★

❝ lele. she/her. ❞ jjk. the pitt. etc.

[drvoos]

❝ about me ❞

lele. she!her. writer. bi. m.list

fandoms

arcane. twd. hotd. got. the pitt. creepypasta. resident evil. fallout. dbh. the boys. mha. jjk. naruto.

⭒ ―⋆

who i write for

anyone in the fandoms above as long as they’re approved by me.

―

requests are open. ask away!

❛⭒˚

[ieatratsyummy]

They could never make me hate you, complex female character whose reaction to trauma was not pretty and digestible like how people think it should be.

[drvoos]

daenerys ☹️

[drvoos]

MELSANTOS NATION ARISE

[drvoos]

promise i’ll write friday!

[drvoos]

the pitt m.list

TRINITY SANTOS

girls like girls!

MICHAEL ROBINAVITCH

coming soon

FRANK LANGDON

coming soon

[drvoos]

GIRLS LIKE GIRLS !

in which santos is struggling...and only you can make her bad day better.

Never in her life had she wanted to disappear more. To walk away from the ED and never come back. Where she would go, Santos had no clue. But there was one thing that blocked her exit. You.

Her shift was going terribly. Well, terribly may be dramatic, but it was Monday at 8am so the feelings were there and overwhelming. It had started off just as a bad hair day. The kind of day where Santos stood for over 15 minutes in the bathroom trying to make her hair look decent, but no matter how hard she tried, it always backfired. Eventually she just said fuck it and decided to leave it be, albeit angrily. Then, her car decided to go completely caput. Her 2016 Chevy Malibu that had over 150,000 miles on it, the first one she bought with her newfound resident money. Her shoulders completely sagged at the sound of the engine sputtering out before stopping entirely. Great, she thought. The bus it was.

When she arrived at The Pitt, the urge to turn right back around and out of there was strong. Doctors and nurses alike were screaming and barking orders, patients were sobbing and groaning in pain, and some of the student doctors were bitching and moaning about how much work they were having to endure. Nothing new, but still annoying. Santos gulped down a breath of fresh air before braving her fear and walking head high towards the front desk. Weaving through the bodies of bustling patrons, she made her way to her chair and dropped her bag onto it. Dana greeted her with a forced smile, as did Princess and Perlah who were lent up against the counter speaking a language she didn't quite understand. Before she could even sit down to clock in, the demands started rolling in.

"Santos!" Robby shouted as he nodded at her in acknowledgment, his glasses sliding slightly down his crooked nose. "Need you in trauma 1." Great. Just her luck. Dana laughed as Santos begrudgingly stood from her comfy rolling chair and over to where Robby waited.

"You do know I just got her right?" She sassed while sliding on the blue gloves that she had gotten used to. Robby smirked as he opened the door for her, letting her go first.

"So did I. Join the club."

So there she was. An hour later, covered in blood that belonged to a patient with a collapsed lung. Robby patted her shoulder as he passed, flashing a tired smile as he went. Even he was already done with today, only he was better at not complaining. Whatever, Santos thought. The water and soap running off of her hands was stained a light pink as she washed whatever had gotten onto her skin. Even covered it always found it's way onto her. She wasn't even done drying them off before her name was called out again.

"Santos!" The sing-song voice nearly made her want to rip out her hair. McKay rounded the corner, her now black hair wrapping around her shoulder in a loose braid. The darker color looked nice on her, Santos thought. "Patient in room 12 - Ms. Smith - complaining of chest pain and nausea. All yours." Before Santos even could complain, McKay was already gliding away. Great.

Cold sanitizer coated her hands as she pushed the door open with her shoulder, smiling warmly at the middle-aged woman sitting on the bed. The woman looked about 40ish, and the pain that was recorded was quite obvious with her facial expressions. Her face was twisted as she groaned and held her stomach.

"Hello, Ms. Smith. My name is Dr. Santos. Can you tell me what's goin on?" Ms. Smith groaned even louder before attempting to sit up straight in the bed.

"My stomach really hurts like really hurts. It feels like someone is stabbing me and its making me want to hurl!" Santos rounded the bed, grabbing the stethoscope from around her neck and pressing it to a couple of spots on Ms. Smiths chest.

"And when did this all start?"

"Last night," Ms. Smith responded, laying back onto the pillow with Santos guiding her. "I was driving home from work when it just hit me."

"Can you recall eating anything that would upset your stomach?" Santos asked as she slipped another pair of blue gloves on.

"No, I didn't eat much yesterday so I don't think it's food related."

Santos nodded, then explained to Ms. Smith that she was just going to press onto her stomach to feel for any abnormalities. The second Santos pressed her hand into the lower abdomen, Ms. Smith projectile vomited. Everywhere. Luckily, Santos had just barely missed the spray, but her facial expression did not hold back.

"Hey.." Ms. Smith started with a guilty smile. "My stomach pain is gone! Guess that's just what I needed.." As Santos left the room now smelling of puke and with a better patient, she expected at least a minute of silence. But of course, the world was not on her side. Across the room, Dr. Langdon spoke at a volume far too loud for her liking. He was wheeling an older gentleman with a bleeding head into one of the other rooms, and the sight nearly made Santos run to Robby right then and there. The fact that he was still allowed to work in the ED even after he had literally stole drugs from a patient left her speechless. Dr. Garcia passed by, and Santos knew she had to say something.

"Dr. Garcia, can I speak with you?" She asked, letting go of the older woman's arm as she stopped.

"Yeah what's up?"

"Do you think that Langdon-" Garcia's face immediately fell.

"Stop. I've already told you I don't want to hear anymore about it." Santos shook her head, attempting to keep talking but Garcia cut her off once more.

"I said stop. I don't want any part of this." Garcia looked truly annoyed, even bordering disgust. "You're trouble." She walked away, leaving Santos by herself. Trouble, she thought? The words pained her more than they probably should have.

Many patients later, Santos finally was able to sit and take a break. Her lumbar region thanked her as she sunk into the chair cushion, her stretch feeling damn near orgasmic. This rest was about the only good thing about her day so far and it was only...9am. It had been a damn hour. The amount of rage and despair that filled her body was enough to fill a soldier in war. She could hear Garcia's voice in the back of her head. Am I really that bad? Santos nibbled on her lip, that sharp pang of sadness in her chest growing the more she thought of what was said of her. Little did she know, her day was only about to get better.

"Santos!" Usually when someone calls her name, she instantly loses all hope in life. She would turn around and then hear five million orders being thrown at her at once. Only, this voice was different. Because this voice belonged to maybe the only person in this entire department who she truly enjoyed being around. You.

Your shift had just started, and you were the complete opposite of how Santos looked when she walked through the ambulance bay doors. You looked almost excited to be here, damn near ecstatic. Your hair was in a perfect slick back, the light makeup on your face highlighting your beautiful features. Your scrubs of your favorite color went perfectly with your skin tone, and Santos nearly felt insecure in her own. Best of all? You were smiling. Not just at anyone, but at her.

"Good morning! I got you an energy drink, I thought you might want one." Your voice was soft and gentle, different from how everyone had talked to her that day. You set your bag right beside hers, making them touch as you pulled out her favorite flavor of redbull. Santos nearly kissed you right then and there. You were always doing small gestures of affection and every time it nearly put Santos in the very beds that the two of you put patients in. Realizing she had just been staring, she immediately reached out and took the drink from your hands. During the exchange, your fingers brushed hers and lingered for a second longer than normal friends would.

"Uh, thank you! You remembered which one I like..." You scoffed, shrugging your shoulders like she had just said something absolutely ridiculous.

"Of course I did. I do listen and take notes, yknow." After what you said had sunk in, the both of you went red in the face. Dana, who had been standing a few feet away, shook her head at the two of you and rolled her eyes.

"Okay you two. If you're done with flirting, we could use the hands." Laughing nervously, you nodded and looked away bashfully. Santos was the same, standing up form her chair and turning to you.

"Lets get to it." You said, smiling up and her and nodding towards where a patient was incoming. Looking at your bright smile and flushed cheeks, Santos felt all of her anxiety and sadness be swept away in a large wave.

Being with you doesn't feel like drowning, and she would be damned if she ever left you.

[drvoos]

two fics coming tonight or tomorrow!!

[drvoos]

hear me out…fluffy langdon x reader headcanons. pure fluff. like i yearn for tooth rotting, cavity giving, heart warming so bad its giving me heartburn fluff. i’m ESPECIALLY a sucker for a roommates trope or a new relationship trope (if that’s even a thing idfk.) anyways if you needed any ideas. thank u diva keep being an incredible writer slay

ITS ON THE WAY. i can probably start writing it this weekend so keep an eye out!! Ily 💗💗

[drvoos]

hear me out…langdon fic.

[drvoos]

resident evil m.list

LEON KENNEDY

joy ride!

[drvoos]

JOY RIDE !

Marrying Leon Kennedy was probably one of the best things you had ever done. You would be lying if you said that your life didn't significantly improve the moment he slipped the -- very expensive --engagement ring onto your pretty little finger. Being his spouse meant you were pampered 24/7, and always shown the love that you dreamed of for years. An extra bonus? His fully customized Porsche Cayenne Turbo GT.

You almost fainted the day he bought it, your face blown out in shock as you looked at the receipt. A completely different reaction than the one your husband had. He even seemed excited at the thought of spending so much money. I mean hey, saving the Presidents daughter and being a top DSO agent meant that the money was constantly flowing, so to him it was practically nothing. Sure, it was an absolutely gorgeous car. The kind you would just look at on the lot before driving away because in no world would you think of spending that much on a car. But again, you were not Leon Kennedy.

It sat in the driveway next to your much cheaper car, making your poor baby look out of place. Your car was your dream car and luckily it didn't cost an entire fortune, but still you felt as if it almost seemed awkward next to the literal tank right next to it. His car was almost...intimidating. Leon would laugh anytime you brought the subject up, saying it was just a car, and that he could buy you one just like it if you ever wanted. You almost always immediately shut that topic down and moved onto the next one, gazing at your own out of the living room window and muttering sorry.

When Leon first offered to let you test drive it, you stood still like a deer in headlights. The thought of driving such an expensive car had you practically shaking in fear. What if you scratched it? Leon shrugged and said he would get a new coat of paint. What if you wrecked it? Leon shrugged and said he would just buy a new one. No matter the excuse you came up with, your husband always had a rebuttal against your arguments. Eventually, you caved.

The interior was just as nice as the exterior if not better. The seats were slick and comfortable, the dash black and clean. Definitely completely different than what you were used to driving. I guess that's just the bonus you get for being rich. Leon sat in the passenger seat, reclining back as if he was about to watch a movie. He seemed completely chill, whereas you were nearly shaking like a leaf.

"You don't have to drive for long," Leon had said, his hand coming to rest on your thigh. "Just around town. It'll be fun, cmon."

With his reassurance, you were off. The controls were smooth and crisp, the brakes sensitive and easy to push down. In all honesty, it wasn't as bad as you thought it would be. He smiled, telling you how good of a job you were doing so far. You could feel the tension leaving your body, and a newfound confidence took over. When you got to a certain point, you took off. Leon shook his head and smirked as you floored it, the engine roaring as you went. Sure, your car could do this too, but she always gave you fits after. Leons car was made for this, and it certainly showed it. You couldn't blame him for choosing this one. Maybe you enjoyed his car after all.

Another bonus? The spacious back seat. And Leon made sure to show you just how good of a job you did when you got back.

[drvoos]

What kinda Leon fic would you want?

angst where he is too late to save you

angst where you lose him to Ada

angst and comfort where you thought you lost him

angst and fluff where you and him reunite after raccoon city

fluff where he lets you drive his porsche

Voting ended onMar 25

[drvoos]

it’s on its way 🫡

[angellicxx]

ok yes so hot and now turn around and show us that back scar please

[drvoos]

What kinda Leon fic would you want?

angst where he is too late to save you

angst where you lose him to Ada

angst and comfort where you thought you lost him

angst and fluff where you and him reunite after raccoon city

fluff where he lets you drive his porsche

Voting ended onMar 25

[drvoos]

hi loves!! i’ve made another acc on tiktok, since i can’t get into my main! the @/is wildflme 💗 i’ll be posting my fanfic edits there

[drvoos]

obsessed with benjamin poindexter rn so when i finish daredevil expect some fics

[chvoswxtch]

termination: the escape

series masterlist | session four

pairing: benjamin poindexter x fem!reader

summary: a surprise visit from a familiar face completely changes your weekend plans.

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of alcohol, explicit sexual content (minors dni)

word count: 5k

a/n: I completely forgot i'm leaving to go out of town tomorrow, and I knew y'all would yell at me if I didn't get this out before valentine's day after that poll, SO, just a disclaimer, this was finished in one sitting after 1.5 bottles of wine and hasn't been edited beyond a basic spellcheck. I wanna thank y'all again for loving the offer so much, and giving me an opportunity to try my hand at a character i'd been wanting to play around with. I hope y'all enjoy the finale. as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

It had been two weeks since you’d last seen Dex. You’d thought about going to visit him, but after the way you’d been promptly escorted onto the next ferry out of Rikers Island at the warden’s demand, it felt out of the question. You weren’t his psychiatrist anymore. You’d been reassigned to another facility. You had no valid excuse to go back. 

And after the way he’d completely shut down, without so much as a goodbye or even a final glance, you didn’t think he’d even want to see you.

The days had passed by in a muted shapeless blur, while simultaneously dragging on endlessly like the stagnant descent of sap down tree bark. That concurrence also extended to your emotions. When your thoughts inevitably drifted to him, a white hot strike of anger would scorch your bloodstream with resentment and frustration at his reaction to something that was out of your hands. But as with every storm, the rain soon followed, dousing those feelings with confusion and drenching them in melancholy. 

You just didn’t understand. It wasn’t like you’d told him you requested to be reassigned. That last conversation had been turning over and over in your head like film on a reel, and you’d gone frame by frame trying to figure it out. Was he upset you’d been honest with the warden and Rumlow? It couldn’t be. As soon as you’d told him what they planned to do, he said he’d call his lawyer to handle it. There didn’t seem to be any blame he was placing on you. In a surprising twist, he’d actually been the one reassuring you that everything would be fine, that he’d find a way to take care of it.

But once you told him about the reassignment, that was when he’d gone cold. And that was what you couldn’t wrap your head around. After everything that had happened between the two of you, he’d just…turned away. Like it all meant nothing. 

And with that thought came the sinking feeling that maybe it had meant nothing to him. Whatever you thought existed between the two of you, maybe it was one sided, or maybe it never existed at all. You’d gotten so caught up in him, in the thrill of the secret you kept together, that you’d allowed yourself to forget what he really was; a psychotic killer serving a life sentence. A master manipulator. Dex had been stuck in solitary, with no source of entertainment, until you came along. And how entertaining you must have been. An intriguing toy gifted to him that he actually wanted to play with. 

Until he didn’t. You’d served your purpose to him, and once you no longer could, whatever version of himself he’d shown you disappeared along with his interest. It was jarring, but you should’ve expected it from someone like him. Your reckless impulsivity had ignored the prophecy you had known better than to tempt. You hadn’t just gotten close to a dangerous patient, you’d let him lure you in with his siren’s song, and now your bruised heart crashed against your ribcage, sinking to the depths of your stomach in fateful pieces.

You’d risked your career, your reputation, and your credibility for him. You’d risked everything you’d worked your ass off for, and for what? 

After a particularly draining Friday, you stopped off at the bodega two blocks away from your apartment to grab a liquid dinner. You knew there was barely enough wine left in the bottle currently in your fridge for one glass, so you grabbed two bottles, then thought better of it and grabbed three. For all the cashier knew, you were having a dinner party. Although the reality was that he probably didn’t give a shit as long as you could pay for them and didn’t take his attention away from the tv too long.

He didn’t even look at you when you placed the three bottles down on the counter, his hands moving on autopilot to scan each one while his eyes remained focused on whatever was playing on the screen behind your head. While reaching into your purse for your wallet, he finally spoke, but it wasn’t to tell you your total.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

Thinking you’d done something wrong, or maybe said something out loud you hadn’t meant to, you looked up at the man in confusion, but he was still watching the tv.

“What?”

He scoffed and gestured vaguely to the mounted screen.

“That crazy fucker escaped. The serial killer, the one with the uh, shit, what is it they call him? Oh, there it is. Bullseye.”

Shock rippled through your entire body all at once, as if you’d just fallen through a weak spot on a frozen lake. You immediately whirled around to look up at the screen, your eyes doubling in size at the picture of Dex in the right hand corner of the news report, and the headline beneath the woman presenting the story.

Notorious Killer “Bullseye” Makes Bloody Prison Escape

“Turn that up.”

The cashier grabbed the remote and unmuted the sound, mistaking your fervent demand for morbid curiosity, which he wasn’t bothered to comply with. The feed cut from a reporter standing outside a chaotic scene at Rikers Island back to the anchorwoman delivering the evening news.

“Thank you, Ben, for that update. If you are just now tuning in, we are following the developments in tonight’s harrowing top story. Benjamin Poindexter, also known as ‘Bullseye’, escaped Rikers Island nearly an hour ago. Poindexter was serving a life sentence on multiple counts of murder. A source at the prison confirms that he was brought to the infirmary for undisclosed medical treatment, where he proceeded to kill a doctor and two guards. Now we do currently have seven confirmed deaths, but five of the identities have yet to be released. However, it has been revealed that two of the victims include the prison’s warden, John Riggle, and S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent, Brock Rumlow.”

Your hand instantly flew up to your mouth hearing their names, your fingers trembling against your parted lips, and you had to grip onto the edge of the counter to steady yourself.

“It is unclear at this time how Poindexter managed to escape. Commissioner Gallo of the New York City Police Department gave a statement just moments ago that he is deploying a special task force to lead the man hunt. He stated that he does not believe Poindexter has an advantage of time on his men, given that no vehicles were found missing from the staff parking lot, leading Gallo to believe Poindexter is on foot in these wintry conditions. It is currently thirteen degrees and dropping, and the snow is expected to continue throughout the night into the early morning. Commissioner Gallo is confident that if his men don’t catch Poindexter, the elements will.”

It didn’t feel real. Every word that escaped the speakers and slipped into your ear didn’t seem like they could quite breach the bony labyrinth that separated your eardrum from your brain, like your body refused to let the words pass through to be processed.

“Poindexter is an Army Veteran and a former F.B.I. Agent, reported to have almost superhuman target accuracy, making any object deadly in his hands. He is considered armed and extremely dangerous. Commissioner Gallo urges all New York residents to contact the tipline below with any information on Poindexter’s whereabouts.”

The bottles of wine were left completely abandoned on the bodega counter as you shoved open the frosted glass door, dashing out onto the snowy sidewalk. The frigid February air stung as it whipped across your face like shards of glass slicing across your exposed skin, but you barely felt it. The freezing temperature made your lungs burn as you ran home, incinerating your throat and nostrils with every labored inhale, but the adrenaline coursing through your blood provided a temporary elixir to push through the ache in your chest and your legs to keep sprinting. 

It wasn’t until you burst through your front door that you realized you didn’t know what you were running for. What were you supposed to do from your apartment? What could you do? Swiftly pulling out your phone, you stared down at the screen blankly, panting heavily from the marathon you’d just run. Your thumbs shook as they hovered over the screen, numb from exposure to the cold. Your body was still trembling from a mix of the adrenaline and the weather. 

There was no one you could call. The only two people you could’ve called to demand answers from on what the hell had happened were both dead. You couldn’t call the prison right now, you’d never get through. 

“Fuck.”

You could attempt to contact the Commissioner's office, which you probably also couldn’t get through to right now. But maybe you if you could get at least someone in his office on the phone, you could explain who you were, and-

“Put the phone down.”

The sudden disruption of silence made you jump, your fingers clutching your phone tightly, which made your frozen digits protest with aches that radiated from the joints. Whipping around immediately, you nearly knocked the breath out of yourself slamming your back against your front door. Your eyes frantically searched for the source of the voice, but it was dark in your apartment. You hadn’t turned the lights on when you came in. The city lights coming in through the window in your living room illuminated a sliver of space, but the rest was shrouded in looming shadows.

“Put it down, Doc.”

Your breath hitched when recognition finally set in. Booted footsteps began to sound from the corner of your living room, coming closer, until he finally stepped into the light. 

“Dex.”

He didn’t react to the breathless whisper of his name, and if he noticed the hint of fear muddled in your shock, he didn’t react to that either. There was an eerie calmness to him that made you feel even more unsettled. Your heart was still pounding from the adrenaline, your brain still trying to make sense of everything that was going on. Just fifteen minutes ago he had been a breaking news story that upended your Friday night, and now he was here in your apartment. 

Slowly, you pried your fingers off your phone, taking cautious steps forward to carefully place it down on the kitchen island to your right. His eyes followed every step you took, locked on you like a predator. There was a flash of light that passed by your window, and it allowed you to see him a little more clearly, and the unfamiliar clothing he had on. A prison guard’s uniform. Something that you’d heard on the news report seemed to suddenly stick out in your brain.

No vehicles were found missing from the staff parking lot.

You hadn’t caught onto how strange that detail was before, the bombshell of his break out taking precedence over analyzing the facts, but even in the midst of the chaos you had known in the back of your mind that Dex was too smart to try and escape an island on foot. Seeing him in the uniform now made it all click. Of course no vehicles were missing, because most of the guards didn’t drive to the prison. They took the shuttle bus. It had the same schedule everyday, picking up and dropping off at the exact same time like clockwork, and a few of those slots lined up with the shift changes. 

You remembered then that Dex had been watching the guards on the tower intently when you’d been brought to his cell. Looking over at him again in the uniform, you began to piece together how he’d manage to escape. He knew the schedule of the bus and the shift changes. 

“Did you plan this?”

“I have a lot of free time, Doc. Not much else to do but plan.”

He removed the hat and tossed it onto your coffee table, smoothing his messy blonde hair down with one of his hands. 

There were so many questions swirling around in your head, fighting to be asked first. How long had he been planning this? What had he been brought to the infirmary for? How did he know where you lived? How the hell did he get in? But something else slipped out before you could ask any of that.

“You killed the warden and Rumlow.”

“I did.”

Dex said it casually, almost with a hint of boredom, walking over to pick up the wine glass sitting on the coffee table that was nearly empty. There went the rest of that bottle you’d had in the fridge. Your thoughts were interrupted immediately when you watched him lift the glass to his lips to drain it. While you were stumbling into your apartment frozen with shock and snow, you hadn’t noticed the glass sitting there on the coffee table. Although, in your defense, you were preoccupied, and it was dark.

But then another thought occurred to you. Dex had to have been here awhile. Long enough to look through your fridge to find the bottle of wine and the cabinets to find a glass. The news report said he had escaped a little over an hour ago. Had he come straight here? Just…given himself a tour of your apartment while waiting for you to show up? 

“Have you been here this whole time?”

“You got a nice place, Doc.”

Letting out a dry scoff, you gestured around incredulously with your hands.

“So you, what, escape prison, and then your first thought was to come to my apartment and turn into a goddamn AirBnB? Make yourself comfortable until I get home, and then scare the shit out of me?”

“I wasn’t trying to scare you-”

“Oh, right, you were just hiding in the dark corner for fucking theatrics.”

Dex pursed his lips with slight irritation, setting the empty glass back down on the coffee table while keeping his eyes on you. He opened his mouth to speak, but you abruptly cut him off.

“Why did you kill them?”

He knew who you meant without you having to repeat their names. His annoyance at your attitude shifted into something much darker, and he took a few bold steps closer to you, his voice dropping a dangerous octave lower.

“Did you really think I was going to let them take you from me?”

“Yes!”

Dex was just as surprised by your outburst as you were. All those feelings that had been simmering under the surface were breaching the crest of the ever changing tides of your vacillating feelings. All that helpless confusion, the furious resentment, the hollowing sadness, it all burst from the wound that was still raw. 

“I didn’t ask to be reassigned! It was a fucking punishment, I didn’t-”

“I know.”

His simple response was oddly gentle, and he almost looked stressed, but for some reason that only infuriated you even more, and you shoved at his chest as hard as you could in vexation. It felt like trying to shove a brick wall, and your wrists ached from the resistance against your own force. He didn’t attempt to defend himself, not that he really had to, but he just stood there with his hands hanging limply at his sides. He let you take your anger and your hurt out on him, looking pained at how upset you clearly were, knowing it was his fault.

“Then why didn’t you say something? God, you wouldn’t even look at me. You just turned your back on me-”

“I’m sorry.”

Dex clenched and unclenched his fists at his sides, his mouth opening and closing a few times with his nervous breaths and his struggle to form the right words on his tongue to fix the mess he’d inadvertently created. 

“I didn’t mean to…I wasn’t trying to-I just didn’t want to tip off the guard.”

“You could’ve at least said goodbye-”

Dex surged forward abruptly and grabbed your face in his hands, dipping his head to stare right into your eyes with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

“No.”

The vitriol in his voice contrasted sharply with the anxiety interwoven within it, his eyes wild with the fervent need to make you understand.

“I was not saying goodbye. There was never going to be a goodbye. They weren’t gonna take you from me. No one was.”

He let out a shaky breath, trying to quell his own potent emotions, pressing his forehead against yours as one hand slipped from your face to cradle the back of your head. His voice dropped to an intimate whisper, and he spoke with the urgency of making a sacred promise.

“I would’ve killed everyone in that fucking prison to get back to you, and I wouldn’t have lost an ounce of sleep over it, do you understand me? No one is ever taking you from me, and I’ll kill anyone that tries.”

It seemed like he was holding his breath, his eyes searching yours, but you weren’t sure what answer he was looking for. A tense moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“Tell me you understand.”

You heard the desperation in his voice and you realized then what he wanted. He was begging you to believe him. To trust him. His anxiety quickly dissipated all of your anger. He hadn’t manipulated you. He hadn’t meant to hurt you. He’d given you immunity from what he’d planned to do. His stonewalling in front of the guard had snipped any thread of speculation that could be tied to you. There would be eventual questioning down the line, since you’d been his psychiatrist, but there would be no immediate suspicion. With the warden and Rumlow dead, the only real witness left to go on record about how Dex interacted with you was that guard, and Dex’s cold indifference had given him no evidence to support an accusation. 

He’d protected you.

The revelation hit you so strongly, nearly knocking the breath from your lungs, that at that moment you couldn’t find the words to respond. There didn’t seem to be any that could convey what you did want to say. And since words, and lack thereof, had created this mess in the first place, it only felt right to respond in the way you knew could speak for you.

Reaching up to grab onto the back of his neck, you pulled him down into a passionate kiss that earned a low groan from his chest. That seemed to be all the answer he needed. He grabbed a fistful of the hair at the back of your head, and you inhaled sharply at the tension it created on your roots, but the sting was ephemeral. 

He shoved you back against the closest wall, breaking the kiss with the gasp it tore from you, and his greedy lips quickly latched onto the delicate skin of your neck, caressing a heated trail of warm and wet open mouthed kisses down your skin, his teeth decorating it with blooms of bruises.

You were panting as you scored the back of his neck with your nails, tugging roughly at his cropped hair, earning a grunt from Dex. Reaching between your bodies to unbutton and unzip your jeans, you gripped his wrist and guided his hand down into your panties, and he was all too eager to give you what you wanted.

As soon as his fingertips brushed over your aching clit, your head fell back against the wall with a relieved moan, and you felt his hardening cock press against your lower belly. He groaned at how wet you were for him already, using the pads of his fingers to rub quick circles around your clit the way he knew you liked. Neither one of you had any patience to take this slow.

“God, I fucking missed you baby. Missed this pussy.”

“Dex-”

“Tell me what you want, sweetheart. Anything. I’ll give you anything.”

Rolling your hips against his hand, you whimpered as you started clawing at the buttons of his shirt, ripping it open. You wanted what you’d always wanted from the first moment he’d touched you.

“Fuck me, Dex.”

His eyes nearly rolled hearing you say that, and he let out a hot, shuddering breath against your ear. Swiftly pulling his hand out of your panties, he ripped them down along with your jeans, kneeling down instantly to tear them off along with your shoes. Before you could even catch your breath, he gripped your hips and lifted you effortlessly, your legs automatically wrapping around his waist, and he walked over to set you down on the edge of the kitchen island. 

Your fingers fumbled with his belt buckle while he ripped the shirt off his shoulders, tossing it carelessly to the ground. Your jacket and your blouse quickly followed, and while you unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, he reached behind your back to undo the clip of your bra with one quick motion. It almost made you laugh. He really was good with his hands.

But whatever amusement that would’ve escaped was cut off with a gasp as he shoved his pants and boxers down to his knees, spread your legs wider for his hips to fit between, and grasped the base of his cock to rub the tip against your drenched pussy to coat himself in your wetness. You eagerly wrapped your legs around Dex’s waist again, pulling him in further, grabbing onto his shoulder with one hand and the back of his neck with the other as you panted against his lips.

“Please Dex, please-Oh God…”

Your mouth dropped open while your head fell back, and your eyes nearly rolled when he pushed his hips forward to fill you in one swift thrust. He let out a guttural groan, pressing his forehead against yours while his hands gripped your hips hard enough to bruise.

“Oh…f-fuck.”

Dex let out a shaky breath and a whimper, his head falling to your shoulder as he wrapped one of his arms around your waist to pull you flush against his firm chest.

“Oh my God, sweetheart…you feel…fuck, you feel even better than I imagined.”

Since the beginning of all this, you’d been wondering what it would be like to finally fuck him. And your fantasy was no match for the reality. You’d never been fucked like this. And it wasn’t just that Dex had a big dick, or that his pelvis was grinding against your clit just right. It was how he was fucking you. Like he needed it just as bad as you did. Like he’d been fantasizing about this just as long as you had, or maybe even longer. 

Like he was fucking obsessed with you.

Given Dex’s tendency to fixate on someone and go to any lengths to please them, being the object of his obsession wasn’t too far fetched. And it felt fucking incredible.

It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t slow. It wasn’t romantic. It was exactly what it needed to be. It was months of longing and pent up passion finally getting released. Dex’s fingers dug roughly into the soft skin of your hips and thighs, and your nails marked up his back, making him hiss as he bit down into the juncture where your neck met your shoulder, tearing a desperate moan from you.

He didn’t hold back at all. He fucked you hard and fast against the island, his hips snapping in rapid succession. Both of you were panting hard, and the sound of skin smacking against skin echoed in your apartment like a standing ovation. 

“Oh fuck…right there right there right there-”

Dex growled in your ear, pulling you impossibly closer against his chest, like he was trying to fuse your bodies together. He bit down on your earlobe before licking the shell of it, nuzzling his nose against the underside of your jaw. He wasn’t thrusting rapidly anymore, insteading switching to oscillating his hips, grabbing your ass to pull you closer towards the edge of the counter so he could grind harder against you.

“There, baby?”

Your eyes fluttered and you clawed desperately at his back, rolling your hips to create even more delicious friction as you whimpered.

“Oh my God…Dex…don’t stop…please don’t fucking stop…”

Dex reveled in your begging. He let his hand glide up your waist, over your breast that he gave a firm squeeze, and then his fingers wrapped around your neck and he applied the same greedy pressure.

“Tell me you need me.”

The second you’d felt his hand squeeze your throat, your cunt clenched around his cock and your eyes nearly rolled. He grunted as he applied a bit more pressure, dragging his tongue along your jaw, panting harshly in your ear.

“Say it.”

“I need you…I need you…fuck, Dex-”

“Say you’ll never leave me.”

“I won’t…I swear…please…”

You could feel that familiar pressure in your lower belly. It was growing rapidly, that balloon of pleasure swelling inside you, seconds away from bursting. Your thighs were trembling, and you tightened your legs around his waist, digging your nails into his back almost hard enough to break the skin. Your breathing was ragged, and you could hardly speak in anything but high pitched rushed whimpers. 

“Dex Dex Dex-”

“I got you, baby. I got you. Let me have it.”

Your body seized up before a ripple of pure euphoria surged through you, making you convulse. Dex let out a loud moan as his hips stuttered, dropping his head to your shoulder as your orgasm triggered his own. There was an explosion of blinding white light behind your eyelids that slowly transitioned to static that seemed to spread throughout your boneless body. It was suddenly sweltering in your small apartment, and your legs slipped from being tightly woven around Dex’s waist due to both of you being slick with sweat.

“Jesus fucking Christ, woman.”

Despite your exhaustion, you let out a laugh, and Dex pulled back to look down at you. He brushed your sweaty hair away from your cheek, still panting as he smirked.

“That funny to you? Wrecking a man like that?”

“If it makes you feel any better, I’d say we’re mutually wrecked.”

The blissed out grin on your lips had Dex’s cock stirring to life inside you all over again. He leaned in to kiss you deeply, nipping playfully at your bottom lip before dipping his head to nuzzle his nose against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply.

For a moment you stayed like that. Wrapped up in each other, catching your breath, enjoying the lingering buzz of gratification. As badly as you wanted to stay in the sanctuary of it all, you knew reality would come knocking sooner or later. Letting out a soft sigh, you spoke in a quiet whisper.

“Dex-”

“I know.”

He pulled back slowly, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear as he met your nervous expression. He was quiet for a moment, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip.

“Come with me.”

Your brows furrowed in confusion, your hazy brain trying to figure out if you’d been in the middle of a conversation you didn’t remember having.

“Where?”

“Anywhere.”

A wolfish grin suddenly split his lips as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against yours.

“Outside the U.S. of course.”

Giving him a funny look, you let out a quiet laugh, tilting your head to the side.

“Benjamin Poindexter, are you asking me to run away with you?”

“Well, I’m not exactly asking you, I’m telling you. But I am letting you pick where we go. So, tell me. Where should we ride off into the sunset, Doc?”

It only took you a second to realize he was serious. Your brain instantly kicked into the logistics of what he was suggesting.

“Dex, you do realize you’re probably on the F.B.I.’s top ten most wanted list, right?”

“And you do know I used to work in the F.B.I.”

“But-”

“I have an old friend, well, friend is a generous word. An old…acquaintance, with very powerful friends in high and low places. We could have new identities by tomorrow morning. Enough cash to settle somewhere comfortably. Start a new life. A quiet one, just you and me.” 

The hopeful look in Dex’s eyes made you soften, and consider his offer seriously. What would you really be leaving behind? An emotionally taxing job you could never really leave at the office? A tiny apartment that cost way more than what it was worth? All that student loan debt? 

You’d gotten into psychiatry to figure out what was wrong with you and how to fix it, and when you realized you couldn’t do that, you thought you could substitute your absence of purpose with one that sounded good. If you couldn’t help yourself, maybe you could help someone else. But deep down, you knew it hadn’t worked. You didn’t feel fulfilled, you just felt…exhausted. The weight of your own problems was heavy enough without tacking on everyone else’s that you brought home.

But with Dex, you felt…weightless. You didn’t have to pretend to be a better version of yourself. He liked the fucked up version of you. And that was…freeing. It suddenly seemed possible, a life like that with him. No pretending, no weight on your shoulders, you could just…be. Dex had killed to be with you. He’d kill to protect you. He’d do whatever it took to make you happy. Who else could you say that about?

Biting down on your bottom lip, you looked at him with an excited smile.

“I’ve always wanted to go to Italy.”

tags: @dissolvedprincess @anthropsych @billybonesxx @caitriona000 @mondaymourningg @thetorturedpoetcalleddez @lambmurdock @this-is-where-you-wanna-be @n4niwho @lanae111 @melaninjoys @kylos-bens @daizybelle @demiebarnes @hauntbones @yomnajir@literarygarden @katvamp444 @CallMeBrooklynBabes @alemmariie @bons-bins @Madeleneprydberg

[drvoos]

brilliant.