#dex fic

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hello! I was wondering if you can do something with dex from zombieverse? I recently finished the show. Maybe like a zombie au version with fluff? Like how they protect each other and like little sweet simple cute actions if that makes sense like when she gets cold etc 😭 I feel like dex is being slept on since I haven't found anything like an x reader. He deserves some love 🙏

hi! hi! hi! thank you, thank you, thank you for requesting him!!!!! I've been wanting to write for him since I saw the show and how hot he was!! I really hope you enjoy this and feel free to request more of him in the future!

summary - the apocalypse strikes out of nowhere while you are shopping, thankfully there's a good-looking man that rescues you and makes you fall for him in a short amount of time.

warning - zombies.

I couldn’t find a gif, the picture isn’t mine:(, divider by @newlips (deactivated)

You thought going out and getting some essentials from the grocery store was going to be fine, what you didn’t expect to see was people being attacked or dragged into the back room with your hand still gripping your bag. “Hey! Hey! What’re you doing?!” You yell, slapping whoever’s hands are on you only to stare wide-eyed at a zombie coming in your direction, a small scream escaping you. “Okay! Keep dragging me! But quickly! We’re gonna die!” 

You both make it into the room, door slamming and you turn to finally look at who it was. Your eyes widen and your jaw falls to the ground. “Holy shit, you’re hot!” If it was even possible, your eyes widened even more, slapping your hand over your mouth as the rest of the people in the room laugh. You quickly bow your head and move over to the table taking a seat. 

Thirty minutes go by and everyone has come up with a plan. You can’t help, but sneak glances at the man in the green tracksuit only to turn away flushed when he continued to catch you. Someone snaps you out of your thoughts with a groan, complaining that they are hungry. “Oh!” You pull your bag up, waving it around as there’s some snacks and drinks packed inside. “I remember packing this in here so I didn’t have to grab a basket. Here.” You hand it over, watching them tip the contents out and go through them, sneakily you grab a bottle and some food before making your way over to the man that saved you. “Excuse me…” 

He turns, staring down at you. “I thought that you might like some before it’s all gone.” You hand the food and drink over shyly. Dex smiles, taking them from you.

“Thank you… I am Dex, by the way.” 

You grin, “Y/n. Thank you for saving me.” You continue to stare into each other’s eyes, only looking away when someone clears their throat. You both turn and pay attention, you feel a soft poke causing you to look over your shoulder and see that Dex is offering you some of his food. You didn’t know it was possible to fall in love so fast. 

“Huh?”

Your eyes widen even more. “Huh?!” Your head whips around, seeing everyone is staring at you with their eyes wide and jaws dropped. “Did I say that outloud?!” The women begin to giggle, covering their mouths before they direct the attention back to their planning. 

Dex taps you again, looking down at you with a gentle smile. Without any words, he offers his drink and you feel yourself become flushed when you realise he’s already taken a sip and it’s like you would be kissing him. You didn’t know what was wrong with you, you had only just met this man and you’ve already confessed your love and now your thinking about kissing him… He was very handsome though. “Thank you… I’m sorry about before…” 

He waves you off and you swear your heart nearly leaps out of your chest as his eyes drift over you, checking you out. Time passes, you and the remaining survivors have made it into a truck, tucked away in the back as two members of the group sit in the front, driving. You shiver, you weren’t expecting to be out all night so you didn’t dress for when it got extremely cold, your head was also drooping to the side from how tired you were, but you didn’t dare sleep. You didn’t want to fall asleep incase something were to happen. 

You don’t notice the recently nominated leader beside you, watching you or that he unzips his green and white jacket until he places it over your shoulders, giving you a smile. Dex pats his shoulder, pulling you closer gently as you rest your head against him. Slowly drifting off into a peaceful sleep, he smelt so good even though you’d been through so much. The group watched as you slept and Dex stared at you with a small smile on his face before looking out and watching for danger. Something inside him wanting to make sure you weren’t in danger. 

You wake when the truck comes to a stop, squinting out you notice there is another truck and a car blocking the road. Everyone gets out and you pull Dex’s jacket closer to you, slipping your arms through the sleeves so that you aren’t so cold. “What’s happening?” You cover your mouth as you let out a small yawn, leaning your head against his arm, subconsciously. 

“We can’t get through unless we move them, but we’ve noticed that this is a delivery truck so we’re going to check for essentials.” You nod, listening to him.

“Why don’t we just drive around? There is enough room?” You look at the road, wondering how you are in a group of not the brightest people. “But we take the delivery truck. We could either fit inside or find a secluded place to look through and find what we might need.” You look up at him, noticing he’s staring down at you with a look of admiration. “What?”

“Maybe you should be leader.” You shake your head with a small smile, “I mean it. We could lead together? I’m sure that the group would allow it.” He nods to himself and you stare at him, this is the most he’s talked this whole time together and you only just realise he talks the most when he’s around you and no one else. 

Lee Si-young appears behind you. “I am happy to give up my position, I didn’t really want it in the first place and you two seem like a better team.” She smiles and before you can think about thanking her, she disappears. 

“Zombies! Quick!” Dex wraps his arms around you, moving you away just in case. You whack him.

“You dumbarse, if you are protecting me, who’s protecting you?” Your cheeks puff out, glaring up at him.

“Shh, get back into the truck.” You comply, something in his tone makes you want to obey him and only him. 

You guys manage to get both trucks and drive to somewhere where it looks safe and secluded before you all begin to search the delivery truck. Dex finds some chocolates and begins to make his way over to you, clearing his throat so you can turn your attention toward him.

“Yeah?”

“Here…” He hands them over, looking down at his feet and your face heats up, a soft smile appears as you gently take them from him and grab his hand, pulling him somewhere away from the group and you sit, pulling him down with you. 

You open the packet and hand him one, your eyes connecting as you both take a bite of the chocolate. Neither of you notice that the group has hidden behind something, heads peaking out as they all watch you with giant smiles on their face.

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[everlastingdreams]

Dropping a quick short list of the Daredevil stuff I've written in the past. Showing my Into My Bloodstream series some love because that thing helped get me into longfics. (And this may be the excellent time with the new show and all.)

Ben Poindexter x Reader : Into My Bloodstream series:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35

Dex x Reader Sugar Crush series:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 Chapter 17 Chapter 18 Chapter 19 Chapter 20 Chapter 21 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28

Foggy Nelson x Reader:

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not.

Daredevil x Reader :

Love Is Blind

The Spanish Disaster

Fight ‘Em ‘Till You Can’t

A Falling Star part 1

A Falling Star Part 2

Hearts On fire

Final Masquerade

Under My Skin

[angellicxx]

rooftop watcher

This is my first ever published fanfic so hopefully its not that bad. I've been obsessed with Bullseye edits recently and just needed to write a stalker fic.

Benjamin "Dex" Pointdexter x Reader

Warning: Dark!Dex, stalker, f masturbation, cumming in pants, dark thoughts, Dex daydreaming and wanting to hurt a guy (he's so precious he would never)

w.k.: 1,300

Summary: Dex loves watching you from a distance, but hates not being able to give the pleasure you deserve from him.

A fresh breeze of the city hit Dex’s face as he adjusted his binoculars. It was the perfect view. It didn’t take him long to find it. He only had to find a building adjacent to your apartment and with a higher outlook. How lucky he was for it to have an unlocked rooftop no one ever went to. It was almost like you were inviting him to watch you, not ever closing your curtains at night. Didn’t you know there were bad people who could see you living all alone? Thats why he had to be there. To make sure you were safe.

It was a late Friday night, and Dex was so proud to see you were staying home tonight, instead of venturing out into the unsafe city where it would be hard to keep an eye on you.

You probably would go out with your girlfriends in a skimpy outfit, that sexy black plunge top and that skirt that showed your ass he loved so much, earning sinful gazes from prowling men in the night who offered you drinks and a night at their apartment. He would have no choice but to watch you blush and smile at them, too drunk to make a decision that was good for you.

If Dex had the courage he would be the man. Instead he had no choice but to come up from behind and leave him bleeding in the alleyway, asking if that man was going to hurt you. Maybe he wasn’t, but he would still earn your thankful praises. A hero in the night. You would be grateful for him and insist on bringing him back to your place. Oh that would be so nice.

But that wouldn’t happen tonight. No, tonight you had chosen to stay in and rewatch that show for the third time. Dex didn’t pay attention to the show, he was too busy adjusting the magnification of the lens to get a better look at your tank top and shorts. They must’ve been new and not worn in yet because they were just so tight.

In the faint glow of your dark room he would see your delicate nipples pushing at the fabric, your breasts stretching the cotton. The sleep shorts riding up your thighs as you mindlessly gazed at the TV under drowsy lids. How cute you were sprawled across your bed sheets for no one else to see but him.

Dex was getting agitated in the soft chill of the night. He deserved to be in the warm bed with you, holding you close as you smiled at the cheesy joke on the screen, caressing your soft exposed skin still fresh from the thirty minute shower you just took. Dex didn’t know what it was that made you switch on, but it snapped him back to his watching when he saw it.

Maybe it was an intimate scene on the television, or a passing thought of him, but a drowsy smirk played on your lips as your hand slowly slid down your chest and slipped down your shorts.

This was going to be a good night for Dex.

You were rubbing slow, soft methodical circles underneath your shorts. Dex prayed you would take them off so he could see your pretty pussy just once. It was unfair how you didn’t even take your clothes off. Dex wanted nothing more to see you naked—unfortunately you only ever seemed to put your clothes on in the bathroom.

Your other hand had dipped under the hem of your tank top, palming at your breasts as your eyes closed to your sensual movements. It only took a few seconds until you began to squirm, legs reaching out as your mouth fell agape to soft moans and whimpers.

His cock twitched beneath his pants, fighting the urge to take it out and stroke himself alongside you. But he resisted. He had to take in every moment. Dex noted to bring a camera next time.

Your hair sprawled out on your pillow, back arching to the pleasure Dex wished he could give you. if only you were kind and gave him a chance— it tortured him to the fact you hardly ever even looked at him.

Dex allowed his hand to fall to his hips, palming at the erection you selfishly gave him. He couldn’t contain his grunts of frustration as you fucked yourself, teasing him mercilessly from a distance.

You were a whimpering mess. How easy you got off, your sensitive self didn’t even need a toy.

He couldn’t take it. But tonight he would contain himself and admire your needy form pleasuring yourself from a distance.

Dex couldn’t stop himself as his hips bucked into his hand in tandem with yours, his dick straining the fabric of his pants as he breathlessly fought to control himself. The form of your hand rutting underneath your shorts was enough to set him off.

He could feel the pre-cum on the tip of his cock, white knuckling the binoculars he thought he would break his damn hand. You were so pretty, lips agape and body shuddering with your struggle to cum. Arms tensing as you fucked yourself all alone. Whimpering to the dark air of your room. Next time you would be moaning his name into his ear as he did all the work for you. He would make you feel as good as he felt right now watching you.

You were close, fingers clutching your tit as you fingers moved faster under your shorts, legs straining to reach the climax he could give you faster. Your index finger was rubbing circles on your nipple from under the fabric, hip bucking into your hand at a faster pace. He could image in the lewd sounds of your moans and slapping of how wet you were. One final cry out and you became undone, falling back onto your mattress as you chest rapidly fell and rose, fingers still lazily drifting around your nerves to let the orgasm ride out.

“Fuck.” Dex breathed out and shuddered in the cold. Cum filled his boxers, sticking to his pants and hips as he gripped the brick boundary of the roof to steady himself. Only you could make him so pathetically mindless to cum in his pants.

Just imagining your tight body clenching aorund him and making him cum was almost enough to make him grow hard again.

When Dex gathered himself again to look back into your window, he was disappointed to see it had become pitch black and you were lost in the dark to him. You must have grown tired from your orgasm and shut the TV off for the night, drifting off the sleep without him. He cursed himself again at how stupid he was to have looked away.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Perhaps tomorrow when you were on your morning run he would follow more closely behind. Maybe he would accidentally bump into you at the coffee shop you like so much and make a comment about the show’s upcoming renewal. The plan was all coming along, just so you could be together. Maybe tomorrow night you could get fucked by him instead of your lonely fingers.

He took one final peak and whispered a good night before he returned home.

“I’ll see you soon, darling.”

[souliebird]

Okay. So.

I keep trying to write this and it's not clicking so. Let's do this as a My brain literally rambling with minor grammar edits. Let's go. ((I'm 🍃))

Hero!Dex!drabble time bby

Dex lives across the hall. You run into each other some times. Small polite neighbor talk if it's relevant. You don't know each other names.

The idea is you are the daughter of an Irish gang boss, with your brother being a high ranking member. You've newly run away from the family and are hiding in Hell's Kitchen. Shady apartment building, cash rent, no names.

Until Bullseye comes back from a rough Daredevil fight at the same moment as you. And you know exactly who Bullseye is.

But instead of panicking, you just go, "Oh shit, hold on, I have field medic training. Do you have a kit?"

And he's just like "Huh? Yes. Okay".

And Dex let's you in. You patch him up without asking anything while Dex tries to not panic.

Then you just tell him to wait a moment and he is like "Okay." Because he knows you know. He should kill you, but you're being nice to him.

He wants to Trust.

And you come back really quick with some left overs being like "Look here, eat this. It's got lots of protein and carbs, you'll need it. Just pop it in the microwave for five minutes, it'll be good. That bowl is microwave safe."

And Dex is just like. "okay. Yes." He likes that you're not asking questions because questions means he'd have to kill you

You're just helping him. A good person.

You leave after that.

Then you pretend it's back to normal but Dex is Dex.

But he's sure to keep his distance this time.

Time passes.

Dex wakes up to banging from across the hall. Early morning. Your door is open. He goes inside. Two men are assaulting you - you're pinned with a knife in your hand, clearly mid-fight with one guy while the other watches.

Dex does not think.

You crawl towards him. He grabs you, takes you back to his apartment, you do not fight him. He starts demanding answers.

You tell him everything.

They were looking for your brother. You haven't seen him in years, even before you left. He's turned into a state's witness and your dad thinks you'd know where he'd hide.

He's right but you'd never tell him that.

Dex looks at you very clearly. Right in the eye and Bullseye asks.

"Does he know anything incriminating about you?"

"Yes."

"Would you go to jail?"

"Yes."

"Do you want your father dead for sending his men after you?"

Pause.

"Yes."

"Okay."

He takes you to a hotel four hours away. He lets you block the doors with furniture. You cried in the car and are just tired now. He waits until you fall asleep. He leaves a note.

You wake up and panic and bit, but the note helps. He tells you he'll be back and you want to Trust that.

He saved you. He wouldn't bring you all this way to kill you. He's Bullseye. You saw him in his weird little Villain costume. He kills people in public like all the time no problem.

He's going to kill your family. He's going to set you free.

He's going to cause So Much Fucking Chaos in the underbelly of the city. It might vibrate all the way back to Cork.

That makes you kind of giddy because they all deserve it. All of them, especially your brother.

But you kinda deserve it, too.

You never hurt anyone. You've never threatened. You don't want to. You were happy to play the naive one because it meant one less criminal. But you know everything. You couldn't stop it.

Your cousin's ex-wife was a mole in the FBI. You'd be dead before you could find a lawyer.

You could very easily pretend to be dead now, though.

It's something to think about when you aren't panicking.

You hate being alone. You are terrified of someone busting in. You sit and watch bad cable for hours bc it's the only way to stay sane.

You don't sleep and you chug bad motel coffee.

Dex comes back after ten hours.

"If I don't tell you anything, you can't use it against me later."

You get it.

"Are you hurt?"

You patch him up with what's in the bathroom.

He bought clothes and supplies on his way back. He insists you go shower first. He doesn't ask why you didn't shower before.

You once again panic at being alone.

He comes in and you end up in the shower together. You keep to yourselves, backs turned. You only talk when he asks if you are finished - he has to move around you to get out.

You are.

You dress . He brought cheap ready to eat food. You both eat that while watching bad cable. You both comment on it and joke.

You still don't know his name.

He lets you push the second bed against the door. You sleep in the same bed, with you closer to the wall. Your head is on his chest.

"Thank you for saving me."

He doesn't reply.

You sleep.

He watches you all night.

And scene.

[evansbuck-ley]

don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby

rating: mature

chapter: 1/10

pairing: bucktommy

will they, won’t they (one day inspired) au

snippet

“How old are you?” Tommy asked cautiously. His thumb came to brush over his birthmark as he stared down into his eyes. “I’m 21.” A groan escaped Tommy’s mouth followed by a laugh as his head dropped.

“Evan, I’m 31; ten years older than you. I was discharged from the Army when you were in middle school.” Evan’s hand came to grab Tommy at the base of his neck, pulling him down for a searing kiss, which Tommy willingly complied. “I don’t care.” He whispered against his lips. His right leg came to hook around Tommy’s waist, pulling him down until they were flush together. Taking advantage of the leverage he had, he rolled his hips against Tommy's, pulling a delicious, deep groan from the older man’s throat.

Begrudgingly, Tommy untangled himself from Evan and pushed himself up so he was sat on his heels in between his legs. He looked down at him for a moment, taking in the beauty that was Evan. From his thick thighs, his heaving chest that had a pale pink blush blooming across it, his kiss-swollen lips that were parted and practically begging for more, all the way to his eyes; his pupils so blown the blue couldn’t hardly be seen.

A sign escaped from Tommys lips, his hands coming to run down Evan’s thighs before stopping at his hips, gripping onto them tightly. “We shouldn’t do this.” He felt the regret flood over him immediately, stopping was the last thing to do, but he knew it was for the best.

read the rest here

taglist below:

@swagmaster9k @music-is-the-voice-of-the-soul @911-is-my-emergency @louisferrignojr

@bidisasterevankinard @nydoorin-lionett @bisexualbrainrots @mmso-notlikethat @thrivingonariff @thestrangestthlng @brokenpiecesof

@dangerouscupcakeperfection @911coded @tevantarlos @loucifersbitch @awkwardcoffeebean @de-lphic @sherlockismarvelous9-1-1 @kinardbuckleys @dana077 @typicalopposite

@actuallyitsellie @cull3nblaze @rosyhoneydew @bybobbysbeard

[teenagegirl-forever]

i love them i want to keep them in my pocket 😭😭

[midasx9]

i keep thinking about marella losing her two closest friends after dex and sophie got kidnapped. i don't know maybe i'm insane

[front-facing-pokemon]

[murderofravens]

the lack of matt and dex fics is so disappointing how can i blame this on character ai and people not reblogging fics

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐈𝐍-𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 (𝐃𝐄𝐗) 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓:

 ♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐚 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐲𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤 ♡

summary - the apocalypse strikes out of nowhere while you are shopping, thankfully there's a good-looking man that rescues you and makes you fall for him in a short amount of time.

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[thekeeperkidsadoptivemom]

so like, everyone on the council hooks up, right? otherwise what’s the point

[horribleprotagonist]

my favorite dex headcannon ever is that he has a peanut allergy. that's my stupid guy, he'll die if he eats a reeses cup

[ambernotember]

911/omgcp crossover🏒 🏒 🏒 (for @herrmannhalsteadproduction, because I mentioned it and then I wanted to share some of it)

Will knocks on the office door. “Captain Nash?”

The man at the desk looks up at him and smiles. “You must be William. Come on in,” he gestures to the empty chair across from him. “Let’s get the paperwork finalized and then we’ll give you a tour of the place.”

Will flips through the paperwork, adding his signature in the appropriate places and putting aside the copies he’ll need to keep. He pauses on the one labeled “Food preferences and allergies”.

“Um, I understand why you’d want a copy of allergies, but why food preferences?” Will asks.

Captain Nash smiles. “We do a lot of family dinners here. I’d hate to make something you couldn’t eat.”

“Oh, uh,” Will can feel his ears getting hot. “Well that’s - that’s kind. Um,” he clears he throat a little bit before continuing. “I actually cooked a lot for my team in college, if you ever need some help.”

Captain Nash’s smile gets bigger. “We’ve got everything covered for this shift, but I’ll definitely get you started next shift. It’ll be nice to have some extra hands around.”

“I also bake,” Will says before he can stop himself.

Nash laughs. “We are lacking in the baking department. You might get put on permanent duty.”

They sit in a comfortable silence while Will finishes the paperwork, double checking the two piles and storing his copies safely in his duffle bag.

“Let’s get you set up with a locker and introduce you to the rest of the team,” Nash says, clapping him on the shoulder as he guides him out of the office.

“Sounds good Captain Nash.”

He laughs again. “Please, just call me Bobby. We’re not that formal here.”

”Pretty much everyone calls me Dex,” Will offers.

Bobby’s eyes crinkle. “Buck’ll be disappointed you came with a ready-made nickname.”

”Sorry…?” Dex replies.

“It will save a whole shift of possibilities. You’ll be glad.” He points to the cubbies they’ve stopped in front of. “Here, your gear will be in the last one in the row. We don’t have a new nameplate yet, but the team knows it’s yours. Locker room is just through here, you can grab any of the empty ones.”

— — —

“So, how was the first shift?” Derek asks as soon as he walks into the house.

“Long, busy, but good. The team is really nice, they’d remind you a bit of our team.” Will flops down onto the couch and accepts the coffee Derek hands him.

“Loud and codependent?”

Will snorts. “Surprisingly accurate. Chim’s even married to Buck’s sister so some literal family connections there.”

“Chim?” Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“Chimney – not his real name, and no, I don’t know why they call him that — yet.”

“That’s gotta be a good story, let me know when you find out.” Derek sits down next to Will with his own coffee and a plate with two pastries on it. “I went on an adventure while you were at work, try these out.”

[i-find-the-beauty-in-chaos]

aight im currently trying to write a abo dexmatt fic. lemme know if anyone is interested

[filmholicrose]

"Three Shades of Mercy"

Exploring the cost of believing in monsters.

Pairings: F! fbi agent x Matthew Murdock - F! fbi agent x Benjamin Poindexter

Summery: Framed by the man she’s hunting and betrayed by the agency she trusted, FBI profiler Avery Quinn goes rogue to expose Wilson Fisk’s hold over the city. But her investigation puts her on a collision course with Daredevil—a vigilante she believes is working for the enemy. Their alliance is tense, electric, and far more dangerous than anything in her case files. Then there’s Matt Murdock—quiet, principled, magnetic. A man who sees past her armor. As her loyalty is torn between two men with the same face, Avery refuses to abandon a third: Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter, the broken colleague-turned-killer whose darkness she still believes can be undone. Even after everything.

Important: Set during Daredevil Season 3 and stretching into Born Again, this series follows Avery—an original character, fully fleshed out and central to the narrative. This isn’t an x-reader fic. It’s a longform, character-driven story with canon rewrites, emotional chaos, and lots of pain. Buckle up.

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four.

The rain had started an hour ago—light at first, almost polite. Now it slammed against the pavement like a threat, soaking Avery Quinn through her trench coat and into the threads of her patience.

She stood just outside a diner in Hell’s Kitchen, watching the reflection of her own face in the glass. Her hair was pulled back, sharp and severe, the way she always wore it when everything else felt like it was unravelling. Inside, agents from the New York field office laughed over coffee. Three of them. All ones who used to nod at her in the hallway. All ones who now pretended she didn’t exist.

She didn’t go in. She didn’t need the performance. Not tonight.

The Bureau had quietly suspended her three days ago. No press, no hearings—just a whisper campaign and file sealed with administrative leave pending internal investigation. That’s what the letter had said. They'd tried to bury her while smiling to her face. And Avery had smiled right back. Because she knew Fisk was behind it.

And he’d made one mistake. He didn’t kill her.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket—She glanced down. Nadeem.

She sighed, thumbed the green icon, and brought the phone to her ear. “Don’t say it,” she said before he could speak.

There was a short pause. Then the quiet smile in his voice. “I wasn’t going to.”

“You were.”

“I was going to ask if you’ve eaten. But sure, let’s skip to the argument.”

She almost smiled. Almost. “I had coffee.”

“That’s not food, Avery. That’s anxiety in a cup.”

“Sounds appropriate.”

“Tell me you’re inside somewhere. Please.”

Avery exhaled, her breath fogging the inside of the collar she hadn’t pulled up. “Define inside.”

“A place with walls. A roof.”

She looked up at the grey sky and scrunching her nose. “Nope.”

“You shouldn’t be out,” he said, softer now. “Especially not like this. They’re still watching you.”

“I know.”

“Avery…” Ray sighed softly, a sound full of worry and too many long nights. “You need to stop. You need to breathe. Just for one day.”

“I’m breathing,” she said flatly.

More silence. More rain. She could tell he’s agitated.

“They’re not going to find a solution fast,” Ray said gently. “Internal investigations move slow. That’s the point. It gives people time to forget the headlines.”

She didn’t say anything. Just shifted her weight against the brick wall behind her, fingers tapping idly at her thigh.

Ray softened his tone further. “You’re not on trial. You’re on leave. That’s not the same thing.”

“They took my clearance,” she said quietly. “They locked my files. My notes. My name’s being whispered like a virus. Don’t tell me I’m not already guilty.”

“Come on,” he said. “You know how this works. They do this to buy time. To look clean when it hits the press. But they’ll clear you.”

“And if they don’t?” Her voice cracked—barely, but enough for Ray to hear it. “They did this to Ben and now I’m being framed we are going down one by one. If Fisk keeps tightening the screws? If they bury me completely for getting too close?”

There was a long pause. Then, softer: “Avery, we don’t even know it’s him yet.”

“Yes, we do.” Her words were sharper now, biting the air.

“I won't just sit in my apartment pretending I don’t know what’s happening. Fisk’s people are moving.”

There was silence for a beat. Just static and the soft thrum of rain against metal on his side of the line.

“You’re not on active duty,” he said finally. “You’re not cleared to follow any of this.”

“I’m not doing it as an agent.”

“Avery—”

“I’m doing it as someone who gives a damn.”

His voice dropped low—gentle, careful. “You’re doing it as someone who's reckless stubborn and trying to get themselves killed.”

That one hit. She looked away from the streetlamp, blinking the water from her lashes. “If he’s behind this… if he’s building something again, quietly, slowly—I have to move now. Before people start getting hurt.”

“Again, we don’t even know if it’s him.”

“You really believe that?” she asked, voice barely audible.

Ray didn’t answer right away. And the hesitation was everything.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” he admitted.

She closed her eyes. There it was—the thing she was most afraid of. The creeping doubt in even the most solid people. If Ray Nadeem was losing his footing, then what the hell was she standing on?

“I know how it feels,” she said, eyes locked on raindrops falling on her shoes one by one. “When something’s rotting and everyone pretends it smells like roses. I know how it feels when no one listens.”

“I’m listening,” he said softly.

She smiled, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Then tell me to keep going.”

He was quiet again. So quiet, she could hear the rain through his end of the line too. Probably standing on his own back porch, phone pressed to his temple, guilt coiling in his ribs.

“I can’t tell you that,” he said finally.

She didn’t expect him to.

“Just… check in,” he added. “Don’t ghost me, alright? Not tonight.”

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

He sighed again, resigned but tethered to her all the same.

“Go home, Avery.”

She hung up.

But she didn’t go home.

Instead, she chased another lead.

The stench hit first—salt, rot, gasoline—seeping through the gaps in the wooden planks and clinging to Avery’s skin like sweat. The kind of smell that reminded her of evidence rooms and wet alleyways, of blood that had already dried before anyone found it.

The docks stretched out in silence, broken only by the distant hum of the city and the soft slap of water against rusted steel. Somewhere behind her, a ship creaked, moaning like it was tired of being forgotten. Avery didn’t flinch. Her body was taut, her muscles burning from hours of motion, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t.

Her boots moved slow and precise across the gravel, her breath steady even as her mind cracked beneath the surface. Twenty-four hours of no sleep. Three days since the Bureau pulled her badge. One week since her name started appearing in whispers—evidence tampering, questionable judgment, emotional compromise.

They hadn’t arrested her. Not yet. But they’d done worse.

They told her to stay home. To rest. To let them handle it.

So naturally, she found herself breaking into a shipping dock on the edge of Hell’s Kitchen with nothing but a 9mm and the bitter taste of betrayal still on her tongue.

Fisk was moving something tonight. She didn’t have the details—no paperwork, no surveillance footage. Just a breadcrumb trail of encrypted burner texts, a half-corrupted shipping manifest, and a gut feeling she hadn’t learned how to ignore.

She reached the edge of the warehouse and froze.

Movement.

Not loud. Not clumsy. But there. Just enough to make the hair at the back of her neck rise.

Avery didn’t speak. She moved instead, gun already in hand, safety already off. The door creaked open an inch, and that was all she needed. She slipped inside, the darkness swallowing her whole.

Then—he moved.

She pivoted hard, arms steady, and aimed dead center his scarf covered forehead.

“Move a muscle,” she said coldly, “and I swear to God, I’ll put a bullet in your skull.”

Daredevil didn’t speak. He didn’t raise his hands. Just stood there, motionless.

His head tilted, almost curious. Like he was listening to something only he could hear.

That made her stomach knot.

“I know who you are,” she said. “You hang bodies from rooftops and call it justice. You show up where you’re not supposed to and pretend, you’re different from the filth you chase.”

Finally, he spoke.

“You don’t belong here.”

His voice was quiet, rough. Not threatening—just... weighted.

She stepped closer, pressing the barrel of the gun against his chest now. No fear. Just fury.

“Neither do you.”

There was a pause. And then, gently—too gently:

“I’ve heard about you, Agent Quinn.”

Her jaw clenched.

“You were,” he said. “Until someone decided you were too close to the truth.”

The words hit like glass beneath her ribs.

She hated that he knew. Hated that everyone knew. Her downfall had become a public chew toy, passed around like gossip, dissected by men in suits who didn’t care how much she'd bled for that fucking badge.

Behind her, deeper in the warehouse, someone clicked the safety off a gun.

Avery heard it the same moment he did—but Matt’s head had already tilted a fraction toward the sound.

They had seconds.

“This isn’t the fight you need to be having right now,” he murmured.

Avery didn’t move. Didn’t even blink. She didn’t trust him—but she trusted the sound of a safety being cocked in the shadows. That was universal. And it was closing in.

She could feel the twitch in her palm, the familiar tremor of adrenaline building in her spine.

“Walk away,” he said, low and deliberate.

She hated that he sounded calm. Like he’d already figured her out. Like he knew she’d stay.

“I’m not walking away,” she said.

Daredevil took another step forward. His voice dropped an octave, smooth steel wrapped in warning.

“Then put the gun down, Agent Quinn. And I’ll make sure you don’t end up in a body bag tonight.”

Avery exhaled sharply through her nose, frustration flaring in her eyes. She hated ultimatums. Hated that he was right. Hated that, deep down, part of her didn’t want him to leave either.

If she were doing this the dirty way—if she ever let go of the rules the Bureau drilled into her bones—these were the kinds of people she’d be working with. Or against. Masked men with fists like sermons and voices full of war. Ghosts in the system. Vigilantes with blood on their hands and just enough righteousness to sleep at night. She wasn’t like them. Not yet. But standing in a dark warehouse, tracking shadows and lies with no badge on her hip and no backup in her ear—she wasn’t sure how far off she really was

“I’m not putting the gun down,” she said finally, voice low. Controlled. “But I’m also not dying tonight.”

And she moved—fluid, trained. A step back, pivoting behind the nearest stack of crates. Not full concealment, but enough to take cover and reposition. Her body tensed in a defensive stance, shoulder to the wall, gun aimed between the masked man and the dark mouth of the warehouse corridor.

She didn’t trust either of them.

Her finger rested on the trigger like it belonged there. A breath in. Hold. Out.

Daredevil didn’t stop her. Just turned, mirroring the shift in her stance.

Five men burst from the shadows—fast, tactical, armed to kill. Their guns rose in unison, aimed with practiced precision.

Daredevil didn’t wait. He moved like lightning striking pavement—sudden, violent, beautiful in a way Avery refused to acknowledge. His arm lashed out, knocking the first weapon sideways just as it fired. The gunshot shattered the stillness, burying itself harmlessly into the steel of a nearby crate.

In one fluid motion, he twisted the man’s wrist, disarming him with surgical ease, then drove an elbow hard into his ribs. The man folded with a wheeze, crumpling to the ground.

Avery stayed frozen for half a breath, eyes narrowing. These men weren’t waiting on a ship. They were here for this.

That realization clicked into place just as her gun slid back into its holster. Instinct. Clarity. She didn’t even think—she moved.

One of the attackers raised a crowbar, swinging for Daredevil’s head. Before he was about to duck, Avery intercepted without hesitation, her hand snapping out to seize his wrist mid-swing. She yanked him off balance, her body already turning with the force.

A knee to the gut—sharp, brutal.

An elbow to the head—clean and final.

He stumbled, weapon clattering to the ground. But the second Avery entered the fight, something shifted—and not the way it should have.

It wasn’t just tactical. It wasn’t just instinct.

It was intentional.

The moment she moved into view, one of the men locked eyes with her—and for half a second, his expression cracked. Recognition. Not surprise. Not confusion. Recognition.

And then all three of them adjusted. Not just repositioned—recalibrated.

They moved with the kind of purpose you don’t waste on backup. Their lines of fire shifted with brutal precision, their formation tightening around one new objective: her.

Avery didn’t understand it yet—didn’t know her face had been passed down through back channels, that Fisk had quietly labelled her a problem that needed to disappear. But her instincts screamed it anyway. Something about the way they moved. The way they wanted her.

She wasn’t a complication to neutralize. She was the mark.

And that realization hit her harder than any bullet.

Her pulse kicked, but her movements stayed sharp. Feet planted, heart steady.

This was a trap and they had come here to kill her.

And she still had no intention of dying.

The first two men broke off from Daredevil without hesitation, making a beeline for her like a pack executing a plan. The remaining three stayed on him—not to kill, but to slow. Hold him down long enough to finish her off.

Fisk didn’t send amateurs.

A sharp jab landed clean against her ribs, knocking the air from her lungs. She barely had time to process the pain before the next strike came for her side. She twisted just in time to dodge, but another blow caught her hip, throwing her balance off for a second too long.

She didn’t fall.

She planted her foot, gritted her teeth, and retaliated.

Her fist cracked hard against a jaw, sending one of them stumbling back. Another attacker lunged. She ducked beneath the swing meant to take her out and caught the first man’s punch mid-air, twisting his arm until his knees buckled—only, he recovered faster than expected, surging back up before she could finish him.

Her breath came sharp and focused, pain pulsing at her ribs, but her form held. Her body moved on muscle memory. Her training was second nature. She could hold her own.

She would.

But they weren’t trying to subdue her.

They were trying to end her.

Daredevil heard it. The sharp intake of breath, the shift in boot weight, the ugly thud of a punch landing too close to the sound of her heartbeat. He heard her recover, adjust, keep fighting—but the pace of it, the way they converged on her like hounds closing in.

Not tonight.

One of the attackers lunged with a knife, the blade singing through air. He caught his wrist mid-swing, yanking it wide. With a hard twist and a calculated pull, he flipped the man sideways, cracking him against the edge of a shipping crate. The man choked, stunned—and Daredevil drove a final knee into his throat.

One down.

The second came faster, heavier. Tried to overwhelm with brute force.

He let him.

He dropped low, anchored himself, and at the last second pivoted, throwing the man over his shoulder. The landing sounded like a car wreck. He didn’t wait—he slammed an elbow into his skull before he could recover.

Two.

Avery’s ribs screamed with every breath, but she moved through the pain like a switch had flipped—like the world narrowed into combat geometry and target priority. She didn’t fight pretty. She fought smart.

One of the men came at her fast—too fast. But she ducked low, sweeping his legs out from under him in one brutal arc. As he hit the ground, she didn’t hesitate—drove her knee into his throat and silenced him. jammed her elbow back into his solar plexus. He doubled over, and she followed up with a sharp, calculated strike to the side of his head. He dropped like a marionette with its strings cut.

Three Down.

Another lunged without warning, swinging wide. Sloppy. Rushed. She sidestepped fast, let his weight carry him past her, then drove the heel of her boot into the back of his knee with pinpoint force. He dropped with a curse, off balance and disoriented—but not out.

She didn't give him time to get up.

Avery grabbed him by the collar, yanked him forward, and slammed his head into the edge of the crate hard enough to rattle her knuckles. He went limp.

Then—click.

Daredevil turned toward the sound.

A gun cocked. Not aimed at him.

At her.

The world narrowed to that one heartbeat. Hers.

He moved faster than thought.

The shot rang out—but the bullet never met its mark. Daredevil was already there, his arm knocking the shooter’s wrist off target. The shot whined wide, embedding itself in metal. The gun hit the ground a second later, followed by its wielder.

Five.

Then—silence.

Just the ragged breathing of unconscious men.

Daredevil stood still; his knuckles ached. Blood—someone else’s—spattered his clothed forearm.

Across from him, Avery straightened, chest heaving, hand still near her weapon. Her lip was bleeding. One of her sleeves torn. Eyes locked on him.

He exhaled through his nose. Around them, the city fell eerily still. Just the hum of distant traffic and the slow lap of water against the docks. But underneath all of it, he could still hear it—her heartbeat. Steady. Fierce. Not panicked.

Not afraid.

Still standing. That was something.

He turned toward her, head tilting slightly as he tracked her breath.

“That was sloppy,” he said, voice calm and laced with quiet smugness. Not out of breath. Not even close.

There was no tension in his body now. No urgency. Just that maddening composure she’d already learned to hate.

“I’ve gotta say,” he went on, tone dipping into something smoother, like he was enjoying this more than he should, “for someone with FBI credentials, I expected a little more strategy. Maybe some restraint.”

He feigned consideration, lips curving ever so slightly.

“Then again… you’re on leave, right? No badge. No team.” He let that hang. “No backup.”

Another step. Close enough for her to see the faint cut along his jaw. Fresh. Probably from shielding her.

“That why you’re out here alone?” he asked, voice softer now, threaded with something more pointed. “Trying to prove something?”

The breeze rolled in off the bay, cold and sharp, catching her coat and the loose ends of his voice.

“You’re lucky,” he said, finally. “Fisk is underestimating you.”

Her gaze sharpened.

“They weren’t just moving cargo tonight,” he continued. “They were waiting for you. Watching. If you’d walked in five minutes earlier, I’d be dragging your body out instead of your ego.”

He let it hang in the air like a verdict. Heavy. Undeniable.

“Tell me,”He said, the smirk finally curling at the edge of his mouth, “is this the part where you claim you had it under control?”

Mocking. Curious. Challenging.

Avery rolled her shoulders, wincing as a dull throb bloomed beneath her ribs. One of them had landed a solid hit. She’d feel it tomorrow. But he didn’t need to know that.

Her breath stayed even. Her face didn’t flinch. Everything about her posture screamed neutral. Detached. Like she hadn’t just gone toe-to-toe with trained killers and come out limping.

Inside, though, her mind was already moving—fast. Cataloging movements. Faces. She might’ve ended up another cold case buried under a redacted report.

Her gaze swept the unconscious men scattered across the dock, then shifted to the man still standing. Unshaken. He hadn't even bled.

Her lips thinned, and she exhaled through her nose like a pressure valve easing off just enough.

“You talk a lot for someone who hides behind a mask,” she said coolly, her voice lined with dry dismissal. Not biting. Not rattled. Just unimpressed. "For a coward"

He took a step forward, casual. Like this was a conversation and not a debriefing over six unconscious bodies.

She stepped back.

The motion was instinctual, practiced which stopped him.

“So what now?” she asked, voice clipped, all business. “You prove I’m in over my head, throw some cryptic warning my way, and then what? I’m supposed to be desperate enough to grab whatever lifeline you dangle next?” She stared him down.

He huffed a quiet laugh, low and disarming. He shook his head like she’d just told him something ridiculous. Maybe she had.

“You really think that’s what this is?” he asked, voice steady and unshaken. There was no bite to it—just that maddening calm, like nothing she threw at him could scratch the surface.

He didn’t bristle at her pushback. Didn’t meet her defiance with his own. He just stood there—relaxed, unreadable, like he had all night to watch her try and spin this into something it wasn’t.

“Believe it or not, I’m not here to teach you humility.” He tilted his head, that same tilt she was starting to recognize. A tell. Something just shy of amusement. “That’s just a bonus.”

“Well,” she said, voice flat as glass, “you’re not very good at it.”

The words landed clean, sharp. She watched the flicker of amusement in his expression falter just slightly. Not enough for most people to notice. But she did.

“And for what it’s worth,” she added, her tone measured, almost bored, “you were in over your head too—before I stepped in.”

She let that settle. Didn’t blink.

“You’re fast, sure. But even you can’t be everywhere at once.”

She barely took a step when she saw it—that sudden stillness in him. A tilt of the head, just slight, like he’d caught something in the wind. A vibration she couldn’t hear, but he could.

His expression shifted instantly; the smirk gone.

“Get down,” he muttered.

Avery’s instincts flared. She turned, and a half-second later, the faint rumble of approaching boots echoed from deeper down the dock. Not one or two. More.

Lots more.

Already backing toward the warehouse wall as she glanced back trying to see.

“Six. Maybe seven,” He whispered. His voice was clipped, already calculating. “Different cadence. Heavier steps. Military pattern.”

She didn’t argue. She was already moving.

They slipped deep into the warehouse like shadows, disappearing into the rows of crates and forgotten machinery. The smell of oil and dust was heavier here, but the silence was worse—too still, too waiting.

Avery crouched behind a metal support beam, eyes scanning the dark. Daredevil crouched beside her, close enough that she could feel the shift in the air when he moved. “No shipment, no stash, no deal. It’s a trap” she whispered

He didn’t look towards her when he answered. “They’re here to kill you.”

“Who tipped you off?” he asked, his voice low but steady.

She didn’t answer right away. Her mind flipped back, “Son of a bitch,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “We need to get the fuck out of here,” she said finally, her voice calm but edged with urgency. “There’s too many.”

He nodded once.

The footsteps were moving inside now. Closing in.

She exhaled through her nose, steadying herself. “Let’s move.”

Avery took point, her sidearm drawn low as she moved between stacked shipping crates and rusted shelving. Her steps were fast but silent, every movement deliberate. She didn’t hesitate—she couldn’t. The footsteps behind them weren’t just searching. They were coordinated. Daredevil stayed close, a half-step behind, listening. He tilted his head, catching the rhythm of boots against concrete, the subtle scrape of a rifle brushing metal. “Two by the north entrance. One on the catwalk above us. More coming in from the loading dock.” Every time she started to veer left, he’d stop her with a quiet, “Two that way. Wait,” then motion her toward a different path—always one step ahead. She hadn’t seen anyone. Hadn’t heard a damn thing. But he had. Somehow. Her eyes flicked to him; breath tight in her throat. She didn’t really have a choice but to listen. Avery glanced at the layout ahead—an old gantry ladder, a shadowed access corridor, and at the far end, a cracked emergency exit sign glowing faintly red. “That door lead anywhere?”

“Alley. Then rooftops,” he said.

“Then that’s our shot.”

They moved. Quick, precise. Avery kept her gun up, her breath steady, eyes scanning corners, reflections, movement. She paused at the base of the ladder.

“Catwalk guy?”

“Left side. Thirty feet. Watching the main floor.”

Avery moved without hesitation.

Like a shadow she moved fast behind the man—too close. Avery raised her gun—but didn’t shoot. Instead, she struck out, the butt of her weapon slamming hard into the side of the man’s head repeatedly as her arm wrapped around his neck.

He dropped like a stone.

She caught him mid-collapse, arms straining as she tried to lower his weight without a sound. But he was heavier than he looked—dead weight, and her balance was beat from earlier. Her breath hitched as his body started to slip—

Then another pair of hands was there.

Daredevil moved in silently, smoothly, catching the man from her grip. He eased him the rest of the way down with practiced ease, laying him on the cold floor without so much as a scuff. One breath, two—quiet. No one else seemed to have noticed.

They moved in sync now, neither speaking, just shadows slipping between crates and broken-down pallets. Every step calculated. Every breath held just long enough.

The exit loomed ahead—a rusted side door, half-swallowed by ivy and grime. Avery reached it first, checking the angle, the alley beyond. Clear.

She looked over her shoulder. Daredevil was already slowing to a stop, just a few paces behind her. He didn’t move to follow.

Then she slipped out the door, gone into the night without looking back.

By the time she hit the street, he was already gone.