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Summary: Dex held on as if he were afraid you were going to fly away.
Word-Count: 5.2k
Warnings: Smut, Unhealthy Mutual Codependency, Trauma, Emotional Manipulation, Gaslighting, Crying! Dex, 0.5 Seconds of Sub! Dex, Brief Mention of Death
Author’s Note: previous chapter. promise i making a master list...if you wanna get the vibe of this chapter, listen to "prisoner" by the weeknd and lana del rey. title and content inspired by both ! only two real chapters + epilouge left omg. i start my big girl job next week (eekk) so I will try to get them all out asap. I'm traveling back to mine wednesday so I'd say expect ch.9 by friday, this story should be wrapped up within the next week. but who knows? I may get a spark on creativity. as always, tysm for the support and enjoy !
A quiet peace had come between you. Both of you had acknowledged a shift had taken place, leaving room for a soft yet electric tension between. You had found yourself seeking Dex and calling him a comfort for you. And in that light, Dex searched for you, and you sought him out. The soft touches that would graze your lower back, his lips pressed on the sweet spot on your neck in the morning, and the small terms of enderamrnet–he felt like your boyfriend.
However, the guilt was eating you alive. A part of you knew this was wrong, yet, it was impossible to stop it. It was a battle between your mind and heart.
But it was the times where Dex still treated you like a prisoner that grounded you in reality. He mentioned to you a couple of evenings ago that on one of his outings, he saw that someone anonymously tipped the FBI on a lead. Someone had stopped a “woman that strongly resembled you” in town. With this, Dex automatically banned you from leaving the house for your own “safety”; and out of his own selfishness to hide you for the world. You could see Dex’s anxiety from his planning for a worst case scenario and his inability to leave you alone. Slowly, you saw the cracks began to form.
Dex was your captor, an undeniable fact. But your captor was needy and touch-starved. Not to mention, emotionally-dependent on you.
He made it, especially in the bedroom. Dex was unusually soft with you in the bedroom. However, every time you had sex, you could sense a darkness he was hiding from you. You didn’t know why, but it attracted you to him, like a moth to a flame. He had kept asking if he was hurting you and even admitted that he was terrified of hurting you. You always reassured him he hadn’t, which would drive him crazy. Even the slightest of touches would make Dex shake with pleasure. Dex would not only make sure you were pleased, but he would take the best care of you before, during, and after the act. He’d decorate you with kisses down your body, compliments about your beauty, and touch you like a hungry, yet passionate man.
You hated to admit it, but it was some of the best sex you had ever had.
The last time the two of you had sex, it was on the couch a couple of days ago. While he had always initiated it, you never resisted him. After you both had gone down on one another, Dex had fucked you from behind as he pushed you against the back of the couch. While he took you in softly and slowly, you had begged (embarrased of it after) to fuck you harder. Dex gripped the flush of your ass and picked up the speed, fucking you mercilessly for two minutes before finishing all over your back. He had grasped so tightly onto your thighs that he left purple marks on both of them.
An hour later, you had walked into the bathroom to see him leaning against the edge of the sink, crying.
You had approached him, coming from behind to hug him and kiss his shoulder, asking him why.
“I hurt you,” Dex whispered, unable to look at you, “I’m so sorry, baby.”
He was a man who could kill anybody with any object, however, you brought him to his knees at the mercy of your approval.
Wrapping your hands around him, you hugged Dex from behind and placed soft kisses on his shoulder. You could hear his lips quivering and heart beating. When you pulled him tight, his heart beat began to stabilize.
“You didn’t hurt me,” You honestly admitted.
Letting go, you pushed yourself up to sit on the edge of the bathroom counter. You pulled up the shorts you wear to show off the bruises on the side of your thighs; a developing purple. They were going to darken. You took Dex’s hand and placed it on your thigh, right above the bruises.
“Look at me,” You cupped his cheek, bringing his face to yours. It was red with his eyes stained with tears. Dex tried to regain control, but he miserably failed. You softly sighed, using your thumb to wipe a falling tear. Dex immediately sunk into your touch.
“You just gave me a love mark,” You reassured as your thumb stroked his cheek. As much as the word came out naturally, and it made you wanna throw up, it also made you somewhat wet. It was a horrible conflict of emotions as you felt it hard and heavy, all at once.
“I like when you do that.”
“You like me hurting you?”
“No,” You shook your head and leaned over to whisper right into Dex’s ear, “I like it when you do that”. You grabbed his index finger and drew it across your blooming bruise.
“I like it when you mark me.”
Once you placed a kiss on the top of his ear and lightly bit it, Dex began to kiss your cheek. He moved to your lips, and you fell right into it. He proceeded to eat you out against the kitchen sink, making you finish for a third time that evening, before fucking you against the bathroom counter. He had kept his hands over your bruised thighs as he went into you, but made sure not to bruise you. You had been so sore that Dex made it his personal duty to wash you and carry you to bed that evening.
You had seen Dex’s dependence on you before, but ever since the two of you had sex, it became more apparent. Dex became physically calmer with you around, whether he’d be asking to lay his head in your lap as you read to him or asking for you to sit next to him just because he wanted to be near you. Dex melted at your sheer presence. You leaned into the reassurance and intimacy he craved, watching the predator in him dissolve into a desperate and clingy child. You offered the affection he was starved from, and in return, you gained subtle control over the man who held you captive. Yes, you were still Dex’s prisoner, but Dex was a prisoner of his own emotional shitstorm.
Quickly, you realized his neediness and dependence on you was a lever you could pull.
In addition to being entirely dependent on your mood, Dex was a control freak. His routines were how he kept his emotions regulated and stabilized. Even the slightest differentiation in routine made him crack, albeit slightly. With the FBI seemingly closing in, he made sure to hide you further from the world. Even the slightest change with you would cause him to panic–which is something you saw rather quickly.
One night after dinner, the two of you were in bed. You had been watching some film, and Dex had thrown his arm to bring you close. You decided to test your theory. As rested your head on his shoulder, you stiffened your neck, which he immediately noticed in his constant glances over. At one point, you had moved just an inch over on the bed when he had paused the movie and asked if you were mad at him. When you immediately said no and said you were stretching, he sighed in relief and kissed you on the forehead.
Another day, you had been on the couch, trying to read on your Kindle. Dex had come out of the shower and invited himself over to sit with you. As he attempted to rest his head in your lap, you pressed your knees up. He had clocked the coldness immediately and shook his head, saying he shouldn’t bother you. Not even five minutes later, he had returned and sat right next to you, looking panicked until you said you weren’t mad, but you just wanted to read. Alone. While he didn’t like the answer, he became calmer at hearing your words reassure him.
Those had been tests, and they were successful.
But the one time you were acting, it had tested not just Dex, but you.
You had complicated feelings towards Dex. Yes, you did hate him–but god, sometimes he did things that made you question him. Dex took incredible care of you in all fields. He gave you whatever you desired and wanted. He’d do anything for you, even if you hadn't asked. Just a few mornings ago, you had complained of your slippers becoming old. Dex had gone out and bought you three different pairs to make sure you liked a certain one. He even had put them on you, kissing your knee when doing so.
And the sex? It was intoxicating. You admittedly loved the attention he had given you; the affection, the gifts, and all. You loved when he listened to everything you said, devoted to every word you said. You loved when you could feel him against your back in the morning, holding your hand as you woke up. You loved that he took care of you, but you hated him for the monster he was. He did things that reminded you that he was very much you were his captor, and that you were his prisoner.
“You have got to be in the house,” Dex declared, coming into the house as he slammed the door, “No going outside.”
“There are unmarked cars all up the road and in town,” He began to explain, leaning against the kitchen counter as he looked outside, “It isn’t safe for you, ___. It’s for your own good. No town. No running. No porch. Nothing.”
As you opened your mouth to protest, Dex had shut it down.
“And what about you? Huh?”
“I’m also keeping a low profile. I will go only into town when needed,” He shut down the conversation, “I need to protect you.”
But no, you weren’t gonna let him win.
“You don’t think I can hold my own?” You were accused.
Dex turned over and came to your side to explain. You had put your Kindle down and looked away, crossing your arms and turning your body over. As Dex mumbled, finding his words, saying you could with some bullshit excuse of how it was his duty to protect you, you scoffed and turned to look at him with a disapproving face.
“Remember who shot you? When you, hmmm,” You intentionally froze on the word until you raised your eyebrows, “Oh right, when you came into my house, massacred the people inside, and took me. How could I forget?”
Dex sunk at the words, unable to speak. You didn’t stop on your tirade of words towards your captor.
“Scared they are gonna find you?” You had remarked out of annoyance and anger.
Dex froze at the comment. You saw his eyes darken.
“No,” He couldn’t look at you as he said, “I don’t care what they do to me. You? That’s what I care about.”
“They’d take me home,” You casually remarked as you grabbed your Kindle to go up to the bedroom.
Seeing this, Dex walked to the stairs and blocked them. As you tried to go push through him, he blocked you.
“This is your home. I’m your home.”
You tried to push by him again, angered at his words.
“No, you aren’t. Let me go through-”
“Stop fighting, ___.”
Once you stopped fighting, you dropped your hands from his chest, looking up at him coldly.
“You aren’t my home,” You said low and steady, “Look at you. You can’t let anyone have me so you hold me for yourself like a toy.”
Your very words had caused Dex to flinch. As his jaw slackened and his eyes looked wounded, he lowered his arms. You immediately pushed past Dex to head upstairs. You felt him turn to reach for you, in which you responded back with a cold silent stare. Dex immediately put his hand down, letting you walk up the stairs.
As you got to the top, you stopped and deliberately did not look back. You thought of something to say, but opted to keep to yourself. You knew Dex would stand there, and for a long time, stewing in his self-pity and guilt at the silence you starkly enforced.
You locked yourself in the bedroom you shared with him (you occasionally said “ours). Once locked, you sat against the door. You don’t know why the face of your father came to mind; it had been complicated in the last few years, from his affairs to morally questionable choices, but he was your father, and here you had been. You felt disgusting, knowing you could stop, but you lunged yourself at Dex as a form of comfort. You poked at the bear for entertainment and the thought of it made you sick. Biting your wrist against the door, you hold back tears. You felt fucking sick.
Dex had come hours later and had knocked lightly, but you didn’t respond. He didn’t dare enter.
The next morning, you awoke to a cold and empty bed. You were greeted with the smell of detergent on the sheets. No kisses on your neck, no hands around your waist, nothing. You looked at the nightstand and saw no cup of coffee.
Carefully unlocking the bedroom door, you walked downstairs. No sight of Dex. You assumed he had slept on the couch since the pillows looked perfectly straight. Looking both ways, you made your way down the stairs to make yourself coffee. As you began to brew the coffee, you heard some footsteps and clutter in the distance, but resumed with your routine, even with your heat beating in your chest.
Once the coffee machine stopped brewing, you hear the front door slam. Seconds later, gravel moves as a car exits the driveway. You walked to the door, seeing no car in the sight, and therefore no sign of Dex.
A part of you feels relieved, another part of you feels sad. You leaned against the cool glass of the window, letting the dust style.
That was what the next week of interaction looked like between you two.
You avoided Dex as much as physically possible. You felt like a petulant child, giving him the silent treatment, but you felt as if you had justified reasons. If he saw you, even for a split second going up the stairs or in the living room, he’d just look at you. He’d look like you had just shot him. Most times, you chose it was best to ignore him and go to another room. Other times, you looked at him, giving a disapproving look and getting up to escape his presence. The two of you lived in absolute silence.
Dex, of course, tried to speak to you. He had still made meals, and you’d come if you had felt. If he saw you come in, he’d get excited and do everything to get you to speak. He’d pull out your chair, make all of your favorite mela,s and try to spark up conversation. You could feel his anxiety from across the table with his nervous fidgeting and forced smile.
“Do you like the food?”
“How is the book you're reading? You seem into it.”
“You know, I saw this sewing kit. I got it for you. I wanna watch you do it.”
“Are you mad at me?”
The question made you drop your fork and place your face into your hands, loudly groaning.
“You make me feel so confused,” You admitted as you leaned on the table, voice full of anger and defeat.
“One minute, you’re smothering me. Acting like your boyfriend. You want this domestic life. Then, the next minute, you're locking me away from the world. You’re a monster who took me away from my life, and then you cry when you bruise me. Which one is it, Dex? What am I to you? Your prisoner? Your toy? Something to take your anger out when you're all frustrated?”
Dex didn’t flinch this time. As he took in the words, his face went pale.
“Don’t say that.”
You looked at him, titling your head.
“What?”
“You’re not a toy,” Dex gripped the edge of the table, “Never were. You’re more than that.”
Dex stood up fast, causing you to as well. As you made your way up the stairs, Dex followed. The two of you ended up in the bedroom as Dex came behind you. He didn’t dare move closer as you edged towards the best, getting closer to him.
“Please, ___.”
You awaited his response, seeing the fight go out of his eyes. Dex looked scared. He was scared.
“You hate me,” He confessed, “And I hate that you hate me.”
“I hurt you when I met you. I didn’t mean to. You were so good to everyone around you. Despite him being your Dad-” Dex caught himself, clenching his fits, “-I didn’t wanna let you be there. Get corrupted. Let people hurt you. I took you because I care about you.”
“Why?” Your words landed like a thud, “You think this is saving?”
“It sounds wrong, but it’s not,” Dex admitted, his eyes on the carpet, “ButI don’t know how to live without you with me. I never wanted to hurt you, I just wanted you to be safe. I understand you. You understand me.”
So, you decided to walk the final few steps and sat on the edge of the bed, looking up at him as his eyes stayed on the carpet.
“Understand what, Dex? Tell me everything. Tell me why me,” You silently commanded.
Dex moved towards you slowly, getting onto his knees. He kept an inch between you, but his forehead rested against your knees. You allowed it.
“Dex,” You softly said. When he looked up, you softened your features. Slowly, you reached your palm out. Dex immediately put the side of his cheek in there, soaking in your touch.
Dex took in a shaky inhale before exhaling, right before his explanation. He began to talk about the years of isolation he faced, from his childhood to time in the military to the FBI. He spoke of the silence that lived in his chest until he saw you, that one spring morning, that gave him a reason. Dex further unraveled about his childhood and the pain that came with him. He said people like you, minus his routines, were his regulation. He repeated Julie’s name, but not her, but the idea of letting someone get hurt because of him. Dex’s need for you–the only person he had confessed he had ever felt attraction to-had driven you to kidnap him. He had seen your father, and had seen his evil, and had seen your goodness. He had convinced himself he was the only one who could keep you safe, and the only way to keep you safe was to lock you away from the world. Dex had confessed to his past of being a monster, but wasn’t ashamed of it. The only thing he was ashamed of was hurting you. You were the first person that Dex had ever felt an emotional connection too.
Not Julie, not Dr.Mercer, you.
“You listen to me,” Dex acknowledged, leaning into your palm as his lips brushed against your fingers. “You see me. You're my good deed.”
“When she died, it was because I hesitated. Because I didn’t act. I watched a good person die because of me. I would never let that happen to you.”
Dex finally looked at you, his eyes becoming glassy. As you sat, you listened and felt your heat go heavy. You didn’t want to sympathize, but you were trapped under the haze of his words.
“You’re too good to get caught up with people who wanna use you. You're my good deed, ___. If I can protect you, I’ve done something. I’m terrified you think I’m a monster and you’ll leave. I don’t want you to go, please. Stay with me, sweetheart.”
Dex’s lips moved to kiss the palm of your hand. As you sat, you breathed heavily, matching his. He looked at you, eagerly awaiting an answer. You leaned down to look at Dex, hand cupping his face, seeing him look up with you with awe, hanging off of your lips opening.
“You think you’ve caged me?” You held onto him, letting him hold onto you. You stroked his hair back, “Look at me, Dex.”
As his eyes rose to yours, wet but with a flicker of hope, you moved towards him–not to speak, but place a kiss on his forehead. You kissed down his nose and met up with his lips at once. Dex kissed you back quickly, and frantically. You titled your head down, pulling him towards you. Dex eventually calmed down when you stood up and moved him to the edge of the bed. He pulled you into a hug and began to kiss the top of your head.
“I’m so sorry, baby,” Dex pleaded into your hair, “Please, I-”
You reassured him by saying his anime, causing him to stop. Stroking his hair back, you gently pushed him back on the bed. Dex laid as you laid right next to him, tracing your hands across his face. Your fingers grazed the scar on his cheek, and you leaned down, placing soft kisses to it. You heard Dex’s breath hitch as he grabbed the small of your waist, bringing you close. You hummed as you placed your hand on his chest, running it down to the waistband of his pants. Your hand strayed far, hovering over his bulge.
When you looked up, moving your hand, you looked back at Dex. His eyes, while sad, looked hungry. He'd been away from you for days, and seeing you curled next to him, kissing and reassuring him drove him nuts. As you both breathed, you looked at his bulge before looking at him. Dex had never nodded quicker.
So for once, instead of Dex initiating, you had.
Your mind, for once during the act, remained quiet. Instead, you focused on the man in front of you. Dex had taken off his shirt and belt, where you began to make work. You pressed kisses to his neck, hearing his soft moans. As you decorated kisses down his body, you made sure to kiss each scar you saw. You made sure to spend time on the scar on his shoulder, sucking gently on it. Dex let out a soft sigh as he petted your hair, back slightly arching.
Eventually, you made it down to his waistband. Unzipping his pants, you pulled them down. Quickly pulling down his boxers, his throbbing dick stuck out. It had been going up, and when you looked right at Dex, flushed and emotional, it hardened. You looked up and down his dick, spitting into your hand as your hand scraped the base. It was enough for him to throw his head back. Putting your hand around the base, you begin to slowly move it up and down.
Dex hummed in pleasure as your thumb circled the head. Dex looked at you with such raw vulnerability that made your chest tighten. As his hands gripped the duvet, you put your throat over his base, all while sliding your hand up and down. His hips moved up, finding a sweet spot to add from friction. As you slowly increased the pace, your eyes never left his as he began to lowly whimper.
“Baby,” Dex hitched as his horse voice cracked. You moved up and sucked hard at the tip of his head. Dex grabbed the back of your hair, pulling you up. You had let out an embarrassing noise as he made you look at him, saliva spilling from your lips. You rested your hand on his chest and he put his hand over yours, gripping your hand tight. Dex quickly kissed you before pressing your head back down on his cock. You made quick work, going at a faster up and down movement. Dex neared his limit as his body went rigid, squeezing your hand on his chest. Before he finished, you pulled away with a deliberate and wet pop. Dex kept his eyes on you, letting out a strangled groan. His eyes were hazy with desperation and need.
Moving quickly, you straddled him, knees pinning his arms loosely. You reached to the nightstand and pulled out a condom, holding the wrapper tear to Dex’s lips. You didn;t have to do anything as Dex ripped the cover off and you put the condom on his cock, quickly running your hand over it. You looked at the mass of the man in front you; scared, toned, and handsome. He breathed heavily, eyes begging for you to go in.
You sat up further as you teased Dex against your entrance with the friction making him moan.
“So wet,” He hummed in pleasure, “All for me?”
You nodded eagerly, lost in a haze. As you slowly sank down, taking it at once, you let out a moan of pain and pleasure. Dex let out a jagged noise. You leaned forward and placed your hands on his shoulders, moving slowly. You made sure to go slow and deep to both torture and please him. Dex threw his head back into the pillows as you bounced slowly, but strategically. Dex hands sucked into your waist, fingers dipping into your hips with not the bruising force before, but a trembling desperation. Dex held on as if he were afraid you were going to fly away.
“Look at me,” You cooed in his ear as you leaned up. Dex darted his eyes to yours, devoted to you. In a sudden movement, your fingers wrapped around Dex’s neck. You lightly squeezed, causing him to grind under you as he pushed into you deeply. It earned a loud moan from you, with you quickly picking up the pace, the sound of skin hitting skin aligned with your uneven breaths. Eventually, you reached your own peak and leaned down to catch his lips. The two of you kissed messily as Dex wrapped his hands in your hair, pushing your head down to his as he bit your lower lip. His hand squeezed your ass as you finished on his cock. You slowly stopped, but no, Dex did not. Dex kept moving his dick upwards, feeling the slush of your wetness squish around his legs.
Your body, from your emotional and physical exhaustion, was going limp. As your body slumped, your head fell into the crook of Dex’s shoulder, taking in the scent of his cologne and sweat. Feeling Dex’s thick dick push in and out of you, you felt that familiar large hand grab the end of your hair and curl it around his fingers. He used gentle force to pull your head back to look at him as he continued to push his whole length in, and out, of your soaking pussy.
“There now,” He muttered, voice smooth and commanding. It had been a change from the once needy and pathetic voice from early, “You see, sweetheart?”
Dex pulled your head back, causing your back to arch. As he laid under you, he thrusted his hips forward. He had his way with you, eyes dark, harshly pulling out before pushing himself back in one full movement. You whined at the movement, becoming news. He had been your prisoner, all but for a brief moment. Now, you were his prisoner.
“I’m the only one who gets to handle you like this.”
A pathetic whimper escaped your lips. As Dex grabbed your shoulders and slammed you down, his hand grasped on your shoulder. His fingers were dangerously close to your throat.
“Only one who gets to see you like this,” His voice was hoarse and pointed, “Only one who gets to see your beautiful body like this.”
With his brute force, Dex lifted you up, his dick temporarily leaving you. As your breath hitched, Dex looked up at you and grinned to himself, before slamming you right down into his throbbing member. When you had gone down, Dex let out a hearty grunt. He fucked you fast, thrashing you down into his cock, a sudden change from minutes ago. But not that you minded at all.
In a haze, you put your hand above his. You guided his hands and wrapped his digits, gently, around your throat. Dex, even in his frenzy, softened at it. As he fucked you, eh had slowed down the pace as his fingers hesitantly wrapped around your neck. A small mewl escaped your lips as you hand hovered above his very hand resting around your neck. You began to nod, telling him it had been okay.
“Sqeeuze, please-”
Dex gave a light squeeze to your throat, causing you to whine.
It lit him on fire.
As Dex gave his all to you, he held on your throat lightly, pushing into you with the rigor of a starved man.
“Say it,” Dex commanded in a lustful haze, “You’re mine.”
When you let out a croak, Dex squeezed a little further. You shook as you felt him hold you down on his dick, vibrating instead of you.
“___. Say it.”
You nodded, cockdrunk and pathetic.
“Yours. Yours,” You let out a whiny noise, “All yours. I-”
“Baby, I’m gonna finish-”
The shift of him finishing was visceral in you. He moved his hand from your throat to your shoulders, holding you down as he finished entirely in you. As he got every drop of his cum within the condom, Dex let out a long sigh. He gently brought you down next to him, collapsing into the pillows. Dex began to press feverish and apologetic kisses to your shoulder, throat, and jaw. In that silence, and in that brief moment he held power, he had quickly lost it. He laid his head in your chest.
In your own world, you panted. You saw him rest his head on your chest. It had been almost like your body had been programmed to reach out to sweat-stricken hair and push it back. Dex hummed positively at the movement as he wrapped his muscular hands around your body. The two of you fell asleep like that.
The next morning, you're the first to wake. You wake up, holding his head as he sleeps in your chest. Fluttering your eyes open, your hand instinctively runs over his head to push his hair back.
As your body aches, you quietly grunt and push his head to the side of the pillow. Just as you get up and place your feet on the ground, you feel a hand grasp at your waist.
You don’t look down, knowing who it is.
“Where are you going?” He mumbled, half-asleep. His hand squeezes at your waist.
Sitting at the edge of the bed, feeling an ache in your lower stomach, you struggle to find your words. You're processing the events of last night as it hits you all.
“Coffee,” You mumbled back, “For us. I was gonna make you a cup.”
“No,” Dex responds and pulls you back to lay to him. As you scoff, you don’t stop him. Dex notices the goosebumps on your skin and grabs the edge of the blanket, throwing it over you two. You make a noise of protest.
“Five minutes,” Dex places both of your heads on a pillow, burying his face into his hair. You can hear him inhale and exhale into your hair, letting out a satisfied noise.
Summary: The FBI, a murderous vigilante, and a dead woman walk into a bar. Somehow, you're forced to deal with all three.
Word-Count: 8.3k
Warnings: Smut, Benjamin Poindexter, Extremely Unhealthy Relationship, Extremely Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Extremely Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Discussion/Mention of Death, Moral Ambiguity
Author’s Note: previous chapter & interlude. you guys are getting SPOILED today. okay am i crazy for this? dating is going on on dates with someone and testing the waters. being partnered up is a committed relationship where you are not with anyone else. people say they are the same but I beg to differ. anyhoos...wow. longest chapter of the whole fic. there is a lot here so lock in...esp for the end. just to warn that this is in fact a dead dove: do not eat story with characters who align with that so yes morals are quite ambiguous here! anyways, enjoy this. thank you for the support as always love u all xx
Dex wakes you up the next morning. He doesn’t touch you or shake you awake, but instead, stands at the edge of the bed. When you turn over and grumble, he stands up and claps his hand together.
“Good morning,” He said, trying to be casual, but you knew he was watching you sleep.
Sitting up in the bed, you bring the duvet over your cold body and look at him.
“Were you watching me sleep?” You sleepily grumbled, rubbing your eyes.
He walked over and held out your mug. Thanking him, you took it and sipped on it. Just as you liked. Every morning, without fail.
“I just walked in five minutes ago and you were sleeping. I didn’t want to wake you.”
You look up and put your mug down, looking at Dex with raised eyebrows.
“So you were watching me sleep,” You joked. Any normal person would feel unsettled by that, but you had become accosted to it.
“Good morning to you too.”
Dex didn’t flinch from the word “watching”. Instead, Dex watched the steam rise from your coffee, seeing the way your fingers curled around the mug as you held it and placed it down. The sight of you in your blue heart pajamas, all soft spoken and sleep muddled, was a good start to the morning for him.
“I have a surprise for you downstairs,” He said, “I hope you’ll like it.”
You grabbed the mug and took another sip. Looking over at him, something changed in your expression.
“You did that all last night?”
“Come,” He urged.
You slipped out of bed and followed him down the hallway to the stairs.
“You said the house felt empty. So, I stayed up to find some things I had,” He explained, “I thought we could start here.”
The two of you made your way down to it. You stopped at the edge of the stairs, but looked
His living room. The downstairs was no longer the unlived space it had been. Dex hadn't simply put items down, but curated. The coffee table, past a few big landscape books, had a collection of books. They were organized in color and shape, perfectly arranged by size. Across the main wall, three rectangular items were perfectly aligned; a set of old and topographical maps. One tap, in particular, was covered in faint red markings and a blacked out area in the center that looked like an art project. It caught your attention, but you’d analyze it later.
A small, dark side table by the kitchen door had a lamp, along with a book opened. You walked over and held up the book. It was “The Things They Carried” by Tim O’Brien. You remembered reading it senior year of high school. The page Dex had left it open to was a random one, but you read the quote.
“They carried the sky. The whole atmosphere, they carried it, the humidity, the monsoons, the stink of fungus and decay, all of it, they carried gravity.”
You felt Dex walk behind you, hands in pockets as he tried to hide his anxious pacing at your silence.
“Do you not like it?” He asked, “It’s okay if you don’t. I can-”
“No, Dex,” You turned and walked over, crossing your arms as you looked around the room.
“This looks very nice, thank you. You didn’t have to stay up,” You politely thanked him, “Didn’t realize you had a kick in interior design.”
“Well, you're welcome,” He responded, rubbing the back of his head.
“I don’t really. I just know how to put things in order, like curating paintings in a museum,” Dex explained, “Not in that way, but-”
“I get the picture,” You said, taking it in, “It looks really nice. Cozy.”
Dex looked at you, a soft smile forming on his face. It showed his slight wrinkles and accentuated the gray on the sides of his hair. You smiled back, making it quick.
“I do it for you,” He confessed before moving to the coffee table, “I wanted to give you something.”
Dex moved to the coffee table and picked up a sleek, black object that had been on top of the dark black and grey books.
“Since you don’t have a phone and have read all of my books,” He said, holding out a Kindle, “I figured you’d like this.”
He held it out, not quite meeting your eyes, the act of giving an awkward and foreign concept.
Stepping forward and taking the device, it was your only piece of technology in the isolated house past the TV in the living room. It was a small object of freedom, yet significant to you. It also showed the bond between you and Decx had grown stronger. Trust had become a part of the bond you two had. Slowly, Dex let you sit on the porch by himself, and even let you run, albeit short distances on trails you knew. He had taken comfort in knowing that you didn’t seemingly want to run or leave. You didn’t let him think any otherwise than this.
As you ran your thumb over the screen, you smiled at it.
“Thank you, Dex,” You replied, words practice, but the gesture hitting a strange note of domesticity, “This was, uhm, thoughtful.”
“I loaded everything you have mentioned,” He stated, “I added some classics. Some thrillers. Some stuff I have read. I added reading lists, like my old one. It might give you some ideas if you need them.”
“You read?” You asked, scrolling through the books. Like clockwork, Dex did not lie; almost every author or book you had ever mentioned, in detail or passing, had been added. In full alphabetical order.
“Sometimes,” He mentioned, “I used to read a lot in the FBI. My co-workers wife got me a kindle. They had some free thriller books and I read them at night. I read here and there.”
You hummed in response, holding the kindle to your chest. Dex looked at you, stratification in his eyes, masked by his intensity to hide his anxiety.
“I want you to be comfortable here,” He dropped the nervous edge in his voice.
It made you tighten your grip on your Kindle. The weight of his words hung in the air. You knew the comfort was fragile and curated, but looking at the device in your hand, you felt unfortunately conflicted.
“It’s a lot,” You admitted, “But thank you. For this.”
Dex wordlessly acknowledged you with a nod. He rubbed his hands together and began to walk to the kitchen.
“I need to run out. Would you like to come?”
–
Just as you had built a routine in the house, so had you during your public outings. After you two grocery shopped, Dex drove to that same old gas station.
Dex had mentioned he was going to fill the car up, and told you to go in and buy the usual of two waters and a pack of gum. “You get yourself whatever you want,” He specifically had requested a small bottle of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer and heavy duty tape, two new additions in his routine.
This time, instead of his card, he gave you two crisp twenty dollar bills. Not a single wrinkle was in them.
You neatly folded them in your pocket and made your way to the gas station. As you walked, you heard Dex call out, “If he even gives you a look-”
“Bill,” You corrected the name of the old cashier who owned the station, “Bill’s harmless.”
Rolling your eyes, you opened the door and heard the chime you knew all too well. You turned to the corner and saw Bill, reading a newspaper. He looked up and waved at you, and you waved back. He was a sweet old man, and Dex hated him for that. You had joked it was probably because another old man was staring at you, and Dex scoffed at the joke.
Grabbing the two bottles of water, a pack of gum, the single, high-fiber protein bar, and a small bottle of anti-bacterial hand sanitizer, you headed to the cashier. You told Bill you wanted to go grab some other items. He allowed you and you walked to the snack row, stacking up on whatever ten dollars would get you. As you filled your hands with your favorite snacks, you looked up at the TV. It was how you got your intake of daily news; victims reappearing after the Blip, Daredevil’s disappearance, and other things.
It was also a dull reminder of your father. Today, it haunted you particularly.
You headed back to the register with the snacks. As you put them down, Bill began to scan them. The two of you made small talk, before you looked up at the screen, feeling your heart drop at the sight.
“WANTED: BENJAMIN LEONARD POINDEXTER” was in an alarming bright red along with a white loud font with black outlined letters.
A photo of Dex appeared across the screen. He was straight faced, dressed in a suit, with the American flag in the background. Most likely from his FBI days.
“This fugitive is an extremely dangerous individual. Anyone who locates him will be awarded one million dollars. If you see him, do not engage. Do not go near him,” The robotic voice read over, “He will use excessive force without hesitation.”
As the robotic voice went on, listing the crimes he had committed, you froze. You knew of his past, but this was a slap in the face; the reminder of the monster Dex was. The man you had been living with; the one who you shot, the one who you had kissed, the one who kissed your palm in the shower, the one who choked you until you fainted, the one who slept with his back to his, the one who had a hit on your father and went through with it.
Your stomach did a slow and nauseating role as you remembered you weren’t a guest, but the property of a monster who the entire country was hunting.
“Hey honey, you okay?” Bill’s voice shattered the static in your mind.
You snapped your gaze down the counter and looked up, nodding with a smile, despite your heart hammering against your ribs like a bird in a cage. You couldn’t let Dex see you like that through the window.
“Scary news, that’s all,” You forced a brittle smile and cleared your throat.
“Damn straight,” Bill commented, “Stay safe out there.”
“You too.”
You nodded your head and grabbed the bag, walking out of the store. You carried the physical weight as you saw Dex, pulling the pump from the gas. Those words of “WANTED” echoed in your mind.
As he screwed the gas cap shut, his eyes scanned the surrounding area as the two of you got into the car.
You reached the car and wrenched open the passenger door, tossing the bag of water, gum, and snacks onto the seat. The bag landed with a soft thump, but the sound was deafening to you. WANTED: BENJAMIN LEONARD POINDEXTER. The words echoed in your mind. He was right there, a national fugitive, pulling the pump from the gas tank as casually as if he were tending a garden.
Dex screwed the gas cap back into place, his eyes scanning the surrounding parking lot before they settled on you.
You looked over as your blood ran cold, looking at the cash.
“You think I don’t know?” He paused, a slight frown crossing his face, “I know about those FBI Ads, ___. I’ve seen them.”
“I don’t know what you are talking about,” You lied, looking forward.
“Yeah, I have seen them. Everywhere,” He casually responded before starting the car, “I’ve seen Black SUV’s and unmarked cars everywhere.”
It explained why he was using cash, and how he looked around him now three times.
“It’s best we make sure to lay low,” Dex said as he pulled out and made a left hand turn, going back into the road of trees.
“What did you need those items for?” You broke the silence, uncomfortably shifting in the seat.
“Why do you need to know?”
“Why did you give me a kindle then?” Are you trying to build some trust with me so I don’t run again?”
Dex clenched his hand on the wheel, looking uncomfortable.
“That’s not why,” He argued, “It’s for…I just need it. It’s to keep you safe if something happens.”
“Do you think there are going too-”
“No,” He stated, “They won’t. I just wanted to be ready if they do.”
“I have to make sure you're safe. Don’t worry, sweetheart. Okay?” He said in a calm tone, treating the FBI hunting him like it was just some nosy neighbor.
“I’m sorry for being tense. I’m really sorry.” Dex admitted, trying to hold it together, “Okay?”
You looked out the window and crossed your arms, nodding. He hung on you, waiting for you to give him the verbal satisfaction he needed.
“Okay, Dex. Okay.”
You saw the tension in his shoulders drop immediately.
–
At times, Dex would touch you.
Whether it be sleeping with his back right to yours or gently touching your shoulder when walking, it would be little displays of affection. However, in each touch, Dex hesitated slightly as if he were approaching you with both care and fear. When you were annoyed with him, he’d avoid touching you like the plague, but he’d look at your worried eyebrows and sad eyes.
Dex knew he was being hunted, and he was hiding the severity of it to you.
It was those little things that woke you up from the delusion of domesticity you had created in your way, both as a means of survival and to maintain your sanity.
The two of you had gone to bed that night without speaking to each other. It had been purely by accident since you had fallen asleep with the intention of avoiding him.
When you had woken up, you had felt not only the warmth of his back, but two other things; his nose and his hand. In his sleep, Dex had filled in the space between your bodies, with one hand slung over your waist. You could feel his low breathing against the nape of your nape. The weight of his burly arm felt heavy and oddly grounding as it pinned you to the mattress. You didn’t dare ruin the strange intimacy of the moment, staying completely still.
Holding back a shallow breath, you thought back to the posters. He was a monster, the two of you knew it. But, you didn’t move, allowing yourself to sink back into the slumber and shelter of his unintentional embrace.
You felt Dex wake up when he shifted, realizing his hand was draped over you. He hummed and pushed himself against you, sighing against your ear. Feeling this, you leaned your head back, letting his nose sink your hair.
Feeling Dex place a soft and quick kiss, you sunk into his hold. It was unexpected, and it should have frightened you, but it felt tender. Before you could process anything else, Dex pulled his hand back, moving it up and down your waist. Then in a moment’s notice, he shifted and moved his hand to the mattress. He moved deliberately not to awaken you from your slumber. The cool air filled the bed as he had gotten out of bed, heading to the bed. As you pulled the budget cover up, you felt a wave of sadness and resented yourself for self-loathing.
Once Dex bought up your coffee is when you pretended to fully wake up. He stated he had to go out for the day, and didn’t disclose why. You didn't bother to ask. He mentioned he’d be back later in the day just in time for dinner, asking if you wanted to cook. Maybe a nice change. You nodded, and said you’ll come up with something. He nodded in response and left, saying that maybe after dinner, you guys could do a fire in the electric firepit in the backyard.
When you confirmed he had left, you decided to go on a run. You took advantage of the opportunity, since Dex had left. He had also left a spare set of keys under the kitchen sink, which you found. He had locked the door from the inside, but you easily unlocked in. You soaked in the cool breeze of the air and a tiny bit of freedom you got to enjoy, even if it was only temporary.
After a long shower, you had gotten into some comfortable and warm clothes. You had even stolen one of Dex’s old navy Patagonia’s since you were cold. When he wore it next, it would smell like your matching body wash and lotion. He’s into all of that, even if he didn’t tell you.
You sat on the couch for an hour, trying to read something on the Kindle. You were bored. Next, you unloaded the dishwater and did some laundry for you and Dex. Still, you were bored. As you walked down the hallway to go downstairs, maybe find a lego or sewing kit you hand;t had done yet, you saw the door creaked open to the empty bedroom. You knew that room–it was where you had first hid from Dex with all of those boxes.
Something in your gut screamed for you to not go in–automatically remembering how Dex kicked down the door and threw you over his shoulder–but as usual, you let your curiosity get the better of you.
Looking behind you and side to side, you slowly opened the door, hearing a small creak.Once the door fully opened, you stepped inside the room. It had been the amae as it was, minus a few of the boxes being opened. Still, the room was still empty. Remembering hiding amongst them, you walked down memory lane. FBI, Dr.Mercer, and other boxes didn’t catch your interest. What did was the box, unmarked, tucked away in the far corner of the room. It was a smaller box with its flaps completely shut. Walking over, you sat on the ground and looked around the box, finding no label. It didn’t feel like Dex.
A pit began to form in your stomach, but you ignored it. As you pulled open the folds, you saw a few items. The first thing you noticed was a flipped over picture. Grabbing it, you flipped it over, immediately noticing the shattered glass. Furrowing your brow at the contents, you pulled the frame out, showing Dex among a group of people. He stood to the side while all of them stood together. The crack landed on top of a woman with red hair and a warm smile. You took the frame out, further digging., You had found an old maplet for the “Brooklyn Suicide Prevemtion Center”, finding the staff. Dex was among it, but you weren’t focused on that, but this mysterious woman.
You found her quickly with her name being Julie.
And for some reason, she made your breath hitch.
Dex had never mentioned working for a suicide prevention hotline, or Julie.
You dug further into the box, finding a few items; an old Birthday card for Dex from Julie, a coffee receipt, train tickets from the LIRR, and a blurry photo of Julie. She’s in a Bodega, talking to someone. Dex had been following her, sitting in a car across the street. It made the hairs on your back stand up.
But what really got you was the obituary clipped. It didn’t look cut out, but ripped right out from a newspaper.
“Julie Barnes, 27, passed away unexpectedly on March 31. Born in Long Island, Julie was known for her kindness and involvement in the community. She was unwaveringly loyal to those she loved. She worked at the Brooklyn Suicide Prevention Center, all while pursuing her dream to become a professional dancer.
Julie had a love for long runs, The Mets, and Ballet. She had recently run The Brooklyn Half Marathon. She was a die hard fan of The Cure. She also loved any form of coffee. Friends remember her for her warm demeanor and bright smile.
She is survived by…”
The bottom of the box showed the card for Julie’s funeral, along with a crumpled red rose.
You began to drift off at this part, letting the paper fall from your hands.
Julie liked to run.
You liked to run.
Julie liked coffee.
You liked Coffee.
Julie loved the Cure.
You loved the Cure.
Julie had been an ordinary woman, and so had you been.
If anything, the box shows two things; the sad nature of Dex’s obsessive and his deeply unsettling nature.
And for some reason, it hurt you.
Did Dex have a type? Were you just a copy and paste? Was it about you or Julie? Were you the Julie 2.0 for Dex to fill a void?
The nicknames, the soft intimacy, all of it. He often closed his eyes whenever he did any of this, or never made eye contact. Maybe he was imaging Julie–he probably had been.
Hearing a navy SUV rumble in the driveway, you felt your fists clench in anger and eyes grow hot and heavy.
Everything you had built with Dex was based on a pattern.
If Julie had still been here, would you even be here?
Probably not, but whatever it is, it makes you furious. And you despised this sick feeling of envy, anger, and jealousy.
–
“So who’s Julie?”
You had made dinner as Dex had sat down. Hearing the name stunned Dex, making him look extremely uncomfortable.
“The box,” He said, his voice dropping low, “You weren’t supposed to see it-”
“The multiple photos, the obituary, the dried rose,” You listed off, feeling hurt, “Tell me who she is, Ben.”
The birthday card Julie had given Dex said “Happy Birthday Ben!” with a stupid little smiley face that made your blood boil.
“Julie was my friend. She helped me,” He finally said, “Long time ago, before I met you.”
Dex placed his fork down as the metal clicked against the place. He didn’t look into your eyes and instead went to the side.
“Okay, we dated for a bit-”
“You mean the photos you took of her?” You scoffed, feeling envious even though you were disgusted by the behavior, “That’s what you call a date?”
At that, Dex looked up. He looked both tired and sad, hands clenching into fists on the table.
“I wanted to do it right this time, with you.”
“Did you kill her? Did she reject you?” You taunted him, tilting your head.
You could see the anger in Dex’s eyes, but he did not flinch as you poked the bear.
“No,” He admitted defensively, “It was-No. It wasn’t my fault. It was Fisk’s. I didn’t protect her,” You could see the spiral begin to occur, "That's why I need to protect you. I didn’t protect Julie enough. I scared her away. I need to-”
You let out a sarcastic laugh, pushing yourself up from the chair.
“You kept her fucking obituary with a dead rose,” You spat at him, “Am I just some replacement? Some standby?”
Hearing this, Dex got up and shook his head vigorously, looking like a puppy who had just got kicked.
“No, ___. Not at all, please-”
“Do you love her? Did you fuck her? Did you kiss her neck in the morning when she’s sleeping?”
“Calm down, please-”
“No, you calm down,” You silenced him, pointing your finger. Standing up, you began to walk to the living room. Dex got up in a suit and followed you, making you walk faster.
“Am I some Julie 2.0?
You suddenly felt a firm grasp on your wrist. Stopping in place, you spun around to see a panicked Dex holding you in place, squeezing your wrist tightly.
“Let go of me,” You commanded.
He didn’t loosen his grip, “Please, don’t do this. Don’t make me explain.”
“Explain what, Ben?” You hissed at him, “That you have a type? Take ordinary girls and ruin their lives? That you’re trying to recreate your dead ex-girlfriend?”
He looked angry at the way you hissed out the last word. When you yanked your arm, his grip got tighter.
“She was a mistake,” Dex let out, “A stupid mistake. I failed her. I didn’t even love her-” He began to emotionally unravel, “She ran from me. But you? No, you didn’t run. I don’t want you to run, please. You’re different, ___. You’re better. You just need to calm down. You need to listen to me.”
Hearing those words made you not only sick, but full of rage.
In a hot split second, you slapped Dex right across the face. You feel the sharp contact of the palm of your hand meeting his cheek. Upon impact, Dex immediately let go of your hand and you fell back against the wall, tears of frustration stinging your eyes.
Seeing a burned Dex hold his cheek devastated you for some reason. You began to feel tears fall from your face.
“I am not something for you to project onto, Dex,” You cried, feeling like a needy child as you held your throbbing wrist. Dex simply looked at you, completely destroyed.
Dex didn’t move as the red imprint bloomed on his skin. His eyes glazed at you with confusion. He looked less like a hunted dangerous fugitive and more like an abused child who had been struck.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He choked out, his voice all raspy.
“But you did,” You whispered back, silent but profound, “You hurt me. You hurt Julie. I’m not your replacement.”
Letting go of your red wrist, you felt it tingle, a dull reminder of the way Dex grabbed you. His hollow voice, along with glassy looking eyes, made you feel defeated. You closed your eyes, breathing, waiting for him to come over and grab you and enforce his control. But all you heard was him breathing, holding back in his tears while you let them fall.
Dex opened his mouth, but now words came out. You watched him swallow twice, unable to form a sentence. His eyes never left you.
“I know you're not.”
The words were low, but audible.
“I know,” You muttered, wiping your eyes with a sniffle.
The living room, dimly lit and warm, felt suffocatingly silent.
Then, slowly, Dex took a small step towards you.
And you didn’t flinch at it.
It wasn’t to trap you, but to be near you. Dex’s eyes flickered over your face, waiting patiently.
You still stood there, not telling him to stop, wiping your eyes. Your body screamed at you to run, but you stayed.
In fact, you cautiously took a step forwards Dex. Dex was taken back by it, seemingly relieved by the small step. You saw him swallow hard, taking another step right towards him.
As he caught his breath, only inches apart, none of you spoke. You looked down at the ground at your and his shoes. You couldn’t look him in the face. As you brought a hand, still looking down, to wipe your face, you saw Dex take a careful step forward. You heard him lift a hand, the one that wasn’t holding his face, and you froze, expecting a retaliatory grab.
Instead, his shaking fingers brushed lightly against the side of your neck below your ear. The unexpected gentleness, along with the raw and wounded look on his face, made you break.
Dex placed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaking breath. It was a moment where you lost all control. You closed the remaining distance, walking over to fall on his shoulder. Your foreheads touched as you rested your face in the crook of his neck, smelling his cologne and scent. You shifted your head, seeing tears fall from Dex’s face. He looked at you, relieved at the sight of your red and teary eyed face.
Feeling compelled to do so, you pressed your lips right to his. Soft, but unyielding.
Dex immediately sunk into the kiss. He pulled your head up, and in suit, your body closed to his. His hand found his way into your hair as it pulled your head slightly back, angling him to deepen the kiss.
You grabbed onto the front of his first, bunching up the fabric in your fists. Feeling the slight tug in your hand, you let out an embarrassing and low whine.
It awoke something in Dex.
He grunted in the kiss and dropped his hand that wasn’t in your hand, wrapping it around your waist and hauling you right against his body. The two of you moved to the cool wood wall as he set you against it, kissing you slowly and softly. His tongue moved slightly into your mouth, moving from the sides of your mouth. Removing your hands from his shirt, you wrapped them around your neck, pulling him in deeper. His breath hitched against your mouth as he entrapped you against the wall.
Dex pulled away, breathing heavily onto your ear. His hands remained wrapped around you, his head resting against your cheek. You cupped his cheek in his head, causing you to look at him. Dex leaned into your touch, putting his hand above yours, looking down at you like you were an angel.
You placed a hand on his shoulder, signaling him to get on his knees. Dex happily obliged, on his knees, holding his hand that held his cheek. You ran across his hair, which made Dex softly groan, squeezing the hand that held his cheek. He tilted his head as his hands dropped to your hips, squeezing them.
Looking up at you, Dex took your palm and began to kiss your palm. He kissed up your palm, moving to kiss your soft digits, before taking one into his mouth. He began to suck softly on your index finger, looking directly up at you. You let out a low mewl as you backed against the wall, letting him suck both your index and middle fingers. He sucked them with precision, savoring every moment they were in your mouth. His hands on your waist teetered close to the edge of your ass, massaging the beginning of the curve.
Holding back a moan, you felt yourself become wet. You felt guilty, but you let the pleasure take over. You moved your hand to the back of his nape, and pulled the back of his hair.
Looking up at you, Dex immediately rose. He quickly turned you around and pinned you against the wall. He held one hand up and used the other to carefully move your hair to the side. There, he began to press gentle pecks to your neck. His hand moved to your waist and carefully up, right to under your boob.
Once he found the sweet point behind your ear, gently sucking at it, you couldn’t control yourself.
“Dex,” You confessed, voice slow and whiny. You looked at him, shiny lips. He looked at you, hanging onto your words. You felt his fingers scrap right under your breast, but he stopped. Feeling this made you slightly arch your back into his, “Please.”
“Mhm,” He mumbled as his hand fully grasped your breast. Letting out a loud grunt, Dex pushed himself against your arched back, squeezing your boob. You let out a loud gasp at the shockingly gentle touch. As Dex kneaded your breast, he pressed his body harder against your back, grinding into your back.
The two of you remained like that for a hot minute; Dex pinning you to the wall and grinding you from behind as he played with your breast. You were unable to move, minus arching our back into his to feel his slowly growing erection. You removed your hand from his grasp and moved his hand under your fleece–Dex’s fleece.
Dex’s cold fingers touched against your warm skin, trailing up to cover your bare breast.
“This is my fleece,” He said slowly to your ear.
You let out an approving noise, feeling the heat grow in your stomach.
“I wanna take it off you,” He murmured in your ear, biting your hip as he moved both of his calloused hands under the fleece, one on your breast and the other on your stomach, massaging both with precision. You hummed when he bit your head, making you shake.
“I wanna undress you. I wanna take such good care of you,” Dex hummed lowly in your ear, “Will you let me, ____?”
You moved your head to the side and nodded softly, feeling your panties were soaked, the sensation of Dex’s touch. Firm, but soft.
“Please,” is all you were able to get out.
Dex quickly swooped you into his arms, carrying you bridal style up the stairs. You placed an arm around him, placing your face next to his. You could not only feel how hard he was becoming, along with how cool his touch was. Dex had let out his primal instinct, through his breathing, take him over as he got to the top of the stairs and made his way to the bedroom, kicking the door open. Once the two of you were inside, Dex let you slide down his body enough for your feet to hit the floor. But he didn’t fully let you go, and instead backed you against the closed door, hearing the soft shut, to steal another kiss from you. This kiss, while still soft, had been a little rougher as he fully stuck his tongue, fingers digging into the sides of your hips.
Breaking from the kiss, Dex took your hand and led you to the bed. He laid you down, placing a kiss on your lips as he unzipped the fleece, taking it off over your head. You had been wearing nothing under the fleece, feeling the cool skin against your bare nipples.
“God,” He breathed, his hand placed on your shoulder, “Look at you.”
You went red as Dex leaned down to kiss you and your body; his thumb rubbing your shoulder before he began to pepper kisses on your cheek and down your neck. He took his time as he took in your chest, pressing kisses and sucking at your nipples. You arched your back as he kept it down, feeling his fingers graze under your pants. His hand hovered over your warm wetness, covered by your favorite color of lace underwear.
Dex grinned to himslef and let out a satisfied noise, his index finger hovering above your clit under your pants.
“Fuck,” He hummed with a huff.
Even the hover of his finger made your arch back.
“Do you want this?” He looked down at you, tracing his fingers up your waistband, “If you don’t, I’ll stop-”
“Don’t stop. I want you to undress me. Hurry. Please.”
At your plea, Dex snapped; in a swift movement, he took off your pants and threw them to the side. He paused, sitting up and locked in on your naked display, along with the sliver of lace that remained. He quickly got off the bed to throw off his shirt and unbuckle his pants, taking them down along with his underwear in a single pull. As he stepped out, you took him out; he was big and bare. While lean, his arms and thighs were burly, and you wanted to feel them.
What stood out was his dick, which was big, thick, and veiny. It was throbbing, standing straight.
Also now naked, Dex looked at you up and down, starstruck by you.
“You’re beautiful,” He murmured, coming down to place a kiss on your forehead. He moved in between your legs, in which you slowly wrapped around him, “You’re so pretty for me.”
“You don’t know what you have been doing to me,” He gasped, his voice full of pure want. Moving in between your legs, Dex cupped his hand around your cheek and used his other hand to carefully slide his fingers between the band of your lace. You wrapped your legs around him tighter, sending a shiver down your whole body.
It was enough for Dex to move your legs up and completely remove your underwear all together. He gently placed your legs back around you and looked down at your throbbing and wet lips. He breathed at the scene, holding your legs tight.
“Do you like?”
Dex looked up and nodded eagerly, “You don’t realise how long I’ve been waiting to take you like this .I’m gonna take such good care of you, Baby.”
The little nickname made you even more wet than you already were. Pulling you up so your head rested on a pillow, Dex moved to the edge of the bed, pressing kisses down your chest, waist, and legs. He wrapped your thighs against himself. Dex didn’t rush, but admired the sight in front of him. He lightly bites your thighs, hearing you make sweet noises of pleasure. Before he began, he looked at you with dark and hungry eyes. His touch brushed against your lips, tasting your slickless. It made you gasp and arch your back.
“Shhh, it’s okay,” He shushed gently, placing a kiss on your clit. His breath was warm in contrast to his cold hands.
Dex used his tongue to swipe from your clit down your opening. You let out a moan and felt your hips move up. Dex put his hand on your stomach to keep you down. You saw him grin to himself and do the same exact thing, just quicker and deeper. He applied pressure with his tongue and flicked at your most sensitive point.
Taking his time, Dex ate you out like his life depended on it. Whenever you squeezed his head, he would only go deeper. Not once did Dex bite you or hurt you, but he took his time as he took you in, playing with your clit and sucking in all of your wetness. You pulled at his head, pushing for his head to go deeper as you felt a climax coming.
The pleasure was instant and overwhelming. As you pulled on his hair, he responded with a deep suck, pushing into your walls as you felt your body rise.
“Oh my god,” You shuttered. Dex hummed, speeding up his sucking and licking until you bucked up fully against his face, finishing all over his mouth. Dex sighed into your thighs, sucking all of your cum spilling out.
You fell back as Dex fell into your thighs, resting his face there. He then climbed back up the bed, moving your hair back. His hand ran down your thigh, remaining dangerously close to your wet pussy.
“Was that good?” Dex carefully asked, his finger teasing your entrance.
“I have no words,” You replied breathless, wincing at his finger grazing over sensitive clit, “Was it bad?”
Jaxson never ate you, and now that you had thought about it, you never finished it. You had just had your first orgasm.
As the guilt was about to eat you up, Dex brought you back to reality, a light squeeze to your right thighs.
“You taste incredible,” Dex watched you, pupils blown wide. He petted your head as he watched out for any sigh of hesitation, but all he saw was your hands reaching out to him, fingers curling by his shoulders to bring him close.
“I want you inside me,” You whispered into his ear.
Dex moved his head up to look into your eyes. He froze, breath shaking as he looked at you.
“Are you sure you want me? I don’t wanna’ hurt you," He asked hesitantly.
“No no, You haven’t hurt me,” You promised, ignoring what had happened an hour ago, “I’m giving you permission, Ben.”
Hearing his name–his real name–made Dex break. Dex groaned, getting on top of you. Dex reached over to the nightstand and pulled out a box of Magums. You were enticed on how he took the wrapper on the side of his mouth and ripped it out in a clean bite. It made you even more wet than you already were. Throwing the wrapper to the side, Dex slipped the condom on, and returned back to your face and smashed his lips into yours. Although the impact was forceful, he left a gentle mark as he sucked at your lips. He fell onto you, grabbing the base of his dick and moved your hips to align with your soaking entrance.
“Can you go slow please?” You politely asked.
As Dex was ready to push in, he nodded.
“Of course,” He gently reassured, “Just tell me if it’s too much. Okay?”
You nodded, anxiously awaiting.
“___,” Dex emphasized, looking down at you, a look of pleasure and attention, “I need to hear you say it. Please.”
“Okay, Dex,” You responded, a hand moving up his arm, “And you do the same.”
Once Dex got his verbal confirmation, he pushed an inch in. He heard you wince, but you didn’t stop. Inch by inch, and there was a lot of him, he moved slowly into you. You were so tight, but so wet. Dex let out a sigh as he felt his walls squeeze against his dick. He made sure to keep his eyes on you as he entered, almost fully in. With one last push, Dex pushed in, feeling your sultry walls. He leaned down, wrapping his arms around you and leaning into the crook of your neck.
“You’re so tight,” He murmured as he placed his forehead against yours, his nose brushing against yours, “You feel amazing.”
Once he was fully inside of you, he paused, letting you both adjust to being inside one another. You wrapped your arms around him, fingernails gently in this back.
Dex’s mouth brushed by your ear, “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” You managed to get out, feeling the tip of his cock brush against your cervix, “Shit, you're huge.”
You felt Dex harden in you at the moment. He then began to move. His movements were steady with each thrust becoming deeper. As he went deeper into you, would you moan louder, sending scratches down your back. It would also make him let out a primal grunt, slowly sinking into you. You squeezed your legs against his chest, earning a moan from him.
“Feeling you around me is all I ever need,” Dex panted, placing a kiss on your hair, “Makes me feel like the richest man in the world.”
As Dex fucked you, you grabbed his head and placed him into the crook of your neck, letting him suck at the skin of your shoulder as he firmly held onto your thighs.
You had expected him to fuck you like a animal; pulling your hair, choking you, taking you from behind, and caling you demeaning names. But what you were experiencing was the opposite of what you expected. Dex treated you like you were made of glass; slowly moving and decorating you with kisses. He gently thursted in you, savoring you rather than claiming you. He kept reiterating how much he wanted to take care of you and satisfy you, which he had been doing.
Thinking back to it, Jaxson never touched you like this. He lacked the effort, in every field of your relationship. Your sex had often been short lived and focused on his end; you had felt like a spectator more than a participant. But with Dex, it was different. Dex had taken you in and appreciated every piece of you, making sure that was taken care of before he moved to him.
And his dick shouldn’t feel as good in you as it did, but here you were scratching your nails down his back until you cried, driven by the adrenaline of the argument earlier.
As he finished sucking at your neck, Dex moved to look back at you. Dex had given you his absolute attention as he began to pick the pace up. His eyes were locked into yours; tense, but vulnerable. He once again pet your head, this time, going the deepest he had gone in you. When you let out a whine, Dex pressed a chaste kiss on your cheek.
“___, you take me so well,” He purred, moving his dick sideways, “You’re an angel.”
He sat up and pulled his dick out, before pushing it back. Seeing you whine out of pleasure had him smugly smirk, and did it again for each word he spoke.
“So. Good. For. Me.”
You turned your head at the side, feeling your legs shake.
“Look at me,” He commanded; more of a plea than an order.
When you met his gaze, Dex wrapped his large arm around the back of your throat as he squeezed you tight, beginning to thrust into you faster and deeper. Each stroke was deliberately done, slamming right into the top of youcervix. You cried out as you scratched down the sides of his back, making sure to avoid the long and new scars.
“m’’ gonna finish-” Dex panted lowly in your ear, “God. Sweetheart, I-” In those ten seconds, Dex lost control; holding you as tight as he could as he slammed into you, earning breathy moans. As his body shuddered one last time, Dex let out a loud groan as he collapsed on top of you, releasing into you. While you didn’t feel this cum, you certainly felt the warmth of it through the condom. Dex laid on top of you, heavily breathing. He eventually lifted himself up and pulled out, looking at the condom. It had been nearly filled up to the brim. Dex knotted it neatly and tossed it onto the dresser with a thud. As you laid on your back, Dex rolled onto his side and put his arm around you, pulling your hot bodies together as your heads rested on the same pillow.
“How do you feel?” He inquired, rubbing up and down your shoulder.
You stared up at the ceiling, processing what had happened. No, it was not a dream. You just had sex with Dex.
Holy shit. You had a fucking boyfriend. A grieving family. They were wondering where you were–and here you were.
And it was all because of him.
When Dex didn’t get an immediate response, he slowly began to ask panic. His fingers froze on you.
“Was it too short?” He inquired again, both breathless and anxious.
Snapping out of your trance, you turned over, focused on how ruffled his hair was and how the sweat stuck to his forehead.
“It was really good,” You reassured, and felt him falter in relief at your words, “I think I just had my first orgasm.”
His fingers stilled before pulling you closer. He began to pet your hair, playing with it as he moved his hand in up and down motions.
“First?” He whispered, processing it. It was raw with disbelief, but triumph in a possessive nature. Dex smiled to himself, and you were unable to read his thoughts, but he was certainly pleased with himself. You wondered if he was comparing himself to Jaxson, but you didn’t dare question it.
A slow smile formed on his face as he pressed his lips to your forehead.
“Good,” He smiled against your hair, his voice husky, “I’m glad I could help, Sweetheart.”
Dex gently squeezed your shoulder as you sunk into his chest, running your hand over his thigh. You felt his warm breath, trying to ignore the guilt and conflict that was washing over you.
Eventually, Dex had gotten out of bed and cleaned up the mess that was on the floor. He then came back to the bed to grab your hand, pulling out of bed slowly and leading you to the bathroom. Standing up, you felt an ache in your legs, feeling sticky and gross. He held your hand as he started the shower. He had asked, all while holding your hand in his, if you wanted to shower with him. You said yes, and a second later, was standing under the hot water as you two cleaned yourself.
As the water poured on you, hands cleaning your arms and legs, you zoned out. The guilt was eating you alive as the pleasure, while incredible, was short lived. You looked down at your body, seeing the water pour over the light bite marks and finger prints on your waist and legs. Some blood had fallen down your legs, probably from the thickness of his dick, running down your legs as it mixed with the water and went down the drain.
After you two finished in the shower, Dex took a towel and began to dry you off. He dried you off quickly before drying himself. As you dried your hair, Dex came behind you and wrapped his arms around you, pressing himself against you with a soft sound. You froze at first but then sunk into the embrace, your hand massaging his forearms wrapped around you. The hot air, along with the steam and his hold, made you feel warm and secure.
Dex and you did not dress. Once he let go and hung up the towel, Dex took your hand into his head and led you out of the bathroom, back to the bed. He climbed in and put his arm around your waist, pulling you close. Kissing the top of your head, he buried his head into your air and closed his eyes.
While you laid, you looked over at the open window into the night sky.
You felt a spur of emotions, and it was almost dizzying. However, just as it was needed, your eyes began to flutter shut as a dark sleep took you over. And your mind went final quiet–which was what you needed at that very moment.
Summary: Just as you had unintentionally become a part of your father’s assassination plan, you had unintentionally become Dex’s personal nurse.
Word-Count: 5.0k
Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Wounds
Author’s Note: read chapter 5. also, taglist for those interested. gonna assume we all saw photos of the suit today and are well fed...which is defiantly influencing my writing + ending for this fic but anyways. if you get the two references in the chapter (first is in the title), i will love you forever. this chapter was so so sooo fun to write and...lets just say i am excited to see where the next chapters go😛 if you want a vibe for the chapter, listen to "how to pretend" by lucy bedroque. I think you guys will enjoy this very much. as always, thank you guys for the support ! u guys keep me going. i will also be making a masterlist for this very soon, and I plan on writing the next chapter this weekend. stay tuned and enjoy as always😚❤️
Taglist: @star-yawnznn @efiask @n0bodykn0wss
Dex had more injuries than you were expecting, and just as you had unintentionally become a part of your father’s assassination plan, you had unintentionally become Dex’s personal nurse.
Not only is he fairly injured, but he’s checked out. He had a few minor injuries, such as the puncture wound in his lower back and a few bruises, but his hip injury was serious. While the bullet had gone clean, he had lost a lot of blood. Not to mention, you were not a nurse, and patching him up based on your girl scout knowledge and countless Youtube videos that Dex let you watch on the TV.
To the medical supplies scattered across the coffee table (And him telling you to organize them) and numerous decorative books, Dex wasn’t himself. He kept up his emotionless facade, but something in him was broken. You could see it, physically and mentally. Whether it was changing the gauze on his hip or applying antiseptic on the jagged cut on his lower back, Dex would have vacant eyes, responding to the sting on the septic. It wasn’t just the severe injuries he had faced or the recurring fever that kept you awake; it was the way Dex looked at you. Especially when you touched him.
While Dex hadn’t told you, you had remembered the gnarly long scar that trailed down his back. You remember when the bullet pierced through his suit, and hearing the loud thunk as he slammed back. Hearing his pained groan, his silence had made sense. Given the nerve damage and chronic pain that followed, while he didn’t complain about it, you could see it. To the way he walked, he sat, and even breathed; you knew that he was constantly reminded of his surgery. With his new injuries, that probably transported Dex back to those grueling months of PT after losing his job. His normalcy. All of it.
That is what kept you up at night. And you hated that a part of you felt sorry for him. Especially with the night where he had saved your life.
The phantom touch of his land lingered on your cheek, and you thought about it every night before you fell asleep.
Anytime it had come up during the day, you repressed the thought and focused on taking care of Dex. Albeit, he was ridiculously stubborn.
Coming down one morning, Dex had attempted to push himself off the couch. He tried to grab a mug, his face faltering as you saw the pain surge on him. Before he fell off the couch, you were by his side, holding him up. The close proximity made the air feel hot and heavy. Yet, he didn’t move, and let you place him onto the couch and give him the mug.
Another day, Dex made his way up the stairs. Once he reached the top, he froze at the steps, steadying himself on the top railing. Without any words, you were by his side, a hand on his waist. He placed his hand around your shoulder as the two of you slowly walked towards the bedroom. When you had asked why Dex had come up, he admitted something that for some reason took you back.
“I don’t sleep well down there,” Dex admitted, looking at you.
As you placed him down on the edge of the bed, he sat up straight. You turned, knowing what he’s saying as his eyes burned into your back.
“I-” He struggled with his words before regaining composure, “-sleep better being next to you. If you want, I’ll stay downstairs. I-”
You let out a sigh and crossed your arms, digging your nails into your forearm, avoiding the topic at hand.
“You’ll need a lot of pillows,” You changed the topic quickly, “I’ll grab them and bring the kit too.”
It had almost been two weeks. While Dex was still out of commission, he was improving each day. However, in those weeks, you both hadn’t addressed the elephant in the room of you running away and him saving you, risking his life for yours.
Everytime you looked at Dex, just as he had done in the woods, his features softened. Even when you were fixing him up, whether it be changing a bandage or rubbing some cream into a cut or bruise or taking off his shirt to tend better to a wound, your touch did something to him. He would immediately relax, even if your fingers simply grazed him. His breath would slightly twitch, not out of the pain, but at your touch. Everytime you were near him, he’d fix his eyes on you. Dex wouldn’t speak, yet his stare told you a million words.
His gloved hands on your shaking shoulders. Your tears as he gently comforted you. His low and gravelly “baby” as he frantically scanned your body, not like you were something he was going to have his way with, but to make sure you weren’t injured.
For you, you did what you did best; shove down all of your feelings and go silent. And you knew it was making Dex go crazy.
A man, a murderer, a monster–slowly crumbling because you were giving him the silent treatment for something you knew you both shouldn't have done, yet, it had happened. And it lingered, its weight becoming heavier by the day.
The more attentive you had become, both by choice and chance, Dex had gotten softer. You had noticed in all of your interactions. Whether you had gotten him a cup of coffee or helped him with something, he’d always say, “Thank you, Sweetheart.”
“Thanks for doing that, Sweetheart.”
“You’re a Sweetheart.”
“Sweetheart, can you grab that for me?”
Finally, one night, you had enough.
One night, you had been changing the bandage on his hip. Dex laid down, shirtless and only in low hanging grey sweatpants, holding his hands above his head. You had done what you had done every other day; remove the bloody bandage, clean any dried blood, make sure it wasn’t infected as you applied antiseptic, and rebandaged him. You had now decided to start adding thinner bandages because the bleeding had stopped. This particular evening, Dex’s stare was more intense than ever, yet soft. The only noise that filled the bedroom was the cracking of a candle. You made sure to keep your eyes down on the wound, not daring to look at him or his toned and scarred body.
Once you finished, you had cleaned up the supplies and neatly placed them in the medical kit. As you pushed yourself up from the side of the bed, Dex rose up. You heard him move, you knew he would. He reached and grabbed your wrist lightly. For a moment, he held onto your wrist, silently begging for a response.
“Sweetheart.”
Yanking your hand away, you spun on your heel and backed away.
“Don’t you dare call me that,” You snapped, your voice mixed with exhaustion and rage, “Stop calling me Sweetheart. Stop acting like we’re playing house. Just stop it, Dex.”
He sighed in defeat and opened his mouth to not argue, but plead, but you beat him to it.
“You have this ability. You throw, and hit your target right on. I ran from you. You should be mad. You should have killed me,” You ranted, rubbing your face with your hands, “You got hurt because of me.”
“____,” Dex emphasized your name. Removing your head from your hands, you looked up at his soft expression with a sad tint to it.
“I saved you because I wanted to,” He confessed, “I’m not mad. I’m mad at the situation you…put yourself into. I just wanted to make sure you were safeI just, I don’t know. I can be mad at you. You calm me down.”
“I calm you down?” You repeated, letting out a dry laugh as you shook your head in disbelief. This isn’t the first time you had heard it, “Dex, I am the reason you are there and I am here,” You pointed at him and then at you, with blood under your nails.
“I’m the victim, and you’re my captor,” You exhausted, feeling your eyes burn, “You didn’t save me because you wanted to. No, you saved me because you're obsessed. Obsessed with me. Obsessed with the idea of owning me. Like I’m some pet.”
Warm tears began to fall from your eyes. You let out a shaky sigh and rubbed your eyes with your wrists. For a minute, Dex looked at you, long and hard. He had carefully picked out his words, obviously uncomfortable to see you so upset.
“This isn’t what you think it is.”
You hadn’t specified what it was, but you knew, and Dex surely did too.
“I know,” Dex’s jaw tightened at the words.
“I know what it is, but I promise you ___, it’s not what it seems. I have said this before, and I’ll say it again, I would never hurt you. Ever.”
He swallowed hard before continuing, his unregulated emotions emerging from the cracks of the facade.
“When I saw you out there, I had never felt so relieved in my life,” Dex confessed, “But when I saw them–holding you down–I couldn’t leave you. No, I couldn’t let them touch you. I couldn’t let them take you away from me.”
“I gave you the choice, and you made it to stay. You could’ve let me die, but you didn’t,” He pointed out, “You still have the keys to the truck. You put it above the kitchen cabinet in a cup.”
You sheepishly looked to the side, you knew he knew. All of these opportunities, yet, you couldn't bring yourself to leave.
“When you had shot that piece of shit in the face, I had missed. Why?” Dex pushed further, seeing you shrink, “So you could do it. I wanted to test you, and I knew what you would do.”
Dex pushed himself up in the bed, wincing at the pain, laying against the pillows to look right at you, a soft but serious face.
“But you came, and stayed ____, If you think I’m just a monster then, so be it. But tell me. Why did you stay?”
Silence from you.
Dex leaned forward and titled his head, getting as close as he could, even with the small yet suffocating distance in between you two.
“Why did you stay with me if I gave you the option to leave?”
You felt your throat close up as the words you wanted to scream at him dissolved on your tongue.
Why did you stay?
“Because,” You opened your mouth, but only a small noise escaped, “I couldn’t. I didn’t. I…didn’t want to leave.”
You hated how pathetic and needy you sounded. It was your truth, and it was horrible.
Dex’s sudden demeanor softened intensely. The lines on his face faded as he edged closer to the bed. You saw it and shook your head, wiping your eyes.
“I wanna sleep,” You quickly muttered, turning to the door, “I’ll check in on you in the morning. I’ll-”
“Don’t.”
Dex had murmured, but it was enough to echo across the room. You had stopped moving and looked back at him with a tender, tired, and saddened look.
“Then don’t go,” He conceded, leaning into the bed. He looked to your side of the bed, and right back at you.
“Stay,” He croaked, lifting up the duvet cover, welcoming you in.
He wasn’t demanding you, no, he was asking and somewhat pleading with you.
You didn’t answer with words. Instead, you slowly walked to your side of the bed and made your way in. The mattress shifted as you stepped in, and Dex threw the cover over you. Turning your back, you saw the shadow of his hand move to touch your shoulder, but his open hand quickly turned into a fist. He let out a quiet sigh and reached to turn off his side of the lamp, closing the conversation of the complicated, dark, and undeniable situation between you two.
–
It was time to take Dex’s hip stitches out.
Slowly, but surely, he had been healing. While his bruises had faded, and the cut in his back had healed, his hip injury was your main concern. The swelling and profuse bleeding had stopped, along with Dex being able to move without your help. You had decided it was time to take them out, and had given him instructions to sit in the bath incase of any blood.
As for the state of whatever you two were, it was still complicated.
Just as you had gone silent about the night of your escape, you two had gone silent about the breaking point. However, you weren’t giving him the silent treatment anymore, which you saw in his mass relief. A man who was able to kill someone with precision, yet he couldn’t when you refused to speak to him. The thought alone made you chuckle a bit.
You had been a little warmer to Dex, as he had been to you. Once he was able to move on his own, he went right back to his routine for the most part–making the bed, making coffee in the exact way you like it, making meals for you too. Hell, the two of you had even started watching a show together. Dex had even mentioned buying one of those Audio Technica record-players for, in his words, “for us”. You can remember when he had said it as you two sat on the couch, and he threw his hand up, mapping where he’d put the record player once he had unpacked. He’d get a two story shelf; one of his records and one for yours.
While the feeling made your cheeks lightly blush, it also made your stomach turn. And you hated how you felt a warmness tingling in your cheeks and stomach when he made direct eye-contact with you. For an anti-social murderous freak, Dex was an incredibly attractive man, much to his naivety to it.
The bathroom air hung heavy, filled with the scent of antiseptic and Dove Bar soap. As you situated yourself on the edge of the toilet, Dex knocked on the door. You didn’t turn around, preparing the scissors.
“I’m not wearing pants,” Dex said.
“That’s okay,” You casually replied.
Dex walked in, simply wearing a pair of underwear. The sight of his bare chest, with a map of small scars, you were used to. But his large and muscular thighs with his chest and defined muscles? You gave him a long and good look. His arms, while lean, were toned in a way that made something turn in you, and you hated that you felt that way. Dex sat on the edge of the tub, immediately catching on that you were looking.
“Want me to put on pants?” He broke the silence.
You snapped out of your haze and looked up, shaking your head. You felt your cheeks go red. You wanted to blurt out yes, but you weakly held yourself together.
“No, uhm-” You muttered, trying to calm yourself down from the feeling of being attracted to Dex, “Can I start?”
“I’m ready whenever you are, Doc,” Dex calmly stated, making sure to make direct eye contact with you.
His attempt at humor made you cringe, but weirdly endearing in his own way. You looked at him and then down at his wound, removing the gauze and throwing it into the trash.
“It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”
You heard him turn his head to you. He furrowed his eyebrows at you. You looked up at him and raised your eyebrows.
“Seen a naked man’s body,” You elbaorted dryly.
Something about the topic made Dex straighten his back. He sucked in his lips and clenched his fists. You noticed, but continued on by wiping the wound down.
“Is Jaxson your first boyfriend?” Dex rumbled lowly, and for the first time, stinging at the antiseptic. You believed why he was doing it.
“Yeah,” You mumbled as you finished cleaning the wound, “Shocked you didn’t know that,”
“You talked to a lot of guys,” Dex pointed out, not in a rude way, but factual way, “When you were at school, you’d go to those parties. Those guys looked like slobbering dogs when you looked at you up and down. They look at you like you're some prize they can just take. That cashier at the gas station even gives you that little smile. I don’t like it.”
Regardless, it caused you to look up with a quizzical look. He looked calm, but jealousy filled his eyes.
“Well, that’s rich,” You let out a dry chuckle, grabbing the siscovers and began to cut through the middle of the stitches, starting from the bottom, “What are you? Jealous?”
“Yes,” Dex immediately admitted.
“Do I ask them to do that?” You bluntly said, a little tease to your voice.
“No, I’m not saying that,” Dex defended, “I’m saying…” He looked away and shifted, “Look at you. Of course they are coming up to you. You’re very pretty.”
The comment not only caught you off guard, but it made you freeze. You had stopped at the last stitch and froze, shaking your leg. Did he just compliment you? For some reason, it worked, given how red your cheeks were getting. You saw him, uncomfortable with the silence. To fill the void and change the subject, you resumed with your task, his words haunting you.
Once you finished cutting the stitches, you placed the scissors down and grabbed the tweezers. You looked up at Dex and smiled sarcastically, shaking your head.
“Have you ever had a girlfriend, Dex?”
Dex bit his lip uncomfortably at the subject.
“No,” He said, “I’ve been on dates. Dated some girls, nothing serious.”
“Not a relationship kind of person?”
“I am. Just haven’t found the right person, until-”
Your heart began to beat fast as you immediately beat him to the punchline.
“Who was the last girl?”
You moved the tweezers to his hip. You moved closer and leaned over, an inch away from him as you placed your hand on the side of his hip and began to find your grip on the first thread.
Dex kept his hands firmly on the edge of the tub, clutching onto the white porcelain.
“I met her while guarding Fisk at the Presidential Hotel. She was a bartender. Nothing bad, it just ended.”
You snorted at his response, but didn’t push for him to elaborate.
“What kind of dates did you go on with this bartender?”
“I don’t know, normal dates? Like Dinner most nights. Movies-”
“With these girls you dated, would you then stalk them after? Find out where they live and send them flowers? Break into their house and steal their clothes?” You said, losing your grip on the first thread. You cursed under your breath, trying to regain your composure. Your hand moved further up on his hip, resting on his lower abs, slowly etching to his burly chest. Why did you feel jealous now? You had been a little shocked initially that he had never had a partner. While it made sense, it still confused you.
“All of the above,” He deadpanned, “You know, doesn’t seem like Jaxson took you on many dates.”
The cold blow caused you to pull out the thread, earning a slight hiss from Dex. Yet, he kept his eyes locked on yours.
“Of course you’d know,” You scoffed, pulling the next one. The second thread caught a bit, causing Dex’s muscles to tighten underneath your hands.
“Seems like you two were gonna break up,”
“And why do you care?”
“Because, I do,” Dex challenged, “You don’t deserve to be treated like shit.”
“Just like I don’t deserve to be held captive, but here we are,” You sarcastically respond, pulling out the stubborn thread.
“It’s not-” Dex scoffed and let out a sigh, “You had a choice that night.”
“And I made my choice,” You asserted, annoyed, your hand slightly digging into the side of his waist. You had done it intentionally, but you saw the way his lips slightly fell open, keeping his eyes right on you.
“I made it because I knew if I left, you’d come after me. You wouldn’t leave me alone”.
You didn’t look at him, you dead refused. The worst part was, Dex knew you were right, too. Dex didn’t respond and sat there, agreeing in silence. Both of you knew how it would go, and that was the worst part.
In silence, you continued to take out the threads one by one. You knew that look Dex was giving you. He gave you the look of when a dog had been kicked, and god, you fucking hated it.
Once you had taken out the wounds, you quickly cleaned them and threw the dirty rags in the trash.
“There, you're done,” You remarked and wiped your hands, “You should be good.”
Just as you were about to stand, packing the last tools of the kit, Dex shifted his body towards you.
“Wait,” He said lowly.
You looked up at him, placing the kit on the sink. He simply looked at you, and you patiently waited for a response.
“Thank you, ____,” Dex flattered slightly, “You…didn’t need to do everything you did. Take care of me like that. No one’s done that for me before.”
In those few moments where you listened to Dex, here, he sounded genuine. At the same time, there was something sad about his statement. Something fragile in his voice, contradicting his usual persona.
“Yeah, of course,” You had reassured softly, looking at him. His whole body untensed, and his facial features softened. You looked at your hands, leaning over, an inch away from him.
“Dex,” You put an emphasis on his name, immediately garnering his attention, “I know this is late, but thank you for saving me. If you hadn’t been there, I don’t know what would have happened. I just-” You lost your train of thought, taking in a deep sigh and shaky exhale, “-am really glad you did what you did. Thank you.”
The softness in Dex’s eyes became something you couldn’t name. It was a raw vulnerability that was if anything, more unsettling. He simply stared, not with obsessive intent, but the quiet awe of your unexpected kind words. You knew those words were a gift to him.
“You’re welcome,’ He managed, his voice a low murmur.
There was a silence between you in the small bathroom. You felt his knees brush against yours. As you looked at him, your eyes went down his chest and arm. Near his right shoulder was a small scar, looking like it was from a bullet. For some reason, you felt compelled to lean forward. You looked up at Dex, and he looked at you, the wound, and then back at you. He had read your mind, giving a slight nod. You looked back as your fingers brushed against the wound.
It was from you. From the gun in your nightstand. From that night you had met.
You gently place your hand on his chest, fingers tracing the crooked wound. The touch was light, but you could tell he was enjoying it.
As you looked at the scar, you felt Dex shift. Suddenly, but slowly, he put his hand on top of yours.
And this time, you didn’t stop him.
Dex’s hand engulfed yours as you hung your led down. You felt him move closer as you felt his nose brush by your hairline on your head. You let out a low sigh and looked up, meeting Dex’s eyes. The world seemed to narrow between the small space of your faces before closing the last inch of space between you with a kiss.
You leaned right into the kiss. You felt the tension and the weight of the world fall and settle. His vulnerability has his strongest weapon as it disarmed you completely. For someone who's never had a girlfriend, Dex was an incredibly intoxicating kisser. His kissing wasn’t needy or rough, but soft. He kissed you as light as a feather, not forcing his tongue in. He savored the moment as he leaned further into the kiss, squeezing your hand under his. He shifted his body, bringing his wounded hip–and whole body–closer to you.
By instinct, you broke the kiss to breathe for a moment, making a small noise as you placed your lips back on his. You placed your free hand on the back of his neck, running your finger against his nape. Your very action caused him to groan with his hand tightening over yours. Dex deepened the connection, moving forward with his mouth covering yours in urgency. You further leaned in, tilting your head to let him move in deeper.
Dex’s free hand rubbed your shoulder before moving down the side of your body, gently rubbing against your side, before making its way to your hip. Your tank top had ridden up, leaving exposed skin between your shirt and low hanging sweatpants. His fingers settled on your hip bone to ground you. You heard Dex grunt as his thumb rubbed your hip bone, fingers pressing into the side of your hip.
“Your skin is so soft,” He broke the kiss for a moment, his words full of hunger. Dex tightened his grip and brought you closer to reclaim your lip and pull you closer to him.
When he pulled you closer, you immediately pulled away.
You immediately removed your hands from him and leaned against the toilet. You painted and wiped your lips, pushing away any strand hairs that came from your hair. Dex looked right at you, lowly panthing, looking at you, His dark eyes were dilated with a mix of hunger and surprise. He began to look sad at you pulling away.
“___.”
Your heart was slamming against your rubs as you stood up and grabbed the kit, quickly retracting out of the bathroom.
“___,” Dex pleaded.
You didn’t spare him a second glance as you quickly got out of the room. You rushed down stairs and found the first floor bathroom, slamming the door shut. You leaned against the door, panting, letting in the cool air take you over from the heat that had consumed the bathroom upstairs. Your fingers pressed your lips, still tingling from the kiss you shared with Dex. The realization hit you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to purge the image of his dilated hungry eyes and vulnerable sadness. He wants you, and badly, and for a heart-stopping moment, you wanted hum too.
You quieted yourself down, half-expecting to hear him limp down the stairs and knock on the door, pleading for you to come up.
But the downstairs remained silent.
The small act of restraint was worse than any aggressive demand.
In your own sicK and twisted way, you understood how he had felt when you ignored it. And you felt empathetic, despite how nauseous it made you feel.
–
As the silence stretched, not for minutes but a long hour, you eventually got up. Leaving the safety of the twenty five foot powder room, you carefully opened the door. You opened up to an uncomfortable darkness. As the wave of emotional exhaustion and anxiety slapped you in the face, you found yourself slowly making your way up stairs to the bedroom. Dex was not in sight.
You would care less where he was, but at the same time, was worried about where he was. You knew he wouldn't leave, but what if he had? Was he going to kiss you again? Kill you? Do both? As much as you didn’t want to see him, you did. You hated this feeling; it made your head ache and your stomach churn with an unfathomable craving–and you knew for who.
Reaching the bedroom, Dex was not in there, and you darted to the bathroom. You didn’t bother to undress quickly, going into the glass cube, and turning the water on to the hottest setting. As the water hammered down on you like a hose, you leaned against the gray tiles. An ugly and ragged sob finally left you. All of those pent up emotions through silence had been loosen. As the tears mixed with the hot water, it felt like a relief to purge what could not be controlled.
Then, the door to the bathroom creaked open. You didn’t look up–you knew it was Dex. You could see him through the blurry glass. You sat, hunched and fully clothed, in an upright fetal position, tears and water streaming down you.
Dex fully stepped into the shower, also in his clothes. He moved slowly and carefully; like a wounded animal approaching a threat, or even, sanctuary.
You saw the water soak from his shirt, right until the fabric clung to his skin. Dex didn’t make a single sound as he sank down beside you on the tile floor. You felt his wet sleeve against your wet and bare elbow. He simply sat next to you, your sides touching, but not reaching out to you. In a moment of weakness, like a child crying for its parent, you rested your head on his shoulder, wrapping your hand around his burly arm. He found your hand curled around your hip and took it in his, bringing your palm up as he placed a gentle kiss onto it. His touch was incredibly light, the opposite of what he has shown you and others in the past.
You didn’t pull away.
Instead, you fell right into him. Silently crying, you let your strong facade dissolve as you rested your head in his chest. Closing your eyes, you began to loudly cry; snot and tears in all of its glory. Dex’s other arm came around you, pulling you firmly against him, shielding you from the brunt of the scalding water. The silence was heavy and humid, yet comforting. You had surrendered to him in the way he had held you. His arm moved slowly up and down yours, silently comforting you and wordlessly acknowledging the strange bond you had finally come to terms with.
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: after cutting Dex out of your life, his spiraling desperation leads you to make your first real choice for yourself instead of everyone else.
𝙬𝙝𝙤: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader
𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2.5k
𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: soulmate au, hurt/comfort, blood, injury, Dex has a mental spiral. If I have missed any please let me know!
part 4 of the "Glitch" Series
𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧: The Great War
𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙮: @uzmacchiato
𝗮/𝗻: Part 4 of this series! Like before feedback is welcome!
“They’re gonna crucify me anyway… “ — Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift
The silence became unbearable on the fourth day.
It wasn’t Matt’s silence, nor was it Karen’s. Those you could survive because you knew that your brother loved you more than anything, and Karen had never stayed angry at you for long.
You knew that eventually the three of you would have a conversation or another argument or more tears to break the silence and fix this situation.
But what you hadn’t expected was how much Dex’s absence would ache. How the lack of gifts and him not breaking in through your window at night would hurt so much.
You stood in your kitchen staring at your phone while rain hit hard against the windows, exhaustion heavy on your body. Your apartment felt colder now and empty in a way it hadn’t been for a while.
Like something else had quietly left when you told him to leave.
Your fingers brushed unconsciously against your mark again, a gesture that once brought you a small bit of comfort now made tears well up in your eyes.
Sighing softly, you unlocked your phone again despite knowing what you’d see.
23 unread messages.
14 missed calls.
9 voicemails.
All from Dex.
You hadn’t answered a single call, hadn’t listened to a single voicemail, and hadn’t opened a single message.
Tapping the messages app, you saw that they had started normal the messages had gradually got less coherent as the days passed.
Dex: Are you okay?
Dex: Please answer.
Dex: I’m sorry.
Dex: I’m trying.
Dex: You said leave you alone.
Dex: I’m trying to do that.
Dex: Please answer the phone.
The last message had arrived nearly seven hours ago, and the lack of anything else since has left you feeling more unsettled than relieved. But the ache in your chest still deepened as you locked your phone again and tossed it onto the counter.
Leaning heavily against the counter, you closed your eyes to try to stop the tears from coming because this was what they wanted, wasn’t it?
Distance. Space. No Dex.
So why did it feel like something was broken and bleeding inside you now that he was gone?
Because he had noticed you. You thought to yourself.
Because Dex had noticed everything about you.
He had noticed when your shoulder hurt, when you skipped meals, when you were exhausted, when your smile wasn’t real.
How he looked at you like you mattered, like you were something precious.
And now the silence he’d left behind haunted your apartment like a trapped ghost.
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Your phone ringing loudly on your bedside drawer startled you awake hard enough that your heart jumped painfully.
Grabbing it with a groan, the brightness of it blinded you before the name flashing on the screen made your stomach twist immediately.
Dex.
Glancing at the numbers on the top of the screen, you felt your heart begin to race again.
2:17 AM.
Dex never called this late. He knew your schedule too well and knew how little sleep you got between the apothecary and the clinic. Your stomach clenched again as the ringtone ended and a ping indicating a voicemail came through a few moments later.
But what made your chest tighten was the notification that showed he had already called four times before this one had finally woken you up.
You knew that you had been tired last night, but tired enough to miss four phone calls? You bit your lip with worry.
Then your phone rang again, and before you could think yourself out of it, you answered.
“Dex?” You asked into the phone.
He didn’t answer, but the sound of heavy, uneven breathing came through the phone.
But it was the sound of something falling somewhere made you worry instantly.
“Dex?” You asked again.
A long pause.
Then finally he spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”
Your eyes closed briefly as your stomach settled, but hearing those words from him made your chest ache.
“What happened?” you asked softly.
More silence.
“You told me to leave you alone.” His voice sounded wrong. “I was trying to.”
The words hit painfully as you swallowed hard.
“Dex—”
“I can’t think when it’s quiet.” His voice was frustrated now as something crashed faintly in the background.
You straightened up immediately. “Are you hurt?”
Another pause.
“… No.”
A lie, and you could hear it instantly.
“Where are you?” You asked as your fingers tightened around the phone.
“At home.” His breathing stuttered unevenly again. “Baby, I’m trying very hard not to come see you.”
You felt a tear slip down your cheek at his words. Because he had listened, even if it was destroying him.
You stared out at the rain streaking your apartment windows before moving out of bed and through the apartment.
“I’m coming over.” You said sliding on your shoes and then grabbing your coat and keys.
The silence on the other end was immediate.
“You don’t have to.” He whispered.
“I know.”
Another long pause.
“Okay.”
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Dex’s apartment looked like a war zone.
The moment he opened the door, you immediately froze. Glass littered the floor, a lamp had been shattered against the wall, one of the dining chairs lay broken near the kitchen, there were dents in the drywall, and blood was smeared across the edge of the counter.
And standing in the middle of it all was Dex.
Barefoot, breathing unevenly with his knuckles split open and bloodied.
Your chest tightened sadly because now every unread message felt heavier. More desperate.
Dex’s eyes immediately found yours and stayed there as if he was checking you were real.
“You came.”
The words sounded almost uncertain as your gaze slowly swept over the apartment again.
“What happened?”
Dex looked away for the first time since opening the door.
“I got angry.”
Your eyes dropped to his bleeding hands.
“You punched the wall.”
“Yes.”
Apparently several times you thought to yourself.
You stepped carefully over shattered glass as you entered his apartment and shut the door behind you. The place smelled faintly of blood and something electrical from the broken lamp.
But Dex didn’t move. Didn’t come closer. He was still doing what you’d said that night.
Leave me alone.
“Sit down,” you said quietly, pointing to his sofa.
He obeyed immediately.
You grabbed the first aid kit from where it sat untouched under the kitchen sink before kneeling carefully in front of him.
His eyes never left your face. Not once.
The cuts across his knuckles were messy and swollen already as you gently took one of his hands in yours. The soulmate mark on your collarbone burned faintly at the contact.
Dex inhaled sharply.
You ignored it.
“Why didn’t you clean these?”
Dex watched your thumb brush carefully beneath his split knuckles.
“I couldn’t focus.”
Your chest ached at his words as you carefully soaked a gauze and gently cleaned the blood from his skin.
The apartment remained painfully quiet except for the sound of heavy rain against the windows.
Dex looked exhausted. Like something inside him had been wound too tightly for too long and finally snapped.
“You should’ve listened to the voicemails,” he said quietly after a while.
You glanced up briefly. “Were they coherent?”
“… No.”
Despite yourself, a small, tired laugh escaped you.
Dex’s mouth twitched faintly at the sound and then disappeared again.
“I tried,” he admitted softly.
Your hands stilled slightly against his skin. “I know.”
“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t.”
His jaw tightened once. “I stayed away.”
Guilt twisted low in your stomach.
Not because his spiral was your fault. It wasn’t.
But because you suddenly understood how hard he’d actually tried.
“I know,” you repeated softer this time.
Dex finally looked away again. “I kept thinking about what you said.”
Leave me alone.
The memory made your chest tighten painfully.
“I didn’t mean forever, baby,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.
Dex’s eyes snapped back to yours immediately. Something desperate flickered there so quickly it almost hurt to look at.
You quickly focused back on healing his hands.
Your powers stirred faintly beneath your skin as you carefully brushed your fingers across his bruised knuckles. Warmth spread softly from your touch, easing some of the swelling before the wounds closed.
“All done.” Your hands faintly shook as you pulled them away from him.
Dex exhaled softly as the pain left his hands.
“You’re tired,” he murmured immediately.
Of course he noticed, you thought to yourself. “I’m fine.”
“You’re lying.”
You snorted quietly. “A little hypocritical coming from you.”
His mouth twitched again. A tiny, almost smile.
God, you had missed that.
The realisation settled heavily in your chest.
Carefully setting the supplies aside, you leaned back slightly against the sofa, Dex still watching you like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.
“You destroyed your apartment,” you muttered softly.
“I know.” He whispered.
“You probably scared the neighbours.”
“I know.”
“You called me at two in the morning.”
At that, something conflicted crossed his expression.
“I didn’t know what else to do.”
The honesty in his voice hit harder than anything else tonight.
You looked at him quietly for a long moment, then slowly reached out and touched his face.
Dex immediately went still beneath your hand. His eyes fluttered shut briefly as he leaned into your touch.
Your thumb brushed gently beneath the bruise near his cheekbone.
“You should’ve called earlier.”
Dex opened his eyes again slowly.
“You told me to leave you alone.”
God.
The fact he treated every word you said like they were sacrosanct made your chest ache.
You swallowed thickly. “I know.”
A softer silence settled this time as Dex leaned further into your touch almost unconsciously, like he needed it.
Your heartbeat stumbled painfully.
Because this right here felt dangerously close to the tenderness you had wanted for years, and maybe that was what scared you most. Not the violence, not the obsession, but this.
This softness.
“I missed you.”
The words left your mouth before you could stop them.
Dex froze completely as his eyes searched your face like he didn’t trust what he’d heard.
Then something inside him visibly unraveled.
His hand lifted slowly toward your face like he was afraid you might pull away. When you didn’t, his fingers brushed your cheek carefully.
Reverently. Like you were something breakable.
“You did?” he asked softly.
Your chest tightened. “Yes.”
The confession settled heavily between you.
Dex stared at you for one long second before suddenly leaning forward and kissing you.
This kiss felt nothing like the last one.
It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t forceful, and there was no panic like before, just warmth and careful hesitancy in a way that almost hurt more.
Your breath caught sharply.
Then slowly you kissed him back.
The soulmate bond burned warmly beneath your skin as his other hand slid carefully to your jaw, thumbs caressing against both your cheeks like he still wasn’t fully convinced you were real.
And God, you wanted this, wanted him.
The realisation hit hard enough that you pulled back abruptly.
Dex immediately stiffened as panic flashed across his face so quickly it hurt to see.
“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “I thought—”
“No.”
You cupped his face quickly before he could spiral again.
“No, that’s not—”
But his breathing had already started changing again, sharp and uneven.
You moved closer instinctively.
“I wanted that,” you admitted softly.
Dex stared at you. “But you’re upset.”
“No, baby, it’s—I liked it.”
His expression shifted into something stunned and painfully hopeful all at once.
You let out a shaky breath. “This is complicated.”
“I know.”
“You don’t actually.”
That nearly made him smile again as your thumb brushed carefully across his cheek.
“I just…” your voice softened, “I don’t want this to happen because you’re vulnerable right now.”
Understanding slowly crossed his face before it turned almost unbearably soft.
“You stayed anyway,” he whispered.
The vulnerability in his voice nearly wrecked you as your forehead gently rested against his.
“I’m still here.”
Dex went completely still beneath your touch. Then slowly his eyes closed. Like those words physically settled something broken inside him.
The apartment remained quiet around you, the rain still landing hard against the windows.
Your fingers slid gently through his hair as his breathing finally began to even out beneath your touch.
“You should sleep,” you murmured eventually.
Dex opened his eyes again immediately. “You’ll leave.”
The certainty in his voice hurt. You shook your head softly.
“Not tonight.”
Fragile relief crossed his face then.
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The apartment was less like a war zone come morning light after you spent the three hours that you couldn’t sleep tidying it up as best as you could.
You stood in Dex’s kitchen wearing one of his shirts while making coffee as the sun shone in through the windows. Behind you, Dex leaned silently against the counter watching you.
“You stare a lot,” you muttered softly.
“I like looking at you.”
Heat crawled faintly into your face as you turned toward him, holding out his coffee. Dex took it carefully, his knuckles looking significantly better this morning after your healing.
“You didn’t sleep much,” he observed immediately.
“Neither did you.”
“But I slept.”
You blinked slightly at the quiet honesty in his voice before you realised that he meant he slept because you stayed. The thought settled pleasantly deep in your chest as you leaned lightly against the counter beside him.
The silence this morning didn’t feel awkward.
Just…quiet.
“You’re not scared of me.”
The words came suddenly.
You looked at him carefully. “No.”
Dex studied your face closely. “You probably should be.”
You snorted softly. “There’s the self-awareness.”
His mouth twitched slightly, then faded. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache again. “I know.”
Silence stretched softly between you.
Then Dex spoke again. “What do you want?”
The question caught you off guard.
Not because of the question itself. But because no one had really asked you that through all of this.
What do you want?
Not what would Matt want? Or what would Karen think? Or what’s morally right?
Just…you.
Your fingers tightened slightly around your mug.
You. You thought to yourself.
“I don’t know,” you said quietly.
Dex nodded once like he understood.
“One date.” He said after a moment.
You looked at him.
His expression remained calm, but there was something careful underneath it now. Something uncertain.
“I’m not asking for anything else,” he said quietly. “Just one date.”
Your heartbeat stumbled.
Because this wasn’t fate demanding something from you, it wasn’t obsession, this was a choice. Your choice. And for the first time since all of this began, you let yourself think about what you actually wanted.
Not what everyone else feared.
Not what everyone else expected.
You thought about the warm takeout left on counters, the flowers at the apothecary, the eye-colored rocks, his gentle calloused hands against your skin, and someone who looked at you like you mattered.
Your lips parted softly “… Okay.”
The word barely left your mouth before something in Dex’s expression softened so completely it almost took your breath away. It wasn’t triumph, not total possession, but quiet happiness.
Real happiness.
Happiness that felt far more satisfying than anything else.
For a Minute, I Lost Myself | Benjamin Poindexter x Reader
Nurse to Daredevil and best friend to Karen Page, you are always there to help. But when Matt asks you to save Benjamin Poindexter this time, the man you despise, the consequences will be greater than you expected. Follows the events of Daredevil: Born Again Series 2.
Summary: All you wanted was to get to Austin, but instead of your brother, it’s Frankie —Santi’s best friend, the one you can barely stand— who shows up in Dallas. He’s just doing your brother a favor, but the trip takes an unexpected turn when a stop puts you face to face with your ex — the guy who broke your heart three months ago and is now about to get married.
Out of pride, you blurt out a lie: Frankie is your boyfriend. Surprised but willing to play along, he agrees, with one condition — you must accompany him to his mother’s birthday. His plan? Dodge his family’s meddling and their endless matchmaking schemes.
Rating: EXPLICIT (+18) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!
Paiting: Frankie Morales x F!reader
WC: 105k (oops)
✦ fic content below the cut ✦
PART TWO: "The one with the purring traitor"
PART ONE: "The one with the proposal"
PART THREE: "The one with the birthday party"
PART FOUR: "The one with bruises and blue excuses"
PART FIVE: "The one with the Red lights"
PART SIX: "The one with the late night talk"
PART SEVEN: "The one with the unexpected visit"
PART EIGHT: "The one with Dante and Beatrice"
PART NINE II: "The one with the wedding"
PART NINE I: "The one with the wedding"
PART TEN: "The one with the skydiving"
PART ELEVEN: "The one with the things we shouldn’t talk about"
PART TWELVE: "The one when nothing happens"
PART THIRTEEN: "The one with the day after"
PART FOURTEEN: "The one with the nightly calls"
PART FIFTEEN: "The one with the cabin and the river"
summary: Joel and you knew that bringing a child into this mad world was a mistake, but he wanted to give you the best that was left of that world after all.
warnings: angst, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, mentions of blood, fluff.
[SUMMARY: On patrol you accidentally get hurt and try to hide it from Joel.]
If Anything Should Happen
Angst semi fluff
Joel was supposed to go on patrol with you that morning but after promising Ellie that he’d show her a few songs on the guitar you told him you’d go with Tommy and Jesse. If there was anyone Joel trusted to go on patrol with you, it was his brother. Plus with Ellie finally opening up to Joel, you didn’t want anything to get in the way of that.
“You take care of my girl, Tommy” he patted your horse as you moved up by the gates.
Tommy looked down at his older brother and gave him a nod of reassurance before the three of you went on your way.
“She’ll be fine, you know how Tommy is” Maria tried to assure Joel who didn’t take his eyes off you as you rode away.
~~
“I wish he’d be more relaxed whenever I have to go on patrol, I could tell how much he hates it” you spoke with Tommy as you both went down a trail, Jesse close behind.
“Hey but that’s, Joel. He’s gonna protect what’s his, hell, I hate it when Maria has to do anything that can risk her safety.”
“Yeah, I know. I get it” you sighed looking off into the distance when Jesses voice distracted you and Tommy.
“What the hell is that?” You turned behind to see him staring at something in the woods you couldn’t make out. Jesse jumped off his horse walking towards what he saw, you and Tommy quickly followed.
“Where the hell are you goin’?!” Tommy called out to him just as you heard movement beside you. You both froze reaching for your guns, Jesse nowhere in sight.
“Stay right here” Tommy whispered as he slowly moved ahead, you stood still, gun in hand watching your surroundings. Tommy quietly moving ahead when you heard another quick movement coming from your left and quickly turned only to hear a gunshot go off.
It all happened so quickly, the sudden intense burning sensation on your waist, the sound of Tommy’s voice muffled in the background.
“The hell did you do?!”
“Oh shit, oh shit-“ Jesse panicked, everything felt like a blur, you hadn’t even noticed you fell on the ground.
“What..the..hell?” You whispered looking down at your bloody shirt, Tommy’s voice suddenly louder and clearer.
“Don’t move” he quickly knelt down beside you, slowly lifting up your shirt.
“Thank God” Tommy whispered as you slowly felt yourself coming back to reality.
“W-what?”
“Didn’t go through, grazed ya pretty good but you’ll be fine, let me just stop the bleedin’ till we get back”
“Shit, I’m so sorry” Jesse rushed towards you.
“Joel’s gonna kill you” was all Tommy could say as he wrapped up your waist with a spare shirt.
“No” you whispered slowly propping yourself up on your elbows
“Move slow” Tommy ordered giving you his hand as you winced getting on your feet.
“No one’s telling Joel anything” you looked up at Tommy who had a look of disbelief.
“You know how he gets about you. He finds out you were hurt and I didn’t tell him-“
“So what, blame me. He doesn’t need to know, I don’t need him worrying anymore than he already does”
“And how the hell are ya gonna hide that?” He looked down at your wounded area.
“I’ll figure it out, just promise me you won’t say anything” You could see the hesitation in his eyes. If anyone knew how Joel would react it would be his brother.
“Please, Tommy”
After a tense moment of silence he gave in.
“I’ll distract him when we get back, so you have time to change. I’ll stop by and get some pain medication and send someone to clean it up for ya” you breathed in relief.
“Thank you, Tommy” you whispered.
“Yeah, thanks” Jesse intervened making Tommy narrow his eyes on him.
“Get back on the damn horse and put your gun away,” he ordered, Jesse anxiously got back to where he was.
With the pain you felt, how you were able to get back on that damn horse even with Tommy helps, you’ll never know. The whole ride home he kept looking over at you, riding slower than he usually did to make sure you were ok, he really was like a big brother to you.
Once you returned, Tommy did just as he said he would. He found Joel in the house sitting at the table with Ellie, a smile on his face watching her play the guitar till he noticed his brother walking in.
“Everything go ok?” He took off his glasses, an anxious look in his eyes.
“Yeah, everything’s good” Tommy felt guilty lying through his teeth.
“Where is she?” He slightly leaned over hoping to see you walking in behind Tommy.
“Said she wanted to go check on what ingredients we have to make something for the event,” Joel furrowed his brows as he walked around the table.
“Hm-“ he scratched his chin with the tip of his index finger.
“Coulda sworn she checked on it this mornin’”
“Hey, guys” you walked in casually, your hands crossed before you as Joel walked towards you with a smile.
“Hi darlin’” he greeted you with a kiss to your forehead.
“So, Joel taught me the coolest song ever” Ellie interrupted with excitement.
“Are ya gonna play it at the dance?”
“No way! I just started learning it, gotta perfect it first” she stood up excitedly taking her guitar to the room as Joel turned back to you.
“Had fun today?” You asked with a smile seeing the happiness in his eyes.
“Yeah, it was a good day, how about you?” He put an arm around you.
“The boys take good care of you? Or do I need to have a talk with someone?” He teased not noticing the uncomfortable look in Tommy’s eyes. Tommy knew it wasn’t no damn tease and he knew it wouldn’t have been no damn talk either.
“They were great” you smiled up at him when his smile slowly faded.
“What’s wrong?”
“What?” You whispered confused.
His hand slowly coming up to your face, taking a hold of it as he moved it from one side to the other.
“Why do ya look pale?”
“I don’t look pale” you shook your head taking your face out of his grasp.
“Tommy she don’t look pale to ya?”
He silently shook his head tightening his lips.
“Come on, let’s go relax for a bit, I’m tired ” you sighed attempting to change the subject. Joel agreed walking beside you out the door till you pretended to forget something in the room.
Quickly creeping in you found Tommy lost in thought rubbing his forehead till he heard your footsteps. Somewhat relieved to see you alone he rushed towards you.
“Did you take the medicine I left ya?” He whispered.
“Yes, thank you. I’m fine, Tommy”
“You do look pale, you sure you feel alright?”
“Yes” you sighed.
“If something else looks wrong even the slightest bit, I ain’t stayin quiet. I’m just lettin’ ya know” he rushed off past you and left the house.
~~
The next day you woke up feeling a little more sore than the day before. The area on your side feeling tender surrounding the actual wound itself, you wondered if that was normal. Looking at yourself in the mirror you lifted your shirt before hearing the door open behind you, quickly you pulled it back down.
“How’d ya sleep, honey?” Joel came up behind you, his hand sliding over your waist, thankfully opposite of where the wound was.
“I slept ok, I know we have a long night with the dance.”
“If ya don’t wanna go we don’t have to, you just say the word” he looked at you through the mirror.
“It’s fine, I already promised Maria. It’s ok, we’ll have a good time” you smiled but Joel knew you, your smile didn’t meet your gaze.
“Is something botherin’ you?” You turned to him and caressed his face, his eyes darting between your eyes and lips that he could never resist.
“I’m fine, let’s get ready for the day” you assured him with a gentle kiss and went on your way.
~~
That night getting ready for the event you found yourself feeling a little weak but pushed through it. Joel noticed you were more quiet than usual and kept an eye on you as he always did. You had cleaned the wound up the best you could before leaving but still something felt off.
The moment you arrived to the gathering, you noticed Tommy look directly at you from across the room and when he did, you knew that was it. The simple walk from the house to the party throwing you off, you felt queasy and it showed. Joel holding your hand leading you further into the event, you gently tugged at his arm.
“Joel”
Tommy got closer.
“What is it, baby?” He turned to you, instantly noticing something didn’t look right.
“You alright, what’s the matter?” His hand quickly releasing yours to caress the side of your face and that’s when he grew more concerned.
“Jesus, baby ya burnin’ up-“
“Joel, we gotta talk” Tommy cut in.
“Tommy don’t” you whispered, you knew how Joel would react, especially towards Jesse.
“I shoulda said something the moment we came back but…there was an accident”
“The hell are ya talkin’ about, Tommy?” He turned towards him.
“Joel-“ your voice barely heard, the music continued to play as no one noticed the tense conversation between the two.
“It was an accident-“ Tommy repeated trying to remind his brother before telling him what played out.
“What the hell happened, Tommy?” He grew more desperate by the minute with what his brother needed to share.
“We thought there was some infected or raiders, we heard somethin’ but didn’t find anyone. Jesses gun went off-“
“Tommy, I’m fine dammit!”
“The bullet didn’t go through her but it grazed her pretty bad-“ Joel quickly turned to you, an alarmed look in his brown eyes.
“You were shot at” he whispered as you quickly shook your head.
“Under her shirt, left side” Tommy continued bluntly.
“No-“ you attempted to stop him but Joel moved towards you and quickly lifted up your shirt to see gauze wrapped around your waist beginning to fill with blood. The color draining from his face, worry mixed with anger. How the hell did someone accidentally shoot at you?
How the hell didn’t he notice?
“We need to get cha inside, right now. Tommy-“ he turned to his brother.
“I should’ve told you, I know-“
“We will deal with that later. You bring me a doctor, meet me at the house.”
There was no use in even trying to go against Joel at this point. You could tell he was angry but more so you could see the concern he felt helping you walk back to the house. You could see him looking over at you repeatedly to make sure you were alright, that was his first priority.
“Joel, don’t be mad at them-“
“Don’t talk right now, save your energy till they make sure you’re alright” he replied looking ahead, his arm around your waist, his hand careful to not rest on the wound but still enough to help balance you.
As the doctor checked you, Joel anxiously stood over his shoulder with his arms crossed watching what he was doing.
“Is it infected?” Joel asked.
“Too early to tell but looks like it’s gettin’ there. I’ll give her some antibiotics”
“And I’ll be fine for patrol tomorrow?” Your question making Joel narrow his eyes on you.
“You think you’re goin’ back out there any time soon?” His brows grew knit.
“Joel-“
“He’s right, should slow down for a few days. Let this heal properly” the doctor agreed. You couldn’t look up at Joel, you knew what he was thinking, there wasn’t anything you could say.
Once the doctor finished dressing your wound properly he left you and Joel alone together. A tense moment of silence, Joel didn’t know what reaction to even begin with. Pacing back and forth, Tommy could hear his footsteps loudly outside the door.
“So this was Jesses doin’ huh?”
“He didn’t do it on purpose” you quickly responded, a quick glance at him through the corner of your eye as he stopped to face you.
“Don’t matter, he put cha in danger. Kid shouldn’t be allowed with a damn gun till he’s properly trained” his nostrils flared just as Tommy walked in.
“How she doin’?”
“And you” Joel turned to him, hands on his hips.
“What the hell, Tommy”
“I know” he looked down in defeat.
“You shoulda known better”
“I know” Tommy didn’t bother to argue, he knew he was right.
“Don’t blame Tommy, I asked him not to say anything” you cut in but he didn’t take his eyes off his brother.
“Still, he shoulda been more alert, kept ya safe. Let alone at least tell me when my woman was hurt-“
“It happened so fast, Joel, Tommy did take care of me” you sat up faster than you meant to causing a sharp pain making you gasp. Joel quickly turning to you rushing to your side.
“Easy, lay down, baby” his hand gently guiding you to lay back on the bed as you looked up at him desperately.
“I know Jesse could be an idiot at times but he didn’t do it on purpose and Tommy-“ Joel looked down at you silently listening to what you had to say word for word.
“You can’t be mad at him, you should’ve heard everything he said to Jesse the whole ride home, he ripped him a new one” Tommy couldn’t help but silently smirk in the background, if there was one person that could make Joel break, it would be you. Joel took one look at his brother then back at you, you swallowed nervously waiting for some kind of a response.
“Now as to why Tommy kept your little secret. I know how persuasive you can be” he whispered.
“But I will have a word with Jesse” you sighed.
“Nothin’ like this is to be kept from me again. Am I clear?”
“Joel-“
“Am I clear?” His eyes narrowed on you until you nodded before turning to his brother.
“Never again” Tommy whispered.
“I’m sorry, Joel” you whispered, the sight of tears building up in your eyes was enough to soften Joel’s.
“It’s alright, baby, you’re ok” he whispered, his hand caressing your face, his thumb gently wiping the tears away.
“You get your rest, don’t worry about anything else, alright?” You nodded and took a deep breath.
After both men left the room allowing you to rest Tommy could see Joel was still left uneasy. His mind lost in thought as he sat at the table crossing his arms.
“You alright?”
Joel was silent for a moment, biting his inner lip staring off into the distance.
“How the hell didn’t I notice?” He blurt out looking back at his brother.
“Joel, you can’t blame yourself for not knowing what she was hidin’” Joel shook his head stubbornly.
“No, I knew somethin’ wasn’t right. I could see it in her face. I just- she shouldn’t have gone on that patrol without me. That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Well Jesse won’t be on patrol for a while.” Tommy assured him.
“Neither will she” Joel uttered low looking back in the direction you were in. The thought of how worse it could’ve actually been haunted him. The thought of anything happening to you was one he couldn’t live with.
Prompt: Bucky gets jealous when Torres flirts with Y/N
--
The hum of fluorescent lights cast a pale glow over the East Side briefing room of the Helicarrier hangar. Equipment cases lined the walls, gear sorted and labeled with precision, and the scent of metal, oil, and sterilized fabric filled the air. Sam stood at the table in the center, hands braced on either side of a glowing tactical map.
Y/N leaned against the edge, tying her hair back into a messy braid, a black combat vest snug over her base layer. Her movements were quick but unhurried—second nature. Bucky watched her from across the room as he adjusted the shoulder harness of his stealth suit. His fingers moved slowly, distracted. He'd already checked his gear twice.
She caught him looking and gave him a soft, secret smile. The kind of smile that said I'm okay. The corner of his mouth lifted in return, subtle but real.
“You two gonna kiss or kill something?” Sam asked, not even looking up from the map.
Bucky’s eyes narrowed. “You know which one I’d prefer.”
Y/N rolled her eyes with a half-laugh, walking over to Sam’s side as Joaquín Torres pulled up a holographic overlay from the nearby terminal.
“Guard rotations are clockwork,” Torres said, pointing. “Three-man teams sweep the corridors every twenty minutes. Entry point’s here, west stairwell. You’ll have a five-minute window to get past the security grid.”
“And once we’re inside?” Y/N asked, leaning in, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of the table. Bucky’s gaze followed the motion.
“Split and sweep,” Sam said, already sliding into briefing mode. “Y/N and I take the server room. Bucky clears the vault corridor. We regroup at extraction in twenty.”
“Sounds clean,” Torres said. Then his eyes flicked to Y/N. “Wish I was going with you guys. Could use someone with your instincts on my team.”
Y/N raised a brow. “You calling me predictable or reckless?”
“Neither,” he replied, a grin tugging at his lips. “Just saying, if I had someone like you watching my six, I might not get shot at so much.”
Bucky’s jaw tensed.
Y/N laughed it off, casually stepping closer to Bucky without seeming to realize she’d done it. But he noticed. He always noticed. The subtle way her body leaned toward him when someone else was around. The way her hand rested on his forearm briefly, grounding both of them.
Torres was still grinning, oblivious. “You ever think about switching teams, Y/N, let me know. I could use a partner who looks that good and knows how to break a guy’s arm in two seconds.”
Bucky’s voice cut through the air. “She’s not switching anything.”
The room stilled for a second too long. Sam looked up, eyebrows raised. Torres blinked and took half a step back, holding his hands up in defense.
Y/N let out a slow breath and gave Bucky a look—half amused, half warning.
“Just saying, man. No offense,” Torres said.
Bucky didn’t answer. Instead, he turned and walked toward the lockers, snapping his gloves tighter than necessary.
Y/N followed.
When they were out of earshot, she leaned against the locker beside him, arms crossed, expression unreadable.
“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?” she said softly.
Bucky looked down, then back at her. “Yeah. I know. Doesn’t mean it’s easy watching someone else talk to you like that.”
Y/N tilted her head. “You think I care what Torres thinks? I let you zip my vest this morning.”
His eyes flicked to her chest, then to her face, his voice lower now. “Yeah. That was the highlight of my day.”
A smile played on her lips. “I can give you another highlight, but we’ve got a mission in ten.”
“Damn timing,” Bucky murmured.
She stepped closer, hand brushing lightly against his side—right where his arm met flesh. “I’ll be careful.”
“I know.”
“I mean it,” she whispered. “I don’t want you losing your mind if someone so much as looks at me funny again.”
“Too late for that,” he muttered, then softened. “But I’ll keep it together. Just… stay close. And come back to me.”
She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, unseen from the others. “Always.”
Sam called from across the room, “Time to move out, kids. Jet’s hot and ready. Let’s go look cool and kick ass.”
Y/N turned with a wink. “Let’s go make some noise.”
Bucky watched her walk away—confident, calm, dangerous as hell. And his.
He took a breath, squared his shoulders, and followed.
No one would ever get close enough to take her from him.
Not on his watch.
--
The mission had ended hours ago.
Madripoor had been chaotic—twisting alleys, cold steel corridors, fire flashing off concrete and bad choices. But they’d made it out. Banged up, bruised, a little breathless, but alive.
The quinjet hummed softly as it cut through clouds somewhere over the Atlantic. Sam had passed out three seats back, his arm thrown over his face, muttering occasionally in his sleep. Bucky sat near the front, freshly bandaged, bruised, quiet.
Y/N sat curled up across from him wearing one of his hoodies and her tactical pants, legs tucked beneath her. She’d changed out of her suit, hair loose now, damp from a quick shower at the airbase. Her eyes had been on Bucky since takeoff—not in worry, but something else. Something quieter. Deeper.
He looked tired.
Not physically—though the gash on his shoulder was proof enough the mission hadn’t gone easy—but emotionally tired. Like he’d been holding onto something all day that still hadn’t been said.
She crossed the aisle and slid into the seat beside him, saying nothing at first. Just letting the silence speak.
He glanced at her, then looked away. “You should sleep.”
“You should talk to me.”
A beat passed.
He exhaled. “You could’ve been killed today.”
“You say that like it’s not part of the job.”
His voice dropped. “It’s different when it’s you.”
Y/N turned in the seat, facing him fully. Her hand reached over, fingers brushing his knuckles—just barely. But he felt it like a jolt.
“You saved me. Again.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.” His jaw flexed. “I should’ve cleared the corner faster. Should’ve—should’ve gotten between you and that guy.”
“Bucky.”
“I saw the way he raised the gun. He wasn’t aiming at me. He wanted you. And all I could think was—”
He stopped himself. Chest rising, falling. The words stuck somewhere between his lungs and his heart.
“All I could think was, what if this is the last time I see you?” he finished, softer now. “What if I lose you before I ever get to tell you…”
Her hand moved to his jaw, thumb tracing the stubble just below his cheekbone.
“Tell me what?” she asked.
He met her eyes, blue and stormy and full of something that cracked her open inside.
“That I love you,” he said. No hesitation now. No fear. Just the truth.
Y/N’s breath hitched. She was already smiling, already blinking away tears she hadn’t realized were there. “Took you long enough.”
He huffed a soft laugh. “Guess I’m still learning how to say things before I almost lose them.”
She cupped his face, pulling him in gently, and kissed him—slow and deep. When they parted, her forehead rested against his.
“I love you too,” she whispered. “Even when you’re brooding and jealous and act like you invented angst.”
His lips curved against hers. “I did invent angst, actually. 1943. Patent pending.”
She laughed, and he held her close, letting the sound soak into his skin.
They stayed curled together for the rest of the flight, her head on his shoulder, his fingers tangled in hers. No words needed.
Outside, the storm had passed.
But inside the quinjet, something far more powerful had settled.
Rating: Explicit
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x female character (written in second person, so technically a reader insert with no use of y/n)
Warnings: Smut, angst, forced marriage, brief mention of childhood trauma
Word count: 7.8k (3 chapters - completed)
Summary: Aemond is yours and you are his, but what happens when you're both forced to choose between duty and true love?
Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits?
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader
Chapter summary: Y/N stands in front of Jake in his doorway in Texas and begs for his forgiveness. Will he accept her plea?
Warnings: Cursing, angst
WC: 0.9K
Previous chapter here; masterlist here
[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]
A lot of men had told you they loved you.
You had told a lot of men that you loved them, too.
But you never really meant it. Only two times in your life had you actually loved someone back so much that you realized without them there would be a gaping hole you couldn’t close up.
The first was Javy. You had loved him the longest. And for the longest time, the most. He was a brother, a best friend. He was your person.
And then Jake arrived. And slowly he wormed his way into your heart. He was goofy and loud and he said all of the wrong things at the wrong time and he had lived in the shadows for so long that you were worried you’d never be able to take him out into the open and realize it for what it truly was.
You loved Jake Seresin. Despite it all. In spite of what the two of you had done up until that point.
You were in love with the boy standing in front of you, and you were begging him to love you back.
***
Jake frowned, eyebrows knitted together. He was wearing a literal cowboy hat. And in another lifetime you would have cracked a joke about it immediately. Rolled your eyes at him, called him Sheriff. And he would have laughed, too.
But now you didn’t dare say it. You didn’t dare say anything. Just held your breath and held on for dear life. Waiting, hoping.
Praying.
“You didn’t call,” he said quietly. “It’s been three months and you never called.”
Your heart broke, and your voice cracked as you said, “I thought you wouldn’t want to hear from me.”
“What about me saying I loved you would ever mean I didn’t want to hear from you?”
“I did everything wrong,” you cried. “I left when I shouldn’t have. I pretended I didn’t care when I did. I went quiet when I should have called.” You paused, tears piling up in your eyes. “I left that night. While you were sleeping. I just left. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want you. Because I did. I left because I was so fucking scared of letting myself feel something and take a risk.”
“That’s not a good enough excuse.”
You shook your head. “I know it’s not. But I need you to know, Jake, that the girl you think I am? The girl I pretend to be? She doesn’t exist. The one who is fearless and who knows what she wants? It’s an act. The real me is scared. She’s scared to order the wrong coffee at the bodega in case someone mocks her and she’s scared to choose her own path forward instead of one that Javy has already paved the way for. And she’s scared to fucking death to be standing here, in front of you, asking for forgiveness. Asking for a third chance that she knows she doesn’t deserve.”
Jake stepped forward and pressed one hand to your cheek. His touch was so familiar it forced a tear to slide down from your eye and he wiped it away with the pad of his thumb. “Is this real?” he asked quietly. “Do you mean it this time?”
“Yes.” It was plain and simple. And for not the first time you wondered what had taken you so long to realize what you wanted was right in front of you.
“Things will be different,” Jake replied. “They have to be.”
“I know.”
“No more games,” he whispered. “No more rules.” His green eyes traced your face. “No more telling me I can’t have you in all the ways I want to have you.”
“Jake,” you murmured. “Just one more rule.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“You can’t take it back,” you whispered. “Because now that I know? I’ll never be the same. So you can’t wake up one day and decide that it’s over. This, you and me? It has to be forever.” You gulped. “I don’t think I can go back to anything else.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Stinky,” Jake grinned and you felt your chest lighten. “But deal.”
Before you could even realize it, you were in Jake’s arms, his hat tucked behind your back, his lips on yours. He tasted salty and familiar and you couldn’t believe that you had spent over a year avoiding kissing him when it was the only thing that had ever felt like home.
You had spent so long chasing a feeling of belonging, never realizing it was right beneath your nose the entire time.
Jake pressed your back gently against the brick exterior of the house, tugging his lips away, his chest practically panting.
“I love you too,” he replied quietly. “Did I mention that?”
You grinned. “Shut up and kiss me, cowboy.”
Tag list is closed, please follow my library page and turn on notifications (@ereardonlibrary):
Overview: No strings attached sex never works, right? You and Jake Seresin have fallen into a bad pattern of seeking each other out for sex after dates go awry, but a year of being friends with benefits with Jake hasn’t been good for your dating life. Especially when the two of you are hiding your antics from your lifelong best friend Coyote and the rest of your tightly knit friend group. But what happens when you decide to take a step back and end the cycle with Jake to focus on your dating life? And why is it that all of the sudden Jake looks more irresistible than ever when you know he’s off limits?
Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader
Chapter summary: In New York, Y/N decides what she finally wants in life.
Warnings: Cursing, angst
WC: 2K
Previous chapter here; masterlist here
[Please see note at the end, tag list is closed but please follow/turn on notifications for my library page @ereardonlibrary instead]
Three months later
“Meet me on Sixth and Thirteenth?” You listened for the response and nodded to yourself before saying goodbye and ending the call.
March in New York was a crapshoot weather wise. It could go from sunny and seventies to snowy and slushy overnight. You hadn’t realized how much you had taken San Francisco’s mild weather for granted until you left.
You were different in New York. You worked long hours, sure. But you made time for yourself in a way you hadn’t in San Francisco. It wasn’t going to bars every night and showing up hungover to pilates. You walked along the High Line and you shopped at the Union Square Green Market and you made friends with an older woman who lived downstairs. You were practically the only person who ever moved to New York and learned how to slow down.
As you stood huddled in your jacket on the corner outside the bagel shop, you looked around. Everyone was bustling. There was a sense of urgency with everyone in the city. It didn’t matter if you were going to get groceries or a pedicure or you were late for a meeting. Everything felt like an emergency.
You had tried to turn things around the moment you touched down at JFK.
“Hey Sweets.” Javy rounded the corner, hands in his pockets, pressing a kiss to your cheek and grinning. “How’s it going?”
“Starving,” you replied, opening the door. “Bagel please.”
Ten minutes later, you and Javy left the bagel shop and were spat back onto Sixth Avenue. “Which way?” he asked.
You cocked your head to the left. “Let’s go to the park.”
The two of you made your way south toward Washington Square Park. It had become a regular spot, Javy’s office at NYU just around the corner, and only a few stops away from your apartment in Tribeca.
“Phoenix called me yesterday,” you said as the two of you settled onto a bench on the outskirts of the park.
“Oh yeah?” Javy peeled back the wrapping on his bagel. “What did she say?”
“She’s moving.” You bit into a pickle. “Atlanta.”
Javy frowned. “Georgia? Really?”
You shrugged. “She got an offer for a new clinic down there and she’s excited.”
“What about Bob?” he asked. “And Bradshaw.” There was a pause. “And Jake?”
“Bob and Bradley are moving in together,” you replied. “And she didn’t say what Jake is doing.”
“Have you talked to him?”
You shook your head. “No.”
“So he doesn’t know?”
You looked up. “No.”
“Sweets. You have to tell him.”
“I blew it,” you whispered. “I ruined everything. No way would he want me now.”
Javy put his hand on your knee. “If you still love him, he deserves to know.”
***
You lifted one hand, knocking on the door. It swung open a moment later, Liam’s grin and tall figure filling the doorway. “Hey babe,” he said, leaning down and planting a kiss on your lips. “Come in.”
You stepped inside Liam’s East Village apartment. It was warm and cozy, bookshelves lining an entire wall, windows overlooking Eleventh Street with a fire escape that you could sit on, bohemian-style chairs and worn blankets slung over the leather couch. It looked exactly like you expected it would look.
As you swiveled around, Liam frowned. “Where are your bags?”
“Liam,” you whispered. “We should sit.”
He folded himself onto a chair and you settled into the deep leather sofa, hands knotted together in your lap. “Y/N?” he said, deep voice surrounding you. “What’s going on?”
You looked up. “What do you like about me?”
Liam frowned. “What? What is this about?”
“What do you like about me?” you repeated.
“You’re smart,” he said after a moment. “And nice.”
You shook your head. “I am not nice.”
Liam leaned forward. “Babe. What is this about?”
“I like you,” you whispered. “You’re gorgeous and kind and smart and thoughtful.”
“Thank you.”
“But I don’t think you really love me.”
His face darkened. “What does that mean?”
“I don’t think you know me well enough to love me, flaws and all,” you replied. “I think you want someone to hold onto. And I was there. You’ve heard that saying, right? Women fall in love with the right man. Men fall in love with a woman when it’s the right time.” You leaned forward, taking one of his hands in yours. “I think this is the right time for you. I’m just not the right woman.”
Liam’s face fell. You watched his features, so carefully etched into his perfect skin, droop with sadness. “I don’t think that’s true,” he murmured.
“You deserve someone who loves you with their whole heart,” you said gently. “Not just a piece of it.”
“So that’s what this is about? It’s about Jake.”
“Yes,” you replied. “And no. It’s about him and it’s not about him. It’s about you thinking you love me. But one day, it might be in two months or two years or twenty years, you’re going to wake up and realize that I’m not the woman for you, Liam. I’m not who you’re meant to be with.”
“How do you know that?” he insisted. “How can you be sure we’re so wrong for each other?”
“Because if it was right,” you whispered, “then I wouldn’t feel like this.” You stood up, reaching out, and he folded you into his arms. You rested your head against his broad chest, inhaled his familiar scent for the last time. When you finally pulled back, you leaned in and pressed your lips to his gently. He tasted like he had that very first time, but that was all. Nothing groundbreaking. “Bye, Liam.”
You stepped away and headed for the door. A part of you expected him to try and stop you. But he didn’t. He was notably silent as you entered the hallway, the door shutting behind you.
And that’s how you knew. In the elevator, you closed your eyes. If he had tried to stop you. If he had called out or grabbed your arm or done anything to try and convince you otherwise, maybe you wouldn’t have been right.
You were never the person for Liam. You were a bandaid. A temporary fix.
And he wasn’t Jake.
***
“Floyd. Been a while. How’s it going?”
“The usual.” The sound of Bob’s voice floating through the phone brought a smile to your face. You missed his goofy smile, his crooked glasses, how he got a farmer’s tan wearing t-shirts at the beach on hot summer days. “Bradshaw is off with some chick he met last night.”
You laughed. “So everything is the same.”
Bob paused. “It’s weird, you know,” he said quietly. “Without you guys here. Feels like something is missing.”
“I miss you too.” You sucked in a breath. “How’s Jake?”
“He’s, uh, in Texas.” You frowned into the phone.
“Texas?”
“He took a leave of absence,” Bob said. “Went to visit his grandmother at their ranch.”
“When was the last time you talked to him?”
“Two, maybe three weeks ago? Said he needed some space from the city.”
“From the city,” you whispered, “or from me?”
Bob sighed. “You want the truth?”
“Slice me open, Floyd,” you whispered.
“He said the city is haunted by the ghost of you,” Bob said quietly. “That you’re around every corner. And even though he knows you’re in New York, a part of him always thinks you’re going to show up at his door.”
Your heart crashed against your diaphragm. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”
There was a pause. Then, “None of us knew, Y/N. How he really felt.”
“I had no idea,” you whispered softly. “I wish I had known.”
“Would you have done things differently?”
***
The air was warm on your skin. You stepped out of the rental car, hands brushing over your dress, nerves flooding every cell in your body. As you stepped up the massive porch steps, lifted one hand to the wooden door, you could feel your heart threatening to explode in your chest.
The wait felt like minutes, hours. But only a few seconds later, the enormous wooden door slid open.
Jake stood wearing a hat and a pair of jeans, his golden face drenched in sunlight and creased with shock. “Y/N?” he asked, squinting. “What are you—”
“I’m sorry,” you interrupted. “I’m sorry I left and I’m sorry I pretended that what we had wasn’t real. Because it was. I was scared to let you in and I was scared to try and make it work because I didn’t want you to see who I really was and leave. But I’ve spent the last three months figuring out who I am by myself. I never moved to New York with Liam. I moved by myself. To figure out who I was, and what I wanted. And the one thing I realized is that nowhere will feel like home unless you’re there.”
You stepped closer, Jake’s green eyes following you in silence.
Tears crowded the back of your throat. “I love you, Jake. Not because I’m choosing between two lives. But because you’re the only person who has ever truly seen me and loved me and chosen me. You’re the only person who understands me, and the only person I want to spend all of my days with. I love you. I have loved you. I just was too stupid and stubborn to realize it.” A fresh flood of tears streamed down your cheeks as you looked up at Jake. “I’m packed. I gave up my apartment in the city. I’ll go anywhere you want. I’ll go back to San Francisco. I’ll become a Texan. I don’t care where I live. I spent three months figuring out who I am. But all I know is that I’ll never be happy unless I’m with you.” You paused. “Jake?”
He opened his mouth to respond.
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