Lay (Loki's version)

No but seriously I just found out that Wilson Bethel has a character who is a nerd whaaatt

And there isn't even any fanfic about him (ik ik is not a very popular character, got it, but it's still a shame)

Idk I think I'll start collecting pathetic and shy nerds who are adorable at the same time and make you want to eat their face and bite their cheeks (okay maybe I have a type)

Your theory is that the constant movement he has to make with his arms to throw objects (it's practically his only way of fighting) has caused that annoying pain he now feels in his shoulders, especially the right one.

Your boyfriend stood there frowning, a slight grimace of displeasure creeping across his face as he reached down to the hollow of his neck and massaged it, digging his fingers deep into the flesh.

You lowered the book you were holding and looked up at him. His lips were pressed tightly together, and every now and then he let out a soft, low growl without parting his lips, a sound that echoed in his throat.

"You good?" You asked

"Yeah, don't worry," he replied dismissively, while moving his shoulders up and down and back and forth with the same grimace.

Nope, he wasn't okay.

You sighed and set the book aside. You got up from the couch and walked over to Dex, standing in front of him. You tilted your head slightly to look at him and gently patted his broad waist with your hands.

"Come on, tell me what's wrong." You encouraged him

He snorted, his brow still furrowed. "Fine. It's my shoulders, they feel tense."

"Let me see them," you say firmly.

Dex turns around and you place your hands on his shoulders, pursing your lips appraisingly. When you tighten your fingers, he lets out a low growl.

"Yes, you might have knots," you tell him. "You feel them like a burning pain, right?"

He nods silently several times. You sigh and give him a gentle, affectionate slap on the bottom, at which point he turns around to look at you.

"Alright, lie down on the couch then."

Dex looks at you with a raised eyebrow, somewhere between curious and confused. "It's to give you a massage, come on," you urge him.

Before he could do it, you raise a finger, stopping him. "Ah! But you took off your shirt first."

He offers her a mocking smirk and asks, "Will you help me take it out?"

You knew that no matter how sore Dex was, he was perfectly capable of taking off his shirt himself; he just wanted to tease you. You rolled your eyes with a soft smile and, grabbing the hem of the fabric, slipped it over his arms and head. Now shirtless, your boyfriend lay down heavily with a groan onto the pillows. You moved closer and straddled his rear. Feeling your weight on his lower back, he smiled into the pillow.

You noticed. With a mischievous smile, you brought your index finger to his cheek and poked it a few times. "Hey, don't get your hopes up, it's just a massage."

Dex chuckled with a grin, resting his cheek on the cushion and turning his face away to avoid suffocating. You got to work and placed your hands on his broad back. But first, you traced the scar of his spine from top to bottom. You felt his body tremble slightly with a shiver as a low grunt echoed in his throat.

"Are you going to massage me or teasing me?" he murmured hoarsely.

You giggled softly, "Why not both?"

Many sarcastic, witty, and suggestive replies raced through Dex's mind, but he refrained from saying them. He simply sighed patiently and let you work. You planted your palms firmly on his shoulder blades and applied a little pressure, sliding them upward toward his shoulders. You began to knead his muscles like a cat. He let out a shaky sigh of relief and satisfaction. Your fingers dug in as well, as if you were digging them into sourdough.

"Mmh yesss~ right there" he groaned, slurring his words

You could feel Dex melting like ice cream beneath your palms. His tense, aching muscles seemed to loosen like knots. You traced circles all over his back as if you were molding a figure from clay. Beneath you, he seemed to have transformed into putty. He babbled about how good your hands felt on him and sighed, moaned, or even whined.

But while he relaxed, your arms and hands cramped from massaging him so much. The result was that when you finished and got off Dex, your hands felt fatigued. He sat down on the couch with a more relaxed, even happy, expression. His eyelids were slightly half-closed, as if he'd just come from a spa. In contrast, you were huffing and puffing, moving your hands and arms with a grunt and a frown.

He noticed it and, getting up, asked you, "What's wrong now?"

"Ugh, my hands hurt now, you had so many knots." You respond with a grimace

Without wasting any time, and with a crooked smile, he takes both your hands and brings them to his lips to kiss your knuckles.

"Do you want me to return the favor?" he asks.

Yes. Now you're the one who needs a massage. You nod with a pout and he lets out a soft and amusement chuckle.

But little by little, Bullseye started crossing your path—well, and Matt's too. You knew from him that the guy was persona non grata, and they had a rather strained relationship. And you didn't blame him. The man wasn't in his right mind. He'd murdered Foggy, and now he was going after Fisk and Vanessa. He called it "balancing the scales" or something like that.

But to be fair, you'd have to say it all started when he got out (or rather, escaped) from prison. Matt was frustrated because that meant he was going to go after Fisk, and he couldn't allow that. The death of the now-mayor of Hell's Kitchen would mean total chaos. Every night, you and Daredevil met on the rooftops of buildings, protecting the city. The problem wasn't just that Poindexter was out there carrying out his revenge, but also the anti-vigilante operation that Fisk had created.

Right now Matt was crouching on the terrace near you, his ears listening for any movement or heartbeat.

"He's an idiot..." you heard him mutter, chewing the words. "He doesn't realize that killing Fisk will only prove him right."

Of course, he was talking about Bullseye. Hearing his comment, you could already imagine how Wilson's people and men would reinforce the anti-vigilante law and the army. People would stop trusting people like you, and there would be a cop on every city perimeter. Everything would be worse, even worse than it was now. You didn't say anything, you just sighed and pulled up the bandana you were using to cover your mouth. Daredevil tilted his head gently and subtly, listening to the fabric brush against your skin, then gave a small smile.

"You know, you don't have to hide your face from me" he teased.

You rolled your eyes. Since you'd met him, you couldn't hide your secret identity anymore. He could tell you by your heartbeat. It was unbearably unfair. And quite surprising, actually.

"Shut up, Murdock," you retorted, and he chuckled.

What you didn't know was that Poindexter was closer than you thought. Lurking in the shadows, with his sniper's scope, he was watching you both. In fact, he'd been watching you ever since he arrived. His original plan was to keep an eye on Daredevil so he wouldn't get in his way. But he soon discovered that Daredevil was always accompanied by another vigilante, a female figure he hadn't seen before. His twistedly obsessive mind didn't take long to make a few moves, and overnight he knew your name, your routines, and where you lived. Sometimes he'd even watch you when you were out in civilian clothes, walking with Matt or having a coffee.

Bullseye let out a small smirk and then began to move. From your spot on the terrace, Matt turned his head again, tilting it to the side as he slowly stood up. He'd heard something. You watched him curiously, waiting cautiously. Matt began to approach the edge of the terrace carefully, taking measured steps.

"Bullseye," he began in a low voice before you could say anything.

Matt turned to you, his fists clenched. "He's getting closer. He's heading towards Fisk's boxing event."

"Shit," you muttered to yourself.

That son of a bitch was really going to kill Kingpin. Without wasting any time, he and you both jumped off the terrace and ran through the streets. Daredevil led the way, guided by Benjamin's heartbeat.

"Down the right alley!" he exclaimed as he ran

Their footsteps echoed against the cold, damp pavement, sometimes splashing through puddles. You also began to hear other quick footsteps ahead. Despite the darkness of the night, you could make out a tall, heavyset figure against the city lights. With a grunt, Matt drew his arm back and threw his cane, which struck the man in the shoulder. The man gasped and doubled over. For a moment, he stood still as if catching his breath. You two approached him. But without warning, he whirled around, extending his hands and throwing two knives in your direction. Matt dodged the first, moving swiftly to the side, and you deflected the second knife, which struck your wristband and knocked it away.

The man stood upright, facing you, and you could see him clearly. Bullseye, in his blue suit and balaclava that only revealed his eyes, stared at you as if he could see right through you. He shook his broad, muscular body as if preparing for another attack, though you were powerless to stop him. Then the red devil darted toward a wall, leaped, and, using his driving foot, launched himself at Dex. Dex saw him coming out of the corner of his eye and wrapped his arms around Matt's waist, using his momentum to his advantage. Daredevil spun around Dex's back, planted his feet on the ground, and delivered a knee strike to his abdomen. Bullseye tucked his stomach in to avoid the impact, but still growled irritably.

They continued fighting and throwing punches until you had to intervene. "That's enough!" you yelled, jumping between them and dodging blows to shove Daredevil into his chest with both hands and then kick Bullseye backward. Matt nearly stumbled, and Dex clutched his stomach with one hand, growling. Then, with the other, he pulled off his ski mask.

"One punch to the stomach would have been enough, don't you think?" he muttered through gritted teeth.

Then he stood up straight, frowning, looking at you. He had some bruises and bloodstains. Finally, he chuckled and said, "Hello, Y/n."

You turned pale and frowned, somewhere between confused and annoyed. Another person who knew your true identity, great.

"How...? How do you know my name?"

He smiled slightly, proud and pleased with your reaction. "It's not the only thing I know," he paused as if thinking, then added casually, "By the way, red and black stripes don't suit you. Scarlet isn't your color."

You opened your eyes in surprise and blushed slightly beneath the scarf covering your mouth. You looked away, mortified. Matt, hearing your heart racing, sighed and lowered his head, massaging the bridge of his nose above his mask. You remembered that a few weeks ago you had bought a black shirt with vertical red stripes. The problem was, you hadn't worn it yet; you'd only tried it on once in your underwear in front of your bedroom mirror. That pervert. He'd been watching you. Of course, he'd been a former FBI agent, that's why he knew your real name too. Idiot.

"Enough talk," Matt retorted, and turning to Dex, "I know what you're going to do, and I advise you not to."

Dex now looked at Daredevil, "And since when do I follow your advice...?"

"I'm serious. Killing Fisk and Vanessa won't solve anything," Matt growled, approaching.

Upon hearing Vanessa's name, Dex's nose wrinkled and his jaw tightened. "You don't understand, I'm balancing the scales," he muttered in a steely voice.

You snorted a slightly sarcastic laugh and looked back at him, hands on your hips. That same rant again. "And what's that supposed to mean, huh?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

His eyes met yours, piercing, always staring at you as if he wanted to read your mind. "One good deed. That way everything will be balanced. I've already started with the AVTF, I'll finish with Fisk."

He spoke as if he were talking about finishing household chores, not a massacre. And in a way, there was something good to be found in all this; at least he was killing bad people and not innocents. Daredevil sighed, raising his gaze to the sky, loving his patience. You rubbed the top of your head, unsure what to think or say. Matt pondered for a few seconds what he was going to say. Finally, he spoke.

"If you go there, you can be sure they'll be waiting for you armed to the teeth, you know that, right?" Matt asked, trying to negotiate, since they were clearly going to set a trap for Dex.

Bullseye's grin grew more arrogant, and he snorted a chuckle. "You know who you're talking to, don't you?" he retorted with another question.

Matt gritted his teeth and took a deep breath through his nose, tilting his head gently. After a few seconds, he simply replied, "Fine. Dig your own grave if you want," and with that, he turned and walked away from the alley.

Dex's smile faded slightly, replaced by a confused frown as he narrowed his eyes, assessing his words. You stared at Matt in disbelief. You glanced one last time at Bullseye, who returned the look, and without a word, you followed Daredevil, moving away from there. Matt walked briskly, and you tried to match his pace.

"What was that, huh? You're just going to let him go like that?" You asked indignantly, gesturing with your arms.

He stopped abruptly and turned his head over his shoulder. He remained silent for a few seconds, then said calmly, "He'll carry out his plan anyway. He's got that task firmly in his mind. Our mission now is to make sure he doesn't get killed."

With the path clear, Bullseye entered the building where Fisk was finishing up the boxing tournament. The mayor's agents, who had already spotted him, opened fire, but Dex, faster and more agile, threw several knives at them, killing them instantly. Meanwhile, nearby, you and Matt were already running to infiltrate the same building. You probably wouldn't be able to stop Dex from killing Vanessa or Fisk, but you might be able to stop them from killing him. The closer you two got, the more soldiers you had to take down.

Now Dex had Fisk's wife in his sights. His dark eyes drilled into her with hatred. He picked up a small crystal figurine. He twisted his torso, throwing his arm back, and with a swift motion, he tossed the object. At that precise moment, Vanessa pulled a pistol from her purse and pointed it at Dex. The bullet grazed his abdomen. Before the figurine could reach its target, Fisk destroyed it with his newly won belt from the fight, shattering the figurine into a thousand pieces. But what he hadn't anticipated was that a shard of crystal would lodge in his wife's temple.

The mayor watched in horror as the woman fell to the ground, her head bleeding. Bullseye had finally achieved his goal. An eye for an eye. With a furious cry, Fisk grabbed the gun and aimed it directly at Dex. But before the gun could even fire, Daredevil appeared just in time, throwing his staff and deflecting the bullet. You appeared alongside him, knocking out several AVTF agents and preventing them from firing further. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Bullseye preparing to throw another weapon, this time at Fisk's head. Matt noticed it too. Before he could, as if by prior agreement, you and Daredevil rushed toward Dex and tackled him, wrapping your arms around his waist. He staggered, missing his shot, and the three of you leaped toward a window. The glass shattered, and you crashed to the ground with a thud.

Your shoulder hit the ground hard. A wave of pain hit you, and for a moment your ears rang. With your eyes squeezed shut and a grimace twisted, you groaned and tried to sit up. Matt got up first, helping you both up.

"Is everyone okay?" he asked

"Yeah, I think so" you moaned softly, massaging your shoulder. You hoped it wasn't broken.

Meanwhile, Dex had lost his balaclava and looked quite bruised and bloody, with a wound near his forehead. He was growling like an animal and clutching the side of his abdomen where he had been shot. Suddenly, Matt tilted his head sharply like a dog. The AVTF officers were getting closer.

"We have to get out of here"

With Dex on their backs, they ran toward the tunnels to escape. Although "run" was a bit of an exaggeration, since Bullseye moved a little slower and more clumsily than the two of you. And with each step he took, he growled and whined louder, occasionally stopping to lean against the wall. The third time Dex stopped, Matt and you impatiently approached him to pull him along and make him keep walking. But then Dex spoke.

"Do you think she's dead?" he murmured for both of you in a thick voice

You look at him and reply, "I don't know, but your aim never misses, so..." you say, shrugging your good shoulder.

Dex let out an arrogant smirk and snorted a laugh that ended in a cough, clearly delighted that you acknowledged his good aim.

"Well, because if she's dead then the-"

"The scales will be balanced," Matt interrupted impatiently. "Don't you ever get tired of saying that?" he growled, annoyed.

He smiled and stood in front of him with unsteady movements. "You don't understand. When you threw me off that building, I was supposed to die. Four stories, nobody survives that."

"And yet... perhaps that is the grand master plan" Matt finished speaking

Dex snorted a breathy laugh and patted Matt on the face. "Now you're getting it."

"No, don't get it"

"Nobody do.." you whispered, tired

Bullseye saw your friend again. "What happened with Vanessa and your friend Fogg-"

Before he could finish the sentence, Matt's hand was already closing around Dex's neck, slamming him against the wall. Dex let out a gasp followed by a gritted growl as Matt tightened his grip. Instinctively, you jumped forward, startled, arms outstretched, but you didn't stop him.

"Don't say his name. You can't say his name. Do you understand?"

Dex nodded, looking away and focusing on yours with his eyes slightly narrowed. His sly smile had vanished as he realized Matt wasn't playing around and that he'd struck a nerve.

"Tell me you understand," he murmured in a voice that brooked no argument.

"Y-yeah," Dex answered with effort and a weak voice.

Matt let go, and Dex gasped for air. Then his back slid against the wall, and he sat down, his body bent to one side, his jaw clenched and held his stomach. Matt crouched down again, and you did the same to help him. When Dex felt Daredevil's arms around him, he groaned in frustration and tried to push him away.

"No, leave me" he growled like an angry cat

Matt huffed and stood up straight. "You're bleeding," he said breathlessly.

"Yeah, no shit" he answered sarcastically

Matt suppressed the urge to retort sharply, and after sighing again, made another effort to help Dex up, but Dex growled even more angrily and pushed him away. "Get the fuck away from me!"

You approached and placed a hand on his shoulder, testing the waters. "Even me?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.

Dex gave you a tired look, but his face seemed to soften. He didn't respond, so you took it as a sign that he would let you help him before Matt. You grabbed his bicep with both hands and pulled to lift him, or at least try to. Dex grunted with a grimace and pushed himself off the floor, placing one knee on the ground but not yet standing up. You wrapped an arm around his waist.

"First you want to kill me, and then you try to save me? And then I'm the one who needs help?" he said, turning to Matt.

"I'm saving you because I tried to kill you. Perhaps now the penace is mutual..." he said after a pause to think.

You sighed and, in the softest voice you could muster to ease the tension in the air, you said, "Come on, we have to get out of here. First we'll get to safety, and then we'll take you to get that wound fixed." You patted Dex's abdomen, careful not to touch the cut.

He saw the way you were looking at him. Gentle but firm, as if to say: I don't trust you yet, but I won't let you die. Dex stared at you for a few seconds that felt longer than they should have been. Then he lowered his gaze and let you help him. With great effort, you and Matt helped him to his feet. Daredevil grabbed one of his arms, and you grabbed the other, lifting him over your shoulder, and together you dragged him out of there.

To the church

The church exuded an almost harmonious stillness and silence, and if it weren't for the fact that the three of you were being pursued, it would have been just another Sunday mass. It was Matt's favorite place to hide from the outside world and pray. The priest, a young man, was very helpful in assisting you and letting you into God's house. With Dex bleeding profusely and staining the gleaming floor, you dragged him to the pews to sit down and catch your breath.

Dex threw his head back against the bench and sank into the seat, his strength and energy almost gone. He still wondered why the two of them had saved him, especially Matt, given all he'd put him through. Suddenly, he murmured softly.

"You two still have time"

"Have time for...?" you ask in the same soft tone

Dex had his gaze lost on the church ceiling but wasn't really paying attention "to abandon me"

You sighed in frustration and shook your head. You were about to respond with an insult, but you held back out of respect. You were in a church. This time, Daredevil spoke.

"You keep saying that..." he murmurs, a little fed up with Dex continuing to insist that he wants to die.

Bullseye slowly turns his head towards him, tilted slightly against the back of the bench. "And you're still here. Both of you."

He paused to catch his breath. "Murderers, vigilantes, lawyers... it's all the same," he whispered wearily. "We pretend to be something we're not, only to realize later that the truth was always there..."

Then he snorted a laugh, "Brother, we are who we are," another chuckle, then he frowned and began to cough softly.

You leaned forward slightly, frowning, to get a better look at Dex. He was getting worse, weaker. And the bleeding hadn't completely stopped. Suddenly, a knock on the church door startled you and Matt, who both turned their heads sharply toward the noise, except for Dex, who was too busy trying not to lose consciousness. The priest went to open the door while the three of you carried Dex and hid behind the altar. While the priest tried his best to get the AVTF away, without much success, you and Matt tried to come up with a plan and decide what to do. Dex was lying on the floor as a wet patch spread across his abdomen. His eyes were threatening to close.

"Leave me here... let me die..." he said, his voice weaker from blood loss.

Time seemed to be ticking by. You could feel the gears in Matt's brain turning and recording. You looked at Dex with concern and placed a hand behind his head, supporting him gently. The AVTF agents were approaching and were about to enter and search them. Suddenly, your friend sighed in defeat, so vehemently that you could see how conflicted he was.

"I'm so sorry..." He apologized to both of you

He looked dejected; he couldn't even lift his head. You looked at him with a frown, a little confused, but with an unpleasant feeling deep in your heart that he was going to make a decision you wouldn't like.

"Matt...?" You say his name in a cautious voice

He sighs again and shakes his head. He pauses as if the words he was about to say were burning his tongue. "I really tried."

You looked at him, more confused than before, and that bad feeling grew stronger. Before you could say anything, he moved to stand up and walk away. It seemed he was going to leave, and you weren't sure if he would leave with you or without you. Quickly, feeling pressured, you reached out an arm to stop him.

"Whoa, wait, wait! what do you think you're doing?" you whispered in a slightly louder, more urgent tone.

Your friend didn't even turn his head to look at you, but he reluctantly stopped. His body seemed to tremble as if he couldn't truly stay still. At his silence, you lunged again.

"Are you seriously thinking of just leaving me here with him like that?" you asked, looking at him in horror.

"No," he answered quickly and confidently, "only him."

You frowned in indignation and disbelief. You glanced quickly at Dex. His eyes were getting narrower and narrower, as if he wanted to fall asleep at any moment. His eyes were darting around, but he didn't seem to really see you. He was kind of lost. You looked back at Matt, annoyed.

"You can't do this..." you say sharply while still holding the back of Dex's head.

Matt felt the weight of your accusation, and part of him knew you were right, but another part struggled to let go. He no longer saw the point in helping Dex; he didn't even know why he'd done it in the first place. He took a few seconds to think. His chest rose and fell, and his body was tense as he heard the AVTF approaching in the distance. Then, with a grimace, he lowered his head and snorted, turning his head toward you.

"I won't force you to follow me... and I don't blame you if you don't."

And with that, as if he couldn't bear the situation any longer, he ran away before he could change his mind. The last thing he heard was your urgent murmur of "No!" and calling for him back. But he didn't return.

With your heart pounding, you stood there helplessly. Even though you were with Dex, you felt horribly alone. You couldn't believe your friend had done that to you. It was like a treacherous stab in the back. God, you really tried to understand what he was going through. His situation wasn't easy, and you knew the ghost of that fateful night with Foggy haunted him like a shadow in the back of his mind. But you knew him, you knew who that man behind the mask was, and that man never gave up easily, not when he was Daredevil, not when he was a lawyer. Your eyes welled up with tears. At any moment, the AVTF would find you, and even if you fought and defended yourself, they would be too many against you. You looked down at Dex. It was as if he wasn't there. With a wounded man, you felt a greater weight and responsibility. With your thumb, you gently stroked his scalp.

"Sorry..." You barely whispered, not quite sure if Dex had heard you

Meanwhile, Daredevil ran away, escaping into the streets. He knew his decision hadn't been the best, but in moments like this, he sometimes felt the need to just leave everything behind. You knew you wouldn't forgive him for that, but on the other hand, you were free to follow him.

You knew your friend wouldn't go far and that he still would be around listening. So, barely moving your lips as if you were praying, you murmured, "Please, I'm begging you, come back. I can't do this alone... he wouldn't have wanted you to do this."

Suddenly, Matt stopped dead in his tracks. Yes, he had heard you. Of course he had. And your words had hit him like a truck. He leaned against a wall to catch his breath. He wouldn't have wanted you to do this. Matt closed his eyes and sighed in pain.

"Foggy"

Suddenly, a flood of memories of his best friend overwhelmed him, more vividly than ever. How he always advocated for mercy, even for those who didn't deserve it. He even managed to be more forgiving than Matt himself at times. He opened his eyes, and suddenly everything became clear, like the sun breaking through the clouds.

You waited a while, your heart in your throat, hoping Matt would come back. You felt like time was running out. You looked up at the church ceiling as if you could ask for a miracle from some merciful angel who might be listening, while you held Dex closer to you, as if seeking protection. While he emitted moaning, broken sounds as if he wanted to continue protesting but couldn't.

"Please..." You pleaded with heaven, or with whoever could hear you, or perhaps for yourself.

Suddenly you heard footsteps approaching. You lowered your head in surprise, your heart pounding in your chest. Daredevil appeared before you. He stood in front of you and Dex and extended both hands. You smiled, relieved and touched. Bullseye, whose vision was barely focused, reached out and took Matt's hand. You did the same.

Your friend lifted them up and they escaped the church just as Fisk's agents burst in, guns drawn, searching for them. Outside the church, they started walking with Dex's arms draped over their shoulders. You watched with apprehension as he finally lost consciousness. You groaned and went to Matt.

"I hope you have a better place to hide Dex to can heal him," you gasped, exhausted from carrying such a heavy man.

He also panted like a dog. "Yes... but she's not going to like the idea."

Hours later, you and Daredevil arrived at a sort of hidden basement that looked abandoned from the outside, but there was light inside. Matt pounded on the door, almost banging on it. Suddenly, a blonde woman opened it, and when she saw the three of you, her face crumpled in surprise. Then she saw Dex and frowned with hatred.

"A little help?" your friend asked her, hoping she would say yes.

Karen looked at him as if she wanted him killed, and then Bullseye. You knew her. Matt had told you about her, and he, in turn, had told her about you. Although he didn't know your secret identity. Seeing her hesitation, you gave her a pleading look.

"Please..?" You asked soflty

She seemed to hesitate a little longer. Finally, without saying anything, she opened the door wider and let them in. They quickly placed Dex on a stretcher. His unconscious body fell like a heavy sack of potatoes, making the stretcher bounce gently. You sighed in relief at not having to carry him on your shoulders. You quickly glanced around some lockers, looking for something that could be used to treat his injuries.

"Where's the first aid kit? He needs treatment." You looked at all the lockers behind Karen and then at her.

"Yes, Karen. Could you please...?" Matt began carefully.

But she interrupted him, looking at him seriously with her arms crossed, "absolutely not."

Matt didn't seem surprised by her response. She continued, "I'm not going to cure Foggy's killer."

"Karen, please..." Matt said softly, trying to approach her with open arms, but she pushed him away sharply. "No!" she exclaimed, on the verge of a breakdown. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why do you keep helping people who don't care about you and neglecting the people who love you?!"

Faced with Karen's explosive outburst, you remained silent, arms crossed, your back to them uncomfortably, shifting your weight on your feet. Matt stopped trying to argue and convince her; he simply sighed and fell silent like a scolded child.

"What right do you have to bring me the last man I want to see, and on top of that, you're dragging someone else along with you!" she exclaimed to Matt, pointing at you.

The blonde approached your friend and cupped his face, tears of anger and betrayal welling in her eyes. "I know you won't do it, but I can. Let me finish the job; I know how."

At those words, Matt's expression flinched. It shifted from submission to confusion and a hint of offense as he frowned slightly. He knew what she meant. And if there was one thing, one single thing Daredevil couldn't do, it was kill.

"I can't let you do that," he replied in a low voice.

That was the last straw. Karen's expression turned cold and hard as steel. There were no screams or outbursts of fury like before. She simply became serious and clenched her jaw. "Fine. Then sort it out yourselves, I'm done with this," was her sharp reply.

Karen stormed out, slamming the door behind her, which made you jump slightly. The air seemed less tense now, as if all the negative energy Karen carried had left with her. But you still felt uneasy about having witnessed it, as if you were out of place. Matt pressed his lips together, his head slightly bowed. From a distance, he could hear the blonde woman's racing heartbeat. Then he raised his head to look at you.

"Sorry about that," he apologized softly. "Uhm... can... you.." he began timidly, not quite sure if he should ask you to heal Dex.

Realizing that not even he wanted to let an enemy die, you sighed and nodded, "Yes. Yes I can."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "I'll go talk to her. I'll be right back," he said before leaving.

When he closed the door, you immediately turned to see Bullseye. He lay on the cot, his head tilted to one side, still unconscious. At least he wasn't bleeding anymore. You clenched your fists and, emboldened, headed to the lockers. Luckily, it wasn't hard to find the first-aid kit—first door on the left. You went back to Dex and placed the small box on a small table. Your body hovered over his. You decided it was easier to start by cleaning his face, and so you did. You wiped the wounds with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol, cleaning away the dried blood. Every now and then, your fingers gently brushed his features: his cheekbones, his defined jawline, the bridge of his nose. You cupped his cheek to turn his face so you could see the wound on his temple more clearly. Your eyes studied his face carefully. You couldn't say Dex was ugly.

But now came the worst part. Or the most difficult part. Treating the open wound on his abdomen. It wasn't necessarily difficult because you hadn't treated that type of wound before, but because you had to remove Dex's clothing to see it. You bit your lip, uncertain, and your hands hovered over his torso, unsure whether to touch him or not. Finally, after murmuring words of encouragement to yourself, your trembling but delicate fingers began to lift the hem of the top part of his suit, which resembled a thermal shirt. You did it slowly, as if you were uncovering an ancient mummy. The precise moment you exposed the lower part of his torso, a wave of shyness washed over you. You pressed your lips together and continued pulling the tight shirt upward. You slipped it over his arms with great effort and then over his head. His muscles, which had been throbbing to be freed, were finally released. You tucked the torn and stained shirt to one side. And you were breathless. Not only because of the wound, which looked a bit deep, but also because of his muscular build. You knew from Matt that Dex had worked as an FBI agent; you'd even seen a picture of him. But you didn't remember him being this...big.

Without being able to stop yourself, your fingertips gently brushed against his pectorals, his chest rising and falling softly. It was barely a touch, but you thought Dex sighed, or at least that his breathing changed. You closed your eyes and shook your head to clear those thoughts. Focus. Suddenly, the room seemed warmer. With a frustrated groan, you removed the scarf covering your mouth. Now, you sat down in a chair, and taking out a needle and thread and a couple of bandages, you slowly began to stitch Dex up, praying he wouldn't wake up. It wasn't better than proper treatment, but it'd hold out.

A few hours later, you were done, and Matt still hadn't shown up. But that was for the best; you needed a moment to think about everything that had happened. Sitting near a small window, you gazed out, reflecting. When had everything escalated so quickly, and why had you gotten caught up in all of this? Being a vigilante wasn't easy, and you knew it, but running into the killer of your friend's best friend, who also seemed to know you from before, was just too much. You'd often thought about Matt's decisions and whether you would have done the same or something different. He wasn't that different from you, to be honest. Neither of you killed, and what mattered most to you was justice; that's why you became who you are now. But... forgiving your friend's killer. For you, it had been relatively easy: everyone deserves a second chance. But on the other hand, what would have happened if you'd been in Matt's place? If Bullseye had killed one of your friends or even a family member? You probably would have been just as conflicted as Matt, or even more so. Although Dex had shown he was trying to make amends for his mistakes, or as that bastard said, "balance the scales," God, that stupid phrase had him completely fed up-

And speaking of the devil. A lazy grunt pulled you from your thoughts. You turned your head and saw Poindexter waking up with a grimace and slow blinking. The first thing he did was scan the room, feeling confused and lost. Then his head turned toward you and his gaze met yours. His brow softened and a smile, somewhere between arrogant and tired, played across his lips.

"Hello Y/n.." he greeted you with a hoarse voice

A slight, tired, crooked smile formed on your lips. "Hi, Ben"

His smile widened slightly, revealing more of his teeth. With a grunt and a slightly wrinkled face, he sat up on the stretcher. Suddenly, a sharp pain tugged at the skin of his abdomen. Frowning, he looked down at his stomach. A small, square bandage covered the gunshot wound. He placed his hand over the bandage, as if surprised that it was real. Then, with a raised eyebrow, he looked at you and asked, almost incredulous but curious.

"You patched me?"

You slowly turned your body to the right and left, looking around the room. "Do you see anyone else here?" you asked sarcastically, but then you softened your tone and nodded. "Yes, I did."

He hummed under his breath and sighed, "So you still insist on helping me.." he murmured "You shouldn't have."

You squinted your eyes, "a thank you would have been enough"

He ignored your comment and grimaced. "You should have-.."

"Abandon you? Let you die? No, enough of that bullshit," you said angrily, pointing a finger at him. Then you stood up and moved closer to him, sitting in a chair next to him on the stretcher.

Dex didn't flinched, but his gaze swept over you, paying attention to your movements as you approached.

"Even if you insist, we won't let you die. We're not like that. And you could stop tormenting Matt with that crap because you don't know how hard it is for him not to succumb to that impulse," you say in a cold voice while looking at him rudely.

An awkward silence followed. You regretted letting your emotions get the better of you. You crossed your arms and lowered your gaze. Dex stared at you the whole time you were venting, his expression almost admiring your courage in confronting him about what you thought. He simply cleared his throat, his gaze softening, his dark eyes scanning your face and lingering at the lower part.

"You look pretty without that scarf," he nodded towards your uncovered face.

You clenched your jaw and felt heat again. You snorted a joyless laugh and looked away in frustration. He let out a sound that was half grunt, half deep sigh as he settled himself on the cot. He tilted his head and murmured

"You're not like Matt," he remarked simply, making an observation. "You could have gone with him when we were at church, and you didn't. That's... curious."

You looked at him in surprise. So he wasn't completely unconscious at that moment. You didn't say anything. He knew you wouldn't, so he continued.

"I've been watching you, you know. At first, I was just keeping an eye on Daredevil, but then you came into my field of vision..." he murmured in a slow, slurred voice. "You have great stamina and a good fighting style, especially with those metal bands on your wrists." He pointed to them. "Although you lack power in your jumps." He said casually, like an instructor making an observation about his student.

You shook your head, blinking several times and letting out a mocking laugh, "Now you're giving me fighting advices?"

He didn't respond to your sarcasm, but an arrogant smile spread across his face. "I also know how much you love vanilla lattes and that it's practically the only coffee you drink. Or how you scratch the top of your head when you have to make a decision. And that you tend to lower your voice when you're trying to lighten the mood."

You were stunned. You never thought he'd pay attention to such specific details. Even when you were close to him, you'd done those things. You frowned in shock. "W-what...?"

He continued, "You put notes on the refrigerator with a list of important things you don't have to forget, you open the windows to ventilate the room at 10 in the morning and close them at 5 in the afternoon, but only at 3 when it's cold."

"Ok, stop.." you say, somewhere between horrified and annoyed.

Dex ignored you again. "You usually walk along the sidewalk by the houses, you like to take pictures of sunsets, and on vacation you always like to go to the beach because-"

With a swift and energetic movement you approached the stretcher and leaped onto it, straddling him and covering his mouth tightly, squeezing his jaw like a vise. "I told you to stop, you fucking weirdo."

But Dex didn't flinch, as if he knew you wouldn't really hurt him. While your breathing was ragged, your chest rising and falling, your jaw clenched in anger, he looked at you with slightly narrowed eyes, and his head tilted slightly back offering no resistance. His gaze was submissive and gentle. You stood there for a few seconds, staring at him furiously. You hadn't realized how close you were to each other until you felt his body heat against your chest and his breath brush against your palm. Slowly, you withdrew your hand, sliding it down. Dex had been smiling faintly beneath your skin. Suddenly, he whispered

"By the way... you have some cute polka dot panties." he answered almost mockingly

No way. Your eyes widened. Suddenly, a sharp click echoed through the room like a mini firecracker. Dex's face jerked to the side as your palm met his cheek. He remained with his face turned for a few seconds as a red patch formed on his warm skin. Then, very slowly, he turned his face back toward you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk.

"Thank you" That was the only thing he replied to.

You stared at him, stunned. Rage and confusion swirled inside you, their expressions etched on your face. And the worst part was, he seemed to enjoy it, still looking at you with those slightly narrowed, calm eyes, as if nothing had happened. You were about to say something else when you heard footsteps approaching the door. Startled, you nervously pulled away from Dex's lap, returned to your seat, and reattached your handkerchief to your mouth.

But it was your friend Matt who opened the door. Relieved, you uncovered your mouth and sighed, crossing your arms. He stood in the middle of the room. "Everything alright?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeh, I already bandaged his wound..."

Matt hummed softly in understanding, then asked again, "Did he cause you any trouble?" he said protectively.

"Nah, he behaved like an angel," you said sarcastically under your breath, trying to downplay it, but you got nervous again.

And he, of course, noticed, how your pulse quickened slightly, but he didn't say anything. Instead, Dex spoke: "Relax, I just woke up a few minutes ago."

With a smirk he turned over on the stretcher, clutching the side of his abdomen where the bandage was. With a low groan, he got off the cot, and when he stood upright, you realized how imposing he was, even wounded. He sat on a stool with his elbows resting on his knees and began slowly rotating his wrists, loosening them up.

You cleared your throat to fill the empty silence and looked at Matt. "Is Karen okay?"

Matt sat down on a bench and sighed, mimicking Dex's pose with his elbows on his knees. "She will be. She calmed down a bit, but she still wanted to leave," he replied.

"Understandable..." you murmur

Then Matt turned to Poindexter, who was still staring at her wrists as if it were just another day of stretching at home.

"So... you wanted to do a good deed," your friend begins. "Well, if what you said was true, today you can do one. And maybe several, just so you can prove you're trustworthy."

You looked at Daredevil, frowning and tilting your head to the side, alert. Dex also slowly looked up, listening. "They plan to kill the governor tonight. Fisk will send one of his thugs"

Bullseye narrowed his eyes slightly, and one corner of his mouth twitched slightly upward. "What do you want me to do?" he asked, ready to receive the assignment.

"Stop them from killing her," Matt replied firmly.

Dex finally smiled slightly, took a deep breath through his nose, and stood up, arching his back a little and pulling his shoulders back, looking at Matt with his chin slightly raised. Your friend stood up, and you noticed he was carrying something. A t-shirt. He tossed the fabric to Dex, who caught it nimbly with one hand. He started putting it on.

"Deal" he answered once dressed

Daredevil stood up. "There's one condition." Dex became serious and frowned slightly. "You'll go with her, just in case," he said, pointing at you.

You stood up, crossed your arms, and walked closer to them. Dex turned to look at you and lowered his gaze with an arrogant smile. He seemed amused, or perhaps pleased by the idea; you weren't sure. He looked up at Matt, his eyebrows slightly raised. "Don't you trust me?" he asked with a hint of sarcasm, though he already knew the answer.

"No, not yet. And you know it," he replied seriously. He turned his head toward you. "You'll keep an eye on him, make sure he does what I asked."

You looked first at Dex, who returned your gaze with a small, arrogant smile. You pressed your lips together and then looked at Matt. "Fine. I'll handle it," you sighed.

He seemed relieved, as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "Thank you. Now go, every second counts."

You and Dex were about to leave when Matt's arm suddenly wrapped around your bicep. Bullseye quickly turned his head to look at him. "I still hate you for what happened with Foggy. Part of me wants to kill you, and another part... wants to forgive you," he confessed as if it were a sin.

Dex was serious until he heard the word 'forgive,' then he raised an eyebrow and gave an almost mocking smile. "Thanks," he scoffed.

Matt snorted a sour laugh. "Don't thank me. Now, go away."

The governor's house was a luxurious, large mansion. With its expansive garden and lights on, it wasn't difficult to find at night. You and Ben hid near the outer wall of the house. Everything seemed quiet for now. With your back against the wall, you raised your head to look up. Just above you was a balcony with black railings. It wasn't very high, so you could climb up. You patted your partner on the arm.

"There. We can go up there," you point upwards.

He, already back in his suit and balaclava, looked where you were pointing. He let out a grunt of approval. Then he looked down at you.

"You go first"

You looked at him, a little surprised, because you'd expected him to say he could handle it himself and go up first. But it was better this way, since you were already preparing yourself for the idea of ​​climbing before him. "Whatever you want," you replied, your voice muffled by your scarf.

You took a few steps back, gauging the distance. You rubbed your hands together and stared at the balcony. Just as you were about to jump, Dex spoke.

"Do you want me to help you up?" he asked, looking you up and down as he shifted his weight from one leg to the other.

You froze in place and stared at him, humming in confusion. He didn't speak again, just stared intently at you. You frowned and snorted a 'pfft'. "No thanks," you shook your head.

You noticed him smiling slightly and with amusement despite the balaclava, judging by the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. He moved closer to you and stood right under the balcony. He clasped his hands together, stretching his arms out, and lowered his body slightly as if doing a squat. Then he looked at you and gestured with his head as if to say, 'Come here'.

You glanced at Dex, then at the balcony, then back at him, trying to decide. You knew you couldn't waste any time, and he knew it too. Dipshit. You sighed in frustration, rolling your eyes, and walked over to him. You placed one foot in his palms and braced yourself with a hand on his broad shoulder. You felt the muscle tense slightly beneath the fabric. You planted your other foot, and with a swift, precise movement, Dex raised his hands, giving you a boost. You jumped and grabbed the balcony railing. You hung there, swaying for a few seconds until, with a gasp, you flexed your legs and leaped over the iron railing. You landed on your feet with a soft thud, bending your knees like a gymnast. Then it was his turn. Being taller than you, he only had to jump to get a firm grip, and then you helped him finish climbing, tugging a little at the fabric on his back. He landed on his feet next to you with a low grunt.

The governor stood by the window and behind her desk, arranging her papers. Warm lamps softly illuminated the room. Before she could react, a shadowy figure with a masked face reached in front of her head, holding a rope, and pulled to strangle her. The governor gasped, clutching the rope. It was time to act. Suddenly, a knife plunged into the attacker's back. He cried out in pain and released the woman, who gasped for air. The man arched his back and stood motionless, his hands raised, a grimace twisting his face. You quickly moved closer and delivered a side kick to the thug's waist. He fell like a stone, and Dex finished him off by throwing another knife at his head. The woman finally snapped out of it, startled, and saw Bullseye slowly approaching. He gave a military salute, bringing his index and middle fingers to his temple. Then she saw you, still in shock.

"Are you alright?" You asks worriedly, gently placing a hand on her shoulder.

The woman nods several times, swallowing loudly. "Yes, thank you," she stammers.

After that, the two of you left the mansion. Dex, beside you, had removed his mask and was strutting, swaying slightly with each step, crowning it with a smile that was both proud and arrogant, as if to say: look at me, now I'm a good person

You too had removed the scarf covering your mouth and were looking at him intently with a broad smile. And suddenly you lowered your head and chuckled. A genuine laugh, not sarcastic or bitter. This time it was real. Dex had made you laugh, or rather, his attitude had struck you as funny. And he noticed, of course. He glanced at you sideways, one eyebrow raised, still smiling. He was looking at you curiously.

"Who would have thought..." you murmur, staring ahead as you walk through a grove of trees. "You seem to be enjoying it. You could get used to this." The sound of your voice is slightly muffled by the sirens of the police cars behind you both.

Dex grins, showing his teeth as he stares straight ahead. "Maybe," he replies in a low murmur, and before you know it, he looks back at you.

And that wasn't the only good deed Bullseye did. You two continued saving people during the short time and few days you were together. Who would have imagined you'd team up with Benjamin Poindexter? The more people you helped, the more surprised you were by how helpful Dex could be. Perhaps he just needed guidance to straighten his path and show him where to go. And he thought the same. From the moment he first saw you, he thought you could be his North Star, even though he'd given up on that idea. But as he watched you, he noticed how eager you were to help others and wondered if you could help him someday too. And now that he was working with you temporarily, he noticed that he appreciated being around you more and more, spending time with you even if it was just as a watchman like you. He realized he smiled more gently when you were there, and that you were in a better mood and less defensive; he even heard you laugh—really laugh.

But then everything went to hell. Matt had heard from other sources that Karen had been arrested for helping the vigilantes. They'd held her for a whole day and were about to start a trial against her. And Matt had to be there; he couldn't let Fisk win.

"Listen carefully," he told the two of you, "I need to defend her out there. You stay close and don't let your guard down, in case something happens." He nervously gripped his cane until his knuckles turned white.

When your friend left to practice law for Karen, you and Dex were left hanging, unsure what to do. You frowned and stared at the floor, leaning against a wall. Your brain was racing. Suddenly, without a word, Dex moved away from the wall and started walking. But you quickly looked up and grabbed his wrist, almost snatching his hand.

"Stop there. Where are you going?"

He stood still. He turned to face you, then his eyes dropped to where your hand met his wrist. He stared at it for a few seconds until finally he looked you in the face. "I'm not going to stand idly by. I'm going to see what happens."

You let go and huffed, "Don't be an idiot. Fisk's soldiers will be waiting for you, or do you think they're stupid?"

Dex shrugged and tilted his head gently. "Some of them are." he said without flinching

You grunted softly and pricked the bridge of your nose near your brow. "If you go there, they'll set a trap for you," you said confidently. Then you paused to think and looked at him. "You know what? I'll go with you. We're better off as a couple," you replied solemnly, looking at him with determination.

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, curious about your choice of words. You realized a little late what you'd said and nervously stammered, correcting yourself, "No! I mean like a working couple! I mean—it's better if there are two of us instead of one... ugh!"

His chuckling didn't help. Frustrated and timid, you walked toward the exit and dragged him along by the wrist. "Let's just go, I have a bad feeling..." you murmured irritably as he followed you with heavy steps, offering no resistance, like a lapdog.

While the trial raged on in court, with Matt Murdock seemingly on the verge of victory, you and Dex spotted a fake Bullseye peering through a sniper's scope near the window in the tall building across the street. A couple of soldiers surrounded him, almost in a circle, guarding the exits. You two hid behind concrete pillars. So that was Wilson's plan. Hire someone to impersonate Dex, kill Matt, and frame the vigilantes. Your blood ran cold at the thought. With a nod, you looked at Dex, who was hiding behind the pillar in front of you, signaling that he could attack. He nodded and drew two knives from his belt. The shot was deadly, as always. Two armed soldiers fell lifeless to the ground. You emerged from your hiding place and ran toward one soldier, deflecting bullets with your wristbands. You tackled another, catching him off guard. Another tried to fire his gun, but you grabbed his wrists and raised them, causing the bullets to ricochet off the ceiling. Meanwhile, Dex helped you finish them off by throwing knives. Finally, he came face to face with the fake Bullseye. His sunken eyes crinkled, and he chuckled behind his ski mask. The one impersonating Dex was much thinner and shorter, lacking muscle. With anxious movements, he tried to fire his pistol but missed. Dex threw another knife, which struck the other man in the hand, causing him to drop the weapon with a cry of pain.

The fake Bullseye was left kneeling, clutching his bloody hand and cursing. Dex moved closer, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, and shoved the guy's head away. He fell to the ground with a grunt. Dex approached the sniper's scope, and you moved to his side as well. He confirmed that the weapon was pointed at one of the courtroom windows, where Matt was standing. Benjamin smiled slightly and muttered, "Poser."

Suddenly, the fake bullseye lying on the floor grabbed another knife and turned to face Dex, who had his back to him, just like you. With a trembling hand and slightly blurred vision, the guy threw the knife. But his aim was so terrible that instead of hitting Dex, it hit you. With a scream and a gasp, you doubled over, your mouth opening in a grimace, your eyes squeezed shut. The knife had hit your calf near the ankle. You felt a searing fire. Dex beside you tensed and turned sharply toward you to look at your leg. A trickle of blood ran down, staining the fabric of your pants. He gritted his teeth. With blazing pupils and a furrowed brow, he turned his torso toward the guy and, raising his arm, threw another knife with force, making his whole body jerk. This time it went straight for the head.

With groans of pain, your back slid down the wall, and you sat on the floor, clutching your leg, not daring to draw your knife yet. Dex tried to stay calm. He looked up at you, but before he could do anything, he returned to the scope and growled, "Sorry, pal, wrong, Bullseye," and then fired. If his intention was to hit Fisk, he didn't, because Buck jumped in front of him, and the bullet struck him in the abdomen. Dex moved away from the sniper and quickly crouched down beside you. Now his breathing was more ragged. He yanked off his balaclava and held it to your calf.

"I'm going to take this off you," he murmured in a restrained voice.

I waited for your signal. You nodded, and his fingers closed on the knife handle. With a precise movement, he pulled it from your skin and quickly pressed his balaclava against the wound. You groaned, squeezing your eyes shut as your nostrils flared. You opened your eyes, gasping slightly through your mouth. He held the fabric taut to stem the bleeding.

"First I healed you... now you do it for me," you whispered, looking into his eyes. He looked up.

For the second time, you two stared at each other in silence. Only this time, it was you who gazed at him meekly, your eyes half-closed and slightly glassy, ​​while he clenched his jaw, doing his best to contain the heat rising from his stomach to his chest. He shook his head slightly and lowered his gaze. "Do you think you'll be alright?"

You grunted "Yeah," you said hoarsely, "it's not the first knife wound I've received."

Dex nodded and stood up as you clutched his balaclava to your leg. He now looked slightly shaken, or more like lost, uncertain, or lost in thought. He still had that characteristic frown of his, as if he were angry and deep in thought. "I guess there's nothing left to do here," he murmured, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye, though he seemed to want to avoid eye contact.

"I guess so" You whispered, staring at him, wanting him to look at you again. But he didn't.

In the following days, your wound healed, leaving only a faint scar. You learned that Matt had gone to prison after confessing to being Daredevil in court, and you promised him you would visit him. As for Dex... well, let's just say you hadn't heard much from him since. Then one day, you received a text message on your cell phone from an unknown number.

How's your leg?

Dex.

You smiled, looking at your phone screen. You typed.

How did you get my number?

He answered immediately

I think that's the least important thing right now.

You rolled your eyes with a crooked smile. You were about to reply when he typed again.

I have a new job. I have to travel.

You frowned and your smile faded. Dex was never one to beat around the bush; he always got straight to the poin

Wait, a new job? Where and when are you leaving? How long will you be gone?

Dex took a few moments to respond, but when he did, he was concise.

I'm leaving in a few hours. One year.

You felt nauseous. A year. And he was leaving in a few hours. A mix of emotions swirled in your heart: anger, pain, betrayal, bitterness, and grief. Couldn't he have warned you sooner? Why did he wait until this last moment? You didn't even know why you were so upset with him. After all, he was just a coworker. But hadn't that meant anything to him? Dex knew you were conflicted right now. He was too. In the last few days, he'd started feeling strange. He often found himself thinking about you and the times you'd shared. The worst part was that it all started when he saw you hurt; something inside him broke, or rather, ignited. He knew the best thing was to create some distance, which is why he accepted Charles's offer. He was about to ask you to go with him, but it seemed too much, too sudden. Besides, you might have said no.

Feeling your eyes well up and your cheeks warm, you picked up your phone again and answered as curtly as he had.

Good luck

You turned off your phone and threw it against the couch. When Dex read your message, his stomach lurched. Why did it make him feel so bad? He ran a hand through his hair, exhaling softly. He turned off his phone too and started packing his suitcase.

A year was a long time. And you found that out. While Dex was gone, who knows where, you tried to keep yourself distracted and not think about it by visiting Matt from time to time, sharing your problems with him, and listening to his in turn. And of course, your life as a vigilante continued. And sometimes, you couldn't help but remember when you worked with Bullseye, without realizing that those moments and interactions, however few they may have been, had been worth every second and had been quite significant. Occasionally, you found yourself alone on the rooftops where you used to patrol with Daredevil, wondering where Dex was.

Anyway, the more the months went by, the faster time seemed to pass. Until you realized that Dex was about to return. You didn't know why, but a warm, almost joyful feeling swelled in your chest. One day, you received another message from him. You hadn't saved his number, nor did you need to. You knew it was him. He told you he was back from work and would be free for a while.

A lie. although you didn't know it yet

Then he asked you to meet him near a specific street at a specific time. You thought it was strange, but you let it go and agreed.

You put on your vigilante suit and head out into the streets. It's nighttime and there's not a soul around. You check the address on your phone again. You arrive at a deserted street near a building. You wonder if Dex is already waiting for you or if he'll be a little late. Just then, you hear a voice behind you.

"Hello Y/N"

A crooked smile spreads across your face. You turn around and see Bullseye in his suit behind you. He'd taken off his balaclava and was staring at you, though a little more serious than usual.

"Hello Dex, good to see you" You trust him sincerely

A casual sentence, but one that concealed something deeper. He nodded and shifted his weight to one leg. His fingers flexed slightly at his side. He might be an expert at noticing subtle details, but you certainly didn't miss them either. Especially coming from him. You realized he seemed uneasy, but he was trying to hide it.

"It's been a while, huh?"

His tone of voice also seemed more serious despite the casualness of the phrase. You nodded, crossing your arms and tilting your head slightly uncomfortably, without knowing why. "Yes, that's right," you said, and after a pause, you murmured softly, "I missed you."

You didn't mean to confess like that, it just came out. Something crossed Dex's eyes, something akin to surprise and pain.

Please don't make it harder.

He lowered his head for a few seconds and snorted softly. He didn't say 'I missed you too,' and you knew he wouldn't. You'd be very naive to think Dex was the type to express his feelings. To break the awkward silence, you spoke

"So much has happened since you left. Matt was in jail and-"

He interrupted you abruptly, raising his head to look at you. "Do you know why I came back?"

You remained silent, blinking in confusion. You shrugged. "Your contract had ended, I suppose."

"Not exactly," he replied in a low voice.

So you lied. You looked at him with a frown, more confused than before, and with something close to disappointment. You didn't speak, and he didn't wait for an answer either.

"Charles... ordered me to kill you" was his slow but terse reply.

You were taken aback. He waited for you to process it. Your eyes darted between his, a meter away from where he stood. You tried to figure out if it was some kind of sick joke. Then, in sheer shock and confusion, you shook your head and let out a joyless laugh. "You're kidding."

Dex didn't answer. He just lowered his head and slowly reached for his belt where his knives were sheathed. Your eyes followed his movements and a shiver ran down your spine. Suddenly your breathing quickened slightly.

"Wait, wait, Dex. Don't do it," you murmured, a little scared, trying to change his mind.

But much to your dismay, deep down you knew it wouldn't be possible. When Dex got something into his head, it was difficult to make him see reason. His fingers closed around the knife handle.

"So sorry," he whispered.

With a swift movement, he drew his knife and, in a semi-circle, hurled it at you. Gasping in surprise, you raised your arm just in time to deflect the blade, which struck the metal bands on your wrist. Without wasting a moment, you darted to your left, roughly opening a door and entering the building. Bullseye yanked his balaclava on and followed you, searching for another knife to throw.

You ran down the narrow hallway, your heart pounding, the sound of Dex's boots thumping behind you. He threw another knife that grazed the side of your face, scratching your cheek before embedding itself in the wall opposite you, a warning. You felt a sharp sting on your face, like a paper cut. You whirled around and crossed your arms in front of you, dodging another knife. Then you decided that if you were a vigilante, you'd act like one. No more running. As Bullseye braced himself for another attack, you charged at him, throwing yourself to the floor and sliding between his legs. You stood up behind him and kicked him in the back. With a grunt, he stumbled forward heavily but didn't fall. You leaped onto his back, locking in a chokehold and wrapping your legs around his waist. He hesitated, startled, but then hooked his hands around your wrists and walked backward, slamming you against the wall behind him several times. Your back crunched on the cement, and with a groan, you loosened your grip. He took advantage of the moment to move his hands higher onto your shoulders and, with a swift motion, yanked you forward, throwing you to the ground a few feet in front of him.

You hit the floor hard, wincing in pain. But there was no time to recover. Gasping, you crawled toward the stairs as he stalked you like a predator. You clumsily got to your feet and started to climb quickly, but Dex grabbed your ankle and yanked you, making you lose your balance and fall awkwardly, your knees hitting the step. You squeezed your eyes shut with a groan, then quickly turned your head to face him. You struggled to get free, and when you felt yourself free, you kicked him in the face. He groaned and felt a wet slick trickle down his nose and stain his balaclava.

You ran up the stairs, almost stumbling from the adrenaline and the speed, with Poindexter hot on your heels and throwing things at you that you managed to dodge. You reached the terrace and ran forward only to crash into a low brick wall at hip height that served as a railing to prevent people from falling. You braced your hands on the edge of the wall, your chest heaving.

Then you heard them. Their footsteps. Those heavy steps in leather boots that you knew so well. You turned and saw Dex walking, swaying his body from side to side, shifting his weight with each step. He was staring at you. His dark, deep-set eyes pierced you. His face, hidden by that balaclava, only revealed his steely gaze. In one hand he held his trusty switchblade, the one that read "you're welcome."

You turned your head again to look down. You started calculating how many meters high it would be and whether you could survive a fall. Impossible. Maybe he had survived thanks to his prosthetic spine, but you would land with every bone broken. And unfortunately, you couldn't fly. No, jumping was not an option. This time there was no escape. You looked at him again with a sigh. If this was how things were going to be, then you would look death straight in the face and say hello.

He ran his eyes over your body, noticing that despite everything you offered no resistance, at least not anymore.

"Seriously? So you're just going to kill me like that?" you ask with hidden bitterness and offense.

Dex lifted his chin. "You know I have no choice."

Yes, you have. You thought. Since when did he follow the rules? He didn't seem like the same man you knew. He could have simply refused the job, refused to collaborate with Charles—what did he have to lose anyway? His life would have gone on as before, and nothing would have changed. You swallowed, your gaze unwavering. You decided to risk everything.

"But you want to do it?" you ask more gently.

Benjamin tightened his grip on the knife. Behind his balaclava, his jaw clenched. You'd hit the nail on the head. Because, no, the answer was that he didn't want to do it. For the first time, you saw him truly hesitate. A few seconds of silence passed, during which he said nothing, simply beginning to toy with his weapon, making it dance slowly and carefully between his fingers. Good. So be it.

You decided not to waste any more of his time. A little disappointed, you slowly began to raise your hands high, palms open, until they were placed at the sides of your face, as if you were about to be arrested.

"Okay, let's get this over with then. Do what you have to do," you say dismissively.

If you had to die, at least you wanted it to be at the hands of the one you thought you once loved. So go ahead, let everyone know you died at Bullseye's hands.

Dex was simply stunned. Stiff. He frowned, watching you. His eyelids fluttered in rapid blinks. He was currently experiencing a great inner conflict. He saw you sigh and close your eyes, awaiting the final, fatal blow. And he couldn't allow it. Were you going to give up just like that? No more fighting? Why? But something tight in his chest had already told him the answer. You loved him, you truly mattered to him, and if you had to die because of him, you would gladly do it. That hit him like boiling water down his spine. And Benjamin wasn't stupid. No matter how indifferent he appeared, it was impossible to hide how much you affected him and how his whole being improved when you were near. Perhaps he would never admit it, but you were important to him too. With a low growl, he gripped his knife. He had made his decision.

With your eyes closed, you watched as Dex raised his arm high to throw the weapon. You gritted your teeth and frowned. He twisted his body, pulling his arm back like a baseball player. With a swift and precise movement, he threw the knife. It spun several times, slicing through the air with a metallic sound, until it struck its target.

You gasped in surprise, as if the air had been suddenly knocked out of your lungs, and your eyes widened, your face almost contorted with fear. At first, you felt nothing, but you'd heard that adrenaline often caused you to feel no pain initially after many injuries. Besides, Dex usually killed people by throwing objects directly at their skulls; you thought that with you, he wanted to be more forgiving somehow and decided to throw it at your stomach or chest, even though that wouldn't have been like him. Fearfully, with trembling hands, you lowered your head to look at yourself and your torso.

Your face crumpled, and you opened your mouth to let out a pitiful, stifled whimper. Your eyes reddened and filled with tears. Your suit was intact. No bloodstains or holes. Perhaps a few torn seams, but those were from previous fights. You closed your eyes and sighed in relief. You hadn't really wanted to die, at least not today. You opened your eyes, breathing slowly to recover from the shock, and turned your head to see where the knife had actually landed. Behind you, the weapon was embedded in a crack in a brick of the low wall. Your body had relaxed, and only then did you notice a small burning sensation on the side of your thigh. You saw how the blade had made a shallow cut and slightly torn the fabric.

Finally, you looked at Dex. He was avoiding your gaze completely, staring at the ground, his breathing slightly ragged. His body was hunched to one side, his shoulders slumped. As if his decision had placed a literal and real weight on him. Your hands now rested at your sides. Tears were already streaming down your cheeks, unchecked. Your expression spoke volumes. Confusion, astonishment, disbelief, fear of what might happen to him after this, once they found out that the man who never miss had failed a mission for the first time. But above all, gratitude.

"Go away," he simply said in a harsh voice, glancing at you sideways.

You frowned and shook your head slightly, unsure what to do.

"But... Ben..."

Upon hearing his real name, he closed his eyes for a moment as if the sound of your voice had physically struck him.

"Now. Don't make me regret this," he growled, turning his head to face you.

Your chest rose and fell, and you looked at him pleadingly, almost desperately. He had spared your life, but you still didn't want to leave; it didn't feel right. God, you wished you could have done more to help him. Little did you know that you had already helped him in ways you couldn't imagine. You exhaled shakily through your mouth, and with one last look, you ran from there, back home.

When you walked away and he was alone, Ben swatted off his balaclava and gasped as if he needed more air. He clutched the balaclava tightly while with his other hand he ran it through his hair, scratching his scalp and squeezing his short strands. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath through his nose. When he opened them again, they were glassy. What on earth was wrong with him? Why was a mere woman so important that he couldn't carry out his task? But in the end, you weren't just a mere woman. He knew it. And this isn't over.

Days passed. Barely four. You didn't know how to return to your 'normal' life. The encounter with Bullseye had affected you. A lot. You barely went out to patrol the streets; you needed time alone to think. Sometimes you checked your phone in case you found another message from him. But nothing. Sitting at the kitchen table, you put your hands to your head, elbows resting on the wooden surface, and lowered your head. Frustrated and a little restless, you went to turn on the TV to make some noise in the room when you heard him.

Two soft knocks on the front door.

Your body tensed slightly. You didn't know who could be behind that door, but it was better to be prepared. With slow, careful steps, you approached the peephole and peered inside. You almost fell over in shock. There stood Dex, dressed in civilian clothes, staring directly into the peephole as if he'd already known you were spying on him before you even opened the door. With nervous hands, you cracked the door open and peeked out first. He was wearing a light brown jacket and faded jeans. You opened the door completely.

"Ben..."

He heard his name for the second time. Not Dex or Bullseye. Ben.

"Hi..." she murmured softly.

For the first time, you noticed how genuine and vulnerable he was. Without that cold, arrogant mask he sometimes hid behind. This man standing before you, his hands in his jacket pockets, was simply... himself.

"What are you doing here?" you ask, mimicking his soft tone.

Without looking away, he made a small grimace and replied, "I haven't seen you patrolling for days."

"It's only been four days, Ben," you say with a small, somewhat sad smile.

"Enough time to know that something is wrong" he answered seriously

You lowered your gaze and shrugged, "I'm fine."

No, you're not. He knew it.

You crossed your arms and leaned against the doorframe. You looked up and glanced to the side, pushing the inside of your cheek with your tongue. "Are you still working for Charles?" you asked looking at him this time, changing the subject.

Now it was his turn. He lowered his gaze for a few seconds and then raised it to answer, "He fired me. He found someone else."

You remained silent for a few seconds, then said, "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "I think it's better this way."

What he really meant was that he'd quit any job if it meant keeping you safe. You nodded and sighed. Dex turned his face to the side to look at the sidewalk. The sunlight outlined his profile.

"So... about the surveillance..." he began, murmuring

"I already told you I'm fine"

He looked at you again and for the first time since he was there, he gave you that sideways smile you knew so well: "You're a bad liar."

You rolled your eyes. You wouldn't confess that you were too overwhelmed by your conflicting emotions to be out there keeping watch. But you wouldn't tell him. Instead, you answered with a question

"Now you answer me something, why did you let me go?"

He pressed his lips together, and a muscle in his neck tensed. He knew the answer but didn't want to say it. He parted his lips slightly, "I asked first."

You glared at him sternly, tilting the head to the side in reproach. He knew he had no escape. He snorted softly with a low, small growl, "Are you mad at me?" he murmured in a delicate, almost uncertain tone.

You looked at him more apprehensively, softening your features. "No, of course not. Just confused," you replied sincerely in a gentle tone.

Dex moistened his lips slightly and lowered his gaze to the floor. He wanted to answer, of course he did. But the words seemed stuck in his throat. He hadn't often had the chance to open up like this to someone. You, noticing his inner struggle, helped him a little.

"You... you care about me?" you whisper the question.

Care. Yes, that was it. If there was anything like love, it was care. He cared about you, of course. Dex looked up, his brow barely furrowed, trying to sort out his thoughts and feelings.

"I-I think so, yeah" he stammered uncertainly. "And believe me, I never thought I'd feel this way about anyone... actually, I'm still trying to figure out what this feeling is. I just know it feels... good," he confessed frankly. "And I promise you that no one will ever hurt you again, and that includes me too-"

That's all you needed to hear. With a touched smile, you interrupted him, closing the distance and wrapping your arms around his neck in a hug. When he felt your arms around him, he took his hands out of his pockets and let them hang near your torso. His fingers floated hesitantly, unsure whether to close or not. Finally, slowly, he placed his hands on your back, a little fearful, as if you were a frightened animal about to flee, and he didn't want that, he didn't want you to leave him. But you didn't, and you had no intention of doing so. You were real. Holding him like a soldier returning from war to visit his wife. When Dex lowered his guard, he let out a deep, trembling sigh of needed relief that made his knees tremble slightly. He buried his face in your hair, inhaling your scent, while his hands closed tighter around your back, pulling you closer.

Please don't go, please. Stay like this.

"Maybe we can start over. This time properly," you murmured near the side of his neck.

And then, to his disappointment, you pulled away slightly, breaking the embrace, to raise an open palm in front of him.

"Hi, I'm Y/n Y/l," you reply with a big smile that brightens your eyes.

He first glanced down at your outstretched hand. He let out a soft chuckle and he looked at you, gently shaking your hand. You could feel his hands, calloused from handling knives so much.

"Benjamin Poindexter" He answered in a low voice, with a more cheerful and playful tone.

And then she smiled again, a lopsided smile. That characteristic smile you knew so well. And loved so much.