First meeting (Rayland Grace x Simon the convict x engineer! reader)
Red lights are blaring in warning, the ship is going down and you knew it. Scratching sounds came from the double doors, as if they are trying to pry it open.
You crawled on the ground towards the only working pod, having just cut off your leg and cauterizing the nub on one of the heated pipes near by.
You got into one just as the door opened and right where they about to show themselves to you—
You launched yourself into space.
.
.
.
.
.
.
Simon was in the cock-pit steering the ship towards the planet Erid, until he got a distress signal floating in no specific direction. He had called Grace over to take a look at it and decide what their next action will be.
"Do you know what could be floating in the screen?" Grace had asked Simon turning his head to face him rather than the screen
"It doesnt look like a spaceship distressed signal as we would've also seen it- it might be from a pod though" he said shrugging
"Maybe we should check it out, someone alive could be in it—" Simon had cut him off "or a threat! We don't know what ship it came from or if its even safe to bring up here!" He said with an exasperated tone, after dealing with what he did back on AT-5. It could be a monster for all he knew or the COI is coming back to go after him.
Grace on the other hand is thinking that it could be a human, if there is a space pod floating all and about with a distress signal and not someone steering it or it having a clear path to return to- then it could be someone.
Rocky came rolling at this moment "life spotted in pod. Statement" he had informed them "go under to see? Question." He asked them as grace began moving to put on his space suit to check it out "im checking it out!" He shouted to Simon.
Simon just sighed "at least don't go on your own!" He said as he put put the ship on auto so it wont drift away following Grace.
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.
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You groaned as you opened your eyes, turning your head side to side after it was feeling stiff.
You tried to sit up before a wave of dizziness hit you as you stayed sitting in the bed. You ignored the weird robotic hand that tried to come at you as you just pushed it away and started hopping around, leaning on walls and looking around confused and cautious.
You tried taking a hold of any weapon around you but you couldn't find anything.
You heard your own voice coming out of a room and you followed the source it came from and saw 2 men around a laptop with a...rock? In a bubble
"Uh– the co-pilot training is going fine, the ship is still on the right course to the AT-5, in case locating the SM-13 also known as 'The Iron Lung' the butcher will be retrieved and we'll be heading back to base" your heard your own voice saying before you looked down as if contemplating if you should talk some more.
You remember recording that entry, it was when they had entered—
"See?! I told you!" The black-haired man said pointing at the laptop with his hand "they are after me! And for whatever reason?!! To bring me back!" The same man raised his voice finally proving himself.
"That was the case! We literally saw them in a pod away from any ships around here! How are they supposed to bring you back?!" The blond argued back
"Grace! Simon!—" the rock tried to inturrept staring right at you "not now rocky" the blond one answered as he got back to arguing with the black haired one about the situation at hand, as the rock-now known as rocky- tried to interrupt them while rolling around and around them heading towards you "Grace! Simon!—" he said now near you as you drown their voices just starting at the rock-in-ball in front of you "WHAT?!" they yelled in usuion staring at rocky before realising you're awake .
"Uh hey-" the blond one tried to greet but your eyes snapped to the black-haired one staring at him intently—
"Uh- what—" "you're real?" You said in disbelief breathing out hard as if the air was robbed from you.
"What?-"
"With they way they talked about you- the- the butcher - and what you had done- they made it seem as if you aren't even real— I lost hope in finding you after everyone was gone-" you stopped talking as you realized you might have talked too much and kept quiet.
A pregnant pause passes "how about we sit down and talk...?" The blond suggested
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A/N : I changed a couple of things from the initial meeting. Otherwise the main idea behind the monsetrs and such had not changed :)
a fic where Adrian tolerates you with the rest of the 11th Street Kids who isn't his BFF Peacemaker but Earth X Adrian falls in love with you at first sight?
Adrian wonders if deep down he loves you too but definitely nope. It's just an Earth X Adrian thing. (Who arrives to your universe and attempts to take out Adrian so he can be with you)
a fic where Adrian tolerates you with the rest of the 11th Street Kids who isn't his BFF Peacemaker but Earth X Adrian falls in love with you at first sight?
Adrian wonders if deep down he loves you too but definitely nope. It's just an Earth X Adrian thing. (Who arrives to your universe and attempts to take out Adrian so he can be with you)
 A soulmates au where the character is totally afraid of meeting there soulmates to the point they have done everything in there power to hide who there soulmate is
They have known for years who they are mates to but are to cowardly stubborn too do anything about it
It’s to the point where reader has given up
But what happens when the reader is coughing up petals and blood?
Can they see their soulmate go through this without telling them?
𖦹｡⋆ Summary: Dex finds himself in your coffee shop and expects to be in and out. Instead, you awkwardly try to make convo. Your friend, Priscella, definitely sees something going on.
𖦹 WC: 2.3k
𖦹｡⋆ Tags: Fluff. Neighborly talks. Coffee shop. Awkward interactions. Priscella trying to be your wingman. DDBA S2! Dex.
𖦹 Warnings: none!
A/N: I feel like Iron Man with all that technology in front of him right now ngl. I hate writing filler plot for the life of me. This took like 20,000 rough drafts before I can get this one out straight. I want to pace this as nice as possible because I don't want to rush this. SOON, we'll get to the nitty gritty of her desires. lol
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You could say routine was one of the last things Dex had that was true to himself. Everything else had been torn and taken from him until there was nothing left. All he could be grateful for was the fact he got out of that...place.
This apartment building was a new life. A beginning towards that balanced that he craved. To balance the scales. Why else would he have survived from falling four stories? Something else is keeping here for one specific reason.
Now, he was sitting in a coffee shop, in a back corner watching you serve customers with a smile just a little too wide for it to be comfortable. At first, it really was to stay for a half an hour, move on with the rest of his day, but it was like watching you put on a show for everyone. The way everything was so calculated, a steady rhythm to be seen normally.
Dex reached for the toothpicks placed in the middle of the table, shaking one out of its container. He placed the toothpick in his mouth before raising his head up towards the TV that was planted into the corner of the cafe.
"Police still are on the lookout for the vigilante, Bullseye, who had escaped prison a few months ago. Task Force claims that this individual still wreak havoc across New York, killing individuals with bizarre makeshift weapons," Dex could only smile at that. "If you see this individual, please call Task Force immediately and do not engage with him."
He dropped his head down from the TV with a smirk still present on his lips. He decided to take that as his sign to leave the cafe and start looking around for Task Force.
However, as he was about to push his chair out, a voice called out to him. Your voice. "Uh--Tony, right?"
Looking over to where your voice called out. Your face shifted into something more genuine. A genuine, amused face scattered across your face.
That was what made Dex stay.
He quickly pushed himself back into his seat, taking out the toothpick from his mouth.
He raised an eyebrow to act confused before calling out your name, "Hey, yeah that's me. What are you doing here?"
"I work here," You pointed to your clothes. "It's nice seeing you exploring what's around here."
Dex placed both of his hands onto his lap, taking in a deep breath, "Yeah, it seems quiet around here. Not much issue."
You nodded you head at him, letting out a soft chuckle. You felt that you could relate to him more as you continued to talk to him. He seemed to just fit into the middle of your puzzle piece after decades for trying to find someone who would.
"Yes. That's why I like this area. You know...quiet and peaceful, but still in the city around other people," You say as the words you've been trained to say spilled out.
Dex leaned into more towards you. His eyebrow flicking slightly at the wording of your statement. He nodded his head towards at you before asking, "Yes, well...now Task Force is on every corner. Soon this one."
You raised your hand from your sides to say, 'that's how it is'. "I don't approve of it as the next person. It's just...unnecessary."
Dex hummed at your answer, placing his hand on the bottom of his chin. Then you just sighed, shrugging your shoulders, "I just hope it all works out in the end."
"Of course..." Dex nodded his head, making a promise to you that you didn't even realize.
Taking in a deep breath, you placed your hands back at your side and then looked behind you. You could see Pris looking back at you with this all-knowing look. You quickly snapped out of your trance with him and opened your mouth to speak, stuttering as you try to form the words.
"I should...get back to work before I get a write up or fired," You pointed you thumb back towards the kitchen.
Dex immediately stood up from the table. "Oh, right. Your duty calls."
You nervously laughed, starstruck at how tall he really was in front of you. Not to mention how extremely buff he was. Jesus. "Yeah...uh. See you soon? Or, whenever we bump into each other again."
Dex placed his hands in front of him with a smirk, nodding down at you. "I'll see you soon."
"Yes, great," You answered back in a bad attempt to act normal. "Bye."
Then, as quick as you were there, you immediately walked away from him. From behind you, Dex placed the toothpick back into his mouth with an amused glint littered across his face. You were just so...abnormally normal. Just moments when your true emotions would come out, you snapped back into this routine.
That's what he was so interested in. What was wrong with your neighbor that you needed to behave a certain way in front of people? To perform for them to please society. What were you hiding under that personality?
Dex pushed open the cafe door to enter back into the street with that question filling his mind. However, he did know one thing about you. Task Force was much of a thorn at her side as it was for him. Of course, for different reasons.
In Dex's mind, it was the fact he was Bullseye. Wanted for multiple counts of murder and attempted assassinations. Not to mention his recent prison escape.
But for you...it was because they were disrupting the peace in your neighborhood. The peace that seemed to be routine for you to surround yourself with for years.
But Dex couldn't be more wrong than that.
For in your own mind, Task Force was two steps closer to finding out about you through a background check. You heard from pass of word about the conditions they were holding individuals with the status as "vigilantes". The idea being thrown into a cage, treated as something less than a human just broke you internally.
You started to make sure you were taking your medication more regularly with timers at the very second you needed to take it again. You couldn't be seen as yourself in public anymore. Not with Fisk as the mayor of New York.
"Who was that man you were talking to earlier?" Pris questioned with a teasing glint in her eyes.
You were sitting at an empty table with most of the cafe now being empty during your slow hours. You raised your head that was resting on your fist to look at her.
You blinked as you were trying to register what she was saying to you. "Hm?"
"That guy that came in during the rush in the morning. He was really tall with scruffy, blonde hair," Pris explained while placing her hand above her hair to mimic messy hair.
"Oh, you mean Tony," You responded back, your posture immediately straightened and turned to fully look at her.
Pris immediately noticed your behavior and smiled, "Oh, yes 'I mean Tony'. Who is he?"
"My neighbor. He just moved in next door," You explained.
She let out a little coo at your words. "And you find him attractive too, huh?"
"What? Pris, I just met the man yesterday," You shook your head, immediately denying it.
"And now he was here in the coffee shop! That's your literal sign it's meant to be!" Pris responded back to you with a bright smile.
Your eyes slightly dropped at her words, your shoulders dropping down and heart settling in your chest. Meant to be. It was fate he came in here. There are millions of other places that he could have chosen to enjoy coffee, and yet, he chose here.
Your eyes squinted with your mouth mimicking a smile. "Maybe it is."
Pris pointed at you. "Now that's the attitude we need! You should get to know this guy more. You know, more than his name is Tony and lives next door."
You raised an eyebrow at her in confusion. "Isn't that enough?"
"You need to get out of your shell," Pris sighed out your name. "He looks totally into you."
"Into me?" You questioned.
"Attracted to you." Pris elaborated.
You blinked at her, thinking you heard her wrong. "Attracted? From one interaction."
"Call it a blooming love," Pris giggled while wiggling her fingers for the added effect.
She started to go off more on a tangent about how you were looking at him and how he was looking at you. However, your mind was just hooked on the idea that it wasn't just all in your mind. That someone, you believed to be a close friend, was saying something was there.
An alignment of the cosmos to bring you together.
Another chance to be able to be yourself with someone you wanted to cherish.
You placed a hand on your heart. Feeling something wrapping in your mind. Something twisting reason into pure logic. Something set in stone on what you had to do.
What was destined for you.
When you did get off your shift, you were traveling up the flight of stairs, paying no mind to your surroundings. Somehow, even with the bare minimum of social skills, you were still mentally drained from having to deal with customers all day.
And yet, you still need a way to make a steady living in order to keep your apartment.
You got to do what you've got to do.
Climbing up the last steps, you walked out into the hallway leading towards your apartment. This time, you were actually paying attention to where you were walking, but he wasn't out in the hall as you expected.
You were a little disappointed at the idea of him not being there, but it was five o'clock. He must be working or something about this hour. Letting out a sigh, you grab your keys from your back pocket as you approach your door.
Just as you slotting your key in the keyhole, you heard someone turning the locks on their door. Your heart skipped a beat at the sound before seeing Tony walking out of his apartment. He looked like he was in a rush to leave, mindlessly walking out to wherever he was going, but when he caught your eyes, he stopped.
He called out your name, causing you to smile, before he said, "I'm starting to think you're stalking me with how many times we run into each other."
For a second, you were trying to stutter out how you were just coming back from work and you weren't, but he just stared back at you with a teasing smile.
Seeing that teasing looks on his face, it registered to you that he was just joking. You snapped your lips shut at the realization before a small chuckle escaped from your mouth.
You shook your head and shrugged your shoulders to play along with him, answering back with, "It might just be fate."
He stared at you for a few seconds, observing your words as they were uttered out. He squinted his eyes and nodded before saying in a scruffy voice, "Yeah...it might be."
You placed your hands in your back pocket, feeling your keys there, and crossed your legs. "Ah, so are you heading out for tonight?"
"Yeah, just on my way to work actually," Dex responded back, making you widen your eyes.
"I must be making you late. I'm sorry," You immediately placed a hand on your chest and began to walk away, so he wasn't obligated to stay.
He placed his hand out to make you stop and said, "Oh, don't worry. My boss is very lenient."
In actuality, his boss was just himself. Under his coat was his Bullseye costume as he was just about to head out to scout out Task Force agents that were close by. However, he spotted you before even making out the door. It didn't matter to him, anyways, he had all night to look for agents.
"Still, you don't have to listen to me rant for hours," You answered back.
"I don't mind your talking. Haven't had a lot of people to talk to in my last building," Dex explained, knowing the real reason was because he was in a prison cell.
You smiled at his words, feeling something fluttering in your chest. You couldn't believe that someone like him wanted to listen to you. You looked down to avoid eye contact with him, causing your hair to come in front of your face.
You looked back at him while flipping your hair back to say, "Well, I guess that makes two of us. Not many friendly faces around this building either."
"Glad we share a wall together then," Dex answered back with a smile appearing softly on his lips.
"Yes, it's very good," You answered back to him. "You make good conversation."
He dipped his own head down to avoid eye contact with a soft chuckle. He brought his hands together while you waited for him to reply.
"You do too," Dex answered back with a huff coming out as a soft chuckle. "But, as much as I hate saying it, I should probably head to work."
Your eyes widened at his words and took a step back again. "Right. Work. Important."
Dex just listened as you spoke like what you said was the most complex and fascinating thing to ever grace his ears.
He nodded, echoing you, "Important."
"I'll see you soon, then?" You pointed a finger at him with a raised eyebrow.
"Soon," Dex nodded his head before backing away from you. "Enjoy your evening."
"You too, Tony," You replied back before he turned around to head out.
For Dex, it hurt for him to hear you utter a fake name that didn't belong to him. He knew what he was doing was just for now. He still needed to make sure you couldn't be a loose end. He needed to make sure you weren't to have the same path of Julie.
✦ Summary: You've always had to hide apart of yourself from the rest of the world. It felt like you were always going to mask this part of yourself forever. That was until you bumped into the new moved in neighbor--Tony--and there's that urge you thought you buried years ago.
✦ WC: 4.9K
✦ Tags: Slow burn (might make this into a multi-part series). Reader has a friend named Priscella. Angst. Slight Obsession. DDBA S2! Dex. Not pre-checked.
✦ Warnings: canon inaccuracies. Reader uses she/her pronouns. Mentions of violence, blood and death. Graphic depictions. Mental health issues (both sides). Childhood trauma. Stalking (at the end). Medication/Pills.
A/N: Wilson talking about how Dex needs a fucked-up girlfriend had this idea swirling in my head. It finally got me out of my writer's block LMAO. This is just a little intro to the main storyline but will eventually get to the nitty gritty between Dex and Reader. Anyways, this is my first tumblr post so be nice </3.
You were always called different since you could remember. You couldn't understand why people choose to separate themselves from you. From what you could remember, you just had different interest than the other kids on the playground.
One specifically: blood.
It was more a fascination at first. She would read science books on how blood traveled through the body. How there were different types of blood cells that did different things within the body.
It made her excited. A rush that put any rollercoaster to shame.
In school, you thought socializing with your classmates would draw you closer to them. So, you brought your book to class one day during recess. You went up to a group of kids, holding your book straight to them, you began to tell them in detail about blood. About veins.
The look that shifted from each one of them sent something irking in her soul. You couldn't understand why they were giving you disgusted looks, running away to the teacher and her shouting to put the book away.
What was so wrong about her interest?
"I told you to not bring that book to school," Your mother sighed as you both sat in the principal's office.
You looked down at your shoes, mindlessly swinging them, "I just wanted to talk to them."
"It's not okay to talk about stuff like that! It's disgusting," Your mother hissed down at you, crossing her legs and placing her bag into her lap.
"I knew it was a bad idea to give her that book. This isn't wanting to learn more about nursing...this is fixation on the idea of death," Your dad spoke with your book tight in his hands.
They thought that by getting rid of the book, it would stop your fixation on blood. You would go back to a regular routine like all the regular kids. Somehow, it seemed like that was the solution.
However, when you entered into middle school, something shifted within you once more. You began to develop a crush on someone, but it wasn't a regular crush, no.
Something else developed.
An inexplainable hunger. A hunger to sink into the teeth of someone she fell for. To limit herself to the taste of blood and not delve deeper into his skin.
One day, your parents had allowed you to bring him over. It was rare for you to even ask to bring someone over to their house, so your parents had thought nothing of it---just leave the door unlocked and slightly opened. So, you had brought him into your room and you two seemed to be having fun together.
You two were just lying on the ground together, talking about school and how that one teacher was always on them about schoolwork. Their hands seemed to inch closer and closer together as the conversation seemed together. In that moment, it felt as if everything was falling into place for you.
Someone would finally treat you as normal.
Just as your hands linked together, your mouth started to rumble, and your stomach felt hungrier than ever. With your right hand, you slowly brought your hand to your stomach, hoping the feeling would ease away. Instead, it continued to get stronger as your eyes fell down to his hand.
You were able to see the multiple veins traveling down his hand. That sight just brought you back to when you were a young girl on the playground again. Somehow, the boy didn't notice the shift in your behavior when you began to bring his hand closer to your mouth.
You were observing the hand closer to your face and every single nerve in your body was telling you to move forward. In that, you became fixated on one specific finger that had a large vein traveling through it. Softly smiling to yourself, you couldn't hear that the boy had stopped talking to watch you.
He called out your name and nervously asked what you were doing, but you didn't answer him.
Instead...you brought the finger into your mouth and bit down as hard as you could. Immediately, he screamed out in pain as your teeth sank deeper into his layers of skin.
When that first taste of blood hit your tongue, it was nothing like anything you had before. The taste was just so enjoyable for you that you just couldn't let go. You continued to just bite down harder through muscle and bone.
His screams echoed into the whole house, causing your parents to rush into your room. When they found you biting on his finger, your mom let out a scream and your dad bolted over to you. Quickly, he tried to pull you off of his finger as the boy was balling out in pain.
Just as he was, a clean snap! was all it took before your dad, and you were on the ground again. But you had a finger still in your mouth. The boy held onto his hand in pain as blood began to gush out at where his finger was.
Your expression remained neutral at the sight as you began to indulge. Food never satisfied your hunger like this did. You couldn't stop eating it. Your mother rushed out of the room, holding her mouth while gagging. Your father yelled at her to quickly call the ambulance while fighting with you to pull the finger out of your mouth.
He kept you tight in his arms to keep your from running away. You only began to grow more impatient with him. The finger was now a lost cause for him but keeping you here and away from the boy until reinforcements came was his best option. In an attempt to get away from your father, you squeezed your fists tight, hoping to have the strength to push him off.
Something inside you listened. Something that remained dormant for the past few years finally emerged.
You could feel your muscles expand in your own body. They were growing against your arms to make you stronger. Even if it was for a split second, you managed to shove your father back with your elbows. You quickly pushed yourself away from him and began to stumble yourself up. You were trying to catch your breath from the tussle between the two of you.
Your eyes fell to the boy who was still holding onto his hand in pain. You were looking for that glint of love back towards you, but all you could see was sadness, pain and hatred.
"Wh--Why would you do this to me?!" He sobbed to you while holding out his hand out to you.
"I...I just wanted to show you I care about you," You answered back as you placed your hands on your heart.
"You're sick! A freak!" He sobbed out towards you.
To hear that, it broke something else in you. You thought this would be the moment society could be proven wrong, that you could be you without having to hide. People could love you for you.
But, like always, society had proven you wrong.
Your face shifted into something that could resemble sadness and you dropped your hands back to your side. Your mouth was smeared in his blood and the room smelled like his blood too. Your mouth was still watering. You were still so hungry.
This time, it wasn't out of love, it was out of necessity for your body. Your eyes slowly trailed down him once again. You looked at his hand and to see what he looked like inside, it made her just smile. Her bloodied teeth barred at him before she dropped to her knees and began to dive into his arm.
Your father struggled to get himself up from where he was thrown back to try and pull you off. Again, you sunk into his skin, but this time, you hummed out in pleasure. Like this was a five course meal you were having. Your dad tried grabbing onto your arms, but in that split second, your muscles got stronger. It allowed you to shove your father back once more.
Unluckily enough for you, the police bursted through the door with your frantic mother telling them where you were. In that second, one minute you were awake, the next minute you felt a bullet go through your shoulder.
You limply fall to the ground beside to the boy. You could hear your mother sob out at the sight. The police and first responders filed into the room to quickly help your father and the boy. As they were pulled onto a stretcher, you could only watch in silence.
You couldn’t move from the ground. That gave these two other men in black masks to drag you out of your home and into a black van. You were placed on this homemade stretcher in the van with two of the men beside you. They quickly tied your hands down to the stretcher, but you didn’t seem to have the energy anymore to fight.
Your adrenaline was starting to fade away and you could feel the pain and exhaustion coming back. In that moment, your eyes slowly fluttered down before you fully passed out in the back of a black van.
A few days after that incident, you were forced to run multiple tests with different doctors to learn more about you. They wanted to find out what the urges came from and still keep the public safe.
They said you should have died, but something stopped you from dying. That is why so many doctors are on this case because you managed to avoid death. The tests were looking for that one specific change in your DNA that allowed you to escape death.
Maybe they could use you to exploit the rich and famous who have too many enemies.
You were starting to build a tolerance to the sticking and stabbing they would do every thirty minutes of each day. This new “schedule” seemed to be your new lifestyle. You didn’t mind having this routine because there was nothing around you to love or hate. It was just now you living and breathing like everyone else.
One day, however, your main doctor came into your room. He was looked down at a clipboard, reviewing something before speaking to you. When he finally did look up, his face stayed expressionless and he let out a sigh.
“Looks like it’s your lucky day. You’re heading to Dr. Sterling’s office,” the doctor spoke before nudging his head to signal to you to get off the bed.
You immediately rushed off the bed in a hurry, trying to understand why this was a good thing. Just as you were leaving the room, the doctor quickly pulled you back. You looked up at him confused, but then realized he was placing your handcuffs on.
“Don’t want to forget these,” He let out a soft snicker, causing you to feel irked at his words.
Then, when you made your way to Dr. Sterling’s office, you pushed the door open to find your parents sitting there. They seemed to have been waiting for a while. They heard the door open and seemed to jolt at the sound of it.
When you made eye contact with them, there was an uneasiness between the two of them. You could feel something bubbling in yourself for the way they stared at you. You were still their daughter.
Why couldn’t they understand that! Why couldn’t anyone understand that?
Why did you have the constantly mask herself for “the betterment of society”? This wasn’t fair to you. You were just like everyone else.
You swear it.
You sat down in between your parents and looked at Dr. Sterling. He had his own clipboard with pages listing things. There was some pictures as well that were printed onto some pages too.
He looked up from his clipboard, he looked at you for a second. Your head tilted to the side, trying to understand what he was doing. You squinted your eyes, but that quickly snapped himself out of the trance.
He clasped his hands together and his eyes shifted between your parents, “You’re both here on answers on your daughter and…it’s been a rough couple of days to figure it out, but we found it.”
“Found what?” Your mother spoke while moving closer towards the doctor.
“We thought this was something like a disease or maybe something mentally, which isn’t entirely wrong, but we needed to see the full picture,” Dr. Sterling explained as your eyes fell down into your lap.
To be talked about like you were an object, it sucked. It fucking sucked.
“Your daughter,” He looked between your parents, “Your daughter is a mutant. Her genes have been mutated. One of them happened to have altered her consumption.”
You only could look down at your hands as he continued to speak. You didn’t fully understand what he was telling you.
“That mutation didn’t just affect her appetite. That appetite stems from an enhanced ability to increase muscle strength and mass rapidly.” He explained to the both of them while turning his clipboard over to them to look at the results.
He points to a picture of a before and after of your arm. It was more buff in the after result. It only seemed someone could develop that type of muscle by doing to the gym every day. But for you, you could do that in seconds.
“I can guess by her ability to take a bullet to her back. She can withstand certain injuries to a certain extent,” He explained to them.
“What do you think we should do?” Your mother asked back to him.
“In my honest opinion, you keep her away from consuming others. This world would change how they look at superheroes if she were to be public. The last thing we need is people looking at the Avengers and thinking they eat people!”
Dr. Sterling looked through his cabinets and placed multiple pill bottles on the desk. He pushed it towards you. You looked up at the noise and seeing how many pills you needed to take. Your heart sunk.
“This isn’t just genetic. This is also a mental issue. Your daughter has a bad fixation on blood and gore. We have to limit these thoughts, basically silence them from tempting her. You might want to isolate her.”
Your father sat up in his chair, coughing into his hand, “We—We are planning on getting her apartment in Hell’s Kitchen when she graduates high school.”
“That’s excellent. You might be looking at a normal daughter in a few years.”
There was that word again. That word that made no sense to you. Why did people have to shun her away? It wasn’t your choice to be like this, but yet people acted as if you were a bad person. You were like every other teenager. You promise.
However, your parents and the doctor couldn’t see that. Instead, you were released from that hospital and immediately placed within a separate room away from everyone else. You had no contact with the outside world, or society. All you had, was your mother bringing your food at certain times throughout the day.
You stared at blank walls for most of your days. Thinking to yourself and trying to assure yourself you were normal. You were forced to take those pills every single day.
They didn’t make you feel like yourself. They made you lethargic, emotionless…numb. You were like a body without a functioning brain. Your life became a routine that kept you in check. That made sure you wouldn’t become that person who wasn’t “normal”.
Eventually, when you did finish high school, your parents brought you into a new apartment building. Your own space away from your parents. They had set everything up perfectly for your routine.
They managed to secure you a job at a local coffee shop not too far from here. That way you could make your own money and practice socializing with others. Maybe you could be introduced back into society.
You sat on your couch with your head lowered and just spacing off. Your mother walked up in front of you, she bent down in front of you to make eye contact with her.
She grabbed your hands, cupping it in her own hands, “You’ll be okay here, but you can never forget to take your pills. You know...why don’t you practice in the mirror on expressing emotions like everyone else? Maybe you could learn to be like everyone else."
You could only nod in agreement.
That's how your life was for almost 20 years.
A routine. A way to act normal and hide something that was shunned and called disgusting. You were practicing emotions and phrases in order to blend in with everyone. You studied every little detail. Pushing your mouth and eyes to morph into other human habits.
One thing that never came back, though, was your desire for normal food. You knew you needed something to keep your body functioning, but nothing fully settled in your stomach like it did before. Your fridge barely had the minimum to keep you alive, but if you had anything else, it would make you sick.
Dinner often consisted of substitutes that resembled anything towards that sweet, dark food you enjoyed so much. Hibiscus tea and the reddest meat she could cook (on a coffee shop salary). It wasn't much, but you did what you had to do.
You somehow, through your control, managed to become good friends with a girl from the coffee shop.
Her name was Priscella and she was this cheery ball of light that cheered up anyone that came into the shop. You associated her with a rainbow bouncy ball that just made that perfect sound each time it bounced. You watched the way she was able to switch anyone's bad mood into a good one. You thought that, maybe, you could learn from her and be able to bring a smile to other people's face without even saying a word.
Pouring into a mug, you watched from the corner of your eye Priscella rushing towards you. You tried to ignore her but found her peering over you with the biggest smile.
"I see you, Pris. You're not fooling me," You responded back as you shook the steamed milk into the mug.
"I know you do. Just wanted to make sure you're still with us," Priscella responded back as you placed the mug down onto the 'Pick Up' section.
You turned around to look at her and held your heart, asking, "I'm always here. What?"
She only just snickered and placed a hand on your shoulder, "Relax, I'm only joking with you."
"Oh, I see," You nod back to her.
"So, what are you doing this weekend? Got a boyfriend you're seeing?" Pris asked you, which only made you raise an eyebrow at the question.
You knew to limit yourself to intimate relationships for your own reasons, but to Priscella, she only thought it was because you were insecure.
She leaned onto the counter behind her and groaned your name up to the ceiling, "You're literally so gorgeous! You gotta put yourself out there. Do you really just rot in your bed all weekend?"
Well, she wasn't rotting, she was just catching up with phrases and habits humans did. "Yessss...?"
Pris face palmed at your words. "How about this? We have a girl's night in, and we have a movie marathon together?"
You brought your hands up to surrender and only would let out a stifled laugh, "I never had anyone over, and I don't think you would want to come over. It's a mess."
"Please? I feel bad not hanging out with you as much as everyone else here. I don't even need to stay long," Pris clasped her hands together in a pleading moment.
It's one you saw on TV. The one that breaks even the toughest people into complying into giving in. You knew that the right answer would be to say yes. However, the last thing you want people to know about was the millions of CDs you had piled up about human behavior. Or the pill bottles that could make any serial killer jealous.
"Uh...fine, but we go over to your house," You pointed a warning finger at her with a sigh.
She was trying her best to keep calm in the, somewhat, busy coffee shop. Instead, she came up running to you and embraced you into a tight hug.
You could only just pat her back in comfort as she said, "You're not gonna regret this! Come over around six, okay? Don't be late!"
"Yeah, of course," You nodded back, trying your best to mimic a smile.
That's how you ended up walking back to your apartment with your head just thinking about how, in a few hours, you had some place to be. You wouldn't be able to stay over on the fact that you needed to take your pills for everyone's sake. You buzzed yourself into the apartment before quickly making your way up the long staircase.
As you climbed up more and more to reach your apartment, you thought about what movies you would watch, or what else were they planning to do for their hang out. If you would be forced to eat food, how could you keep in down without making it weird to excuse yourself to the bathroom.
You were starting to regret your decision on saying yes.
You made your way down the hall and reached into your bag to search for your keys. Your bag was too stuffed to be considered necessary. You note to yourself to clean your bag later. As you shoved your hand deep into your bag, your fingers grazed your keys, but failed to realize a stranger in front of you.
You were too late to realize when you collided into him at full speed. You immediately let out a gasp out in embarrassment and let go of your bag.
You look up to the stranger. "I'm sorry. I wasn't watching where I was going. That must have hurt."
The stranger turned to look at you. He had a scar on his right cheek and had these blue eyes that stared back with a teasing glint. He bore an amused smile down at you. He was wearing this black jacket and pants but did not hide how muscular he truly was. He was built.
Just that look, it didn't scream that he was scared or annoyed at you. He seemed just...curious on you.
"No worries. No bumps or bruises," He responded back to her, causing you to show your own amused smile.
You pointed at him. "I don't think I've seen you around."
He lowered his head, shaking it with that same smile, "You caught me. Just moved in."
"Ah, I see. Welcome," You answered back to him.
"Thanks," He responded back while holding his keys out and shaking it in his hands.
You snapped yourself from admiring the man and quickly extended you hand out.
You said your name, "It's a pleasure to meet you. What is your name?"
His hand slid over to yours, shaking it firmly, "Tony. It's nice meeting you too."
Slipping it out of his grip, you smiled brightly before pointing towards your door, "I have to go. Meeting with a friend. Hope you settle in nicely."
"Yeah, thank you," Tony answered back.
You slipped yourself away from him without a forced smile and quickly grabbed your keys from your bag. You slipped it into the keyhole and quickly unlocked your door.
You spare yourself one last glance, seeing him doing the same thing. You could only just nod your head at him before entering your apartment.
Looking inside your apartment, your mask felt like it was suddenly slipping from your face. Locking the door behind you, you rushed towards your room, throwing your bag onto your bed and sat down at your vanity. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you placed your hands on your cheeks massaging them as you were morphing to how they were just seconds ago.
All of that was so natural. Never did you feel like you were forcing yourself to act a certain way. Of course, your conversation starters were a little robotic, but it still flowed. That felt...nice.
Your eyes fell down to the multiple pill bottles scattered across the vanity. For once in your life, you can feel your own mental routine cracking.
Were you really debating on taking your medication right now? Yes.
Could her mind finally be building on itself without needing these? Maybe she just didn't have the right people in her life. Maybe it would just need to be explored a little deeper before doing this.
Your hand shot over to one of the pill bottles and quickly grabbed the recommended dose before swallowing it. You cupped your face and let out a soft sigh in your hands. You couldn't do this. Not right now. The routine is there for a reason.
Rinnnggg!
Your head shot over towards the noise.
Bzzzt! Ringggg!
The vibration and sound were coming from your bag. You made your way over towards your bag and reached inside to grab your phone. You looked at the caller ID to see that it was Pris calling.
"Hello?" You said as you pressed the accept button.
"Hey, you think popcorn is enough or you want something else?" She asked while you rubbed your forehead.
"Uh--how much are we planning to eat?" You questioned while slowly walking out your room.
"Enough for the best movie marathon of a lifetime! I have some M&M's we can throw into the popcorn. I also got some soda for us, since I know you don't drink," Pris answered back.
"How are popcorn and M&M's a good mix? That sounds..."
"You never had that combo?! Oh my god, I'm about to introduce you to heaven," She gasped from the phone.
You can hear the pure excitement in her voice. All you could do was just let out a snicker.
"Did you just laugh? Aw no! I wanted it to be in person! You keep that energy up, okay? I'm gonna make you do it again tonight!" Pris responded back.
"I'll...I'll be waiting, Pris," You answered back while you began to pace around your living room.
"Alright, I'll see you in an hour! See ya!" Pris responded back.
"See you, Pris," You said back before ending the call.
You stuffed your phone into your back pocket and stood in the silence of your apartment. You raised your thumb to your mouth, biting onto the nail, with a smile etching onto your lips. You just took in everything before slowly making your way back into your vanity to get yourself ready for your movie night.
Your mind filled to the man next door. Who looked at you instead of just ignoring you like everyone else. Something was starting to bubble again inside you, but you didn't want it to leave anytime soon.
In the other room, Dex had his ear pressed against the cabinets of his kitchen. Eavesdropping on your conversation with your friend. He couldn't hear the person on the other end, but all he needed to hear was you.
Just that same way you held yourself to a routine. Not other people would have noticed the way you spoke, but he knew that trick like the back of his hand. The way you held yourself, you looked like you were hiding apart of yourself.
And Dex wanted to tear it open and let you show off your real you. Just for him to explore and dig through.
Just to make sure you're safe, he'll decided to follow you to your friend's. He needed to know if you were worth it. Worth the trouble to know and dig into without Fisk or Daredevil in the way.
Will you be worth that heartbreak like Julie was to him?
It wasn't weird.
People get mugged here all the time. He's doing a public justice to make up for the bad he had done. Just until he can get close to Fisk. That was his justification for all this.
To now looking through the window of your friend's apartment. Just to make it even better for him to justify what he was doing, the apartment happened to be on the first floor and illuminated perfectly for him to look inside. With his hands in his pockets, he looked inside the apartment to watch you and your friend watching a movie.
He could see you intently watching the movie while your friend went on and on about each scene of the film. Somehow, you didn't seem to mind the chatter, just sitting there and enjoying it.
One habit he saw you doing was that you would only grab one popcorn to slip into your mouth. It would be every 3 minutes that you would routinely pick up a popcorn, and every 5 minutes, you would grab an M&M from the tray. Something about that, had something stirring within him.
His smile brightened at the sight of a built-in routine. A mind so similar to his own. A perfect half.
Perfect.
He continued to just watch you through the window until you stared at the time and realized it was late. When he saw you get up from the couch, he fixed his jacket to sit right on himself before walking away from the scene.
There was still so much to learn about you. Of course, from a distance for now.
Simon is found in the blood ocean and the reader is found somewhere else. And for some reason Simon takes one look the reader and is like "omg I need to protect them from whatever is going to hurt us"
The meet each other and Rocky's people are like ‘okay we can introduce them to Ryland ‘ and Simon takes one look at Ryland and is like
" look at this man's stupid lil glasses I don't wanna trust this guy” and grace us understanding of that but also it’s totally he’s luck to meet the only humans in outer space and they hate him ( they don’t everyone is just traumatized)
anything along the lines of dad daughter dynamics or fauxcest is simply weird as FUCK!! and you need lobotomising if you produce any kind of smut relative to the aforementioned.
Summary: After witnessing something you weren’t supposed to, there’s a price on your head. It would be easy for the excellent marksman to finish the job, but something about you makes him reconsider.
Or- I saw Wilson talking about how Dex needs a weirdo freak gf and was like ‘well, yes’. Reader is implied to be neurodivergent but its kept a bit vague.
Word Count: 15.4k
Warnings & Content: no use of y/n, fluff, smut, slow burn (sorta), swearing, attempted murder, actual murder, stalking, violence, blood and injury mention, mention of death, happy ending, slight angst, toxic attachment, 18+ mdni please
I do not authorize my work to be used for Al or reposted across platforms
For most of your life you felt invisible.
Your friends and coworkers seemed to advance easily in life, getting degrees that led to solid jobs and fulfilling relationships. You, despite your best efforts, did not have the same experience.
In high school, you first became aware of your…difference. The way people would easily talk to others and make friends, but with you they would only feign politeness and share wordless looks behind your back.
Even teachers thought you were weird. It wasn’t said explicitly, they had to be professional of course, but there was only so many times they could call you ‘an interesting yet quiet young lady’ without you catching on.
You had tried hard to change it, to ‘put yourself out there’. It never worked out well. Dates would go fine at first until there was something you said or did to unnerve the other person. Even situations you were sure had gone great resulted in you being ghosted.
You wish that they at least yelled at you or complained, then you could know for sure what they didn’t like.
Once you were in your twenties, you made peace with the fact that it wouldn’t happen for you. The relationship thing wasn’t in your cards, you just weren’t built for it. It created a sad acceptance within you, but one that was needed to not go into a mental spiral.
“-ey, were you listening?” The words drifted to the forefront of your mind, dragging you away from your trail of thoughts.
You paused in folding the shirts on display before you, turning to your coworker that was looking at you expectantly.
“Uh yeah, the closing right?” You struggled to remember what Jess had walked over to you for, but you were sure it was because she needed something. Nobody really spoke to you when they didn’t need something.
“Yeah, you can do it right? I can’t do it and Marcus needs someone to cover.” Her green eyes stared at you pleadingly.
It was a request, but it didn’t feel like one. Especially since you were the only ones still working in the clothing store this late.
“Ah, I don’t-" You thought about what was waiting for you back at your apartment. A relaxing shower, the usual quick dinner, and a puzzle of choice. Not the most exhilarating routine, but you enjoyed it. You really didn’t want to close alone.
Just do it, say no. It’s not fair for you to do everything yourself and it’s not like she’ll appreciate it.
You almost did. The refusal was on the tip of your tongue when you had a flash in your head, the disappointment on her face, the awkwardness of the next shift. How she would talk about you to your other coworkers.
“Okay, I can cover.” You blurted, adverting your eyes to continue folding.
She gave you a quick grin, already turning towards the break rooms before replying, “Great! You’re a lifesaver. I’ll definitely pay you back.”
She wouldn’t, just like she didn’t for the four other times you covered her shift.
“You’re welcome.” It’s muttered with a sigh into empty air, Jess was long gone. You thought about all the unfinished work you had to do alone, already regretting your decision.
You went into autopilot for the next few hours, slipping into the mindless task of organizing displays and adjusting price tags. The small upside was that the clothes in your store kind of sucked, so you didn’t have any customers to tend to.
“You set?”
The words made you jump. You looked up in surprise to find Marcus, who had meandered out of his office without your notice. Being a middle aged man on the heftier side, you didn’t know how he could move so quietly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“The drawer, are you ready for me to take it? I’m gonna close a little early, don’t think it’ll be picking up anytime soon.” He motioned a thick hand towards the empty room to accentuate his point.
You nodded jerkily, shuffling out the way as he unlocked the cash drawer. Another beat and a ring of keys were being tossed your way.
“We’ll, I’m gonna count this out then I’m off, you know what to do.”
Marcus was already shuffling down the hallway before you could form a response.
He wasn’t wrong, you did know what to do. Once he was gone you got back into the automatic motions of clean, lock, organize, until the shop is fully shut down.
There was no stress, no talking or loud music, it was almost fun in a way. Fun if you forgot how you were forced into working at least.
You clicked the last light off with a sigh, shrugging your purse up your shoulder where it threatened to fall off. Going out the back door sent a wave of trepidation within you, but unfortunately it was required. The alarm was already set on the front doors and you didn’t have the keys to those.
You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. New York had only gotten more dangerous in recent years, with the corruption in politics and anti-vigilante outrage.
Once you were outside, you had to be careful to avoid any trouble. No one could be trusted, not even the police who were put there to protect citizens like yourself. You imagine if you got mugged on your way to the train, the officers on the corner wouldn’t even flinch.
Definitely not an anxiety inducing thought. Not at all.
You swung open the door, locking it quickly behind you. Ignoring the trembling of your hands, you started to make way to the front of the building.
The alley stunk of pee and other things you really didn’t want to identify. The only light around was motion sensor activated and perched on the doorway. Said light was already fading the further you stepped away, the alley delving into darkness.
You quickened your steps.
There was a slight relief in making it back onto the main street. At least there you had streetlights and the buzz of the city around you.
The sidewalk was mainly empty, and you could count on one hand the amount of cars that passed by. Most people out at this time were like you, getting off work, or getting to an early shift with a bleary look in their eyes.
You kept your head tucked down, avoiding eye contact with anyone around you. All you had to do was make it to the train, from there it was a straight shot to your apartment. Easy, simple. You could do this.
You reached the subway entrance, practically flying down the steps. The trains were relatively reliable in this part of town, so you shouldn’t have to wait too lon-
Your thought process was interrupted by a series of grunts, followed by a shout. Ducking behind a pillar, your eyes grew into saucers as you scanned for the cause of the noise.
It wasn’t a hard search, in the middle of the station was a group of men standing over something-no, someone. There was a man there, curled into himself on the cracked tile of the subway. You could barely make out his face past the blood streaming from his nose.
“Please! I don’t have it, I- just give me one more week I’m begging!” His words could barely be understood past a thick Brooklyn accent and the gurgle of blood in his throat.
One of the men snapped his fingers, and another kicked the whimpering man in the stomach, the impact making a sickening crunching noise.
You covered your mouth in an attempt to not scream, mind racing with options. Calling 911 was firmly out of the question, but running back up the stairs seemed promising. You just didn’t know if you’d be quick or quiet enough that they didn’t notice you.
Then there was the train. A quick glance at the schedule showed a less than three minute wait. If you timed it right…
“Please, I’ll do anything please-“
He was cut off by the man before who gave the attack order. “You should’ve thought about that before trying to steal from Moretti, fuckin’ rat. You should be grateful it’s just you and not your fucking family too, that’s how nice boss is.”
It was clear the man speaking was in charge, at least of the small group there. He was faced away from you, but a wayward glance from any of the men could put you in danger.
You stifled a gasp, sucking a sharp intake of air. In focusing on the group, you had forgotten to breathe.
Your heartbeat was a staccato in your ears, the blood flow dimming the sound around you.
They were going to kill that man, and there was nothing to do but watch. They were going to kill him, then they were going to kill you. Oh god, they were going to kill you if they found you.
You felt the telltale beginning of a panic attack start up, your heart rate escalating even further. This was not the time to freeze up. You pinched the skin of your hand between two fingers, the pain sobering you.
This was not the time to freeze.
The man was saying something else, the tone threatening. He was speaking in a much lower tone than before, and you couldn’t make out the words.
In a blink, he dove forward, hand jutting towards the man below him in quick successions.
It wasn’t until the growing pool of red that you realized he had stabbed him. There was a sick gurgling noise that reverberated around the subway that took the strength out of your legs.
Your purse slipped off your shoulder, clinking to the ground.
The sound alerted one of the guys closest to you. A frown quickly overtook his face as he looked you up and down.
“Hey! What’re you doing over there?”
This is how you’ll die, in a dirty subway all alone. Your family probably won’t even find out what happened.
Light flowed onto the platform from the incoming train. The screech of wheels flipped a switch in your brain.
No, you scrambled to your feet, not like this. You were not going to let it end like this.
You could hear a series from shouts and pounding footsteps behind you as you ran down the platform. Nearly tripping over a bench, you righted yourself as the train finally screeched to a stop.
The doors opened, but you kept running, an internal timer ticking in your head.
A little bit more… five, four, three-
You shoved your self to the side, slipping into a train car right as the doors closed. The others tried to follow, but they were too far behind.
You stared, wide eyed as they pounded on the window in anger. You could hear muffled threats behind the metal, but your eyes focused on the man from before.
He wasn’t yelling, or beating on the door. He only stared at your chest with a scowl. More specifically, the logo on your work shirt and your printed name tag beneath it.
Shit.
Dex was unbelievably, inconceivably, bored.
This meeting was already taking longer than he usually tolerated, and if he didn’t have good work with them before he would’ve left.
But no, this gang boss in particular was quite an egotistical bastard, and liked to pay a very nice penny on all his hits. It probably made him feel important to wave an excessive amount of money around and have people disappear.
Quite frankly, Dex couldn’t give a shit about what he felt. Money or not, his patience was running thin. Another five minutes waiting in this damp warehouse and he might just leave, or start throwing things.
He hadn’t decided which.
“Taking his sweet time huh?” He wasn’t really speaking to anyone in particular, just musing aloud, but one of the nearby goons replied anyway.
“Sorry, he had something else to wrap up. He should be here any second.”
Dex only clicked his teeth in response, busying his hands with a dagger absentmindedly. The other man’s eyes widened slightly at the display, tracking the dagger is it was thrown in the air.
Behind his mask, Dex’s lips flicked into a smirk. He wondered what the man would do if he started using the wall behind his head as a dart board, that would be interesting.
The seconds ticked by, and he was about to start some impromptu target practice when the man of the hour walked in.
“Bullseye, my friend! So kind of you to join us.”
Moretti was a small man, much smaller than one would expect the boss of a crime empire to be. There was nothing overtly menacing about him other than the beady gleam of his eyes. Of course, no one vocalized their surprise at that, because they’d end up at the bottom of the Hudson.
He reminded Dex of a small pet with a snappy temper. Like a rabid chihuahua nipping at people’s heels.
“I would think with all that money you’d own a clock.” The man’s words had ignited a flare of irritation within him. He was always annoyed by fake niceties, especially after he had waited thirty-five minutes.
Moretti’s thick eyebrows scrunched in faux concern, “My apologies, I had something else to finish up, I would never mean to keep you waiting-“
Dex cut in before he could finish the bullshit speech, “Who, and where?”
He was here for a job, not to have a tea party. All he needed was the marks information and the payment, then he’d be on his way.
Despite being cut off, the smaller man didn’t show any sign of anger. He knew better than to start unnecessary fights. “A small problem, you shouldn’t have much issue. It is time sensitive however, if she talks it would cause a great deal of issues for me.”
A woman then. Unlikely she’ll put up a fight. Disappointing.
“She saw some things she shouldn’t have. Here,” he stepped forward, a folded paper in his outstretched hand. “they got the job and her name, you should be able to take it from there yes?”
He snatched the paper, scanning over the information quickly before turning on his heel. “Fifteen thousand, same as before.” His voice carried behind him as he walked to the exit of the warehouse, hands in constant movement.
Moretti clapped his hands as if he were signing off on the deal. “Agreed, you’ll receive the wire tomorrow.”
“She’ll be dead by the end of the day.” Faster than anyone could track, he flicked the paper behind him, the point of a paper airplane imbedding into the forehead of the wide-eyed grunt from before.
The man let out a startled shout as blood trickled over his nose.
Dex ignored the commotion, grinning as he walked into the crisp night air.
Time to find a little tattle-tale.
Maybe you did have powers.
It wasn’t super strength, or advanced intelligence. It wasn’t even the power to turn invisible.
No, it had to be the ability to get in the worst situations imaginable. Super bad luck. No one’s life could be this laughably bleak, it had to be a higher power.
After that night at the subway, you couldn’t even sleep, much less leave your house. The day after the incident was your off day, so it didn’t affect much. You did however have to call off two days after that, feigning sickness.
You don’t know if your boss bought it, but considering you have never really taken a sick day before, you felt it was due.
But you couldn’t stay inside forever, you had to go back to work eventually. Getting fired would definitely do you no favors.
There was something else.
In the last few days you’d had a feeling, like spiders crawling over your skin. It was the sinking feeling of being preyed upon. Watched.
You knew they were there. You didn’t know how you knew, but you did.
There was no evidence, no threatening letters or anything out of place. Anyone listening to you would think you were insane, but you knew it wasn’t just your hysteria. You could feel it.
The only thing you were confused about was their inaction. Why hadn’t they killed you already? Not that you were complaining of course, but it just didn’t make sense.
Were they waiting for you to try to call the police? Were they not fully sure it was you at the station?
It was the cycle you went through. For days just driving yourself mad with questions and counting down the time. You hadn’t come up with a plan yet, but time was running out.
You had to go out into the world eventually.
The time went quicker than you expected. You had called off your fourth day when Marcus firmly hinted that your job might be in danger if you didn’t come in for your next shift.
You agreed, one last day of hiding and then you would come in.
Your hands trembled as you clicked the combination to your locker in the break room. Taking a deep breath, you took one last furtive glance at your belongings before turning to clock in.
“Didn’t know you hated customers that bad Oranges.” A mocking voice chimed behind you.
You tried to ignore him altogether, but he picked up his pace to walk by your side. “Don’t worry, I won’t snitch.” Matthew shot a conspiratorial glance your way, winking.
It took all your resolve to not roll your eyes. As if today wasn’t already horrible, you had to work with your least favorite person.
Matthew always found a way to antagonize you somehow. It wouldn’t have been that bad, if it weren’t non-stop. He always singled you out about something, with a fake friendly tone as if you were both in on the joke.
It started with the first week you started working. You were eating your lunch quietly, and as you started to unpeel the included orange a stream of juice shot at your face.
You could only sit there in mortification as Matthew cackled in your face. He insisted on calling you Oranges after that.
“What are we so worried about?” He continued, like you weren’t ignoring him. “If you need to relax I think they have a stress ball in the back rooms. I know you have issues with that stuff.” He could barely get out the words without laughing.
More silence from you.
“Alright then. Don’t blame me if you freak out, see ya Oranges.”
You let out a relieved sigh at his retreating frame, grabbing the clothing rack near you and resigning yourself to eight hours of torture.
Your neck let out a series of pops as you stretched it in your doorway. The house keys in your hand were tossed in the dish by the door and your jacket was shrugged off your shoulders into a pile on the ground.
“You should take better care of your things.”
The words stopped you in your tracks. You’d been so focused on the aches in your body and getting to the shower, you failed to notice the large figure in your living room until they spoke.
There was a man shrouded in shadow sitting on your lounge chair. In his hands was one of your puzzle boxes, and he seemed to be reading over it like it was the most important thing in the room.
“Please don’t.” You could barely recognize the way your voice squeaked out, strained with fear.
He looked up for the first time, eyes glinting behind a blue ski mask. “Don’t what?” His voice was deep but scratchy as it travelled across the room, as if he’d worn it out by yelling.
You could also hear a hint of amusement in his tone. He was enjoying toying with you.
“Don’t mess up my puzzles, or my apartment please. If you can, make it quick.” Your reply was more stable than before, having overcome the initial shock of his appearance.
In truth, you’d come to the conclusion you’d probably die no matter what days ago. At first, you were scared out of your mind, but like every other bad hand in your life, you accepted it. You just didn’t want whoever found you to have to deal with a mess.
His head tilted as if considering your answer, one finger twirling the box like one would do a basketball. “Not gonna beg for your life? Plead for another chance?” There was still the mocking tone, but now it carried confusion as well. He genuinely couldn’t understand why you were so calm.
Taking careful steps over to the couch, you could make out more details of him in the light of your living room lamp. He looked like a textbook assassin, wearing all black, save for the blue mask covering his face. The dark fabric of his ensemble held more compartments you could count, and the rest was stretched over a sturdy frame.
He was leaning back in your recliner chair leisurely, legs spread to take up even more space.
You let out a deep sigh as you flounced down on the couch across from him. “No, not really. I’m sure you’ve noticed, but it’s not much to plead for.”
He stopped spinning the box and looked around, as if taking in the apartment for the first time. Your lack of personal photos, the books and puzzles lining the walls. Every item spoke of a very monotonous lifestyle. “This is pretty depressing, yes.”
Of course, what were you expecting? Hopefully he doesn’t make it too difficult for anyone to clean your blood out the place.
You nodded in acceptance and closed your eyes, waiting for the inevitable. After about a minute of waiting, you opened them to find him staring at you.
The piercing gaze kept you still until he spoke again, “What’re you doing?”
‘Waiting for you to kill me’ just sounded silly, so you said nothing, adverting your gaze.
After a few more moments of quiet, you cleared your throat, “If you don’t mind, how long have you been in here?”
It was a morbid curiosity that drove the question. The idea of him waiting in your living room just to kill you, twiddling his thumbs was enough to make a sardonic chuckle rise in your throat.
You pushed down the urge. The man seemed fairly calm so far, but laughing at him definitely would do nothing in your favor.
He reached up a gloved hand, scratching at his jaw. “About a half hour.”
You blinked, “Oh, okay.”
Quite frankly, you were running out of things to say. How does one even strike up a conversation with their killer? You shouldn’t have even felt the need to make the man comfortable, but you did for some reason.
In a flash he was leaning over you, one hand on the back of the couch to speak directly in your face. “What’s your problem? Hm? You didn’t even do anything wrong and you won’t fight for your life? How is that fair?”
His other hand gripped your chin firmly, you could feel the warmth of the of his hand seeping through the fabric. With his face so close, you could see every detail of his brown eyes scrunched in anger.
You could also see more of the little items strapped around his waist and in the compartments of his pants. Knives. More knives than anyone (murderer or not) should need, in your opinion.
“I’m sorry?” Now you were a bit peeved. Who was he to lecture you about valuing your life when he came in here to kill you?
Unless… he wasn’t here to kill you, but do something much worse. A new flash of fear goes through you. You were prepared for a quick death, you were not prepared for torture, or the other ways a man could hurt a woman.
He must’ve seen the change in your face, because the hand on your chin swiftly dropped to his side.
He moved slightly out of your space, mumbling to himself. You could barely catch the words ‘balance’ and ‘worth it’ in the rambling.
“Okay,” he dipped away, back to the chair. “okay.”
You blinked at him again, “Okay?”
“Yes.” His tone, despite being amused again, invited no further questioning. He had reached a decision within himself, you just had no idea what that decision was.
With that, he settled back into your chair with all the ease in the world.
“You should go to sleep now. Been a long day.” Like before, his tone was closed off. What might’ve been misinterpreted as a request was definitely a demand.
You slowly rose to your feet, half convinced it was a trick and he’d shoot you at any moment, but nothing stopped you from gathering your bag and going into the bedroom.
Even as you shut and locked the door, there was no action, just a glinting gaze following you in the darkness.
You didn’t remember falling asleep. The last thing you recall was the unnerving conversation with the intruder before jerking awake the next morning.
A quick check showed that none of your clothes had been moved and there were no injuries on you. Despite your hair looking like a birds nest, you looked exactly did after work the day prior.
You were alive. Another day knowing someone was out to get you, and another day of being able to do nothing about it.
You groaned, trying to settle your hair with one hand as you rolled out the bed. Washing up in the bathroom was quick business. After feeling clean again in new clothes you moved to unlock the bedroom door.
Wait. He wouldn’t still be here, would he?
You highly doubt the intruder would stay for coffee in he morning, but the whole thing had been so strange you couldn’t rule anything out.
Slowly, you pressed an ear to the door, straining to hear anything on the other side.
Nothing.
You un-clicked the lock, still moving at a snails pace. Once there was a half inch sliver open, you took a peek into the living room. Empty, no homicidal men with a hundred knives in sight.
You let out a breath of relief, walking into the room. One last search throughout your place proved that there was truly no one there.
Even so, there was an unsettling feeling you couldn’t shake. You ignored it, moving to start up your coffee maker.
It wasn’t until you were halfway through your breakfast that you realized the issue. Your place was spotless, much cleaner than you’d usually keep it.
You didn't consider yourself a slob, but there was always little things here and there left behind. A few dishes in the sink, a bit of dust. The room was now so clean it looked clinical.
Every can or box of pasta in your cabinet was neatly organized and turned to the front. Swinging open the door to your fridge, you found that all your old food you’d been ignoring was thrown away. Each shelf was sparkling clean and just as orderly as the cabinets.
All your puzzle boxes were in straight, dust free columns next to books sorted by size.
What the hell is happening?
It’s just because you’ve been bored. Nothing else.
Dex had been rationalizing his actions since that first day. He had yet to come up with a solid reason for letting you live, and it sent a distressing feeling up his spine.
He did not do things for no reason.
That was a quick way to spiral, to sink into nothing. No, everything in his life had a reason and purpose. So what were you?
It started the day after the meeting with Moretti, he was poised just across from your window. There was a bolt-action rifle in his hands, and he was perfectly poised to take the shot as promised.
As he watched, you walked around your bedroom in circles. He could see your mouth moving at certain points, but no sign of you talking on the phone. It was clear you were in distress, but made no attempts to get help.
He already had access to your phone line. Throughout the night into the next day, you didn’t try calling the police, not even once.
It seems New York is catching on, those scrubs in uniforms can’t help you. If you want justice, you have to take it yourself.
He continued to watch you with a detached expression, not taking the time to consider why he hadn’t finished the job yet.
He watched as you left to take a shower, coming back a bit later in loose pajamas. He watched as you put a show on your tv, your distracted expression half aware.
You eventually found the television insufficient at calming you, and started digging through the haphazard boxes of puzzles on your shelves.
His fingers practically itched at seeing it, old habits compelling him to march in there and line everything up neatly.
He shook it off, eyes trailing to where you sat on the floor beginning the edges of a very large landscape puzzle.
You were losing yourself in it, the frown in your eyebrows lessening the more progress you made through the picture. Eventually, you had calmed enough that there was almost a smile tilting your mouth.
His eyes stayed there for a moment, wondering what a full smile from you would look like. He definitely hadn’t seen one today, and no search online showed any pictures of you exhibiting anything other than mild discomfort or apathy.
He could almost imagine it, the plush of your lips tilting up, then slowly growing. How your eyes would crinkle, glinting up at him.
At him?
At him?
The fuck was he doing?
He had a job to do, a job he was paid quite handsomely over, and he was sitting here on his ass playing make believe.
He whipped the rifle in position, capturing your face in the scope. He didn’t really need it, your shot was clear enough, especially with his abilities.
Even though it was simple, the clearest shot in the world, his fingers never pressed the trigger. He sat there, as the sky darkened into reds and melted into a dark navy, never taking a single shot.
He couldn’t even pretend that the sick worm inside of him wasn’t hungry for more. He didn’t try to act like he wasn’t coming back the next day.
He thought that would be enough. One more day of observation would be enough to satiate him. Just one more.
Dex felt like the sad sons of bitches at the liquor store on the corner. Just one more bit, I can quit any time I want to.
But he did need just one more bit, and he could quit any time he needed to. This was nothing like Jul-
He broke that train of thought with a snarl. Tonight. Tonight he would end this game and get it over with. She got off work at ten, and when she did he’d be waiting there. After that, it be simple, one shot to the head and she wouldn’t be his problem anymore.
Moretti didn’t exactly ask for proof of delivery, nobody was stupid enough to question Dex after he worked a job. If he said he did it, then he did it.
Except he didn’t do it. Moretti hadn’t asked, and he didn’t tell. But the man wasn’t an idiot, he’d find out eventually.
Even more reason to get rid of you as soon as possible.
He had the plan solidly in his mind. Wait until you walked in with your guard down, lodge a knife in your throat before you could blink.
This night, you took a bit longer than usual. Dex was dully aware that this didn’t bother him. He wasn’t upset by waiting, there was a tingling anticipation within him.
Eventually, you walked through the door, shutting it behind you with a click. You didn’t notice him at first, stretching out your neck and the muscles in your back.
You dropped your coat to the ground, stepping over it without a second glance. You were still shifting your head from side to side, trying to alleviate some tension.
He would be able to do it almost immediately. With his hands on your neck he could target the exact points of your muscle pain. His index finger flinched at the thought.
His eyes flickered to the flash of skin on the side of your neck, words coming out of his mouth before he could recall the plan he came in with.
He was barely even aware of what he said, just your response. He watched with rapt attention as your eyes widened, taking him in.
As your eyes scanned his frame, he could feel his hips shift forward slightly.
A myriad of expressions flickered through your face, fear, surprise, anger. He took them all in with delight. The buzz of anticipation from before rose to a crescendo, he couldn’t wait to see what you’d do.
Would you beg? Offer to pay him for your life?
Despite coming in your apartment with a clear directive, he wasn’t sure exactly what he’d do if you asked him to spare your life.
Not important, focus.
You didn’t do anything he expected. Instead of a blubbering mess, you were composed, if not a little annoyed.
If he didn’t already know it before, it was clear you valued your small possessions. You seemed to care about the puzzles more than your own life.
It made him angry.
Who were you to throw him off? Why were you doing this to him? This is not how this was supposed to go.
He got within a hairsbreadth of your face, trying to intimidate you. Break the facade. It didn’t work, you only seemed more annoyed by the attempt.
Until you weren’t. Something about his stance towering over you seemed to ignite a thought process. He wasn’t a mind reader, but he could tell the cause of your discomfort pretty easily.
He let you go quickly, as if he were burned. He would not hurt you, not like that.
Dex weighed his options. Killing you would make things a lot simpler, both with Moretti and the urges in his mind. This is what he knew best, the only real thing he’s good for. You would be no problem to take care of.
Only issue? The more he thought about putting a bullet in your head, the more he was sure that was the last thing he wanted to do.
This wasn’t even his typical area. The snitches he usually tracked down had blood on their hands, a dark past they were scrambling to escape.
You weren’t necessarily a good person, you didn’t volunteer at food drives or regularly give to charity, but nothing warranted your death. There was no scale for him to equal.
You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.
He’d reached his decision. Fuck Moretti, he’d deal with that weasel bitch later. For now, he’d have to get you shuffled off to bed.
There was something he was itching to do since he got there.
He didn’t show up that day.
Your off day was spent with anxious anticipation, like he would randomly jump out of your cabinets and scare you shitless.
Despite your worry (hope), Knives never showed. You took a page out of Matthew’s book and gave him a nickname, if only to avoid calling him ‘the man’ in your head.
The more you thought about it, the more perplexed you were.
A masked killer came into your home, had a fairly civil conversation with you, then did your chores?
No matter how much you thought about it, none of that made sense. You should have been dead days ago. If they decided not to kill you, they should at least know by now you weren’t going to snitch.
You didn’t even consider calling the police.
You groaned, head tilting back against your apartment elevator. Your day at work had been relatively uneventful.
Nobody really spoke to you much, sans Matthew who always had something to say. This time about your dark circles and whether or not you had a mental breakdown. And he wondered why his girlfriend left him.
You cracked open bleary eyes to look at yourself in the metal walls and winced. Maybe they had a point, you wouldn’t talk to yourself either looking like this.
There was prominent darkness under your eyes, framing the haunted look within them. Your face was pinched in a permanent frown, and you lifted up a hand to relax the expression.
The elevator doors opened with a ding, and you started the trek over to your door. You raised a hand to unlock it, pausing half way.
Putting your keys back in your pocket, you tried the handle of your door. It opened easily.
Your heartbeat quickened but you didn’t halt your movement, continuing inside the apartment. Everything was just like you left it earlier, dim lights and the tv on as background noise.
You took slow steps to the center of the room, spinning in a circle. He wasn’t there.
The living room and kitchen were both empty, and you didn’t know whether to be happy about that or not.
Why would he just leave your door unlocked when he wasn’t even here? There were robbers in the area, what if someone happened to try your door?
You ran a hand through your hair, barking a laugh. You had forgotten for a moment who he was. He was not a friend or visitor that would care whether or not you were robbed.
But why would he clean your house then?
You weren’t sure if you’d ever find the answer to that last question.
Still on edge, you tip-toed towards your couch, where you unceremoniously dumped your bag and coat. Stretching out your shoulders, you walked towards the bedroom.
You were expecting a boiling shower with warm pajamas to slip into before crashing. You were not expecting a six-foot something man to be leaning over your bedside drawer, rifling through its contents.
“Hey!” You said, equally in surprise and indignation. “That’s private. Put that down.”
Brown eyes flicked up to you from where he’d been reading your notebook. It wasn’t a diary per se, but it held some personal thoughts you’d rather stayed private.
Knives leisurely sat the book on your bed, putting up his hands in faux surrender. “Were you looking for me?”
His voice was just as gravelly as the first night, snaking over your ears. It was much lighter however, he sounded almost… happy?
You cleared your throat, fighting back a shiver. “What?” Did he see you searching your apartment like a goof? Probably.
You could see his lips curl into a smirk beneath the mask, capturing your attention for a moment.
You wondered what he would look like without it.
You could see more of him in the daylight, like the light eyelashes framing his eyes and the similar tone of his eyebrows. The mask was filled out with a sharp frame, and you could see the cut of prominent cheekbones under the fabric.
“Nothing. What’s that about?” He nodded towards your notebook he had been reading.
He was still holding his hands up, for what you had no idea. Maybe he thought it was funny to act like you were the one in power here.
“It’s a notebook, you write in them.” You didn’t care to go over your innermost thoughts with a stranger, briskly avoiding the subject.
His eyes flashed in an emotion you couldn’t place, hands finally coming down to rest at his sides. “How was work?” He asked placidly.
What?
The hell?
Your eyes burned with tears that had yet to fall, sucking in a sharp breath to compose yourself. “Haven’t you had enough? I have been waiting for the day you finally-“ you waved your hands around animatedly. “And then you just-“
He only stared on with the same solid expression.
You took another breath, “Are you going to kill me or not?”
“No.”
You swore you could feel your heartbeat hiccup, “No?”
Before you could pull it back, the words were out of your mouth. “Why not?”
You regretted the question immediately, watching as his eyes darkened.
There was a stretch of silence, and you were wondering how to do damage control when he spoke again, “Because I don’t want to. You…”
His gaze rakes up and down your frame. “You aren’t my North Star, no, something else. I want to find out what you are.”
Your words were little more than a whisper. “What I am?”
He sauntered towards you, slow as if walking towards a spooked animal. Or like he was hunting one. He only stopped once he was directly in front of you, toe to toe.
“Yes, I’m going to watch you and learn you. Why I feel this urge to-“ he cuts off abruptly, eyes widened in surprise.
“I’m not going to hurt you.”
It seems like he wasn’t even prepared for what the answer was.
You stared at him, heartbeat still thundering in your ears. It was silly to believe a masked intruder from his words, but you did.
Nothing about that seemed like a lie. Despite what he’d initially found you for, he didn’t look like he wanted you dead. So, you believed him.
Your only worry was what he would do with you.
“O-Okay.” Was all you said before grabbing your clothes out the dresser and locking yourself in the bathroom.
You could only hope you turned fast enough that he didn’t see the redness in your face.
He was gone from the bedroom when you got out the shower. Everything was put back in its place, there was no sign of him. It made you wonder how many times he looked through your things without you knowing.
It should’ve made you unnerved… it didn’t.
He said he wanted to learn you. That you weren’t a north star. What did that mean? Why were you kind of excited about finding out?
You sniffed the air, there was a smell drifting from your kitchen filled with spices and butter. Like it were activated, your stomach suddenly released a large growl.
It seemed no matter how shocked you could get, there were still more surprises, Knives was at the stove, stirring something in a pot. You could see your oven was on as well, the light showing loaves of garlic bread on a sheet inside.
“You should go start a puzzle, it’ll be another five minutes.” He spoke without turning around, still continuing to stir the pot on the stove.
There’s a breaking point in a persons life where they stop asking questions. You were at that point.
So you pushed aside the wonder of why he was cooking, or where he even got the ingredients from, and sat down in your lounge chair.
You froze. It smelled like him. Gunpowder and metal, with a tinge of spearmint, the chairs leather still held a hint of him. You wondered how many times you could breathe it in without him noticing.
He was still focused on the food…
No. Stop. Get yourself together. You can’t just turn into a weirdo at the first attractive man you meet. Who’s to say he’s even attractive? He could be hideous under that mask.
You glanced over at him, eyeing the broadness of his shoulders and the muscle shifting under cloth.
You didn’t notice before, but he had taken off his gloves. His hands were big but deft, he probably would’ve made a good piano player in another life.
The evidence of this life was there as well. White scars marred his hands and trailed up his forearm to disappear under his shirt sleeve. You had no doubt they continued to the rest of his body too.
You tried to remind yourself of what those hands could do, why they were dangerous. Unfortunately your brain didn’t think it was that important at the moment, because the only thing you could remember is how they felt on your face.
You shook off the thoughts, blindly grabbing the closest puzzle box to you, it was a city landscape.
The pieces tumbled onto your living room table, sound echoing throughout the apartment. The only other sound past your moving pieces was the crackle of fire in the kitchen.
You needed some background noise.
You clicked on the tv, the low droning of the weather report filling the empty space. The screen had half your attention, but that was enough for your ears to perk when you heard the next segment of the news.
“And here we have the aftermath of another brawl from the vigilante known as Daredevil, he was in this very warehouse last night when the reports of gunfire started-“
The newscaster was one you’d seen before, usually for the more serious cases around the city. Her mouth was set in a hard line as she continued her warning.
“-advising all citizens to report any vigilante activity to the NYPD or AVTF whenever you become aware. If you do encounter Daredevil, do not engage-“
The tv went out in a wink, making you flinch. Like a bullet, a flying quarter had hit the power button dead center on your remote. Didn’t need many guesses to know where it came from.
The man in question was sauntering over with a steaming plate, glaring at the tv like it had personally offended him.
“You could’ve just asked me to turn it off.” You mutter, loud enough for him to hear you.
He didn’t answer, setting the plate in front of you with a clink. “Eat.”
You looked from him to the plate of food, then back again. It looked wonderful, a creamy heap of pasta with sautéed vegetables and garlic bread. It was all neatly arranged on your only kitchenware you hadn’t chipped.
You only wondered why the hell he had cooked it.
He seemed to misread your trepidation, leaning down to tug up a corner of his mask and shovel in a bit of the pasta. “Not poisoned. Not my style.” He said after a thick swallow.
The flash of lips, regardless how quick, distracted you. You stared on as a pink tongue flicked out to swipe at his mouth before he tugged the mask back down. It took you another few seconds to get it together.
“I know. You prefer to give people a million paper cuts.”
To your surprise, knives barked out a laugh, “That’s one way of putting it, sure.”
You turned to the food and started eating in an attempt to bypass the awkwardness. It was hard to suppress a groan when the first bit hit your mouth, the food was as good as it looked. If not better.
Do all hitmen take culinary classes or was it just his hobby?
You thought he would find something else to do, maybe vanish into thin air like he’d never been there at all, but the man chose to sit right across from you on the couch.
Dark eyes fixated on you as you ate in complete focus. He didn’t seem to want more conversation, just be a spectator. His only movement was circling a small knife around in his hand, but the movement didn’t seem threatening, more absentminded than anything else.
You didn’t realize how hungry you were until you were finishing the meal in record time, only clearing your throat to speak once you’d cleared the last bite, “It was great, thank you.”
He was grabbing the plate from you before you could even offer to clean up, making his way back to the kitchen and placing it inside your dishwasher with the other used pots and pans.
“Really, you don’t have to-“ you started, but he was already finished and walking back over to you.
“I know. I don’t have to do anything at all, advantages of self employment.” It was clear by his tone and the crinkle of his eyes that he was smirking. He took his time walking back to the couch, this time spreading his arms across the back in the appearance of complete comfortability.
What he said made you curious, “You don’t work for the man at the train?”
He tilted his head as if considering the answer. “I don’t work for anyone,” a new tinge of bitterness coated his tone, “but if you’re referring to the bozo who took a hit out on you, yes. I was the one given the assignment.”
“Ah, I figured.” The response came out more nonchalant than intended, but he truly didn’t tell you anything you hadn’t already suspected.
“You’re not bothered by that?”
You shrugged, “Nah, I trust you.” You meant for it to be fully sarcastic, and almost succeeded, but there was a bit of honesty that shone through. Against all better judgement and sound mind, you did trust him.
He stared at you, only providing a small scoff and muttering under his breath as response.
With the newfound silence, you decided to follow his earlier request and complete the puzzle that was started. You almost invited him to do it with you, but your mouth closed with a snap after looking over at him.
He seemed to be lost in thought about something, dark blonde eyebrows furrowed as he stared somewhere out your window.
Your eyes went back to the puzzle, the only sounds being the soft scrape of the pieces and faint breathing. You grimaced while reaching for some of the further pieces, the movement had aggravated the neck pain you usually had after a long shift.
Rolling your neck in a circle only slightly helped, there was still a crick in the muscle that most likely wouldn’t go away until after a lengthy soak in epsom salt.
Your distracted mind was only half aware of the other figure rising from the couch and making his way over to you.
“Sit back.”
You looked behind you in surprise, wondering how he’d gotten right behind your chair without you knowing. “Why?” You weren’t really concerned about the request, just curious what he intended.
“I can’t keep watching you do that without doing something. Sit back.” He tapped the headrest for emphasis.
Okay, bossy.
You rolled your eyes but did as he asked, sliding back to fully rest in the chair. It was a moment of nothing until you felt warmth against your shoulder blades.
You let out a full body flinch at the contact, but his hands didn’t falter, continuing a path from your shoulders into the sides of your neck. Strong thumbs dug into the muscles and nerves causing you pain, and you couldn’t keep a satisfied sigh from seeping out.
You practically melted into his hands as they traveled over every aching part of your back. Every time he dispelled a knot it knocked a quiet sound out of you.
It was firm but precise, every drag of his warm calloused hands left a tingling sensation in their wake. You couldn’t help but think about what else his hands could do…
The idea created a burning within you. The smell and feel of him so close was dangerous, and you were already wanting more of it. Needing more of it. You were absently aware of his breathing kicking up, almost delving into a pant in your ears.
He eventually slowed down, rubbing his fingers in circular motions on the top of your spine before retreating completely. He didn’t retreat too far, barely taking a step back as he stood behind your chair.
You didn’t look at him, focusing on calming your breathing and not appearing like the mess you were on the inside. You didn’t need a mirror to know your the flushed expression you wore.
You opened your mouth, then closed it, not trusting yourself to beg for his hands to touch you again.
He spoke before you could work up the nerve of a response, “I have to go.”
“Wait-” But it was too late, he was already closing the front door when you turned around.
Knives arrived more frequently after that night.
He didn’t stay as long, or touch you again, (much to your disappointment) but he would usually pop in without rhyme or reason with gifts and a bit of conversation.
You never asked him for anything, but he somehow always knew what you needed.
A new detergent when the old one just ran out, some more butter in the fridge, your favorite ice cream when you were craving it.
As far as you remembered, you never told him what your favorite flavor was, nor did you ever have one in the freezer since meeting him. He still knew.
Someone knowing so much about you should’ve probably unnerved you, but it only gave you a sense of serenity. You didn’t have to worry about explaining yourself to him, there was no pressure on your end. He just watched, and learned.
Except in one area. He seemed to be oblivious to your attraction to him, not flirting with you even once. There were his snarky remarks and knowing smirks sure, but that seemed to be less hitting on you and just more of who he was.
Unless, he does know you’re into him and just doesn’t feel the same so he’s ignoring it.
You brushed the thought off, sighing as you unlocked the door to your apartment. It was really no use wondering about it, even with all the time spent with Knives, you barely had a clue what was going on in his head.
Besides, after the day you’d had it was hard to think about anything else.
To say it was a bad shift would be an understatement. You’d overslept that morning, rushing through your morning routine but still arriving twenty-five minutes late to clock in.
It was a rare busy day in the store, and you could barely push past people to get to your register.
“About time.” Matthew shot you a dirty look between filing away the bills in his hand.
Your job was severely understaffed, and today was no different, which meant that in your absence Matthew had to handle the hordes of people on his own.
You gave him an apologetic nod, waving the next person in line over to you. Soon enough, the lines dwindled into nothing as the rush passed.
You wiped your sweaty hands on your pants leg, signing out of the POS to go work on other things. A stack of boxes caught your eye, and you moved closer to start unpacking the items inside.
“Go do the inventory. He wants it in the front on the orange display.” Snapped Matthew behind you. He was pointing at the very boxes you were already walking towards.
You didn’t bother correcting him in saying you were already going to do that, instead giving a curt nod.
“What, you can’t speak today? Didn’t take your meds?” He raised a brow, grinning at you.
Breathe, don’t let him get to you.
“I’m just going to do my job.”
His grin only widened at your answer. “Heh, okay. You do that.”
You ignored him, quickly pulling a dolly from the back transport the boxes to the front of the store.
You wiped a hand over your brow, starting to sweat with the effort. It would be a lot easier with two people, but like hell you were going to ask that asshole.
Matthew wasn’t really nice to anyone, except maybe the new hires he wanted to flirt with, but you still never understood why he seemed to hate you so much.
Because you’re always the odd man out, the one no one really likes, the one-
“Shut up.” You spat out the words, making sure you were quiet enough for no one else to hear. Matthew didn’t need more ammunition to call you crazy.
You directed your attention to the store display and away from your bleak thoughts. You couldn’t help what others thought of you, the only thing you could do at the moment was finish the stupid display and move onto your other work.
You vacantly slapped the folded clothes onto the shelves, mind drifting elsewhere.
I bet knives never had to work in retail.
You’d be very surprised if he ever had a real job before. Trying to imagine his scowling face behind a cash register made a chuckle bubble within you.
He’d probably stab someone on his first day.
Shit, he can stab Matthew for all I care.
You half scolded yourself at the thought, realizing how fucked up it sounded to wish that someone stab your coworker. You weren’t as upset by the thought as you could’ve been.
There was a sharp creaking noise, and before you could react, the metal shelf you had been stacking on crashed down on your arm.
“Shit-” You jumped back to avoid falling with it, but the damage had been done. The edge of the shelf dug a cut down your forearm that was already spurting blood over you and the merchandise.
“Oh no, shit, shit, shit-” You couldn’t think straight, only standing there in a panic as you gripped your bloody arm.
“What the fuck did you do now?” If you thought Matthew was mad at you before, he was pissed now. “I asked you to do one simple thing and you can’t even do that? Who’s gonna clean this shit up?”
He’d left a customer at the desk to see what the sound was, but he didn’t seem to care about their existence as he yelled at you.
“Fuckin disability hire, can’t even stock a shelf. I don’t know why you’re standing there, you should be-”
You didn’t wait for him to finish, bumping into him as you rushed towards the back room with tears in your eyes.
Don’t cry. Don’t you dare cry in front of him, he’s not worth it.
You ignored his calls for you to come back, slamming your work locker open and grabbing your things. You didn’t even bother clocking out, only stopping by the lunch corner to grab paper towels and wipe down your arm.
The harsh wind from outside only aggravated your eyes more, but you steeled yourself against the cold.
You got plenty weird looks on the train ride home, but nobody said anything to you. It was probably the mix of blood staining your hands and scowl that discouraged conversation.
A ten minute ride followed by a brisk walk brought you back to where you were, standing at your apartment door with an aching cut.
You shouldered the door open with your uninjured side, immediately dropping your things to the ground once you were inside.
The cut hurt like a bitch and was still freely bleeding, but you shouldn’t need stitches or anything dramatic. The med kit from under your sink in the bathroom should more than suffice.
You turned the corner towards the bathroom, but stopped short at the figure standing there.
The visitor was more expected than not these days, but you didn’t think he’d be here this early since he usually met you after your shift.
“What did I say about taking care of your things?” He half turned from the window where you assumed he’d watched you come in.
You’d usually muster up something equally as playful in response, but this time, you were not in the mood.
He seemed to sense the shift, whipping his head over to you. It didn’t take long for his eyes to rake over you, gaze landing on your right arm.
“Who did that?” His demeanor changed completely after seeing the injury, voice turning steely.
It only took a few strides for him to reach you, hand snapping out to grasp your forearm. His eyes were blazing with anger behind his mask and he looked two seconds away from disemboweling someone.
Even though you knew his anger wasn’t with you; it still took a moment to stutter out a response, “No one, I-i did it myself. Well, not did it, it wasn’t on purpose. An accident at work.”
Your clarification didn’t seem to calm him much.
He stepped to your side, scooping an arm under your legs to pull you to his chest, his other arm supporting your back. He walked towards your bathroom with purpose.
You let out a squawk of surprise at being airborne, “Hey, I can still walk. It’s just a cut, you don’t have to carry me.”
“Blood loss causes dizziness, and it looks like you’ve already lost too much.” Someone would’ve thought you were bleeding out by how aggravated he sounded.
You didn’t want to mention that the main reason you were dizzy was his close proximity, not the injury. You were closer to him than you ever were before, and you couldn’t stop yourself from taking in a deep whiff. Blood, metal, mint.
He knocked your bathroom door open with enough strength to make it rattle, marching over to your closed toilet where he set you down gently but firmly.
As always, he knew where you put everything, so you didn’t have to direct him as he pulled out your small med kit.
It was just the buzz of the fluorescent lights for noise as he rummaged through the kit, occasionally pulling out select items he’d need.
You watched as hazel eyes narrowed in concentration, stomach doing a flip at how focused he was on helping you. How caring.
There was a mix of disinfectant and many bandages on the counter (more than you’d probably need), and he looked over them quickly before washing his hands and snapping on latex gloves.
“It’s going to hurt, you can hold onto me if you need to.” Was the only warning you got before he was gripping your arm with one hand and wiping down the cut with the other.
The antibacterial liquid was cold and stinging, you let out a sharp hiss at the stab of pain. As the blood was cleaned away, you could see that the cut was a bit deeper than you thought.
“I-ah, you don’t think I’ll need stitches, right?” You were a bit scared to ask, his frown had only deepened once he started working on you.
“No. It’s not to that point, but you’ll need to keep it wrapped tightly for a while so the skin can join back together.”
And he was right, after cleaning the wound thoroughly, he stuck some hefty bandages over the opening and wrapped it all in a tight cover of gauze.
He tucked the end of the fabric inside to secure it, and tugged off his gloves to clear away the mess of dirty wipes and wrappers on the counter.
You didn’t bother thanking him, knowing by now that he wouldn’t accept it.
You looked down at his work, neat as usual. You startled as a pill bottle was being shaken in front of you, eyes focusing to read the label.
“It doesn’t really hurt that much.”
He shook it again, insisting, “It will later, take one.”
You knew there was no chance of changing his mind, and it didn’t seem like the worst idea, so you grabbed the container and swallowed down one of the pills.
Satisfied, Knives leaned back against the wall opposite you, muscular arms folded over his chest.
Despite his quietness, you could still sense the underlying anger rolling off him. Knowing the answer, you asked anyway, “Are you upset?”
“Explain what happened.”
You hesitated for a moment, then started the retelling of what happened that day. You kept your composure for the most part, voice only hitching when you repeated what your coworker had said about you.
Knives stood stock still through it all, watching with that calm dangerous air that he had.
By the time you were done, you felt the telltale signs of tears, but you pushed it down again. You didn’t want it to bother you, but it did. After a life of dealing with rejection, it still stung.
A warm hand lifted up your chin, thumb swiping away tears you weren’t aware had fallen. “You don’t deserve that, none of it. It won’t happen again.” There wasn’t an ounce of question in his tone, he was sure of it.
You let out a weak laugh, sniffling. “I could only hope, he’ll probably be worse after today though. Especially since I left early.”
He hummed, “I’ve always disliked the name Mathew, all of them are annoying.” He sounded like he usually did again, slightly amused as if he were in on a joke that you weren’t.
You laughed again, stronger this time. “I can’t say I’ve had experience with that many Matthew’s to agree with you.”
He ran his thumb over your cheek one more time before backing away. “Trust me, they are. You should take tomorrow off.”
There he goes again, giving demands veiled as suggestions.
“I would love to, but unfortunately some of us common folk need jobs, and if I call out again I’ll probably be u employed. I’m sure you’ve never worked one, so it’s hard to understand.” Your tone was playfully mocking, but it was the truth. There was no way your manager was going to be okay with that, plus, you needed to make up for the money lost by leaving early.
“I have.” He adverted his eyes to your left, “worked a job that is.”
You perked up, it was rare that the man offered information past what model his knives were, and you didn’t want to lose the opportunity to learn more about him.
“Oh really? As what?” You kept your tone light, to not seem like you were prying.
“An officer.”
“Like, a police officer?”
“No. Not exactly.”
You blinked in confusion.
He shifted in his stance, like the conversation was suddenly making him uncomfortable. “Agent, would be the better term. I-” He paused, finding the right words. “I locked away the monsters of the world, and protected the people I needed to.”
You cocked a brow, “So, you were a spy?”
He huffed, giving you a look. “No. How the hell did you get spy out of that?”
“You are amazingly vague at every answer, I figured it would fit.” You shrugged, wincing when the movement aggravated the skin of your arm.
He zoned in on the expression, eyes narrowing again. “You should go to bed, especially if you’re insisting on going to work tomorrow.”
It was clear that was all the answers you’d get out of him, this night at least. You let out a huff of breath, using the counter to pull yourself into a standing position.
There was a wave of wooziness, and you fought to keep balance. Clearly the pill was doing its job.
An arm snaked around to your back, steadying you as you walked to your bedroom. As if there were an invisible barrier, he stopped at the threshold. In the dim lighting, you could only see the dark outline of him and the glint of metal strapped to his person.
To anyone else it would be menacing, terrifying even, to have the attention of the killer focused on them. You only craved more of it.
“There’s soup in your fridge if you want it. Change the wrapping in the morning, it shouldn’t cause any issues before then.”
You could only blame the strength of the pain pill for your lack of restraint, “Do you have to leave right now?”
A pause. “I do. I have something else to take care of.”
You tried not to take it as a dismissal, but it hurt nonetheless.
Something else. Not you.
“Right, okay.” The disappointment was obvious in your voice.
Steady steps made their way over to your bedside, “I don’t want to, but are some things I need to do. I’ll see you soon.”
You could barely make out the shape of him standing over you, drowsiness and the pain medicine muddling things together. “Aye, aye captian.”
A deep chuckle, and then a quiet response, “Dex.”
Dex. It suits him. You couldn’t tell if you’d said the name aloud or in your head, already giving way to unconsciousness.
The last thing you felt was a hand lightly trailing down your face before blackness.
Other than feeling like a sledgehammer hit you, your next day at work was uncharacteristically peaceful.
Even though Matthew was scheduled alongside you for the week, he never showed up for work that day.
Or the next day. Or the next one after that.
He didn’t call out, and based on the grumble from your manager, hadn’t quit either.
You never said anything, never even thought the words in your head, but you knew what happened.
If you were really honest with yourself, you knew what was going to happen when you heard the assurance in his voice that you wouldn’t have any more problems.
Kni-No-Dex, was a killer, regardless of how he treated you. You knew how he solved problems.
You were a little nervous at how little it bothered you. You had the same tingling feeling you got when he replaced one of the lightbulbs in your apartment without asking.
Cared for.
But there was another problem, Dex was nowhere to be seen either. He’d never shown up again after that night, and you were starting to get concerned.
Even though he didn’t show up every single day, missing several days in a row was out of character for him. You could only hope that he wasn’t dead or arrested somewhere.
It seemed silly to worry about him, especially with how competent he seemed. You didn’t steadily watch the news, but everyone in the city had heard of a man in a blue mask who could lodge a knife in your head faster than you could blink.
Bullseye.
He’d never told you it was him, but you weren’t an idiot, all the traits aligned. Not to mention his name, Dex, most likely short for Benjamin Pointdexter. The man who was sent to prison a while back for murder.
You didn’t care about any of that. Your only concern was that he was M.I.A. and it was out of character.
Maybe he just got bored, found someone else.
You ignored the slithering thought, knowing it’s not true.
Despite not knowing all of his life, you knew him, he was obsessive to a fault. His cleanliness, the order of his knives, and seeing you all fell into a cycling routine that he didn’t stray from.
He wouldn’t just dissapear.
Your leg shook nervously as you focused on the television. The news was covering a recent stock drop or something related. You were half listening for anything that could be related to him.
You were sure that an extremely wanted convict being detained would make front page news, so if anything happened, they’d talk about it here.
So far, it was nothing of substance, just the economy and a new court case with the slime-ball mayor.
You were shaking your leg so vigorously that you almost didn’t hear it at first. Your hand shot out, muting the tv before straining your ears.
There it was, a soft shuffling sound coming from your bedroom. You jumped up, heart fluttering in your chest as you rushed over there.
You only stopped short of your bedroom door to grab a nearby book, just in case it wasn’t Dex in your room and you needed a weapon.
Turns out, it was unnecessary, you saw him immediately upon entering, slumped against your open window.
“Dex-” His name was expelled in a relieved breath, but you only grew concerned again the more you looked at him.
Dark patches covered his mask and the fabric of his suit. His gloves were on, but you could see the clear glisten of blood coating them.
“Hey. Thought you’d be asleep. I can go soon, just gotta take a breather.”
You scoffed indignantly, quickly going over to him, “A breather? Jesus, what happened?”
“Not Jesus, just me.”
You glared at him. It was not the time for jokes, definitely not as he was dripping blood on your floor.
“You can explain later, here.” You supported him under his shoulder as you guided him to your bed.
“Gonna get it dirty.” He pushed back slightly as you tried to sit him down, but fell back anyway when you applied more force.
“It’s okay, I have other sheets. I’m worried about you right now.”
You could tell he was smirking based off the look in his eyes, further proven by the next statement. “Worried about me?”
You didn’t even bother hiding the emotion in your response, “Yes, I do. A lot.”
That made him quiet, glinting eyes searching your face for any hint of a joke or lie. He seemed to find none, but had no response for you. It was hard to tell his full expression behind the mask, and you found yourself sick of it.
Besides, it’s not like you didn’t know who he was.
Your fingers curled under the edge, lifting it gently, but a firm grip on your wrist stopped you.
“Ben, it’s okay.”
His eyes widened in slight surprise at your use of his first name, but it did the trick. The hand holding you fell away and you pulled the fabric fully off his face.
You sucked in a breath at the injuries before you. A trickle of blood coated his blond grey-flecked hair where it stuck to his forehead, and there was a bruise blooming on his cheekbone.
The lips you had admired not that long ago were sporting a cut, but even with all that, Dex didn’t appear to be in a lot of pain. His face showed an openness and tiredness that you’d never seen on him before.
Without thinking, you raised a hand to brush lightly over his mouth, relishing in the slight flutter of his eyelids as you did so.
You couldn’t stop, addicted to the reaction. Your hand trailed from his lips to the side of his face, and over his sharp jawbone. You mapped out everything that was hidden to you before, ignoring the smear of blood on your hand.
His piercing gaze stayed fixed on you as he pressed his head into your palm. His only other movement was twitching hands where they rested over his thighs. He stayed still, not trying to stop you or rush you, just accepting.
It wasn’t until your fingertips brushed over his throat that he shivered beneath you. The movement was nearly imperceptible, but he had definitely tilted his head back slightly to give you more access.
It made something swirl in your abdomen. How much he trusted you, how willing he was beneath your hands. How good he looked, injuries and all.
You told him as such, and his eyebrows knit together like he had been hit.
“Don’t say that, you don’t know what you’re starting.” His voice was weak, barely a whisper in the quiet of the room.
“I do.”
“No you don’t. You said you care about me, I’m not easy to care for.” The words weren’t said in self deprecation or a stab at sympathy, just factual. He truly believed that care and tenderness wasn’t made for him.
It sent a pang through your heart, for so many years you held a similar sentiment about yourself. You were difficult to understand-to accept, but he did, and you could do the same for him.
“I know.” You held his face in both palms, a hairsbreadth away from him, “Neither am I.”
Your lips meeting his seemed to ignite action within him, hands that were previously dormant snapping up to grab at your hips firmly.
You were pulled down to straddle his lap, already feeling a poking hardness in the fabric. It was your turn to shiver, giving an experimental grind forward as you continued to kiss him breathlessly.
That caused a deep groan to flood from his throat into your mouth. He quickly found purchase over your ass to guide you into repeating the movement.
While you grinded over the hard length in his pants, his tongue explored the expanse of your mouth, flicking over the ridges and smoothness inside. You could taste the uniqueness of him, but also the metallic tang of blood from his lip.
You only pulled away to breathe once the burning in your chest couldn’t be ignored. Chest heaving, you pulled back and watched as he did the same.
He couldn’t seem to see enough of you, eyes raking from your chest down your frame and back again. His lips were swollen and spit slicked, and you were sure you had a similar look of dishevelment.
His hands trailed up your spine and back down to where you sat on top of him. You could hear the swallow he took before speaking, “If I’m going to have you, it’s going to be all of you. If you go through with this, you’re not leaving me, you get that?” His voice was steady despite being out of breath, tone deadly serious.
You could read between the lines for the warning. There was no going back for Dex if you continued, no breakups, no do-overs.
Lucky for him you didn’t want any.
In lieu of response, you surged forward, attacking his mouth with your own as you drug yourself firmly over his crotch.
You gasped out a moan as the movement caught between your legs, right where you needed it most. But it wasn’t enough. You needed to be closer.
You shrugged off your top, throwing it to an unseen side of the room. Another shiver racked your body as lips made use of the newly exposed skin, nipping and sucking over your chest and sternum.
His fingers grabbed onto the latch of your bra, but you stopped him short. “No, get out of that suit first.”
He backed away from you with a half lidded gaze, trademark smirk flicking on his lips. “Yes ma’am.”
He seemed to enjoy watching you squirm as he unlatched all the zippers and buttons of his suit, moving much slower than necessary. The utility belt came off first, knives clinking as he threw them on your nightstand. The top part of his suit was soon to follow, dark fabric peeling away to reveal fair skin.
He wasn’t as injured as you’d assumed, just a dark blooming bruise on his ribs and left shoulder. Every other mark was old and weathered, the raised scars scattered across his torso spoke of years of pain.
You took him in unabashedly, eyes raking over pronounced pectorals and the defined abs that covered his stomach. Light hair dusted his chest and led in a trail past the waistband of his pants.
His smirk only widened as he watched you watching him. Patiently waiting, he sat there for your next move.
It was only fair that you lost the next bit of clothing, so you rose off him to shimmy out of your pants, leaving the underwear on.
His brow rose as he caught onto the little game you were playing. His pants came off quickly after, joining yours in a dark heap.
The only thing shielding the prominent bulge in his lap was dark grey briefs. They didn’t leave much to the imagination, clinging to the long rod of him and wrapping around solid thighs. You could see a dark patch in the fabric where he’d already started leaking, your core throbbing in response.
You settled on his lap again, smiling at the soft hiss he let out from the pressure. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, guiding him to your bra clasp as you trailed fingertips past the waistband of his briefs.
His fingers deftly unlatched the clasp, and the cover fell away right as you pulled his length free.
It slapped loudly against his lower stomach, smearing white across his skin and your hand.
His eyes weren’t focused on that though, only staring at your chest with intimidating focus. “God, the things I want’ta do to you.”
It was spoken under his breath so quietly, you were unsure if the words were meant for you to hear.
“So do them.”
He only laughed, leaning back on his elbows to watch you.
He knew what you wanted, he just wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. Your frustration only made him impossibly harder.
Despite his blasé act, you could see you were having an effect on him. Every rock of your hips made his cock twitch, a bead of white dribbling out the top. His neck and chest were covered in a flush, and every breath he took seemed labored. Shaky.
You decided to play his own game, fuck with him a little, “C’mon Dex, show me what you promised.”
You reached down, rubbing a thumb over the leaking slit between you. He let out a breathy moan, hips involuntarily bucking up into you.
You didn’t stop in your ministrations, leaning down to speak directly in his ear. “You said you wanted all of me, so take it. You have me.”
Your words caused another twitch in your hand. “You have me, I’m yours.”
The words were barely out your mouth when you were flipped onto your back, bouncing against the mattress. You let out a startled giggle at the movement, only sobering when you looked down.
The look Dex gave you made your heart stutter for a moment. The only way you could describe it was carnivorous. His eyes were dark and shadowed, and if you didn’t know him well enough to recognize the want in his expression, he looked almost pissed off.
It only made wetness pool in your core.
“You want this?” He left a trail of open mouthed kisses down your stomach.
It was a rhetorical question, but you nodded anyway.
“Where do you want me? Here?” He bit at your hipbone, soothing the flesh with a lick afterwards.
“Or here?” His breath ghosted across the damp patch of your panties, making you thrum in anticipation.
“Yes, right there.” Any more dilly dallying and you’d probably start begging. You had a feeling that’s exactly what he wanted.
“Hmm, interesting.” He ignored the area, trailing lips down your inner thighs. His hands gripped your knees, preventing you from closing yourself off to him.
He bit random spots all the way down your thigh, licking a stripe on the way up.
“Dex- c’mon.” You huffed. The feeling of his mouth on yours was amazing, but it wasn’t nearly enough and he knew it.
“Whose are you?” The words are spoken into your skin, in the crease of your hip.
“Yours.”
“And who do I belong to?” He grasped the waistband of your underwear between his teeth, dragging them down slowly.
“Me.”
You only saw the flash of a smile before his mouth was on you fully. You let out a shuddering moan as his lips latched onto your clit, sucking hard.
He juggled between your bundle of nerves and trailing his tongue down to your entrance, licking inside.
You could feel him groan against you as you grabbed a fistful of his hair, holding him steady.
Between your existing wetness and his mouth, you were soaking, juices dripping down to the bedsheets past his mouth.
His mouth traveled up again to focus on your nub while one of his hands snaked around to press two fingers against your entrance.
They slipped in easily, quickly building a rhythm trusting into you while his tongue lapped at you from the outside.
You couldn’t even make a sound as your peak quickly approached, your body just seized with the amount of pleasure rolling through you.
Your eyesight blanked out, and you took a few heaving breaths before you were able to find your voice again.
Even as your moans turned to over sensitive whimpers, he didn’t let up, only slowing down the movement of his hands and mouth. He seemed to be lost in the action, only focused on you and your enjoyment.
You had to yank his head back to get him to stop, and he did so with a bit of reluctance.
His hands trailed over you, running smoothing circles over your hips and legs.
Impatiently, you dug your heels into his back, nudging him upward towards you.
He followed happily, the same hungry expression on his face, except now there was a lack of tension. He seemed more relaxed, like he was the one who came and not you.
“I might not last too long. Don’t do this much, or at all really.” He analyzed your face after he’d said it, looking for any shift in your expression.
You were kind of shocked by the revelation, but weren’t put off by it at all. For a normal guy that looked like Dex, you’d assume they had a steady stream of people coming into their bed.
He wasn’t normal, and he definitely wasn’t the type to have one night stands. In fact, before tonight, you weren’t completely certain he was interested in sex at all.
You would’ve accepted him either way of course, but it was nice to know he shared the same want as you did.
“That’s fine, I just need you inside me.”
The words shocked a groan out of him, and he nuzzled his head into the juncture of your neck.
You could feel his hands wrap around your legs to reposition you accordingly.
He slid out of the last piece of fabric covering him and reached down to position his head at your entrance.
It slipped at first from the wetness, but after a few tries the tip caught onto you, slipping inside halfway.
The pressure punched the air out of you, mouth falling open in an ‘o’ shape. Even with his preparation it was a tight fit.
Dex let out a noise somewhere between a whine and a moan, dipping down to capture your mouth in his, siphoning heat into your mouth.
The taste of yourself on his tongue only heightened the experience, and you could barely catch your breath between that and his slow ruts forward.
Every movement pushed him further into you, and before you knew it he was sheathed inside you fully.
You both shuddered at the feeling, and you were sure you could feel every ridge and vein of him in your walls.
“Shit- you feel so good. I gotta pause for a sec.” He breathed against your mouth.
So you waited.
Until you didn’t.
His head tipped forward with a groan as you squeezed around him. One of his hands held your hip in a vice grip, sure to leave bruises later.
“Don’t do that.” His eyes flashed at you in warning.
You couldn’t even focus on a teasing response, you only wanted him to move.
Then he did, starting in shallow thrusts into you, building into longer drags where he pulled almost fully out before snapping into you again.
He grabbed your wrist, planting the palm firmly over his throat and guiding it to squeeze.
You followed the instruction even as his hand fell away, tightening around the corded muscles of his neck.
His eyes fluttered, hips stuttering before speeding up into a faster pace.
His breaths panted against your face as he pounded into you with quick succession. The angle shifted slightly, and he flashed a sharp grin at me hearing your higher pitch.
He pinpointed that spot, hitting it over and over again, only pausing to slip your ankles over his shoulders before continuing.
You couldn’t tell where you began and he ended, mind so blissed out. It was clear from your noises that you were reaching your peak again, and he slipped a hand down over your clit to accelerate it.
He didn’t rub, just pressed down his thumb firmly over you as you tightened around his shaft again.
The feeling of your fluttering walls made him follow right across the edge with you, letting out a shuddering moan as he pumped a few more times and released inside you.
All the strength seemed to sap from him once he came, body falling onto you heavily. You could still tell he was holding himself up a bit on his forearms in order to not crush you completely and you pulled him down solidly to increase the weight.
His rapid heart rate beat in unison with yours where you were pressed to his chest, the slick feeling of sweat and other fluids clinging to your bodies as he softened within you.
The time stretched on as you both sat there in breathless blissfulness, neither one eager to move positions.
His face hadn’t moved from where it sat nestled in your neck, warm breaths disturbing the strands of hair there. When he spoke, you felt it more than you heard it.
“You okay?” It was spoken with an air of unsureness that was unlike him. Based on what he’d said before, you had an idea of what his worries were.
“That was amazing.” And you weren’t lying, the entire experience had knocked a bit of your soul out your body and you were certain there’d be consequences of soreness the next day.
He made a humming noise, satisfied with the answer, and moved to lift off you.
A flare of panic lit up within you. Eventually, you’d have to go back to the real world, real responsibilities and concerns, but at the moment you didn’t want the stretch of peace to end. “Wait, not yet.”
He lowered himself back down immediately even though a frown creased his expression. “You need to get cleaned up, it might feel worse later.”
“Well,” you let out a soft chuckle, rubbing a hand along his scarred spine, “that’s for later me to worry about. Just a bit longer.”
He didn’t make much argument about it, settling his head back over your chest where he gave soft nips at your collarbone.
Despite relishing the peacefulness, there was something else nagging at your mind.
“Hey Dex?”
He hummed out a response, still mapping you out with his mouth.
“What happened?” You didn’t have to clarify, you knew he knew that you were referring to the event that caused him to show up in your room covered in blood.
A soft sigh, and he was leaning back to respond, “The one who put a hit on you, he found out that I hadn’t exactly,” he paused deliberating the words, “followed instructions. He sent a team to finish the job, and I made sure that didn’t happen.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.” There was a burning in his eyes that showed the extent of violence he was capable of.
The idea of him choosing to not kill you even though he’d been ordered to do so, and fighting off anyone else who tried was… rousing to say the least.
His eyes tightened in a wince of overstimulation as you involuntarily tightened around him.
“It’s gonna be a bit longer for that.” He sounded like he detested that fact just as much as you did.
You grinned, “I’ll be counting down the minutes,” you were going to continue with something teasing, but the look on his face stalled you.
The light from your open window casted a bluish tint over his face, contouring the edges of features softly. He fixed you with a searching gaze, like you were the only thing worth looking at.
“I meant what I said before,” You started, “it’s no going back for me either. I’m with you.”
He traveled up to your face silently and your eyes fluttered closed in preparation. Instead of kissing you on the lips, his mouth pressed firmly over your forehead. The touch trailed down to press two consecutive pecks over your eyelids and finally melt against your mouth.
“I’m with you.”
You knew that no matter what was coming in your lives that you weren’t afraid, fully willing to delve into the future with the person that knew you best.
Div by: @pixopix
AN: boss makes a dollar, I make a dime, I wrote this on company time. So if there’s any typos or inconsistencies… sorry. It’s minimally edited from my flow of consciousness.
If anyone even reads this, lemme know what you think, is it good? Bad? Just meh? Lmk :D
