Hope (Dex x reader)
(gif by me)
Summary: Dex is suffering and you come along just in time. 3x06 AU. w/c: 3.4k
ao3 link
Trigger warnings: suicide! PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THIS WILL TRIGGER YOU!
Warnings: 18+ mentions of suicide and self-harm, Dex is suicidal (which is show canon) Dex is spiralling (obviously), panic, anxiety, all the usual stuff when it comes to Daredevil and Dex, swearing, probably ooc, corny, fluff, angsty, hurt/comfort - think that's it, let me know if I've missed anything
Slight continuation from 'Bandages and Green Tea'
1 mention of something that isn't in Daredevil, let me know if you spot it.
I just need Dex to be hugged, okay!
Me 🤝 awful fic titles
No Y/N, gn reader
Please don't post to other sites or into AI.
Hope you enjoy this! Let me know what you think :)
Dex knew what he had to do. It was the only way. Now that he’d lost his structure and routine, there was no point. The buzzing was getting louder. The voices were pushing him forward, telling him what he should do. That he was all alone. That no-one wanted him. And he believed it. How could he not? Everyone always left him in the end, and he wasn’t even useful at work. He wasn’t a person; he was a problem.
Dex carefully placed the full box of bullets on the dining table in front of him, where he sat, filling his own gun with as many as it would allow before putting the gun together. He cocked the hammer and, with shaky hands, brought the muzzle of the gun under his chin. He tried to calm his breathing as he held the gun tightly, moving his right index finger towards the trigger.
Suddenly, the buzzing and voices in his head were broken by a knock on the door.
“Dex,” you called, “it’s just me. Heard you come home and wanted to check in on you after yesterday.”
Dex breathed heavily, wiping at his face to get rid of the tears, but more just rolled down his cheeks. You were back again, caring about him, wanting to make sure he was okay. How many people had done that for him? Come back into his life? He couldn’t think of a time when they had. Everyone always left.
Dex clicked the safety back on and put the gun on the table, before slowly making his way to the door, trying to stop the shaking in his hands so you wouldn’t know anything was wrong. That he was wrong.
He was met with your smiling, but slightly anxious, face, which quickly turned into a frown.
“What’s wrong? Did something else happen?” You were so worried, and it broke him.
He started sobbing and couldn’t stop, holding onto the door like it could hold him up. It couldn’t, and he felt himself sliding down towards the floor.
You caught him before he could hit the ground, wrapping your arms around his hunched-over form and running your fingers through his hair. You made sure the door was shut to at least give the illusion of privacy, even if the walls were thin.
Dex was tall and broad, but he felt so small and fragile like this.
You could hear him muttering, but you weren’t quite sure what he was trying to say. You only got glimpses of words. “Sorry”, and “tried”, and “not good”. You weren’t sure if he was talking to you, himself, or someone else, but you couldn’t ask, not when he was like this.
Instead, you rocked him back and forth, stroked his hair and back, and repeated “I’ve got you”, which made him hold on tighter.
You weren’t sure how long you sat there for, but eventually his crying subsided, and he began to pull away from you.
“Sorry,” he murmured, getting up and wiping his face. “I’m okay. You can go back to your apartment. I have work to do.” Apart from ‘sorry’, every word he spoke was a lie. He wasn’t okay, he didn’t want you to leave, and he definitely didn’t have any work to do. The thought of work made him want to cry again, but he swallowed the feeling, not wanting to cry in front of you again.
“Dex,” you spoke softly, “you’re clearly not okay. You can talk to me, you know. About anything. What happened?” You didn’t want to push, but you could feel that something was very wrong and that things would get worse if you left. You pushed yourself up off the floor and stood in front of him with your hands out, like you were approaching a scared and wounded animal.
Dex closed his eyes and shook his head as he could feel himself beginning to spiral again. The buzzing was becoming noticeable, his breathing hitched, and the tears started flowing.
You could see him start to fall apart, so you did what you did before; you placed your hand on his forearm and gently rubbed your thumb against his skin. He exhaled heavily at the feeling and let himself be grounded by your touch.
“Come on,” you said when you felt him relax a little, taking his hand and moving towards his bedroom, avoiding the mess that was still on the floor of his apartment from the night before.
“What are we doing?” Dex croaked out, voice dry and breaking from the crying.
“Grab some comfortable clothes, we’ll go to mine and watch some mindless crap on TV. I’ll make us something to eat while you take a relaxing bath. You can stay with me tonight if you want. I don’t really want to leave you alone when you’re so upset.” You tried to keep your voice steady, but you still weren’t sure what you had just walked in on, so you were worried.
Dex didn’t know what to say, so he gave a small nod and grabbed some old sweats from his days at Quantico. He noticed that you were already in your own comfortable-looking clothes. You looked so soft and kind. You took his hand again and led him back through his apartment to the door, but stopped when you noticed what was on his dining table.
“Dex?” Your eyes were wide, and your voice shook. You knew what the scene before you was. It was something you had seen on TV. Something you had seen online when you had thought about it yourself once or twice.
Dex froze beside you, trying to come up with an excuse.
“I-I was just-just doing maintenance, for work, you know? Make-making sure –” He cut himself off, knowing that it wasn’t believable. The way he said the words wouldn’t have been believable to anyone, and the gun clearly wasn’t a standard-issued government gun, even if he was a sniper for the FBI SWAT. It was obviously his own, personal gun.
You took your hoodie off and threw it over the items, not wanting yourself or Dex to see them anymore, before taking his hand again and pulling him away from the apartment, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter on the way.
You held onto his hand and didn’t let go. Not while you opened your apartment door. Not while you got food out. Not even while you ran a bath and added bath salts and a relaxing muscle soak. Eventually, though, when the bath was the right height and temperature, you had to let go and leave him to let the warmth and aroma wash over him. You didn’t want to leave him alone, not when he was vulnerable, but it was right to give him privacy.
“Wait,” Dex finally spoke. “Will you stay? Please? I…erm…I don’t want to be alone.” He looked down, embarrassed by being so needy.
“Of course.” You smiled softly at him, letting him know that it was okay for him to ask for things.
You turned around while he got undressed and settled into the water, then sat beside the tub and held his still bandaged hand, rubbing your thumb against his hurt knuckles. You could see the bruises, cuts, and scars that littered his body as you had yesterday, but you still didn’t say anything, hoping that he would talk about them when he was ready.
Dex knew that you saw what was covering his body and hoped you wouldn’t ask, not yet, but you hadn’t yesterday. When you didn’t speak, he slowly started to relax, breathing deeply, letting your touch soothe him as he shut his eyes.
You let your other hand brush strands of his hair away from his face, feeling them wanting to stick to his forehead that was still a little sticky from his earlier spirals.
“Would you like me to wash your hair?” You asked, lightly scratching his scalp. Dex leaned into your touch and nodded, humming in confirmation, feeling too relaxed to voice actual words.
Your fingers felt like heaven as they massaged the shampoo through his now darkened hair, using the perfect amount of pressure to keep the buzzing at bay. The repetitive motions could have lulled him to sleep, but he didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. He wanted to spend more time with you. Talk with you. Maybe even tell you about what had happened.
All too soon, after you had rinsed the suds out of his hair, his skin began to prune, and the water started to cool. Without a word, you handed him one larger towel for him to wrap around himself and a smaller one to dry his hair with. They were so fluffy and warm, as if they were brand new and had just come out of the dryer. You led him to your bedroom to allow him to get dry and changed, while you waited just outside the open door, allowing him to be able to see you but still have privacy.
When he was dressed, you took his hand and walked with him to the kitchen, putting a pan of water on the stove.
“Is pasta okay?” You asked.
“Sounds perfect,” he responded, letting a small but genuine smile grace his lips.
You cooked with one hand, not wanting to let go of Dex, while he watched you, absolutely content with having your hand in his, willing to go anywhere as long as you didn’t let go.
Once the pasta was cooked, you separated it into two bowls, grabbed some water, and headed to the couch, still never letting go of his hand. You even held hands while you ate and watched something mindless on TV, not wanting to part and loving the comforting feeling it gave you both.
When the food was finished, Dex sighed, knowing what was coming next. He knew he would have to speak; he wanted to tell you everything, but he was still so nervous. Your actions from both yesterday and today told him that you wouldn’t leave or kick him out, but there was still the possibility that you would. That you wouldn’t want to deal with this and decide that he’s not worth it.
“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Dex,” you reassured him. “We can just sit here if you’d prefer.”
“No,” Dex exhaled. “I need to.” You didn’t say anything back, only nodded and waited for him to be ready.
“I’ve been put on leave at work. I ’m-erm-I’m under investigation for what happened during Fisk’s transfer. I didn’t even wanna be part of it, but gotta do what the boss wants, right?” Dex let out a sarcastic chuckle. “Didn’t even know I was being investigated until it was front page in The Bulletin. The higher-ups aren’t happy it got leaked, so to make it look like they’re actually doing something useful, they made me hand in my badge. Said they’ll be an investigation into how it leaked but,” at that, he shrugged. “Told me to “think of it as a paid vacation”, how fucked up is that? And I’ve worked enough that I probably have enough days to use as PTO. I don’t want time off. I want to work. I need to work. I need the routine, the structure. I’m gonna be shut out, and then I’ll have nothing.” The buzzing was getting louder.
“And when I walked out,” he sighed, shook his head, and ran his hand down his face. “The way everyone was looking at me…” He trailed off, not knowing what to say, but you understood. “My partner said he’s on my side and that he “commended my conduct” in his report of what happened, but I don’t know if I believe him. I doubt it’ll make a difference anyway. Once the bosses decide something, that’s pretty much it. Not like they actually care about you anyway. They just want someone else to get their hands dirty, so they don’t have to, even though they’re the ones giving the orders.”
He paused for a moment before continuing.
“I just-I don’t have anything anymore, so what’s the point? I’ve never been good or normal or stable, and I never will be. I’m not living, I’m just existing. Taking up space. I need it to stop. I need everything to stop. I might as well just end it all and make everyone’s lives easier. Not like anyone would miss me anyway.” His hazel eyes glistened in the low light of your living room. He looked defeated, like he had truly given up and believed everything he was saying.
“I would.” The words came out broken as you finally spoke. “I’d miss you.” He shook his head, but you insisted. “I really would miss you if you were no longer here, Dex.”
“Maybe at first,” he shrugged. “But then you’d move on with your life. You’d get distracted by work and friends and bills and eventually forget about me. Maybe you’d occasionally remember me when your new neighbours are too loud, but you’d be out there, living your life, doing good in the world. You wouldn’t need someone like me in your life – alive or dead.”
And you broke.
He really meant it. He really didn’t think he deserved to live anymore. That no-one would notice or care. Maybe he never thought he deserved to live.
You sobbed, throwing your arms around him, holding him tight. As if the force in which you held him to you could hold him together, stop him from completely shattering.
“No. NO! Don’t-don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare, Dex!” Tears streamed down your face as you clung to the back of his shirt.
He held back just as tight, not really sure what else to do. No-one had cared this much before, and he wasn’t good with emotions. Not his own, and certainly not other people’s. But he understood that he was supposed to comfort you, like you had done for him.
You sat there holding each other for what felt like an eternity.
When your sobs turned to sniffles, you pulled apart so you could see the other’s face. He wiped your tears, but they just kept coming.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“Don’t be,” you told him. “Just don’t leave. Please.”
“I can’t make any promises,” he started. “But I can try.”
“Okay,” you nodded, brushing his hair away from his face. “You are good, you know? You know how I know?” Dex shook his head. “If you weren’t good, you wouldn’t know, and you certainly wouldn’t say it out loud. I might not know you, but I’d like to.”
“Yeah?” He felt hopeful. Maybe things could work out, and he could be better.
“Yeah,” you smiled, and he returned it. “What did you mean before when you said you need everything to stop?”
He dropped his head, sighing. “I…erm…” He took a deep breath and looked at you again. “There’s this…noise in my head when things get too much, like a buzzing. And I can hear people saying things. Things they might or might not have said. Things they meant to say. That I’m all alone. I don’t have anyone. No-one wants me. And I’m not sure what’s real and what I’ve made up in my head.”
“Does anything ease it?” You asked.
“Sitting here with you right now is certainly helping.” A cheeky smile made his lips curl. “But yeah. When I was younger, I had a therapist, and she recorded our sessions. But after our last session, she gave me the tapes. So I could “use the tools she gave me effectively” or some therapy-speak bullshit. She was good. I liked her. Tried some different therapists after her, but they weren’t the same. Didn’t feel like they understood me. Or even cared. Not like her. The tapes help with the noise, though. Gives me something to focus on.” You nodded.
There was a beat of silence before Dex spoke again.
“I don’t know what I’m gonna do now, though. Without work. Without the routine.”
“You could go back to that office and tell them to fuck off with their investigation and their leaks and this protecting Fisk bullshit. Throw his ass back in jail and let him rot. Then ask if Fisk got the word out about the investigation.” At that, he raised one eyebrow. “I wouldn’t trust anything about that fucker, so he’s probably got every FBI agent bugged or on his payroll. Something like that would be kept under wraps, right?” Dex nodded. “So only a select few people would know. Which means either one of your bosses leaked it to the press, or–”
“Or. They’re with Fisk,” he finished.
“Yep. And which is more likely?” You already knew the answer.
“People can always use more money.” Dex rolled his eyes. People always wanted more than they had. “And The Bulletin wouldn’t pay that good. Even for a story like this. No-one would risk their job for that kind of money. But for the kind of money that Fisk has? Probably.”
“It’s lucky that I know someone who works at The Bulletin, isn’t it? And she happens to be pretty close to the editor-in-chief. Oh, and she hates Fisk. She’s also very good friends with a great lawyer at a very fancy law firm. But d’y’know what’s even better?” A smirk tugged at the corners of your lips.
“What?” Dex asked, very curious as to where this was going.
“That lawyer was one of the ones who put Fisk away.” Your smirk grew.
“Wow! Friends in high places, huh?” He returned your smirk. “Anything else I should know about you?”
“I also know of an excellent private investigator. She’s very discreet.” You smiled when you thought of Jessica. She was a bit…you weren’t really sure of the word, but she was nice enough the couple of times you met her.
“Maybe you could introduce me to these hotshot people you know?” Dex could feel something blooming in his chest. Maybe things weren’t completely hopeless. Maybe he could take Fisk down, get his job back, become close with you. Maybe his life could be okay again.
“Maybe, but for now, I think we could both use some sleep, huh? You look like you’re about to pass out for a week. You’re exhausted, Dex.” You lightly brushed your thumbs under his eyes, tracing the dark circles.
He hummed, leaning in towards your touch and closing his eyes.
“Come on,” you said softly, taking his hand in yours, pulling you both off the couch.
You led him to your bedroom and turned on the little lamp on the bedside table.
“You can sleep in here, and I’ll sleep on the couch.” Dex tried to interrupt, but you spoke before he could. “No arguments. You need a decent night’s sleep, Dex. That doesn’t usually happen on a couch.” You didn’t want to leave him, but you weren’t sure if he was comfortable with you staying.
“Could you…maybe…if it’s okay…unless you’re uncomfortable.” You didn’t interrupt, just smiled softly, giving him time. He exhaled, gathering courage he didn’t have. “Could you stay with me? I don’t…I don’t want to be alone. I don’t trust myself,” he admitted.
“Of course,” you told him, running your thumb across his bandaged knuckles.
You both got into your bed, and Dex felt himself melt into your mattress. It was so comfortable, and your sheets were so soft. You gravitated towards each other, your arms automatically going around him, one hand stroking up and down his back, the other running through his hair.
Dex held onto you, his face nestling into the crook of your neck. He never wanted to leave the safe cocoon that you provided. He breathed you in, exhaling a little shakily when you said, “I’ve got you.” He knew it was the truth because he could feel your pulse and heartbeat. It stayed steady as you spoke.
He wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring, but he knew you would be there to help.
You both drifted off into a peaceful sleep, holding each other. Forgetting about what brought you to where you both were now. Not thinking about the mess in Dex’s apartment or the bullets and loaded gun on the dining table. Ignoring the high likelihood that Fisk would end up coming after you both.
You lulled each other to sleep.
And Dex found himself having hope.
fin
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Thank you for reading! <3 x
