she was watched by one of the best in the business.”

"Not Daredevil," Matt said, flatly. "Not - I'll watch her, but I won't. Show my face."

"I have a better reputation than Daredevil, in this city," Fisk said, sounding amused; "have it your way; she stays safe, while I'm gone, and you won't have to worry about Reinhart."


**



Vanessa couldn't help but laugh, when he told her, that night. “But why me?” she asked.

“I'll be sure to have three nights with no interference,” Wilson said. She was brushing her hair. "I've scheduled half a dozen shipments, now that I know for a fact where he'll be, those nights."

“You could have framed him,” she said, thoughtfully, eyes shut. “It would be easy; he's making it easy for you.”

“Yes,” Wilson said. He sounded uncomfortable, but his hands were light and deft. “I...he is an honorable man.”

“And you're a romantic one,” she said, and smiled.

“It's not such a difficult request. Reinhart is an animal,” he said. “And – he's not the first man, to come to me with a problem, and realize that we could begin a beneficial...working relationship.”

“Ah,” Vanessa said. “Should I be charming, darling?” She caught his hand. “It's not that hard; he's a beautiful man.”

Wilson flinched, and hoped she hadn't seen him flinch.

"Oh no," she said, soft, sincere: "you," and she went on tiptoe, kissed him with her bare mouth, free of lipstick; it was the way he liked her best. "You are the best thing, my darling."

"I am not," he said, hating himself but uncertain enough to - "I am not. Conventionally."

"You delight me in every way," she said, and she pulled him down to look him straight in the eye: "your body, with my body, that's my dream." She smiled, sudden and bright, and said "carry me to bed, Wilson, and let me prove it to you."



**



The problem with his life was that every time he wrestled one problem to the ground, another took its place. Like the whack-a-mole game, he remembered that, from when he was young. So Reinhart was handled, excellent, but this made the second night that he'd gotten no more than three or four hours of sleep, all told.

He'd gotten to the point where he'd started to feel a little dizzy, occasionally, just from lack of sleep. It was good that they'd set a time on it; Fisk would be back from whatever he'd been doing (probably killing people) the next day, so all Matt had to do was hold on and handle the situation.

"I hope I don't offend," she said, "but you're not a very good liar, you know."

Matt refocused on her (he'd been listening hard, for sirens: you didn't hear them in this part of the city) and suppressed the urge to back up. He was almost sure she was looking at him. "No," he agreed.

"Is it because you're blind?" she asked, and that was - not what he'd expected. He laughed because he was nervous; he laughed because he knew she was watching him, and he didn't want her to think that she'd found a weak point.

“Probably,” he said. “I hope that doesn't bother you.”

“No,” she said, thoughtfully.

**

He'd been lucky to make it a whole night, guarding Vanessa Fisk, without incident; the second night was when someone carrying stars and darts - like Nobu, fuck's sake - broke into the penthouse. It took Matt a shockingly painful ten minutes to get him to the ground, and when he'd gotten the man on the ground, he realized that he'd missed the three-inch knife.

Mostly because that's when the - ninja? - stabbed him in the thigh.

Matt yelled in pain, grunted, got a hand around the ninja's throat and slammed his elbow into the man's temple, and thank all the saints that was enough to knock him unconscious.



He really hated the smell of his own blood.

“Oh!” Vanessa Fisk said, surprised, worried, “you're bleeding!”

Matt gritted his teeth and tried to come up with an excuse that would explain the wet patch over his pants. i peed myself, no, also it's his blood, probably not believable, it's just water, maybe. "It's just water," he said. "I knocked him into the - uh." Fuck, his thigh hurt, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to walk to the bathroom without limping. If he could get half a second to himself, he could wrap the leg up tight, it'd be fine until the end of the night, then he could - he could slink off to his apartment.

"You cannot possibly expect me to believe that lie," she said.

"I. uh. Hoped," he said. He felt a little dizzy; his nose was wet with blood.

“All right,” Vanessa said. “Sit down for a minute, sit here, just -"

He let her push him into a chair. It was just uncomfortable enough to sooth him. He wasn't going to - to sleep, that would be ridiculous, especially since Vanessa Fisk was still in the building, but he was going to - to lean his head back against the wall, just for a moment.


**



He woke up to the sound of the door opening, and Fisk coming in – early, what the hell, what was – oh, he was an idiot, it was stupid to think it could've been that simple and stress-free, and now they were going to spring the trap on him. Karen had been right. He should always listen to Karen. At least he'd face them on his feet; he didn't think about it when he jumped up, so he pulled wrong and felt the skin tear, the half-coagulated blood start oozing from the wound again. Putting a hand on it would show weakness, so he didn't.

“He fell asleep,” he heard Vanessa say, but it was overshadowed, swamped by pain.

“Get off me,” he said, low, warning. He wanted Fisk to stay away, this was the worst time it would happen.

“You can fall on the floor if you please,” Fisk said. Matt wanted to hit him some more.

"It's a scratch," he said.

"You're bleeding all over the floor," Vanessa Fisk said.

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

OP - AAAaaaaaaaAAaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!! *pterodactyl noises*

I love you!!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:・ﾟ✧

ok ok ok, The Chapter.

I liked the little mention of Spiderman! Like, obviously Matt would go to another superhero for help before going to Fisk, and I like that it was someone who was also fighting crime at street level - so to speak - rather than the superstar Avengers. (also it just tickles my fancy that Matt would prefer Fisk over the Avengers, lol).

I loooooved how tense that meeting was! And that Matt was able to admit to himself that Fisk scared him. Too bad Fisk knows it too, haha.

Also, favourite line: “It's not in your skillset; why would I ask a specialist such as yourself to – engage in work you have no experience in?”

It's so.... logical and honest and he thinks Matt is HONOURABLE and askjahavlahashhhh!!!! *flails*

Oh, that little scene between Vanessa and Wilson was the cutest! Villains in love... Unconventionally. *happy sigh* ♡

Finally: i peed myself - HAHAHAHAHA! OH MATT, YOU ARE A DISASTER.

This is fantastic so far anon~

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

This is REALLY well done. If I listed everything I loved about this fill, I'd be here all night. I hope you continue this. It's fantastic!

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

Oooooh!!! *sets up camp* (◕‿◕✿)

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

It shouldn't have been quite this fucking irritating to be told that you'd make a terrible killer.

- It's irritating because Fisk holds all the cards. He could have literally demanded anything of Matt, but he's trying to accommodate him. Creepy.

"He's not the first man, to come to me with a problem, and realize that we could begin a beneficial...working relationship.”

- Oh I like this. Looking forward to the part where the idea of a beneficial working relationship shifts into... something else. >D Does Vanessa make the first move? And then does Matt freak out and worry that Fisk is going eviscerate him for it?

Can't wait to see where this goes!

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

"Is it because you're blind?" she asked, and that was - not what he'd expected. He laughed because he was nervous; he laughed because he knew she was watching him, and he didn't want her to think that she'd found a weak point.

This is relevant to my interests! lol

Does he show up there with his cane, and make a show of still using it? Does he still orient himself? Or does he drop all pretences?

They must be wondering if he's really blind (and if so, exactly by how extensive is it? How does he do the things he does?).

Also, there's the more benign curiosity of getting to know someone who's blind and the things he does differently.

Re: actual fill part 1 i guess?

[(Anonymous)]

*happy gurgling noises*

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2ish?

[(Anonymous)]

“You look like you're about to fall over,” Vanessa observed. Matthew had come to Wilson again – the first time is always the most difficult, he'd told her, privately; then you've got them hooked – about Senator Tomlinson. He was starting to make noise about a registration act. Wilson had taken the opportunity to keep Matthew busy and out of the way, neatly sidelined into looking after Vanessa.

(“Thank you, darling,” she'd said; “I can't imagine anyone else taking such care of me.”

“Always,” Wilson had told her.)

However, there'd been some extravagant and explosive encounter with - if the news reports could be believed - actual ninjas down by the docks. Matthew'd had a chance to change out of that ridiculous costume and into a shirt and tie, but he had a spectacular black eye coming in and looked half-asleep on his feet.

“No,” Matthew replied, giving her a sardonic kind of smile, “fresh as a daisy, absolutely ready to pay my dues.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” Vanessa said, and realized while she said it that it had been exactly the wrong thing to say. “That was rude. I'm staying in tonight. Will you come upstairs with me?”

“It's not like I've got a choice,” Matthew said, more bitter and honest than she'd heard from him before.

“You must be tired,” she said, leading the way up the stairs: he followed with one hand delicately tracing the bannister. “That's the end of the stairs – oh. But.” She felt herself blushing; how crude was it, to be forced to – no one had a clear idea of what Daredevil was actually capable of, and that made her rude. “Do you need me to -”

“Right,” Matthew said, from close behind: “I will absolutely tell you all my secrets because I'm tired.”

“It's a matter of courtesy,” Vanessa said. “Here, in here – please, sit down.”

Matthew paused in the doorway, head cocked, and then went straight to one of the two armchairs.

She considered him, and then went to curl up in the second armchair. They'd been arranged to foster a sense of intimacy. It was cold, so she'd drawn them away from the windows.


**


Matt's first reaction, when Vanessa turned to him and kissed his jaw like they'd been lovers for years, was absolute uncoordinated panic; only the years of martial arts and painfully acquired muscle memory kept him from falling on his ass, but he did in fact jerk away and nearly fall over. This was a disaster, and he was going to die, and worse yet Karen or Foggy might -

“I didn't mean to offend,” Vanessa said, calm and even; she hadn't followed him as he stumbled away from her.

“Why did you do that?” Matt asked, in spite of himself, because the only sensible thing was to get away and find Karen, and Foggy, and probably Brett and Bess, and convince all of them to move to the west coast. Fisk was going to murder everyone. This was insane; they'd always struck him as such a – there'd been no hint that their creepy, aggressively functional marriage was this bad, and – and yeah, Matt knew better than most that marriages that looked great in public could be very bad in private, but – but – but maybe she was deliberately trying to mess with his head, which would be cruel, and relatively in character -

“I wanted to,” she said, and she sounded like she was smiling. She was between Matt and the window, which was the only reason he hadn't gone out of it yet.

“I didn't – you're - you're going to get me killed,” he said, which was literally the stupidest thing he could've said, assuming this was all not an elaborate plot of hers to convince her husband to kill him.


“Well that would defeat the purpose,” Vanessa said, and she sounded amused. Matt was going to die; it was possible that Fisk wouldn't need to finish him off. The humiliation alone might be enough to – to do him in. “Matthew. May I – oh, sweetheart.” Well. She had definitely, horrifyingly noticed the effect that her presence – and the adrenaline – had had on him. “I don't want you dead,” she said. “I hope to see more of you,” and she laughed, and – and Matt had always known that he was just as capable of anyone else of making the worst possible decision at the worst possible time.

**

It figured that Vanessa Fisk was the sort of person who'd assess a situation, make a determination regarding Matt's own personal defenses and strategies, and take over entirely.


**

Matthew came over because Vanessa asked, one Thursday; he was jumpy and unfocused (or rather, unfocused on them, until Wilson sighed and turned on the police scanner in the next room over, at which point he relaxed enough to drop to his knees and bury his face between her thighs. Wilson loved to watch her, like this. She looked – indulgent, decadent, and very often she met his eyes over Matthew's dark hair and smiled as her breath caught in her throat.

Murdock came out of it a little sleepy, more relaxed than he should've been. It was a pattern, and one that they both were more fond of than was strictly wise: put Matthew on his knees, give him a task, and he'd lose tension in his shoulders and his breath would slow even as his prick hardened. It had seemed an odd sort of contradiction to Wilson, until Vanessa had explained that “some men need more guidance than others.”

He wiped his mouth with his hand, and leaned against the edge of the bed, looking sated and drowsier than Wilson had seen him in a while, despite his hard, untouched erection. Wilson had finished across his shoulderblades, while he'd driven his tongue and two fingers into Vanessa's cunt and she'd made hungry, delighted noises.

Vanessa made a low noise in the back of her throat. “You should stay tonight,” she said, thoughtfully. Wilson ran his fingers through Matthew's tangled, sweat-damp hair, half to get the pleasant texture of it, half to see him shiver.

“What? No,” Matthew said. He tipped his head back. Wilson could see his nipples hardening, the way his cock swayed as he moved. “I need to – I can't.”

“Stay,” Wilson suggested.

“Ha! - no.”

“I insist,” Vanessa said, and sat up; her hair had formed a curly halo around her head, and her cheeks still glowed with pleasure. “At least let me return the favor,” and she nodded to his erection.

“N-no,” Matthew said, and shook himself free from Wilson's hands. His shoulders had gone tense again, stiff, and he got to his feet, head tilted. It looked like the kneejerk panicky reaction of a man who hadn't expected – reciprocation? “That's fine, you don't – have to -” and yes, he was definitely angling for the door.

“Oh,” Vanessa said, and her voice had gone cool and false. “I see, Matthew.” Wilson knew her well enough to see that she'd taken offense; he was still lost, still, new enough to the whole business to remain unsure of himself.

“It isn't – that's not -”

It was odd to see him visibly fumbling; Daredevil was quick and vicious, almost impossible to surprise.

“I don't want you to suffer,” Vanessa started, sweet and vicious, “under the assumption that you're buying anything with your body, pretty as it is, sweetheart.”

“Of course not,” Wilson agreed.

“...I didn't think that,” he said, which was an obvious and pitiful lie, and Wilson understood why Vanessa had taken offense, now: it was embarrassing and insulting to suggest that – he would not, did not threaten that. Matthew twitched, and then sighed and came to a decision, because he asked “then what do you want? I don't - “

Vanessa turned to face Wilson, and lifted a finger to her lips: shh. She smiled like the sun; he was struck, once again, by how lucky he had been to find her. “What I want,” she said, and stalked right up to Matthew, until he'd backed up into one of the armchairs, and she'd pushed him down, and crawled into his lap, “is to see you come undone, darling,” and slid onto his cock.

Matthew hissed in what sounded like shocked arousal; Vanessa laughed. That was the night that Vanessa fitted her slim hand across Matthew's adam's apple, and he swallowed, and swallowed, and gasped, and shook himself to pieces in front of them.

**


It wasn't uncommon for Murdock to disappear for a week or two. It was less common for him to show up of his own accord, and absolutely unheard of for him to show up in ill-fitting sweatpants and a t shirt, looking ten years younger than he actually was and terribly, terribly exhausted. He'd picked up a black eye from somewhere. He'd fallen face-first across the bed, still fully clothed, without actually articulating anything but a series of less-than-helpful groaning noises.

“The Avengers were seen at the docks,” Wilson said, in an fairly transparent attempt at fishing: Matthew did better when they made it clear that they were looking for information.

“Yes,” Vanessa said, because she knew this one; the local news had suggested that “Oh! I understand the Hulk nearly made an appearance.”

“...nearly,” Matthew said, and sputtered into shocky, exhausted giggles.

He flinched when Wilson put his hands on him; it was a reflex, and one that still hadn't been broken – although Vanessa was fond of saying that water could carve rock, given time. It was a sign of how – not how well they'd broken him, or that he'd been tamed, because Matthew would never be tamed - but the trust that they'd managed to establish, because when Wilson pushed into the knotted muscles of Matthew's shoulders, he groaned and consciously relaxed. “Don't have to,” he said, and interrupted himself with a jaw-cracking yawn.

“I do believe I owe you a little comfort,” Wilson said. “I own enough property in Hell's Kitchen to want to...avoid...the Hulk.”

“mmrph,” Matthew said, and tried to pull his shirt over his head without actually getting up. The way he shifted into Wilson's hands made him feel powerful, and in turn very, very careful: it was a fragile detente, here, and it seemed easily breakable. (And yet. And yet; his back was badly scarred and bruised, near his narrow waist, and it was still a thing of beauty: Matthew'd honed his body into the purest sort of weapon, one that was gorgeous and lethal, and Wilson was not ashamed of the chance to touch him, feel the hard, miserable knots in his muscles loosen under his hands.)

Vanessa pulled out her tablet and arranged herself on the bed, at an angle to enjoy the sight of Matthew, who at this point was more than half-dead to the world, and thus unselfconscious enough to shift in pleasure and groan happily. She raised an eyebrow, and Wilson shrugged, and covered the motion up by pushing into the knot he'd found. “ngh,” Matthew said, slow, ridiculously pleased: “you can. uh.” He spread his legs, far more clumsily than Wilson had seen him move before.

“Not tonight, sweet boy,” Vanessa said, idly; she stroked his hair, and smiled at Wilson. “I hate to ruin the idea that I'm insatiable, but this is lovely.”

“ha,” Matthew said. He appeared to be very nearly asleep.

He woke up properly a few hours later, near midnight, almost immediately defensive and confused. “Sorry,” he said. “About. About that, I – uh. I should go.”

“Stay,” Wilson said. He'd just managed to drift off, and was debating the wisdom of simply hauling the idiot back into bed: probably not, not at this stage.

“No, I – no,” Matthew said. He'd jumped off the bed, skittish, and groped at the foot of it – oh. That was interesting; whatever he did and however he did it, it didn't appear to be terribly effective in some circumstances, because he was having trouble finding his shirt.

“Mmm?” Vanessa asked, and curled closer to Wilson for a moment before she woke up entirely: “oh. Oh really? It – here,” and she sat up and threw his shirt at him, in a tired but friendly way.

“...thank you,” Matthew said, suspicious and obviously confused, before he left.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2ish?

[(Anonymous)]

This is great! Vanessa and Wilson are wonderfully sweetly creepy.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2ish?

[(Anonymous)]

OP - Oooh, I need to be more diligent about checking my prompt posts more often! Yay, another update!

This had me giggling delightedly all the way through, author anon.

Vanessa constantly trying to suss out Matt's abilities. Matt freaking the fuck out when she kissed him (but oh my god, to be a fly on the wall the first time Fisk expressed interest at joining in!!). And Matt assuming they were holding his friend's lives over his head for sex, and being OFFENDED about it. And Vanessa gripping him around the throat (*s c r e a m i n g*). And Fisk giving him a back massage!!!!

I love this fic! Thank you again~ <3

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 2.5

[(Anonymous)]

(slash the DIRTY WEIRD THREESOME FRICK FRACK I DONE CHICKENED OUT OF IN THE MIDDLE. how does matt react when he realizes OH NO both of 'em want Dat Ass?)


"I have no reason to kill you," Fisk said. Matt always forgot how low his voice was.

"Great," Matt said: he was still backing up, because - because the crucial thing was to keep out of Fisk's reach. "Desire isn't always reasonable, so -"

Vanessa Fisk came out of the bathroom in a cloud of - steam, sweet hot steam, and her hair, wet and hot and still smelling most strongly of some clean, simple flower - and sighed like they'd disappointed her.

"I told you, darling, really blind," she said, which was - oh. He tried not to make a face, and he also tried very hard not to look irritated or bored; this particular "test" had gotten old ten years ago.

"NLP," Matt said, sing-song, familiar, because he might as well, and sometimes patter distracted Wilso - Fisk. He might be able to work his way around to the door, take off for the night: breathing hurt, and had been hurting since Friday. He didn't particularly want to engage in a fight about Wilson Fisk's wife. "If that's a - a thing that you - you can - there are people you can hire," he said.

"Not quite," Vanessa said, and there was something...deliberate, in her tone. "You can't see me - your loss, if I do say so - so there's nothing improper, here," and Fisk growled, low and unhappy.

Matt went with "relax," even though that was probably the least helpful thing he might've said, but honestly: "no light perception, visual stimuli -" he waved a hand "- doesn't do anything."

"For you," Vanessa hummed. "But we can certainly see you." Her voice had gone low and speculative; her body was - she'd wrapped a towel round her hair, Matt could smell the cotton of it, but there wasn't anything covering her body, which meant that the clean salt-musk of...arousal, that was. That he could smell.

"No," Matt said, and wished for the power to take it back almost before it had left his mouth: he hadn't said no, before, not here, not like this, and - and he wasn't sure what would happen. But - but to - if he understood what she was suggesting, he wouldn't -

"No?" Vanessa asked; she was walking closer, with the slow and confident gait of a naked woman (they got hippier, when they lost clothes; Matt didn't know why). She caught his tie in one hand, standing far too close; Fisk remained statue-still, one hand in a loose fist. If Matt hadn't been paying very close attention he would've missed the - the signs of his arousal. Matt swallowed, hard. Her nipples brushed the loose folds of his dress shirt: "I do admire your taste in clothes," she said. "But that's not what I admire most: you should take them off."

"Not your best line," Matt said.

Vanessa laughed, tipping her face to his throat; the exhalations of her laughter tickled his throat. "Does it need to be, I wonder?" she murmured. "I've told Wilson how lovely you are; don't make me a liar, Matthew."

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

"I feel hurt," Vanessa said, one night. "This isn't holding your attention, is it?"

Matt swallowed hard and pressed up against her. "No, I -" love it, it's good, I wish that I could get more, I can't focus there's a siren three blocks away and a car alarm going off in the closest parking structure. "It's good, it's just - loud, tonight."

"Ah," she said. She ran a finger down his chest, over his sternum. It helped, a little; it was grounding, having one easy predictable touch to focus on. "I may have a solution to that...particular difficulty, Matthew."

"Somewhere else? It's still bad outside the city," he admitted. "Less familiar."

"Not quite what she meant," Wilson said.

"Traditionally, I'd suggest a blindfold," she said, and she sounded amused, and careful. "In your case, though - the principle holds: there are ways to shut out distractions. If you'd like."

It took him a second to realize what she was getting at. The disgusting part was that it hit him with the rush of fear and then, shamefully, heat - because to think of being able to let go, to focus on what was happening in the room and only here, in the room, that had a sick kind of appeal -

"No," he said, at first. "Ab - absolutely not."

"Calm down," Wilson said, taking two steps away from the bed immediately.

Couldn't stop thinking about the idea, though; he hadn't tried...things, like earplugs, since Stick. ("Crutches," Stick had said, scornfully. "And they don't really help, do they, Matty?")


So a couple of weeks after Vanessa first suggested "handling" his senses, Matt came to dinner. (Everyone understood this to be a night of truce, in the uneasy peace that they were making for themselves; at least, until about two in the morning, which was when Matthew usually woke up enough to get uncomfortable and leave.)

He was uneasier than normal. Distracted; unable to focus. She wound up raising her eyebrows at Wilson halfway through the meal: was there some disaster taking place, outside the penthouse, that might have set him off his game? but Wilson shook his head, so slightly: no. Their boy was just a mess. (Their boy, Vanessa thought: oh, dear.)

"What time is it?" Matt asked, finally.

"Quarter of seven," Wilson said. "If there's somewhere you need - "

"No," he said, faintly, and wiped his mouth with a hand. "I. No. I."

**

"Oh." She didn't meant to let it slip out, and she certainly didn't mean to let it slip out in such an - obviously hungry, intent tone, but. But Matthew had brought earplugs.

"You said. You'd. I'd." He licked his lips; his breathing was already visibly unsteady. "If you." He shook himself, and sniffed, once, and said: "I need to make a call by nine, and I want my hands free."

Wilson walked to Matt's side, slow and careful to telegraph his movements, and tilted his head up, and kissed him. Matt melted into it, which was a sign of just how serious this was: he rarely lost himself in physical affection before an orgasm. He came out of it a little steadier, it looked like: Vanessa met Wilson's eyes. It wasn't ideal; to think that he'd surprised them! but at the same time, he might not muster the courage again, and she did hate to say no to him.

"Yes," she said, and "yes," Wilson said, and Matt looked like he would fall down.

"Just," she said, softly, "just let us take care of you, sweetheart."

Matt buried his face in Wilson's shoulder.

**

He'd been half-hard before they managed to get him undressed, and it had been distracting enough that Vanessa had found herself without a concrete plan: it was so rare to see him so undone, this quickly.

Wilson had stepped in, though; he'd pulled Matt to sit on his lap, straddling his thighs, one arm tight around his chest to hold him up.

"Matthew," he said, close to Matt's ear, "what are your words?"

"Green yellow red," Matt said, automatically, "but will I need them if you two are just going to sit and stare all night?"

**

He'd started panting for air when he'd put the plugs in, and he'd clutched at Wilson's forearms like a drowning man, and she'd watched his cock swell and twitch even before she kissed him, started tracing careful and delicate patterns on his body. He was moaning on every exhale, and breathing fast: Matt was generally vocal in bed, but equally stubborn about covering his own mouth with a hand or a forearm, to muffle the noise. This time? She licked his pretty cock and all that self-control vanished. He twitched and yelled and clung to Wilson's hands and curled his feet under Wilson's shins like he was holding on for dear life.

It was extraordinary, and beautiful, and when she bit a nipple and he made the closest noise to scream she'd ever heard from him (including the time she'd seen him take a three-inch knife to the thigh), she tapped his thigh, three times, and pulled away. He was gasping like he was dying.

"What," he managed; she nodded and Wilson pulled the earplugs out. "I didn't tap out," he said. Slurred. Cracked. "I."

"I did," she said, and cupped his face with her hands.

"What did I -? No, I can do better," he said.

"You're doing so well already," Wilson said. Matthew groped behind him, caught Wilson's head, leaned back for a kiss; there was a shock. He so rarely initiated physical affection: oh, Vanessa thought. We have you, sweetheart. And then, more troubling: and I want to keep you, I think.

**

She brought him water.

His hands shook; Wilson helped him drink a cup, and kissed him again, and bit at his throat.

She straddled Matt, angled him into her body; he lasted less than two minutes.

**

She passed him his phone at quarter to nine. He'd slumped into a dozy half-sleep, curled up on the big bed, and when she reminded him, he jerked to attention. "Oh," he said. He called a number. "Yeah, it's - it's fine," he said: he didn't sound quite so slurred, anymore.

**


It wasn't unusual per se for Matthew - or more specifically Daredevil - to miss an appointment, but it wasn't usual for Matthew to miss an appointment when Daredevil hadn't gotten in the way.

(Vanessa felt particularly put out: she'd been discussing the...possibilities, with Wilson, what it might look like a few years down the road, because Matthew was young and (hopefully) not likely to die any time soon. And the idea of such a lovely young man on his knees, the clean strength of him displayed prominently, but only for them - well.)

Once it was clear that he was half an hour late, she'd checked CNN (and Stark's twitter, unfortunately, because sometimes that was a problem) and a few other citizen journalists that she followed, and Wilson had checked his phone. Sometimes the trouble Daredevil got into wasn't the sort of thing covered live by journalists, citizen or otherwise. Still - no, she'd said, and he'd shaken his head, thoughtful, a little concerned: not unusual, but not...typical.

After an hour, Wilson was sure (and Vanessa was almost sure) that Matthew wouldn't be joining them that night: she felt...like she wanted Wilson to reassure her. "If I asked, darling," she said, leaning over his shoulder without actually focusing on his phone. There were some things that should remain private, even between man and wife. "I want to know our lost lamb...remains in one piece, shall we say?"

He shrugged, uncertain, which - was what left her unsettled, uneasy in her own skin. "I can. I can get people. To observe," he said, stilted, more uncomfortable than he'd been in a while, when they were alone: "but. It would make my interest. Clear."

"Ah," Vanessa said, and forced herself to make the choice: "never mind it, then." (Was she protecting him? ridiculous - and yet.)


**

There were certain aspects to the situation - that had now been going on for months - that Matt wouldn't call beneficial in a hundred years. Thinking of this kind of thing as okay was the kind of process that led to you holding a last stand with a rifle in an access tunnel, singing some song in Russian as you died.

It sounded noble, but Ranskahov was dead either way, and the people he'd hurt remained hurt no matter what.

Still. It was...easier? Easier, knowing that Fisk - that Wilson - and Vanessa knew who he was and what he did. (Deep, deep down, in the gut-instinct muscle-memory part of his soul, he knew that they were terrible people, and that was comforting: they didn't need protecting, because they had more power than he did.)

At least that's how he'd rationalized it to himself, until he showed up early one night.

He hadn't realized just how badly they'd misjudged his hearing. There was no other reason for the two of them to be - to be talking like that, Vanessa's low sweet voice saying the kind of - the kind of things that Matt had heard a hundred times, by now. From people who were buying and selling people: he knew what human trafficking sounded like. He'd never thought that people would - could - sound like that when talking about Daredevil.

So he'd been stupid.

He'd continued walking past the building, even, on autopilot, cane sweeping out in neat little arcs in front of him. A man bumped him, a woman: he walked another two blocks, without pausing, and ducked into an alleyway to give himself a - a minute to.

It'd be one thing if he'd only been thinking with his dick, but he hadn't just gotten naked, he'd -

- he'd showed them exactly where he was weak, over and over again.

(Stick wouldn't've been so kind in characterizing the situation: Matt knew that god and saints forbid Stick ever heard about this, the sex? the sex would've made him wheeze ugly, disappointed laughter, but the - the fact that Matt had shown them how to - how to deafen him, he'd done that willingly - oh, not even Stick would've been laughing about that fuck up.)

He got home on autopilot. He went home on autopilot, and then he thought about what the things the two of them had been saying, and what they generally meant, and he thought about the power that Fisk had, in this city.

If he wasn't so - afraid, full of that bubbling kind of fear that drove him out of his apartment and into the city, made him do things - he didn't know what would've happened. But as it was, he wound up at Foggy's place, and when Foggy answered the door, surprised and confused, running a hand down Matt's side automatically, checking for the missing blood, the wounds that would've sent him to Foggy's door, Matt said "no, it's not."

"Get in," Foggy said, immediately, big and fussy and surprisingly capable, under it all. (He had a tendency to throw up when exposed to real physical damage, it was true, but he'd get it out of the way and come back, a little shaky, every time: Matt loved him almost as much as he felt guilty for doing this to him.) "What - what happened, Matt, what's wrong with you?"

"I needed to know you and Karen were safe," he said. At some point it would be embarrassing, hell, at some point it would be humiliating, but right now? The deafening, deadening blanket of his own stupidity covered all of that up. "Can you ask Karen to - I just."

"Yeah," Foggy said. "Yeah, I can do that, Matt, we can. I think you should sit down, bud."


**


The next morning Vanessa texted Matthew - because it was unusual, and because his job tended towards the dramatic and unnecessarily violent - and instead of the tidy, grammatically correct and sometimes awkward answers she'd come to expect from someone who used the voice-to-text programs exclusively, he answered "fine busy can't talk rn we should see othrer people forever have a nice life u psycho".

It was extremely uncharacteristic.


**

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

Wait, did they actually betray him? I would be so happy if they didn't. I don't know why but I love them together as a happy couple, with Matt and all of his issues.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

OP - brb, laughing 5ever at Foggy's text message XDDDD;;

This double update makes me incandescently happy, author anon.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

please tell me this is going on ao3 after it's done. i want to treasure it forever... *pets* :3

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

This is the best thing ever. I love you. ♥♥♥

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 3

[(Anonymous)]

Please tell me more is coming soon!

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 4

[(Anonymous)]

"You can say i told you so," Matt said. He tried to smile; it looked like fucking shit.

"Is that a joke?" Foggy asked. "Super not funny if it is, Matt, I am -" he groaned. "Why am I not happy about you breaking it off with those two? I should be doing the dance."

"I can waltz, but my tango is shitty," Matt said. Gave another weak, terrible smile.

Karen said "if you're not eating those eggs, Matt, I will."

"It's not a big deal," he said. "I mean. We have work, and - and it's not a big deal but no one should be alone for a little bit." He sighed. "You were right, it was stupid, can we chalk this up to - to me fucking the wrong people again?"

"You made a bet and it didn't pan out," Karen said, firmly. "That's not the same as - you're not dumb, Matt, god help us if we all have to get judged by the worst people we ever fucked, right?"

Matt shook his head, and smiled, tightly, but seemed content to drop it for the moment. In retrospect, that was the Warning Sign that Foggy should've known better than to miss, but hey: he had been working really hard on staying nonjudgemental and avoiding the dreaded I Told You So, Don't Date The Mob, Murdock.


**


Two nights later, of course, Daredevil went out on a savage fucking spree: the local twitter feed blew the fuck up while Foggy and Karen were still in the office, and when it became very obvious that Daredevil was a) on a sick one, as one intrepid citizen reporter put it, and b) not holding back very well.

this guy's bone is poking out of his arm, someone tweeted.

not a good night for petty crime, guys! someone else tweeted, and #stayhomecriminals started trending, locally.

"Oh god," Karen said.

"I know," Foggy said. "Look, c'mon, I copied his key, let's go wait for him to get back, I guess."


***

"Foggy," Karen said, because she'd been the one to answer the door. Oh no, Foggy thought: he'd been busy trying to force Matt into taking a painkiller, and Matt had been giving Foggy the "I'm a little concussed and definitely feverish, because that's when I get ornery and aggressive" go-around.

"Oh no," Matt said, in the bedroom, and he looked small and miserable, suddenly. "Fuck."

"Right," Foggy said, because he was pretty fucking sure who was at the door, damnit, "I told you so, there, dating the mob was your worst idea this year, stay here, we'll handle it."


**


"I will call the police if you can't leave like civilized people," Foggy told Wilson Fisk's lapels, because jesus god he was huge, damnit.

"No," Karen said; she was smiling, and her lips were terribly thin. Foggy could see the whites of her eyes. "I'm going to start screaming as loud as I can in a minute, because some people can't take a hint."

"Oh for god's sake," the woman - Vanessa? Mrs. Fisk? - said, ho ho, that was rich, her trying to act like she had a leg to stand on or the right to be exasperated.

"Matt's not home right now," Foggy said, and then, because hey, they were probably all going to get murdered anyways, might as well go out with a bang, "and you got - I think the technical term is dumped, so maybe take a hint and kick rocks."

"aaaahhhh," Karen said, very quietly.

"I know," Foggy said, out of the corner of his mouth, to her. Yeah, probably their bodies were never going to be found, but fuck anyone who messed with Matt, was Foggy's unofficial motto.

"I wanted to ensure his...well being," Wilson Fisk said, from approximately ten feet in the air, damnit, why couldn't Matt just date an NBA player or a serial killer or something normal like that, fuck's sake, Foggy thought, desperately.

"I have no idea what you're talking about and he's fine, goodbye," Foggy said, and slammed the door hard, and locked it.

Karen stared at him, in the entryway; they were both breathing too fast, panicking more than a little, and it was - okay, sure, it was technically Matt's fault, but Foggy felt just as guilty about it. He'd been Matt's emergency call for the last few months, and he hadn't ever felt like having the big fight that would get Matt to either leave the creepy mobsters or stop using Foggy as backup, so it was...it was sort of his fault, that it'd gone this far.

"What a dickhead," Karen whispered, very quietly, not that it mattered with Matt awake in his apartment, the guy could hear a mouse fart. Foggy nodded, and then he and Karen were giggling, helplessly, and she slid down the wall til she was sitting on Matt's terrifyingly clean floor. "We're gonna get whacked," she said, still giggling helplessly; Foggy'd wound up shoulder-to-shoulder with her, their ankles touching, while he held her hand and giggled. What a fuck up, yeah?

"You're not going to get whacked," Matt said.

"You! are not supposed to be out of bed, mister," Karen said.

"I'll talk to them," Matt said; he looked hunted, and helpless, and particularly ridiculous with his freshly broken nose and the cotton swabs Foggy had jammed up in there because it hadn't wanted to stop bleeding. "I should. I'm sorry to involve you," and great, there was the guilt, that was absolutely unacceptable. Matt should never feel bad about those two.

"You will not," Foggy said, firmly: "you broke up with them, they can handle it like grownups or they can handle it like criminals, but we're gonna hang out with you for a little bit. Nobody's getting hurt, you don't owe them jack, buddy."

"Yeah," Matt said. His eyes looked suspiciously wet.

Re: Fisk/Matt/Vanessa - Mistaken betrayal 4

[(Anonymous)]

ow, my heart. this hurts in the best way. <3

(p.s., foggy's internal monologue while facing fisk is a thing of beauty.)