I also mostly write x reader. Bear in mind that I am the kind of writer who dedicates herself to actively choosing to get better at not giving readers a description in my work bc that shit sucks. I also actively and intentionally find black women for aesthetics from Pinterest for my mood boards for all my girlies that have felt excluded for so long; I do this for y'all fr 🙂↕️ I still never add descriptors but it's the principle!
all the stars are closer...
glove compartment (side masterlist)
gallery (p link masterlist)(more fandoms)
ao3 dashboard (more fandoms)
Plᴇᴀsᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɴᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ...
You can request but keep in mind my posting is slow
Dubcon is the only dark content I am okay with; do not ever ask me to write age gap
Not every request is guaranteed an answer. Most of the time I would get stuck or the prompt was written confusingly but I can't clarify if you're anon and I will not go out of my way to find you
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I have realized it takes me a while to get to my drafts/requests so please be patient with me, I'm probably finally getting to your prompt... even if it was like 4 months ago(´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)
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I've decided that I won't take ship requests cause some of the ships yall like are either crazy or i just don't see it, so I'll only write ships I like
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I only write for gender neutral and cis female readers
Vigilante!reader and Bullseye occasionally stalking each other blurb.
Locating each other's homes just to randomly pull up and fight but it's like. Kinda erotic
Ts might not make a lick of sense lol
I have this recurring thought where reader is another vigilante that bullseye crossed paths with and you have a thing for each other but won't ever admit it. Like your foreplay is throwing full on punches and kicks, throwing shit and fighting like somebody won't leave alive, but once close enough you're all outta breath, bloody and hurt but grinning, holding onto each other and the vibe is just so fucking tense. Nobody says a word but you always get this close to kissing. Already breathing in each other's air. This time it was your apartment and it's a mess but you didn't give a fuckkkk
You're doing something mundane when you notice just the slightest shift in this little abandoned apartment you found. Not even turning around fully before throwing a knife in that general direction. It's dark but you can see him smiling (he didn't bother hiding his face anymore) when he dodges or catches it. Then it's just an all out brawl
It's like home wrestling match. By the time you tire yourselves out you're rolling around on the floor--mind you, there's probably broken glass everywhere--taking turns pinning the other down. Straddling laps, grinding on each other without even realizing
Neither of you has any idea how this started but it usually ends in falling sleeping on the floor together, but the other always leaves before late morning
Knowing him, he will initiate a fatal attack long before initiating intimacy. So if it was going to happen it had to be you grabbing his fucked up face on both sides and planting a good one on them lips. Messy, probably bloody, but it was good
I'll Try Too ~ Benjamin 'Dex' Poindexter x Fem!Reader
⟢ Word Count: 1.6k
⟢ Content: Smut. Set after s2 of DDBA but I wrote this before the ending so hopefully the season finale is good. Free Use. Small domestic fluff. Vaginal Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Face sitting. Brief mention of blood.
⟢ A/N: Dex will not leave my mind I had to write something about him. Please enjoy!
“You ever heard of free use?” Dex asked, closing a book he’s reading.
“Uh, not really.” You said while folding laundry right next to him. “What is it?”
He doesn’t speak for a minute. There’s a slight twitch to his brow, like he’s trying to understand the concept himself. “We…would have sex anytime. Whenever we want. It doesn’t matter where we are or what we're doing.”
“Oh.” You don’t stop folding, his eyes on you. Waiting for you to add more input. You didn’t have much to say, but the idea sounded interesting. It wasn’t like you and Dex were strangers to sex. “Where did you get that from?”
He motioned to the bookcase. The various books he'd been reading about a wide range of topics. He picked up more and more since you two started living together. A nice hobby to regulate his mind. “I found one that helps couples spice up their relationship. Didn't think I'd get a lot of…kinks in there.”
You bite your tongue to hold back a laugh, “Wanna tell me what kind?”
“No thanks.”
A snort escaped you, “I didn’t know we needed to spice up our relationship.”
“We don’t.” Dex turned to you, deep brown eyes flooding with concern, hoping he didn't offend you. “I was curious. I wanted to make sure I'm doing things right.”
“You are. I'd tell you if you weren’t.” He nodded, but you're unsure if he completely understood. “So, we'd use each other any time right? You wanna try it?”
Another pause. Dex rubbed his thighs in circular motions, matching his thought process. You can never tell what he’s thinking. If he’s ecstatic at the idea or if he’s disgusted by it.
“Do you?”
“Yeah.” You quickly said. “It sounds fun.”
He nodded once more, body stiff. “Then I’ll try too.”
You smiled at his casual willingness. He’d probably say no if you said no. Dex typically never tried anything unless you introduced him to it. The fact that he’s bringing a topic like this up sparked intrigue. Before he always mentioned that he was strange, that he isn’t too familiar with romantic relationships due to his mindset.
But he was still willing to try.
You waited for him. When he took over the household chores, vacuuming the rugs, doing the dishes, you expected something. A wrap around your waist, a passionate kiss which led to your back on the rug or right along the fridge. Dex unbuckling his pants in haste, pulling off your pj pants before pushing himself inside you.
At night, when you smoothed the last bit of facial cream on your cheeks as your boyfriend rinsed toothpaste from his lips. He didn’t smash his lips along yours. Take in the light pomegranate scent while stealing your breath away. The tip of his nose trailing from your own to your jaw as his thick fingers go under your nightgown, pulling those panties to the side to circle around your clit.
There was nothing. Nada. Zilch.
Just your dirty fantasies as Dex cozied up beside you.
He might have stuff on his mind; dealing with the Anti-Vigilante Task Force and the fact that if he lingered outside for too long Fisk would have his head. There wasn’t time to indulge in sex the way he liked. That’s why you took an initiative to ease some of that burden. The thoughts that ran a mile a minute inside.
You straddled his waist one night watching Lord of the Rings. The extended version since he managed to find a DVD box set. Thirty minutes in, heavy kisses were exchanged. Dex’s groan laced with need, the grip on your sides match the intensity of the embrace. No hesitation when you palmed that growing bulge. When you pulled his bottom lip back with your teeth. His eyes rolling back.
Your sweatpants and panties were gone, his pants unzipped and pulled down, cock springing free and gleaming from pre against the glow of the tv. Prep was hardly needed when you sunk down on him and rode him into oblivion. His low gasps and groans, scrunched up face spurring you on. A hand on your back to keep you steady.
Neither of you lasted long. You coming undone under his arms, his seed spilling inside you. A brief respite as the movie continued blaring in your ears. Dex doesn’t hesitate to kiss your forehead, saying ‘that was good’, before he cleaned you up.
While you’re glad to help provide some relief, does he not like the idea of using you whenever he wanted?
Did his brain shut down that idea despite saying yes to you? In order to not disappoint you?
You wanted to talk to him about it. Since that little escapade, he hadn’t used you in return. Like he should. Like he could. You wanted to say it’s okay if he doesn’t like that idea. That you two can stop.
You’d understand. You really would.
You’re prepared to bring it up when the door forcefully opened and he’s stumbling inside. Limping. Bleeding.
“Oh god, Dex.” You fly to his side, quickly closing and locking the door. His mask pulled off, hair disheveled, blood leaking from his nose. His jaw unhinged like it’s been locked for sometime. “What happened? Did Fisk found out where you are? Do we have to move?”
You’re only in a shirt and underwear, but you can easily slip into pants and shoes to run.
Dex shook his head, a groan erupted like he needed to get the pain out. “AVTF jumped me, shot at me, probably broke a rib…”
The wet, red patch on the side of his neck proved his story.
You lead him to the bedroom, forcing him to sit on the bed after a quick comment he made about getting blood on the sheets. You’ll wash them later. If he doesn’t get to them first.
You return with the med kit from the bathroom, quickly examining his frame. With a tug off his shirt, his torso was covered in splotches of red and purple. There wasn’t any gunshot wounds though. Thank god.
You press a cloth against the cut on his neck to stop the bleeding, heart jumping at his flinches. A wince past his lips. You thought you were used to seeing him get hurt like this. But every time a piece of you crumbles away at the sight.
Once the bleeding stopped, you patch up his neck. You’re close, his steady breath fanning your forehead, eyes closed as he let you work. His fingers tracing your hip. You can’t help, but enjoy the touch. It was soothing, centering you back to the reality that he managed to make it back to you.
“Sit on my face.” Dex muttered, lips pressed against your head with a gentle sniff.
You blinked, ready to question if this was from the blood loss. Before you can, he held you up, using one hand to pull off your panties. He lied back, moving you up so you can find his face.
You wanted to push that he’s injured. Fisk was probably searching for him as they speak and maybe followed his blood trail back to the house. You don’t say that. You hover above him, gripping those locks.
“I didn’t say hover.”
Dex wrapped his arms around your thighs to push you down and latch on to your cunt. His tongue flattened along your clit with a long lick that made you hold back a whimper. He does another one to turn that whimper into a moan.
He hummed when you tugged on his hair. It didn’t get him to stop, but relish every time he made you cry out. Your thighs squeezed along his head. Every lick, suck, made your toes curl. He’s relentless. You don’t even know where this came from, but you’re not complaining.
Not when he’s flicking your clit in such succession that made you twist and jerk. Dex doesn’t let you move too much, those strong arms locking in those thighs. Trapping you into each precision of the tip of his tongue. That’s determined to make you cum above him. To make himself feel better.
“Dex…” You moaned, stomach pooling with that familiar sense of pleasure. “don’t stop…”
He doesn’t. A thick arm went under your shirt, palming your breast. The nipple underneath getting hard during each motion. Your hand went on top, copying each grope of his, influencing each roll of your hips on his face.
That gave him motivation to go faster. Suck harder. Drag that orgasm out like he’s never done before. That pinch to your nipple made you jolt, electrifying your skin, your body, your cunt. Causing you to come undone right above him. Dex moaned against your lips, prolonging your orgasm with small licks to your sensitive bud. It’s almost too much, too good to last forever.
Then his muscles tightened. A drawn out groan beneath you, the bed sightly moving. The grip Dex kept gets tighter, but not painful. Just something for him to hold on to until he’s done with his high.
He helped you back down, a dark patch in his jeans catching your attention. His lips gleamed with a mix of your arousal and blood.
“That was great. Better.”
You forced out a laugh at his approval. “And here I thought you didn’t like the free use idea.”
“I do. It’s useful for when you might get mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you.”
“Upset then.” A hand ghosted over the patch on his neck. “I don’t like when you’re upset. You should be happy. Just happy.”
You gently stroke the light hairs along his chest, finding his steady heartbeat. “I am happy. I just want you to be more careful. Okay?”
“Okay.” He cupped your cheek, stroking it with his thumb. You leaned into his embrace for a bit, taking in the dark, but comforting space. Dex trailed down your face, past your breast, your hip, thigh before going in between your legs. A finger dipped into you, a smirk at your slickness.
Just friends...right? ~ Benjamin 'Dex' Poindexter x Fem!Reader
☆゙ Word Count: 11.2k
☆゙ Content: After Born Again s2, Dex is with the CIA. Reader is his handler. He's basically trying to make more friends. Fluff. Dex is clearly a cat guy. Friends to lovers. Smut. Dry humping. Vaginal Fingering. Minors DNI!
☆゙ A/N: Been going through imposter syndrome every time I write Dex's dialogue. Please enjoy!
3. 2. 1...and the mission is done.
The knife sticks into the target’s skull real good, giving Dex a second to pull it out and wipe the blood on his black pants. Red pools around the head, drawn to make a larger pool in the center of the warehouse.
“Dexy, my boy! Is it done?”
“Yeah…it's done.” He says to Mr. Charles, sliding each knife back in their harnesses.
One, two, three, four, five wait…where's six? The missing knife sticks out from a tire of a military truck, right where a dead rogue officer's body lay.
Dex effortlessly slides the weapon back where it belongs. “I lost a knife. Need to get a new one.”
“Well, you know where to go. Your girl should be up by now.”
“She’s…not my girl.”
“Ah, you know what I mean Bullsey. We got you one of the best handlers in the team, you can call her whatever you want.”
He grimaces, torn between the nickname and the idea that you’re his. It’s only been a month since starting this job. Working with the CIA and under the one and only Valentina De Fontaine has its perks. He’s able to get a stable income for killing “bad” guys. A place he can call home again without eliminating someone to get it.
As long as he took his meds.
Valentina insisted after making sure he could still do his job medicated. Dex didn’t complain. He finally has what he wanted back so desperately. It’s just now it’s under his own conditions. For the most part.
Now all Dex needs is camaraderie.
Something similar to what he had with Ray back in his FBI days. Hopefully, without the killing him part.
“You’ll know when your next assignment is.” Is the last thing Dex hears before communication goes silent. He gets ready to text you about the knife when a message beats him to it.
‘I heard you need a new knife.’
‘Yeah. Lost one during the mission.’
‘I got you.’
That’s it. No other follow-up message, asking him about his mission. You are all business with hardly any talk.
It’s not like you’re difficult to deal with. When Dex joined the team, everyone joked about how easy it was to talk to you behind the professional barrier you put up. Like you want to leave work and everyone else in it when you go home each day.
Dex didn’t see a problem with that. He’s the same way. Well, was. He’s trying not to make the same mistakes as he did back in the FBI. He had people to talk to, but hardly anyone was in his corner. He didn’t want it to happen again. You’re one of the closest people he can make that effort with.
After a sixteen-hour flight and a forty-minute drive because he wanted to stop and get breakfast, he made his way to your office. Waving to the other team members, his “squad”. Just to provide support if he needs it. Dex hands them a bag filled with breakfast sandwiches and a tray of coffee.
“Hey, wait a minute.” Dex’s coworker, Alana, notices the separate bag and iced coffee with whipped cream and caramel drizzle, “Who’s that for?”
“Someone more important than you guys.” He snorts at the collective groans.
“Yeah sure, butter up the handler.” Jason says, taking a bite out of his sandwich.
Dex rolls his eyes, “So, what I’m hearing is to not bring donuts next time.”
Everyone immediately shuts up, thanking him for the food before gorging on it.
You’re stationed far in the back, in a large, box-like area. Surrounded by glass. No one would be able to miss a single thing you’re doing. Maybe you like it that way.
Dex catches your eyes through your glasses, a small wave in his direction. Then you dart to the food in his arms and quickly stand up.
“Oh my god is that food?”
“Yeah. Iced coffee and a breakfast burrito, right? With extra salsa?”
You blink, thoroughly surprised. “Whoa, yeah. That’s…on point.”
You typically come in ten minutes early to set up. Eating your burrito while typing on your computer with one hand. So effortless. Seamless. Like you’ve done it a million times before, but with no one to pay attention to you.
He went on a whim that you’d missed breakfast, and he’d swoop in to save the day.
“I figured since it’s early and you probably haven’t eaten yet…”
“Didn’t you have a long flight? I know you’re tired.”
He shrugs. He is, but he wanted to score some brownie points first. Raise the imaginary scale in his head that shows your relationship with him is getting better. He likes to think he earns ten points because of it.
“Thank you.” You smile, “I didn’t eat yet. Was running late. Slept in.” Dex nods, watching you take a sip, gloss staining the straw when you give a thumbs-up, of approval. “I have your knife. I just need to report the missing one and you’re good to go.”
The new weapon is right next to your computer mouse. All in its sheath. Dex could come clean about not actually losing the knife, but he’s managed to make you happy today, so he doesn’t.
“I didn’t mean to lose it.”
“It happens.” You wave him away. “I had a feeling you might lose them due to your abilities. You can’t miss, but that doesn’t mean you can’t lose weapons. It’s…actually pretty funny when you think about it.”
He releases a short laugh to match your amusement. Ah, so him losing his knives is funny. Good to know. “I’ll try not to next time.”
Dex shifts once the new knife is in his possession. What else can he bring up to express he wants to expand on his relationship with you? The momentum from bringing breakfast lowers with each millisecond that passes. And this is the most he’s gotten with you besides going over mission reports and providing him gear.
Was it really this hard back in the FBI?
“No troubles during the mission, right?” You ask, looking up from the screen.
“No.” He immediately clears his throat, “No problems. Target went down easy, everything…worked. Didn’t have to use my gun. Yet.”
“Nice.”
The corner of Dex’s lips twitches upwards, “I appreciate the high-quality gear. I don’t have to make do with kitchen knives anymore. They’re for cooking not for combat.”
“While I agree with you there, when you first came in, you were not using kitchen knives for weapons, Dex.”
“They felt like it.” You snicker and he knows five more points are added to the score. This is good. He should leave before he overstays his welcome. “I’ll see you around.”
Now to go home, shower, and rest.
It takes approximately fifteen minutes from headquarters to his apartment. The clean, sterilized scent relaxes his shoulders as he drops his duffel bag. Before he can get ready for a shower, his phone vibrates. A message from an unnamed user.
‘$10,000 is wired into your account.’
Life is great.
Dex needs to be careful. He knows everything can turn around in an instant if he didn’t dot his i’s and cross his t’s. Make sure the safety isn’t on before he lands the kill on his target.
Making friends is his own mission in a way. He watches them; their routine, what they like, don’t like, what they would die for, what they can’t live without. Anything to break down the walls and be receptive to change. Before he swoops in and makes the change for them.
With you, you’re very simple.
There’s not much on in any of your social media pages. Besides the occasional selfie, where you show where you went long after you’re gone. You’re a homebody, as people like to call it. You hardly go anywhere if it’s not work or home, as he’s seen for the past couple of days following you.
No, this wasn’t stalking.
During a meeting the day after, you commented that you didn’t like how dark it gets early. You make a weird face to lighten up the mood, but Dex knew from your bunched shoulders that you’re uncomfortable. He didn’t want his future friend to be uncomfortable.
It’s why he was watching you from afar, making sure you got home safely. There are no missions and he’s done all the bird watching and cat feeding in the world.
It’s what a good person would do.
He likes that you’re so simple. It’s what he has in common with you. You don’t need to go to ten different locations in two hours. It’s just you and your dog, Lady.
Dex gets the reference when the dog greets you at the door every day, tail breaking the speed of light. He’s never taken too kindly to dogs, but it’s something else to talk about - something to get you to open up.
He rehearses what to say to you on his way to work. Mr. Charles organizes routine marksmen tests, just to make sure the medication isn’t losing Dex’s sense of skill. He never likes the tests. It shows there’s still a hint of doubt from him. Whether it’s the CIA or Valentina herself. But it’s an excuse to see you again and start conversation.
In the weapons room, targets spawn across the makeshift scene. A park, similar to Central Park, where the bad guys are amongst the civilians. All decorated with a giant, red target. He needed to hit one with at least 95 to 100% accuracy.
Easy peasy.
“I was thinking about getting a pet.” Dex says after his knife hits the target dead on. A screen in front of him beeps 100%.
“Oh? You think having a pet is okay? Sometimes you’re gone for days…almost a week.”
“Yeah. I think it’s a good step to quality companionship. I even have a lonely neighbor so it would be good for her if she wanted to stop by and watch it if I’m gone.” Two knives hit the targets by the picture of a mother carrying her child. Two more beeps with 100%. “Besides, I didn’t have a pet back during my FBI days. Think it’s because I was too…I don’t know…”
“Wired?”
Dex blinks when he bounces the knife off the floor to another target by a tree. “Huh, yeah.”
You hum, watching him hit another target. “If you think that’s the right step, go for it. Pets are great company, especially the ones with personality.”
“Speaking from experience?”
Another target, another beep. “Yeah. I have a dog named Lady. She’s cute, busy as hell, but she helps keep me sane.”
“So I shouldn’t get a dog.”
You laugh and Dex likes how it goes up in pitch. “A chill dog, maybe. But you scream cat person to me anyway. Maybe a hamster.”
“A hamster is a smaller target…” He flings three knives at three targets spread throughout the crowd. Each blade hits that tiny red dot dead center. “But a cat might be good. They’re more independent.”
“Exactly. Perfect fit for you.”
One last target and the 100% pops up as if he hasn’t been getting them this entire session. You whistle at the perfect accuracy, noting them down on your tablet. Dex should go, but then the statuses of acquaintances would remain. When he should take the next step.
“I was thinking about going to this shelter on 38th and 10th. Heard they have a lot of animals there.”
You perk up, lips curling upwards in thought. “Oh hey, that’s like ten minutes from me.”
“Oh?” Dex matches your surprise, “Wow, that’s…wow. I was planning to go on Saturday if you’d like to go with me. Give me tips?”
You pause, shifting where you stand. The lack of eye contact is apparent that you didn’t want to go with him to the shelter. As a bonding moment. He probably came on a bit too strong. He should’ve just left it at he was planning to go on Saturday, leave the opportunity to invite yourself be up in the air.
“That sounds fun.” You say, “I don’t have any plans.”
“Great.” He flexes his fingers, not wanting to smile so wide that his face hurts.
Ten more points to the friendship scale.
The shelter opens at 9 am, but he wanted to get there at 10 just so it didn’t look odd. Plus, it gives you time to eat some breakfast. Not rush as much to meet up with him. He didn’t want you to hurry because of an outing he suggested.
He stands right by the shelter at 9:55 am. Early enough to scope the scene out and to bail if you don’t decide to show. The crowd wasn’t too bad. A handful of people coming and going, only a third leaving with a new companion.
Dex is serious about having a pet. Another friend in his life to prove how well it's going. He just didn’t expect it to happen so soon.
You arrive at 10:01. You’re panting, clutching two smoothies. “I’m sorry! The line at the cafe right beside my building was a little backed up.”
“You’re okay.” He takes a banana-orange smoothie. He wasn’t expecting you to notice him. Since when did he bring up the fact that he likes bananas?
“Heard you boasting one time about the banana milkshake back at a diner you went to. So I had a feeling you’d like bananas.” You say, like you’ve read his mind, sipping your smoothie.
“Ah. Thanks.”
So, you’re paying attention to him, too? Interesting.
Inside the shelter, clipboards are lined up across the desk, slightly crooked. Some employees, dressed in scrubs, lead other people to the back while some man the desk. In line, Dex nudges his finger against the clipboards he can reach, lining them up straight. Perfect.
“You think you’re gonna find your forever friend here?”
Dex nods, “This shelter has excellent reviews. The animals are well cared for here.”
“Still, you can always go to another one if you can’t find a pet.”
“Will you come with me if I can’t find one?”
“Sure. We can turn it into an adventure.”
He smiles a bit. Now he hopes he can’t find a cat here. If it meant more bonding time with you. And enjoying how great you smell today. Like a clean spring? It matches the cool weather.
“Hi!” The receptionist greets, “Are you two lovebirds looking into adopting today?”
Lovebirds? Wait…
“Oh!” You laugh, immediately getting rid of any awkward air. “We’re not together. We’re just friends.”
Friends? Already? Whoa, that was fast.
“Yeah. Just friends.” Dex doubles down, laughing with you. He likes how yours fits his own. “She’s helping me find a pet.”
“I’m so sorry.” The receptionist fans her face, embarrassed. “You two just looked so cute together. Sorry, about that.”
You’re tugging on your blue scarf, your laugh taking a nervous flit. Dex takes the clipboard and fills out his information, ignoring the faint blush on his cheeks.
It was bound to happen. Men and women becoming friends can be easily mistaken for romantic interest. He didn’t want you to think any more than that. It’s already great enough that you think you’re friends.
And all it took was shopping for a pet.
“Did you mean it?” Dex asks after getting a ticket number. He had to wait to be called and go into the back. “Are we really friends now?”
“Ah.” You fix your glasses, taking an unusually long sip from your straw. “I guess we are. I don’t know, I just didn’t want that lady to assume.”
Yeah, that makes more sense.
“Right. I get it.”
Two points go down in the friendship scale, but it didn’t mean defeat. It wasn’t a great space to announce your friendship to him anyway. Dex wants it to be more memorable than that.
When he’s called, he follows the employee to the back. A sterile mixed with animal smell hits his nose—the dogs are off to a huge area to the left, with a play area outside. Cats were to the right. All in cages with another smaller area that leads outside and inside.
The employee remains on standby as he browses through the selection of cats.
Each one, big and small, fat and tiny, all in cages. It’s a lot, almost too many to deal with. Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.
“This is…a lot of cats.”
“I know.” You cosign, “Let’s start by reading the descriptions first and go from there.” You carry his smoothie. Just so he can focus on the task at hand.
Dex goes through the cats available. Hardly any kittens or younger cats. A lot of are older from teens to adult life. Some were given away from an abusive household or because an owner died and no one wanted to care for the cat. Each one locked away in hopes of finding their forever person.
Can he be that type of guy?
His track record with animals hasn’t been the greatest. Killing birds for fun in his youth isn’t worth telling anyone unless he wants to be looked at differently. He doesn’t want to. A cat he can handle. He likes them. They’re hardly bothersome.
Maybe that’s why he likes the one who hardly pays him any attention.
Clover. An all-black Maine coon. She’s licking her fur, not giving him the time of day. The description says she’s not very sociable, but can get comfortable in any home. Great. Just what he wants.
“Really?” The employee says, opening up the cage to let Clover out. “She really is what the description says. It’ll be amazing if she notices you’re there.”
“I’m sure.”
The employee carries Clover to the play area just so he can get acclimated with her. Maybe change his mind once he sees how she acts.
It never came.
Clover does a gentle brush to Dex’s leg before sitting beside him, grooming herself. All mundane, like she doesn’t care much about what’s going on in her world. He gets it. Kind of. She does let you pet her head, leaning into the touch before going back to do what she’s doing.
“Well, you like her?”
“Yeah.” He says, giving a little scratch on her head. “Told you cats are independent.”
“Yeah…I see.”
After signing some paperwork, getting a complementary basket filled with cat treats, food, litter, and toys, Clover is put in her cage and to her new home.
Dex doesn’t point out how you actually follow him back to his apartment. He’s expecting you to go your separate ways back home. But no, you walk with him. Take the train, sit next to him while he carries his new cat.
“Do you need to get any more cat stuff?”
“Nah. I bought plenty.”
A cat tower, a litter box, and an automatic feeder. Just in case he’s gone longer than usual.
Dex lets Clover out of her cage and she steps out slowly. Looking around at the new scenery, her new home. She makes a point to rub against his leg again, then yours, before exploring the house. The cat tower isn’t out the box yet. He wanted to put it up after the shelter.
“Congrats on your new baby.” You say, watching Clover jump on the couch and lie in it. “May she keep you company.”
“She will.”
You motioned to the boxed up cat things in the corner, “Want help with that?”
“Oh, uh…sure. If you want.”
“Of course. I asked.”
Dex lets out a laugh before motioning you to the pile. Your head glances over at the simplicity of his apartment. The single, clean couch. The TV is centered directly in the living room, aligned with the coffee table. His bedroom is off to the left, a decent size. Not too big or small.
Just enough for him. And Clover.
You help set up the cat tower. It’s placed right beside the entrance to his bedroom. A cat bed goes on the foot of his bed, but he has a feeling Clover might not use it. The automatic feeder is also set up, but took a while as the instructions aren’t clear. You come to save the day though, setting it up so she’s fed every eight hours.
The light hits his eyes through his curtains. It’s a little past one and neither of you has eaten yet. A lot of the groceries in his fridge are only good for one. He can try to add another portion though.
“Wanna get food? I’m kinda craving a sub.”
Dex perks up, “Yeah. There’s a bodega a block away from here. Although, I’ve never tried.”
“Well, we can try today.” You grab your coat and bag, blowing a kiss to Clover who’s currently asleep on his rug.
Dex chuckles, “She likes you.”
“And I like her. She’s actually perfect for you. Mysterious, calm…”
“You think I’m mysterious?”
You hum, hands in your pockets as you two stroll down the sidewalk. “When I first met you, yes. But it was just because of your persona. You have to know what you look like when you put the suit on.”
He does, but he never thought mysterious. He preferred menacing.
“I guess I should think about that for the future.”
You shake your head, “No, it’s okay. I’ve gotten to know you now and I don’t see you as mysterious. Well, not as much.” When you two go in the store and place your orders, you continue the conversation. “I’m surprised you didn’t see me that way. Since…I’m…you know…”
“You’re all business. I get it. You deal with dangerous people and you don’t want to take work with you.”
“You’re…not work, Dex.” You state, getting closer to him. He doesn’t mind the closeness. It gives him a chance to smell your honey scent again. “Not anymore. I should try to know the people I handle. Make sure I’m taking care of them.”
“You are.” He says, full body towards you so you know he’s serious. “I wouldn’t know where I’d be without you.”
“Still alive but using kitchen knives.”
Dex chuckles at your joke. You really mean it. You are putting in effort just like he is. So you do want this to turn into friendship.
He takes in that high when you two go back to his apartment. Eating your sandwiches, letting you get a sneak peek of how particular he is in his home. Making sure the dishes were aligned perfectly after doing the dishes. How he organizes his books on his bookcase by size. Big, medium, and then small. The pillows on his couch perfectly fit against the cushions.
Well, until Clover pushed them off.
Overall, he can call this outing a success. He got a cat and he has a better understanding of you. Good enough that he can use when he sees you at work.
Whenever Dex comes in there’s always something in his hand.
It varies depending on the time of day. If it’s early in the morning, it’s your usual breakfast order. In the afternoon, he gets you a lemon scone and warm green tea. Late at night, pizza or maybe Chinese if you have to work late.
Every time he’s met with a smile from end to end, saying thank you for whatever gift he gives you that day. Genuine appreciation. It leads to you talking to him for a while. First about Clover, but then it shifts into hobbies. Like his books, what bird he saw today, if he’s going to watch the upcoming baseball game.
He always answers with care, never lying to you. He returns the attention. He asks about Lady, what’s happening in the TV show you’re watching, or if there’s anywhere you wanted to go, so he can go with you. Natural conversation.
The days when he comes in feel better. He gets to see you, talk to you, and pretend to understand who you are as a person. How you talk about the close relationship you have with your mother, how you like being alone a lot, and it takes time for you to hang around other people. Dex gets it.
It’s why he ignores the teasing comments from the team, pointing out how close you two have gotten. He doesn’t mind, even when you’re clearly embarrassed at the obvious attention. But don’t discredit it. Which was…interesting.
Dex doesn’t bring it up, not when he’s alone with you during the trek to your apartment. The city still gets dark sooner, and your discomfort never changes right when it’s time to go. So he makes sure he’s there when you get off, taking you home every time. Your shoulders lower whenever he’s beside you, proof that you’re relaxing in his presence. As a true friend.
He meets Lady, who is true to what you’ve said about her.
She greets him like a new friend, jumping at his waist, letting out little yips of excitement. You laugh, mentioning she’s finally meeting the new person she’s been smelling lately. And she likes what she sees.
Dex takes the dog’s excitement as a good sign. He was hoping she did like him, knowing dogs had a sense of someone’s character.
“Oh, you’ll be hearing from me soon about a mission.” You say, watching him play with Lady. “Charles said it’s important so we gotta take this seriously.”
“Okay.” He says, throwing the ball so Lady can chase after it. You shift in your boots and he pauses throwing the ball again to look at you. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” You immediately say, “I just uh…want you to be careful. I’ve never said it before so I want you to know. Stay safe.”
Your eyes glimmer against the kitchen light, filled with concern. Dex tilts his head before fixing himself. “I will.”
He’s…hardly seen that before. Worrying isn’t lost on him; he’s witnessed it countless times throughout his life. But towards him, it was rare. And it felt…good. Like he needed to care, so you didn’t worry any more than you had to.
You shouldn’t need to worry about anything. Ever. As long as he can help it.
The mission is overseas. The target, Adrian Murini, is holed up in a grand hotel in Brazil. A broker and a witness for an upcoming trial connected to a governor who can overthrow it with his testimony. Security is locked tight, and Dex has to be close to make the kill.
You supply him with his gear and make a joke not to lose another knife while he’s out there. To ease the stress at the thought of him going to some dangerous place. You know he can handle it, but it makes sense to be worried about your friends.
The flight is long, the hotel is less desirable, despite being ten minutes away from the target’s. Adrian is stationed in the middle of the hotel, on the 16th floor. It was off. Dex would’ve liked a prime number instead.
You send him plans of the hotel layout, and he’s able to get access to the security cameras. Five guards in the room, two stationed outside. There’s a switch every six hours, and they’re in the adjoining hotel next door.
The new knife you gave him is in his right holster. The easiest to reach, the one that can quickly get him out of trouble if he needs it. Dex smiles when your face pops into your head. His friend. You’re probably still worried and will be that way until he’s back at headquarters.
He sends you a text, hoping to distract your racing mind.
‘Send me a picture within eight hours. Smiling.’
He chuckles at the eyeroll emoji before a message says, ‘Eight hours is too long.’
‘Six then.’
‘Four.’
‘Five.’
You stop texting for a minute. He figures you got pulled away. One of the team members is asking you something stupid, like how to work the coffee machine again.
It’s his cue to leave anyway. The window to get Adrian is closing and Dex plans to kill him right after dinner. Where his body won’t be discovered for a while and Dex can get out more easily.
Another message and he opens it before walking out.
He freezes. His eyes go as wide as they can past the irises of his mask. Your face is bright, clear, and radiant. A smile that takes one of his knives and aims right at his chest. You’ve…never looked that way before.
‘You’re pretty.’
Dex immediately sends without a second thought. It’s possible to say that about women friends without it having an underlying reason. Right?
He doesn’t look at your message, not when the notification pops up. He has a job to do. And you’re waiting for him to come back. He didn’t want to keep you waiting.
Dex finds a way in the hotel through the workers’ entrance, right when most of the staff are busy serving dinner. He slips through pristine white shirts and smooth black skirts, avoiding cameras until he has a way up the stairs. Hardly anyone uses them, so he counts the floors until sixteen arrives.
Here’s the fun part.
The guards by the door didn’t stand a chance. Two knives sink into their neck without a delay and he catches their bodies so they won’t make noise. Dex slips in with the room key. The guard's position never changed, so he hurls a knife at the guard at the door before he can notice him. The second one faces the window so an easy kill.
Slinking past the mini kitchen, Dex grabs the guard that’s by the target’s bedroom and slits his throat. As he bleeds out, staining his suit while his body jerks, the last guard comes out of the bathroom. Where a knife is between his eyes.
He opens the main bedroom and the target quickly stands up, hands raised.
“P-Please. Don’t kill me. What I can do will change the fate of this country for decades. Maybe centuries.”
Dex doesn’t speak, eyes tracing the room. A half-eaten dinner of lamb and rice, TV low and playing whatever action movie is on. He takes a closer look and sees it’s a racing one. He’ll have to ask you if you’ve seen that one.
“Whatever they’re paying you, I can double it. Triple it even.” Adrian sputters, his slender form quaking in his pjs. “You look like a man who has sense.”
“Not anymore.”
Two knives hit Adrian square in his chest and head. Dex catches the body and places it neatly on the bed. Then snaps a few pictures.
See? It all worked out in the end.
Dex walks out, a bullet hits his shoulder. One of the guards. He must’ve gotten out for another rotation. But it’s too early.
“I have the suspect, repeat I have the sus-”
A knife knocks the gun out of the guard’s hand. Another hits his neck. Dex quickly runs out of the room right when the rest of the guards see the mess he’s made. Shots are fired and he’s bolting down the stairs. His shoulder stings, blood leaks from his wound and leads a trail. He’s been shot before, but it still fucking hurts.
He makes a call to you, sharply inhaling to hide the pain. “I need the closest safe room.”
“What happened?”
“Got shot in the shoulder. I’m fine.” He doesn’t want you to worry. Even when he had a close call.
There’s no panic in your voice, just urgency. “There’s one two miles away. It should be enough to get you away from the heat. There’s also supplies there to patch you up.”
A guard goes up in his direction and a knife stops him.
“Thanks, sunshine.”
“Dex-”
He cuts the call. He’ll bring up how rude it was of him later. He just needs to get out alive first.
Police arrive on the scene, and guests are clamoring due to the sudden noise from above. Dex cuts down any other guard in his path, bursting through the back doors. Sirens ring in his ears when he breaks into a nearby car, driving it off and away from the scene of the crime.
Blood trails down into his suit, getting all over his chest and arm. He shakes his head during the drive to stay awake. He can’t pass out. Not like this.
The safe room is at an abandoned house.
Dex opens the bulky, metal cellar doors, quickly going inside and lock it tight. There, he gives you another call, panting.
“I made it.”
“Thank goodness.”
The safe point had a cot, some supplies in a drawer, and a mini fridge. He pulls off his shirt, mask coming off with it, before digging through the list of supplies. The bullet went through so no need to worry about finding it.
“Tell Charles that the mission went well.” He hisses when alcohol spills into his wound, “He’ll like that.”
“I’ll tell him later. Where did you get shot at? Do we need to send a medic over there?”
“No, it’s fine. It’s just my shoulder. Bullet went through clean.”
“You’re not doing this by yourself.”
“I’m not.” Dex grabs some bandages, “You’re here with me.”
“I’m not physically there.”
“But I can hear your voice so it’s good enough.”
He grins at your sigh, holding back any other noises to prove how much pain he’s in. He means every word. A friend like you at his time of need? He couldn’t ask for anyone else to be here. To keep him company.
“I’m telling Charles you need a raise.”
“Like Valentina will say yes to that.”
“She will after a strong recommendation from me.”
Dex chuckles, finishing bandaging himself up. He washes his hands by the makeshift sink and digs into the fridge for something to eat. There wasn’t much besides a fruit cup and water. It’ll have to do.
He takes two painkillers and lies on the cot. Distant sirens are heard nearby, but they shouldn’t find him. He got rid of the car a few blocks back and made sure to go through the grass to lose the blood trail. He wasn’t going to stay here long anyway. He needed to go back home.
“Stay with me.” He says, not giving you room to say no. “I need to hear you.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything. Just…don’t hang up yet.”
Silence lingers on your end. For a moment, Dex thinks you might’ve hung up on him. “I checked on Clover earlier.”
“Oh? How’s she doing?”
“Okay. She was on your bed before I left. I think she misses you.”
“I miss her too. I’ll be home soon.”
“You will. I’ll make sure of it.”
He smiles, knowing you can’t see his face on the other side. “You’re the best.”
“Keep flattering me. I also like matcha from that cafe up the street.”
“Noted.”
More silence, but it’s comfortable. Your breathing on the line lulls him in a way. He leans against the screen, picturing you right beside him. Checking out his bandage, brows lowering with worry. Your lips in a cute pout.
He thinks back to your picture and blood rushes to his cheeks. “Did you wear makeup today?”
“No. Why?”
“Nothing…” He mutters. “You just looked…nice.”
“You said pretty.”
“You did look pretty. And bright.”
His stomach churns at your giggle, “Thanks.”
Even your laugh is nice. It always has been. He doesn’t know why he’s noticing it now. He might’ve took too many painkillers.
“It’s clear you’re not going on a mission any time soon.”
“I know…”
“Which is good. We can hang out more often.”
“Yeah? And do what?”
“Whatever you want. It’s only right since you got hurt on the job.”
“Of course.”
As expected, Dex had to take some time off from missions until he heals.
The doctor gave him two weeks to make a full recovery and to take advantage of resting and relaxing. Not to do much physical labor to increase the recovery time. Dex shouldn’t like that. His work involves helping people, getting rid of the bad ones to make the world a better place. Now, he can’t do that.
If this were eight years ago, he wouldn’t know what to do himself. In all the get-well cards and flowers, it hardly meant anything in his empty apartment. But there are visitors.
His team stopping by to check up on him, give him food, update him on what’s been going on in the office. Saying they missed him. He missed them too. Especially you.
You who is always at his place before anyone else. Who gives more food than he needs, make sure Clover has everything she needs in case he can’t give it to her. It was funny. It’s not like he was hit by a car or thrown off a building. He is still capable of taking care of himself. But you, how you try to take care of his needs before you work, it’s…He doesn’t know how to describe it.
His heart thumps faster than normal whenever you’re there. When you’re close. So close he can smell the peach scent from your lotion. That makes him want to lean in closer for more.
When you dress, it’s all very nice.
Despite the colder air, your style with sweaters, jeans, and boots looks good on you. Splashes on orange and brown every time you come over. He wants to say how good you look, but doesn’t. The reaction you had when he called you pretty was unexpected. And don’t get him started on the nickname.
You bring light to his life like the sun, rays peering past the suffocating darkness that surrounds him. Sunshine was…harmless. Obviously, you didn’t think so.
He just got good at being friends with someone. He didn’t want to mess it up because you look prettier than usual. Smell better than usual.
Dex just wants to take walks with you and Lady. Enjoy the park with just the three of you. Lady running after the ball he throws, you laughing at how fast she’s going. He wants to make you laugh like that all the time.
When you’re exploring a new restaurant, he likes when you coax him into trying your food, wanting him to enjoy whatever you just ordered. He doesn’t miss when he eats from your fork and then you use it, not caring that it came from his lips. He simply watches, a question about their evolving relationship lingers. But nothing is said. Just laughs and your lovely smile.
“Charles is thinking about taking you out again.” You say, scooping some cheesecake and eating it.
Dex follows how your tongue swipes across your lips, catching any whipped cream. “I need to get back in the game again. Makes sense he wants to take me out now that I’m healed.”
“The doctor cleared you yesterday.” You grimace, shoving another bite in your mouth. “You shouldn’t rush back into things again.”
“Don’t wanna get rusty.” He locks onto the spoon you hand out to him to try the cheesecake. Dex slowly nods, like he’s making an important decision in his life. He takes the piece, lime and graham crackers dancing on his tongue. He doesn’t leave your face when you lick the spoon, diving in for another taste. “I’m useful. Don’t want anyone to think otherwise.”
“No one will. I’m just saying it’s okay to take a few more days off.”
Dex chuckles, “So, you can have me all to yourself?”
“Yes.” You wink, eating another piece.
“Careful. If you keep this up, the team will think we’re dating.”
Your brows raise, “Oh? Is that what people are thinking? That we’re dating?”
It was meant to be a joke, but you’re asking with such intrigue that makes him shift in his seat.
“No, well…you’ve heard the jokes. The teasing. Everyone thinks we are, but we both know it’s not serious.”
You snort, “Jeez, you don’t like the idea of dating me, Dex?
“I didn’t say that.”
“It’s okay if you are. I get it, I don’t do much. I just work and go home and sleep. I’m boring.”
Dex scoffs, “You’re not boring. I like that.”
“But not enough to date me.”
“Do you want me to go out on a date with you?”
“Maybe.”
“So, let’s go on a date.”
You blink, dropping your spoon. The room gets small. Suddenly, he realizes there’s a lot of people in this restaurant and he just dropped that he wants to go out with you. What the? How the hell did this happen?
“Shit.” Dex shakes his head, “I didn’t mean to-”
“You didn’t mean to ask me out?”
Silence. Just you and him staring at each other.
“No, I didn’t.” He covers up, unable to see you past the rapid blinking, “We’re…just friends. Right?”
“Right.” You force a smile, but he immediately sees that its fake. Not the one that makes you glow every time he sees you. Crap.
Dex pays for dinner and walks you home. Hardly anything is said, besides work, him mentioning he was going to bring breakfast tomorrow. Nothing about what happened in the restaurant. That he didn’t want to date you.
It’s not that he didn’t. That would just mean you two won’t be friends anymore. Just more.
He’s never had more before. He can’t think of the last time the opportunity of having more was given to him. This was too different. He’s already doing a lot by having a pet, making the effort to make friends without disguising himself as someone socially acceptable in society. What will this mean? If he became more with you?
Dex isn’t sure. Not when he’s in the headquarters in the next day, bringing breakfast as usual. You take your usual order, saying thank you with a smile. You’re still faking. Even when he tries to make conversation with you. You indulge, but don’t go further as usual.
He doesn’t like that.
When he offers to visit Lady, you shut him down, saying you’ll be tired later. He pretends to understand.
Were you looking forward to going out with him? Dex didn’t see why. He’s boring. He’s the one who needs help in reclaiming his mind. You? Anyone would be lucky to go out with you. So out of all people…why him?
A mission to Canada does little to stop his rushing thoughts.
You’re doing your job, as you’ve always done when you handle him. This time it’s brief. No follow-up questions, jokingly telling him not to lose another weapon, text him to be careful. It feels off. Weird.
‘No picture?’ He sends a brief text, lingering by the front door of his hotel room. Not running out to kill his target yet.
‘Now? Don’t you have a target to eliminate?’
‘I’m early. There’s plenty of time for a picture.’
‘If you’re early, you can kill the target now and get the next flight out.’
‘Not until I get a picture.’
There are three dots, then it’s gone. It pops up again, then it’s gone. Dex’s heart slowly creeps, almost like when he’s about to catch his prey. But this time it’s waiting for the moment of truth. To see if you’ll indulge him or not. Have proof that you’re not mad at him.
Five minutes and nothing.
Of course. The friendship is gone now. Points have been erased from the board and the sign flips from friends to acquaintances. All his hard work. Gone.
His phone vibrates and he immediately opens the message. It’s you but…very different.
You’re looking up at the camera, showing off more of your body. Your blouse is unbuttoned, not too much to show off more than you want, but just enough to see your cleavage. You’re wearing a push-up bra and everything is…highlighted. Defined. Did you always wear push-up bras?
Your lips are parted, your eyes wide. He doesn’t know what to say. You look nice. No, more than nice. Nice doesn’t apply in this instance. Same thing on why he doesn’t think you look pretty. You’re more than that.
‘You look sexy.’
Dex doesn’t leave yet. Not when his phone vibrates once more. He doesn’t look at it. What he said starts something he can’t help but start. It’s the truth, you look sexy. The rising tent in his cargo pants is proof enough. Good thing he’s early.
After taking care of himself, killing his target in a park, and take the next flight back home, he can’t stop looking at the picture. And your response to his comment.
‘Thank you. <3’
Is that what you wanted? To be noticed by him? He’s always noticed you, even before the restaurant fiasco. He just…doesn’t know what to do.
Dex isn’t sure what will happen once the friendship twists into something more. It’s because what if you think he’s too much for you? Friends is one thing, being involved requires more commitment, feelings he isn’t sure he’s felt before. Or in a long time.
Are you sure you want that?
When he’s back in the office for debriefing, making sure you send all the important details to Mr. Charles, neither of you brings up the picture. You’re still dressed similarly to what you sent him, your chest profound under the blouse, work pants tight on your legs. Your glasses resting on the tip of your nose, increasing the desire to step forward and push them up for you.
“Are we still on for the film festival this weekend?”
Dex perks up, lining his eyes back to yours. “Yeah. Starts at ten, right?”
You nod, still writing down notes on your tablet. “I have our passes, so don’t worry about that.”
“Okay.” His eyes trace down your frame again. He should bring up the picture and ask what that’s about. But what would he want to hear? “Are you excited?”
“Yeah. Are you?”
“I am.”
A pause. You’re done with the mission debrief notes, sending them out to Mr. Charles with the tap of your finger. Your glasses are still low, your shirt is still intentionally unbuttoned. He should leave. He should leave.
Dex moves forward, pushing up your glasses from the bridge with his finger, making sure it settles perfectly across your face. Your eyes go wide, staying still as he doesn’t move back from his previous spot. Just staring at you. “Why are you doing this?”
“What am I doing?”
He sharply inhales, accidentally taking in your honey perfume. “This…looking like…this.”
You look down at yourself, “Just trying something new. You don’t like it? Thought you’re supposed to support me as my friend.”
“I am.”
“Besides calling me sexy yesterday.”
Dex shakes his head, “I meant it.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“Nothing.”
“Okay. Then…” You motion him to leave your office. Looking like that. Shit.
He doesn’t move, nor do his eyes. You don’t either. A staring contest that may appear playful to others, to Dex, he’s trying to decide. Whether to leave or to take that next step. To be more.
Friends don’t call their friends sexy. Unless they have an underlying intention.
For Dex…he didn’t want to show his intention in here.
“I’ll see you Saturday.”
The film festival took place on the west end of Central Park.
The air was cool enough for people to huddle up in jackets and blankets outside, ready for the movie of the night to play. Aisles of stalls with food, movies, CDs, and games to help pass the time before the main event.
He wasn’t sure if it was going to be enough of a distraction.
When you met up with him by the entrance, nervous was the first thing he felt since he started this relationship with you.
Your ivy green sweater dress, tights that match the color of your skin, and black boots that dreadfully stopped at your knee. A breeze blew past you, banana and vanilla make him lean into the air. As an excuse to not lean on you.
He should’ve expected you to dress like this. Well, you’ve always dressed like this, but now he wants to keep looking at you. Admire how enticing you look.
“You look handsome.”
Another hit to his heart. Dex was hoping you didn’t notice he put in more effort himself to look nice too. The brown and navy blue suede jacket, black shirt, black pants are a dead giveaway.
“Thank you. You look…great.”
“Not sexy, huh?” His lips part at your teasing but you laugh it off, “I’m joking. I won’t mess with you anymore tonight.”
“Right.” He narrows his eyes, a mix of playful and suspicion.
The movie didn’t start for a few more hours, so he browses with you. Endless selections of DVDs and CDs from some vendors. You browse with intention, aiming to pick out some you need a physical copy of. Some for him, too.
“I think you’d like rom-coms.” You say, going through a huge bin filled with classic movies. “There were so many good ones back in the day.”
Dex peeks through the pile, a mountain of DVDs pushed by your hand. “What makes you think I’d like rom coms?”
“Because experiencing love and laughter is one of the best feelings in the world. Try it.” He doesn’t disagree, but continues watching you go through the pile. Close, making sure you don’t fall in and helplessly flail. “Got it!”
You turn and you’re right in his face. He could practically make out the pores on your skin. Dex takes a step back, not wanting to make the day uncomfortable already. You don’t say anything, but show off the case you picked up.
“Bride and Prejudice?”
“It’s so good. I used to watch it a lot when I was little with my mom.”
“Well, if you’d think I’d like it…”
“You will.”
Before checking out, Dex skims over to the pile of DVDs again. “I’ll pick one for you too.”
You lean over his shoulder and he tries to refrain from pulling you closer. Hold you under his arms. “Okay. What are you thinking?”
He picks up Ninja Assassin and you nod at the choice. “Of course it’s an action movie.”
“We need some variety.”
“Ah so we’re watching these after the festival?”
Dex hums, not realizing this is lowkey an attempt to get you back to his place. Or yours to continue the outing. “Maybe.”
You roll your eyes at his answer.
After the DVD shop, you wanted to browse some CDs, bringing up his CD player. Dex mainly uses it to listen to Dr Mercer’s recordings, indulging in a little bit of jazz classics or two. They were a dollar each, so fair game to you. He doesn’t say anything when you pick up case upon case in your arms. Full of a wide range of genres: jazz, rock, early pop, and r&b. Things you think he’d like.
“I hope it’s enough to add to your CD collection.”
“You don’t have to buy me all of this.”
You raise a brow, “Why not? We’ve been meaning to get you more music anyway.”
“Yeah, but…” He trails off, words that might offend you on the tip of his tongue. “You should get some music for yourself.”
“I hardly use my CD player anymore, Dex, come on.”
Dex grimaces, letting you pay for them.
It’s not that he didn’t want them or the movie. He’s sure he’ll like everything you pick for him. It feels as if you’re trying to get on his good side, like you ever left it. As proof that, despite what’s happened before, you two can still be good friends.
It doesn’t sit right in his stomach. Dex isn’t sure if he can classify this as a friendship anymore. The sway of your hips, how his heart upticks when you point at a new stall in awe. That sweet scent makes him follow you wherever you want to go.
Friends don’t think of each other like that.
In fact, this feels like a date more than a hangout. Maybe he should treat it as such.
“Hey,” He takes a step forward, easily holding your hand, “I saw a stall that sells great tacos. You hungry?”
Your eyes go wide, darting down to where your hands connect and his eyes. “Uh, yeah, yeah I’m getting there.”
“Great.” Dex leads, taking you to the food stand. Your face hardly changes and you don’t let go either. At least until you’re at the truck and you pretend you need to get your wallet out. But he’s paying, as a gentleman should on a date.
He likes this. It’s more natural. Just right.
You don’t bring up the hand holding and Dex doesn’t pry. Your movements are slower, despite your face becoming neutral. Still trying to figure out what just happened while putting sour cream on your taco.
“You smell nice.” He says, realizing he should compliment you more. “Banana smells great on you.”
“Ah…thanks.” You shift on the bench, not taking a bite out of your taco just yet. “So do you. Was that a…new cologne?”
“Yeah. I got it a few days ago.” He figures sandalwood was a good start. For this...date.
You nod, deeming it adequate to eat. He watches, a smile threatening to break at the streak of sour cream on the corner of your lips. As a good date should, he takes a napkin and hands it to you, motioning to where the cream is. You awkwardly take it, following where he’s pointing.
“You have an idea of what the movie might be?”
You shrug, glancing over at your pamphlet. “I’m hoping it’s that AI one. You know where the girl falls in love with her AI companion.”
“…I think that’s been done before.”
“Yes, but this time the roles are reversed. And the girl is blind.”
“Ah, right.”
“Would you fall in love with an AI companion?”
“No,” Dex gruffs, wiping off his hands, “I hardly use my phone, I wouldn’t take my chances with something like that.”
You hide your amusement behind your drink, “But you are open to…liking someone?”
He doesn’t leave your face, waiting for an answer. Dex still has reservations about romance. He’s also never taken that step, unlike other men his age. So many things he hasn’t experienced that he isn’t sure it’s possible for him to. This is a new arc for him. He’s taken steps to show he’s not like he was years ago.
Romantic interests can be possible.
“Yes.” He admits, “I’m just…it’s been…I’ve never really experienced that before. I’m still a bird who hasn’t learned how to fly. Yet.”
“A pretty old bird.”
“We’re the same age.”
You laugh, “My point still stands.”
Dex playfully scoffs, “Will you help me learn how to fly then? The whole works?”
“I can but…” You pause, tongue in cheek. He has to remind himself to breathe, not think of the extremes, “you said, asking me out was a mistake. Do you still think that?”
“No. I didn’t want to ruin what we have. You’re…special to me. I haven’t met anyone like you before.”
You don’t hide your smile this time and he can’t help but smile with you.
“Me neither.”
Dex feels the shift happen in real time. After eating, you immediately take his hand, letting him to sink into the reality of what this is now. What you two can be.
As it gets dark, you two take your seats. On the floor, the fluffy blankets provide enough cushion for both of you. His breath hitches at the random pain that aches his joints while he sits. You immediately hand him some painkillers and a bottle of water. That you had just in case.
Even on a date, you never truly stop working.
The movie is exactly the one you said, which makes you happy. Dex takes in the light in your eyes, how you gently shake him in excitement when the opening credits roll. On instinct and because he saw another couple in front of him, he wraps an arm around your shoulder, pulling you flush against him.
It’s a little cold and the body heat will help as well as the blankets.
That’s his logic anyway. Not because he gets direct access to your banana scent, but finally able to feel you. You fit so well against him, too like you belong there. And he wasn’t going to let you go. Not if he had anything to say about it.
Something else has an opinion too.
During the movie, Dex’s pants get tight again. You taking his hand, thumb rubbing it didn’t help either. He knows its been a long, long time since he’s gotten physical contact like this. And you saying that you’d be willing to help him.
This? It’s too perverted right now. Dex can’t expect you to help him with something like this. Not when you two just started dating.
It would be too much.
He inhales when you accidentally brush against his crotch, trying to get yourself situated.
“Oh…” You whisper, making eye contact.
“Sorry. Just ignore it, it’ll go away soon.”
“You’re okay, Dex. It’s natural.”
“Really?” He forces out a laugh, “I didn’t wanna scare you.”
“I’ve experienced my fair share of boners. It’s okay.”
Your lips press against his cheek and he feels the imprint of your lips on his skin. Unfortunately, it makes his cock jump. His heartbeat rising. You have his hand stay on your hip. So close to your ass. Your…nicely sized one.
His boner remains, difficult to keep all of these thoughts at bay while the movie is playing. Dex should take it easy. Not want to feel all over you behind closed doors. Wonder how you sound against his ears.
It would be too much. Too. Much.
He softens right when the movie ends. The sad ending changes the mood for the evening and you were sniffling a little. Dex gently pats your back, lowkey not understanding the movie at all, but not wanting to ruin how you’re feeling.
“Didn’t expect that movie to be sad at all.”
“Me neither.” He agrees while taking you home. A few blocks and a subway ride away. “Changed the mood a little.”
“Yeah, sad movies aren’t good for boners.”
Dex shakes his head, “Don’t bring that up…”
“Why? Don’t be embarrassed. I told you that’s common.”
“Yeah but…” He shuts up when they go inside the subway car, picking the seats a bit away from the rest of the riders. “I wanted to…do more things. When you kissed me I…I wanted more. Needed it.”
“Oh. I didn’t realize…”
His cheeks warm up and he glances away, pretending to focus on the train car behind them. It’s ridiculous. Feeling all of these things so fast. You shouldn’t witness him being aroused and inexperienced.
Dex wants to get some books to understand what you’d like. Emotionally and physically. It’s only fair.
“Do you still need it?”
He faces you, a hand on his thigh, gently squeezing it. That simple touch heats up his skin, surging down below. “…why are you asking?”
“You forgot what I said before?” You laugh a little and he swallows hard. “Just…helping you learn how to fly.”
Dex doesn’t tear away from your eyes, pleading, awaiting a truthful answer. He should say no. It would be too quick. And he didn’t want to disappoint you. Set any unfair expectations because he’s plagued by salacious thoughts and feelings.
But…what would you want to do?
“Yes.”
Back at your apartment, everything is quiet.
Besides Lady yipping and begging for pets, which she gets after a few tries, before you lead him to your bedroom. Dex takes everything in stride. As you close the door behind you, light from your blinds hits parts of your dress. Each step you take is slow and cautious, giving him room to change his mind if he’s uncomfortable.
He wasn’t. Instead, his heart picks up speed. The gentle sway of your hips boosts his arousal. Dex doesn’t try to fix himself this time. It’s just you and him. Alone.
Your arms wrap around his neck, coaxing him to bend down a little. No kiss is shared yet. He has time to admire the shape of your eyes, their color, the tip of your nose, and your lips. Like you’re sculpted carefully. With purpose.
And he gets to have you. Him. Of all people in this world.
“Is this too much? Too close?”
Dex shakes his head, capturing your lips. A simple peck, so that he can get used to the feeling again. The softness of your lips, the indent of your makeup on his own. He quirks a smile before kissing you again.
More force, more passion. He needs to show that he really likes this. Kissing you, your body against his own. He grips your dress for some restraint, not wanting to lose control immediately. Banana and vanilla live inside his brain. Imprinted so he can remember this moment forever. You’re following his lead, sighing a breath apart.
A small press against his torso. Dex sharply inhales at the roll of your hips, right over his erection. You don’t stop, pushing him towards the end of your bed. He breaks the kiss just enough to land on his back as you crawl on top of him, eyes filled with desire.
Dex doesn’t want to break off the kiss more than he has to. He groans at the fat of your thigh, how he’s able to handle the weight on top of you. The only time he does is when you pull off his jacket, and you kick off your boots.
You take his hands and place them on your ass, causing him to tense up for a moment. You notice, immediately stopping.
“Shit, was that too much-”
He silences you with another kiss, kneading your cheeks in his palms. You gasp against his lips, pushing your hips back so he can have more to hold. You’re rolling your hips again, causing him to let out a guttural growl.
You pull his bottom lip back between your teeth. Dex rolls his eyes back when you close the distance and trace your tongue across it. His lips slightly part, beckoning your tongue to his. Easily gliding against it to help him get used to it. He does, angling his head at a better angle for the tongues to dance.
All while he helps you move your hips over his bulge some more. The tension between his pants and you is becoming unbearable. He needs them off. Now.
You slide your hand between your bodies, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling down the zipper. Without words, Dex lifts up his hips to help you pull down his pants. A very clear imprint in his boxers, but with less tension.
When you grind your hips against his covered cock again, he gropes your ass for assurance. It’s too good that it’s almost criminal. And when you do it again, he expresses that delicious ache with a grunt. You swallow it, grinding against his bulge again and again and again.
The edges of your dress rise; your tights are gone now. The seat of your panties against his leaking tip brings tears to his eyes.
He should say slow down, not have his body ruin this night. But when you’re rotating your hips like that, hitting a spot that makes him bite his lip, he can’t say anything. Dex holds you down, making sure you’re rubbing his shaft at a decent pace. He can’t focus on kissing you anymore, but he likes when you nip and suck his. A trail of spit as a bridge between the two of you.
Breaths are quicker, his joints slightly crack when you go faster, making the bed creak. He’s lost in that sweet scent when he stills, cum coating his boxers. Dex’s cry is silent, his lashes fluttering in disbelief. His entire body is heavy when he comes up for air, gasping against your neck.
“That’s good…you’re okay…” You reassure, parting his hair with your fingers, scratching his scalp.
Dex jerks at the sensation, moving into your touch. “I didn’t mean to…”
“It’s okay. I think you needed that.”
He tsks, leaning up for another kiss. A slow one. One with intention. “Your turn.”
“Oh, you don’t have to. We already did a lot.”
“I want to.” You raise your dress, showing off the lacy black panties. As you bend down, he pulls them down to your ankles. “Help me.”
You guide his fingers to your wet hole, a sigh fanning his face. He takes some of your slickness and presses two fingers along your clit. “Slow, small circles please…”
Dex takes your guidance, circling your bud. Your eyes lower, lips part. You’re kneading his hair too at the same time. He dips inside you again then rubs your clit once more.
It picks up in speed and so does your voice of ecstasy. A moan ignites goosebumps on his skin.
“That feels good, Dex.” You coax him, trying to show what a good job he’s doing.
He doesn’t change his pace while figuring out which rubs work and which don’t. The ones that make you sigh and the ones that make you shift. He was worried about not being well-read in this topic, but what’s a better experience than hands-on?
Dex increases the speed of his rubs and focuses on your quickened breathing. How your body relaxes when you stop feeling his hair and grip it with need. You’re grinding against his fingers and he has to keep you still with a hand on your back, unable to help but smile at your reactions.
You tug his hair, back slowly coming into an arch. “D-Dex…I’m…oh…”
“Do it…”
You moan along his face, body tensing up and sending shockwaves across it. Your brows furrow, your lovely lips part in a way that makes him want to kiss you again. Exposing yourself to him until you can’t anymore. Then crash against his chest, panting along it.
Dex looks at the sheen on his fingers and licks them, humming. “You taste good.”
“Uh, thanks.” Your laugh is breathy and alive.
He doesn’t let you move, wanting to enjoy the mess you two found yourself in. Half-removed clothes and a dog who’s begging to come in and see what you’re up to.
Would sex be an upgraded version of this?
“Thank you.” Dex starts, eyes still at the ceiling. “For wanting to be my friend.”
You smile, caressing his cheek so he can look at you, see the care that’s written in your eyes. “Of course. I’d do it all again too.”
Yeah so I I just randomly woke up thinking about Dex coming home bloody and bruised and absolutely fucked up to the point where he's limping (uniform shirt and mask has been discarded but he still has the pants on). It's not even that late so ofc ur awake. You shoot up from your spot with a look of concern, maybe even a lecture and he doesn't say anything until he's sat on the couch (thank heavens it's leather), meanwhile ur still scolding him but he doesn't shut you up until he starts to pull his pants down just enough AAAAA and spit in his hand so he can start stroking it and and and ur like wtf are you doing and all he says is "strip."
After remembering ur boyfriend is fuckin crazy, you oblige and actually give him a show and um he's like. Genuinely getting off so all you hear is moans and groans of pain and twisted pleasure rolled into one AND eventually once ur fully naked he tells you to come closer and kiss him on those cut up lips (IK ITS SICK) ANDDDDD guides you to eventually sit in his lap aka start riding him OOHHHHHH and he's like so big u have to take ur time even sinking down in the first place, let alone ride him slow not only cause of his wounds but HES SO FUCKING BIG and UH you immediately feel his muscles start to relax despite how fucked he is HELPPPPPPPPP
Moral of the story is I woke up thinking about riding Dex apparently and that's what came of it (no pun intended).
MIND U. I HAVENT EVEN FINISHED SEASON 2 OF DD😭😭😭IM A FRAUD😭😭😭😭A HORNY FRAUD😭😭😭😭😭😭this just goes to show what my motivation really was.
dex who gets jealous long before he realizes that's what he's feeling. at first he just notices little things - how often that person talks to you, how close they stand, how easily they make you laugh. the irritation builds quietly until one day he's staring holes through someone across the room and finally understands what's wrong.
dex who becomes frighteningly observant when he's jealous. he notices every glance sent your way, every lingering touch, every joke that gets a smile out of you. while everyone else is enjoying the conversation, he's cataloging every detail without even trying.
dex who keeps telling himself she's allowed to have friends. she's allowed to talk to people. stop it. stop it. stop it. because he knows his feelings aren't rational. he knows you haven't done anything wrong. the problem is that knowing doesn't make the feeling disappear.
dex who pretends not to care. he'll sit there with a perfectly neutral expression while internally spiraling over the fact that you're paying attention to somebody else. if you ask what's wrong, he'll immediately say, "nothing." meanwhile his jaw is tight enough to crack a tooth.
dex who starts hovering around you whenever someone is making him jealous. suddenly he's standing beside you. sitting next to you. finding reasons to insert himself into every conversation. not because he's trying to be subtle - because he genuinely doesn't realize how obvious he's being.
dex who absolutely hates how possessive jealousy makes him feel. he knows it isn't rational. he knows you aren't doing anything wrong. but logic has never been particularly effective at quieting his emotions once they start spiraling.
dex who immediately seeks reassurance afterward without directly asking for it. he'll casually ask, "you like talking to him?" or "you two seem close." as if he's simply making conversation instead of desperately trying to gauge where he stands.
dex who looks completely calm on the outside while panic builds underneath his skin. because losing you isn't just another breakup in his mind. losing you feels like losing the one thing that finally made life feel stable.
dex who melts the second you choose him. one hand in his. one kiss on his cheek. one simple reminder that he's the person you want. suddenly all the tension leaves his body at once.
dex who apologizes after heated arguments because he can see the guilt written all over your face. "I know you didn't do anything wrong." and he means it. he knows the problem isn't you.
dex who notices every tiny change in your mood and always assumes it's his fault. if you're quieter than usual, he's wondering what he did wrong. if you're distracted, he's wondering if you're losing interest. if you take longer to answer a text, he's already fighting off worst-case scenarios.
dex who genuinely cannot understand why you chose him sometimes. you'll be sitting in his lap, playing with his hair, telling him you love him, and he'll just stare at you with this sad look in his eyes because he cannot comprehend how someone like you stays.
dex who hears you say, "aw, were you jealous?" and immediately groans, burying his face in your shoulder while you laugh. but he never actually pulls away, because if you're holding him like that, he doesn't mind being teased nearly as much as he claims.
dex who tries to maintain his serious expression while you're deliberately being affectionate with him in front of whoever made him jealous. your head on his shoulder. your fingers intertwined with his. meanwhile you're enjoying the way he slowly relaxes.
dex who becomes adorably clingy afterward without realizing it. suddenly you're sitting in his lap. suddenly he's holding your hand. suddenly he's finding excuses to touch you every few seconds.
dex who becomes embarrassingly soft whenever you cup his face and remind him, "there's nobody else I want." because underneath all the jealousy is just a man who loves deeply and worries too much.
Thinking about how Dex always looks at you. He really looks at you, with what you could call love. He studies your face intently, as if he wants to memorize it for when you're not around or when he closes his eyes to sleep. And with how obsessive he is, he picks up on every detail of your face, ANYTHING. Do you have a small scar? He'll never forget it. Do you have more than one mole? He counts them all. Freckles? Dimples? A gap in your teeth? Yes
The shape of your nose, how the light hits your cheeks, or how your eyes crinkle when you smile, etc. He also remembers your mannerisms. Little nervous tics or whatever you do out of habit. For example, sticking your tongue out a little when you're concentrating on something. Things you do without thinking and don't even realize, but he does, and when he casually mentions them, you're like: Oh? I do that?
Yeah, Dex learns everything from you.
But my favorite part is undoubtedly that, to him, you are the most beautiful thing he has ever seen, and you deserve his gaze. More than once you've been captivated by something beautiful, like the moon, a new flower in a garden, or even the clouds. And when you point it out to him, saying, "How beautiful!" he simply nods and murmurs a calm "it is," but in reality, Dex has always been looking at your face the whole time.
Nah deadass, seconds before i opened tumblr i verbally said out loud "DON'T" cause I have unfinished drafts collecting dust due to this fkn loser (i say with uncontrollable lust) 💔
a/n: ok i said i would. reader is a FREAK. you are a FREAK. also i haven't actually watched the season 2 final yet so FINAL SPOILERS but also i dont actually know what happened. basing this off of edits i've seen but like, i could also be wrong. also im canadian so i use a mix of uk and us spelling because i forget sometimes lol
also pls keep sending me asks! i love it and will answer soon!
masterlist.
plot: you are dex's handler, you give him targets, that's it. right?
warnings: unhealthy dynamic. reader isn't normal. vibrator mention, he knows abt the rose toy. reader calls dex a good boy. really not smut, smutty implications. stalking. dex is a voyeurist? into voyeurism? not edited.
MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.
pairing: benjamin 'dex' poindexter x reader
once charles 'recruited' him, he was yours to handle.
it was simple really, you gave him his targets, you ran the odd psychological test when he was particularly unstable (he was always cleared for duty!) and you were basically the only number in his burner phone.
you didn't realize he was so... attached to you until you realized he was watching you, stalking you. he was on top of another building,
he wasn't even supposed to know your real name.
but he found that out after he followed you home, found your real number too.
you were a trained agent, you did less real field work now, but that did not make you less perceptive.
a trinket dish shifted to the left, away from the edge, more center on the end table.
like it was bothering him when he was here, in your apartment, while you were at the store. it bothered him how close it was to the edge and just how off-putting he found your all your off-center decor. he just had to fix it.
your gaze shifted to the expansive window of your living room, walking closer, squinting enough to see him on the fire escape of the building across the street.
he waved.
you scoffed.
you picked the phone out of your pocket, calling him. he took his time to answer.
"benjamin? honey... i see you." honey. baby. sweetheart. you called him all that stupid shit becuse you knew he liked it, but it was more about putting on the persona of someone who gave a shit. which you think he liked. or maybe he didn't. "i really think we need to talk about boundaries."
"boundaries?" the audio from the flip-phone made it sound like it was being put through a blender, but his voice still sounded so good. "you say that like i crossed one."
"baby, breaking into my place feels pretty textbook," you responded, faux sweetness dripping from your voice.
"you looked stressed last month, when we met, i wanted to know why."
a sinking feeling, a month, how the fuck did you not notice that? maybe you were rusty.
"you wanted to know if it was you, if you were doing a bad job?" you tried to reason. why would he give a fuck?
"no," he replied, quickly. "i don't do bad jobs in this line of work." killing people. it was killing people.
you ponder how it was very likely he had watched you do things like change, use your vibrator, watch far too much kitchen nightmares.
you sighed. he spoke again. "you said to call if i needed support."
you held in another scoff, "you didn't call before stalking me?"
"i didn't stalk you, i was checking in. you seemed busy, i didn't want to call."
"checking in?" you repeated flatly.
"yeah."
you blinked at the window. he was still watching you through his scope. "are we going to have to take you to do another evaluation?"
you could almost hear him laugh. those didn't mean anything, fake red tape to make you feel safe, but he would always be cleared. "some people might find your behaviour concerning, baby."
"are you concerned?" vaguely.
you sighed, again.
"you leave your curtains open in your bedroom, you shouldn't do that," he added, like he was chastising you.
"you've been in my bedroom?" you asked, not disturbed, just seeking clarity.
"not inside," he clarified. why stop at your living room, too much time decorating, maybe?
"what did you see, then?"
"you wear short little nightgowns to sleep. i like the blue one, you touch yourself different when you wear it. slower."
"ben," you cut him off from going further, "you need to stop watching me from the fire escape."
silence. then a "no."
"baby, you need to go home now, like a good boy. if you want to see me from now on, you can just come over." what was the point of stopping it? he knew where you lived now, he was going to keep watching you. it was better to know when. probably.
you didn't hear an immediate answer, so you kept going. you didn't see his pants were tightening, didn't see that his cock was hard, but you could somehow hear in his breath. "i'm not going to report you, but you need to remember that i'm in charge, alright?"
again, he did not respond.
"say it."
silence. then, "you're in charge."
"good boy," you said. you paused, calculating your own next move, then you were taking off your clothes. first, your top.
he missed some of it as you moved from the living room to your bedroom. taking off your bra, he saw your bare back, teasing him with the possibility of just seeing your tits, but denying him that. he saw your ass as you pulled down your pants, then your panties, moving to kick them somewhere he would probably hate. you imagine his hands just itching to fold them, or sniff them, or put them in the hamper.
in your closet was the blue nightgown, you pulled it on. you put the phone back up to your ear. "go home, sweetheart, i'll let you use the front door if you're really good for me," you said, hand tracing by your stomach, teasing him again as you turned to face the window once more.
"i'll see you tomorrow," he finds himself saying. you were in charge.
"yeah, baby, if you're good," you said, sauntering to the window, you shut the curtains. "be good."
then you hung up.
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