this scene is so fucking funny the english dub of this show is so good
loud warning
Rolling on the floor sobbing and crying and losing my mind at “GET INSIDE THE VAAAAAAAAAAN”
finally. an appropriate name for my ‘time to leave’ alarm.
RMH

JBB: An Artblog!
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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
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if i look back, i am lost

Love Begins

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trying on a metaphor

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Peter Solarz
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"

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@strawberryscribblesandwrites
this scene is so fucking funny the english dub of this show is so good
loud warning
Rolling on the floor sobbing and crying and losing my mind at “GET INSIDE THE VAAAAAAAAAAN”
finally. an appropriate name for my ‘time to leave’ alarm.
"things i find extremely attractive" trend with dex
"c'mere" and pulls you towards him and tucks his face into your neck
it doesn't matter if you're in public or not for dex to do this. when he wants you near, when he needs to be close to you, he'll whisper "c'mere," sweetly to you as he's already yarding you towards him. dex'll tuck his face into you neck and inhale, softly kissing your hair/neck and hum.
fixing/playing with your hair
it started with dex tucking your hair out of your face to see more of you. over time he got more bold, running his fingers through your hair before gently tucking it behind your ear. when he noticed you shiver as he ran both hands through your hair as he made a makeshift ponytail is what decided dex to experiment. he loves listening to your little 'mm's as he played with the hair at the nape of your neck, and just simply adores how soft your hair is.
leaning down and the little "hm?" to talk to you
I made this for me and me only
I have no words
A Hundred Times A Day
Summary : Dex is convinced that he‘s bad for you, but maybe you were made for each other.
Pairing : DDBA! Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Freak4freak!!!! Hurt/comfort(?) Major sex themes, dark romance, codependent relationship, obsessive attachment, Sex is very much described (explicit, but no anatomical detail), hostage backstory, handcuffs/restraint mention, Stockholm syndrome discussion, guilt, panic/anxiety, morally questionable romance, vomiting mentioned (not as a sex act), drug mentioned but no drug use, chase kink mentioned, cursing (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count : 2.9k
Notes : This was supposed to be an impromptu 500-word blurb I wrote while listening to “Free” by Florence and The Machine but I went overboard. This is probably my most explicit fic yet. Enjoy!
The first time you told Dex you loved him, he had thrown up.
Not metaphorically.
Literally.
You had said it in his kitchen, half-asleep in one of his old FBI shirts, barefoot with love bites on your neck, reaching for the coffee like you had any right to look that adorable in a place he lived. Like his apartment was not a place where he planned to kill people. Like his hands had never done anything worse than skim under the hem of your shirt and pull you close.
“I love you,” you had said, casual as breathing.
insisting on patching up dex and he’s strangely calm the entire time, not even flinching when you stitch him up, completely focused on you and intensely watching you and admiring you the entire time until the second you’re done and he pulls you onto his lap… sigh
GOD okay!!! i got a bit carried away and i got a little filthy with it too OOP 🤭 i couldn’t help myself. ended up mixing two asks together for this one, hope you still enjoy babe! xoxo
the push and pull
benjamin poindexter x reader, bullseye x reader cw: dex and his very obvious masochistic tendencies, a bit of dry humping (again, dont ask me why), he's completely covered in blood but you dont care of course. content is 18+, MINORS DNI
he already knows better than to fight you on it, you’re always so adamant on helping him, every time he arrives at your place all bloodied and beaten up you order him to “take the shirt off, sit down” so you can stitch him up
and he does, like an obedient dog, theres only a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watches you closely, meticulously every time, as if he were entertained and fascinated by your concern for him
dex’s face goes from a pained scowl to a dazed smile in a matter of fucking seconds, his near black eyes slowly blink up at you beneath his half closed eyelids, with a soft encouraging nod and a deceptively sweet tone he requests “harder”
Oh ho ho, now I'm giggling and kicking my feet
Your Neighbor (part 2) 🍰
Bullseye x female reader
Summary: You continue to bake for Dex as a way to show your appreciation for him, yet he still seems closed off, however you are surprised when Dex takes up your offer to patch him up.
Tags: Bullseye’s identity is hidden/No one knows he is Dex (slight AU), Reader doesn’t understand social cues, Reader is empathic, Blood/Violence/Murder, Age gap (mid/late 20s reader), Stalking/Obsessive Dex, Jealous Dex, No use of y/n
Notes: I meant to post this sooner, but I have been picking up a lot at work and procrastinated going through and editing. Also thank you for the likes on the first part, I didn’t think it would get much reads. :D I am going to try to have part 3 up a little sooner hopefully 😖
Part 1
Two days later, you open your apartment door to leave for work and nearly step on the plastic container sitting on the floor outside. It’s cleaned and taped to the lid is a small yellow sticky note.
thanks
You stare down before crouching and picking container up.
I guess he liked them enough to finish them that fast.. you think to yourself
-
Over the next few days, you try to make more of an effort to say hi whenever you see Dex. Not that you see him often.. well… actually, you barely see him at all.
Sometimes you hear footsteps late at night down the hallway or the distant sound of a door opening, but most days it’s just silence and it makes you wonder if maybe he works strange hours.
…or maybe he’s avoiding people.
You hoped to actually speak to him though. At least try to. He saved your life and all you did in return was bake him… cookies.
No one had ever done something that important for you before. Even if he used to be FBI and it was second nature to him… or if maybe he didn’t think it was a big deal. It was a big deal to you. You owe him your life.
The next week you find yourself back in the kitchen again with the thought that maybe you should do something more.. The cookies disappeared quickly, after all.
So this time you bake him a cake. A red velvet one with enough frosting to almost equal the amount of cake used.
You spend longer on it and it doesn’t look super professional, but it’s as nice as you can get it.
When you knock on Dex’s door this time, you almost feel less nervous and a strange comfort sits with you. There’s a minute of silence before the lock clicks open and the door swings inward.
Dex looks mildly confused to see you standing there again, but you smile immediately when you see him.
“Hi.” The word comes out brighter than the first time you spoke to him. You’re relieved he actually answered the door again.
His confused expression shifts to a forced unsure smile.
“I baked you a cake.” You hold the container out toward him.
Dex glances down at it, then back up at you. “I don’t think I’ve done anything to deserve it this time” he says sarcastically.
You shake your head. “Oh- no, it’s not that.” You adjust your grip on the container, pulling it towards you. “I still owe you from the other night. I just..” you sigh, “wish there were more I could do.”
Dex watches you silently, then nods.
“I see… well, that’s not really necessary.”
“To me it is.. the least I can do is bring desserts.” You hold container back out quickly.
Dex notices the way you wait there expectantly like before. He finally reaches forward and takes the cake from your hands.
“Well, I guess I can’t really argue with having my own personal bakery, can I?”
You smile again in satisfaction that he accepted the cake. “How were the cookies?”
Dex leans slightly against the doorframe, one hand resting loosely on the container while a small smirk forms at the corner of his mouth. “Delicious.”
You feel warm at the answer. At least he liked your baking. You still don’t think desserts properly equate to someone saving your life, but if it made him happy that could work for now.
You remain standing there, looking up at him and Dex shifts.
“Well,” he says, straightening from the doorframe, “I should probably get ready for.. work.. soon. But thanks again for this.”
Your smile falters for a second, Dex notices this, but you force one back on before stepping back. “Oh. Okay. See you later.”
“Bye.”
The moment his door shuts, his smile drops.
He sets the cake container down on the kitchen counter before going into his bedroom to his closet where a large safe is kept.
Inside the safe was a collection of knives, firearms, ammo, and bullseye suit.
He begins preparing and attaching the weapons one by one. He suits up and lastly a knife spins between his fingers before attaching to his holster.
He opens the window in his living room, but stops to look at the cake container once more.
It wasn’t really a problem. You weren’t interfering with anything, but still… he wasn’t used to these interactions. Nor was he used to being given something.. especially if it becomes a frequent thing.
The AVTF was still circling too close and becoming a problem that needed to be handled before it escalated further. Having someone constantly knocking at his door could become inconvenient.
Depsire this thought, Dex opens the cake container anyway. Red velvet. At least it’s something he likes, he thinks to himself. He cuts himself a piece and finishes it. and before exiting out the window he cuts one more to take with him.
-
The whole cake is gone within a few days and he leaves the cleaned container outside your apartment door early in the morning with no sticky note this time.
As Dex comes and goes, you don’t cross his mind much and he rarely crosses your path like always.
The few times you do see him you try to smile and wave, brightening a little the second you recognize him. It’s painfully obvious to Dex how your expression falls when all he gives back is a short nod before continuing past you without stopping. You clearly want to make a conversation, but he doesn’t think much of it. He has other things to focus on.
At work, you try not to dwell on it. It makes sense that Dex is busy. Plus you barely know him. He has his own life and honestly, you’re probably lucky he tolerated random desserts showing up at his door at all, but it’s difficult not wanting to know the person who saved your life. It’s hard not to feel attached to someone after that and even harder not to feel safer knowing he’s nearby.. it’s like your brain automatically associates him with safety now, even if the thought itself feels strange considering what you saw him do.
..But you also don’t want to bother him. The thought makes your stomach uneasy as you distract yourself with organizing another stack of paperwork.
“Hey.”
You glance up to see your coworker Katie leaning against the edge of your cubicle while Rhett stands nearby holding two coffees.
“We’re going out tonight,” Katie says casually. “You should come.”
Rhett smiles. “Yeah, come on. You always disappear straight home after for… especially this past month..”
“That’s not true.” You say in defense, even though it was.
After what happened that night, you have been more closed off than you normally were. You guys have gone out a couple of times in the past so it wasn’t uncommon for them to ask again, despite how many times you turned the offer down. They were probably the only two friends you actually had even though the only thing they usually spoke to you about was office gossip.
Maybe staying inside your apartment every night and obsessing over a stranger you hardly know is only making it harder to move on from that night.
“You don’t have to stay long,” Rhett adds quickly. “Just one drink.”
Katie smirks. “Or two.”
You look between them for a moment before sighing. “Ok fine.”
Both of them brighten.
“Perfect, see you guys after work then.” Katie says while heading off to her desk.
Rhett lingers before walking back. “Nice. I was starting to think you secretly hated us.”
-
The bar you guys head to is the one you’ve all gone to on other nights and luckily for you it isn’t too far from where you live. Tonight it looks different though, silver tinsel hangs above the shelves behind the alcohol and Christmas lights hang along the ceilings. You hadn’t even realized it was the first week of December after isolating yourself from fear.
Katie is complaining about someone at work, while Rhett keeps leaning closer when he speaks. “You clean up nice outside of work.”
You furrow your eyebrow and smile. “I’m wearing the exact same thing from earlier..”
Katie snorts into her drink.
“Oh. Right.. I just that meant seeing you out of the-..”
His voice fades out as something on one of the televisions mounted above the bar catches your attention and a red banner flashes across the screen.
BREAKING NEWS.
The volume is low, but one of the bartenders turn it up as someone requests, then everyone at the bar top is focusing up at it.
Onscreen, footage flashes of police vehicles surrounding a damaged diner downtown and officers pushing back protesters and reporters behind barricades.
The reporter speaks rapid, “Earlier today, the vigilante known as Bullseye carried out what authorities are calling a coordinated attack targeting members of the anti-vigilante task force. At this time, at least eight officers are confirmed dead.”
Bullseye.
It was the same name from the lobby… the same name the officer demanded before putting a gun to your head.
Rhett lets out a whistle beside you. “Jesus,” he mutters. “They need to get these vigilantes off the streets.”
“That’s like six blocks from here.” Katie says, anxiously taking another drink.
Your fingers tremble around your glass as the footage continues playing. You don’t make any comment or respond.
“I’m sure they’ll catch him eventually,” she says quickly. “People like that always slip up eventually.”
Rhett leans back a little. “Well.. the AVTF has my support now.”
Katie gives him a subtle look, enough to remind him about the officer from that night in your apartment, but Rhett seems to realize it a second late.
“Oh,” he says awkwardly. “I just mean- not every officer specifically.. just the ones that know what they are doing-..”
The atmosphere shifts quieter around the bar and people start heading home. You don’t really want to be there anymore.
By the time the three of you leave the bar, it’s colder and wind has picked up. The Christmas lights continue to glow from the storefront windows as you tuck your hands into your sleeves.
“I can walk you home,” Rhett offers once you reach the corner.
“You don’t have to. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s not trouble.”
Katie jumps in. “Rhett’s already going that direction anyway..”
They give each other a knowing look that you don’t seem to catch.
“My uber is pulling up now.” Katie responds, waving you both off as she steps into it.
Katie lived further from the two of you so she always took an uber, but this was the first time Rhett offered to walk you home. You shrug and accept the offer.
About halfway back, Rhett speaks. “You know, I’m glad you came out tonight.”
You glance over at him. “Oh, okay.”
He laughs softly. “That sounded less enthusiastic than I hoped.”
“No, I didn’t mean-”
“I’m kidding.” He says quickly.
Rhett stays close beside you, occasionally brushing shoulders with you as he talks. The cold breeze hits you and you shiver, pulling your sleeves further over your hands.
“You cold?”
“A little.”
“I guess I should’ve worn a bigger coat.” You glance down at your jacket.
Rhett laughs under his breath at your pouting.
You finally reach your apartment building and Rhett walks you inside. The lobby glows warmly with white lights wrapped around the front desk and a Christmas tree near the corner.
You’re halfway listening to whatever he’s saying when the front entrance opens behind him and Dex steps inside the lobby.
The sight of him brightens your expression. “Oh- hi, Dex!”
You lift your hand in a wave and Rhett pauses mid sentence to look over toward him. There’s an excitement in your voice that catches even you off guard.
Dex slows slightly at the sound of your voice and you barely notice Rhett anymore.
“How did you like the cake?” you ask causing Dex to pause next to the two of you.
Excitement fills you because it’s the first time he actually stopped to talk instead of rushing past you.
Dex’s gaze flicks between you and the man standing beside you. Dex instantly notices the way the other man’s expression subtly dropped the second your attention shifted away from him.
Whoever he is, he likes you. He notes to himself.
He can’t help but feel satisfaction growing because of it. Dex’s attention stays on you, forcing a smirk at the corner of his mouth. “Just as delicious as the cookies.. I’ll be waiting to see what you bake next.”
You can’t even play it cool, you visibly brighten at his comment and heat starts to rush to your face.
He wanted you to bake for him again.
Beside you, Rhett shifts. He is trying not to look too bothered and failing just enough for Dex to notice.
“Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Rhett.” His tone was casual, “what was your name again- Dex, right?”
It was like a subtle reminder that he knew you well enough to know who you did and didn’t talk about, but to Dex it only landed insecure.
Before he could answer, you interrupted. “Dex is my neighbor, he moved in not too long ago.”
Dex barely spared him a glance. He didn’t particularly care who Rhett was or about introducing himself properly. The only thing remotely interesting about him was how embarrassingly transparent he was about you.
Rhett then began to brag, or bore, about you guys working together, but your eyes caught on a dark red spot slowly spreading through the fabric near Dex’s upper arm. It looked like blood and it began pooling more by the second.
“Oh no-” Without thinking, your hand lifted and hovered near his arm. “Dex.. you’re bleeding?”
Dex glanced down as though only just noticing it. The diner hit had gone cleanly enough, but one of the officers must have managed to nick him at some point.
He shrugged like it was insignificant. “I scratched it on a branch on the way back.”
You stared at him confused.. judging by the way blood continued soaking downward into his sleeve, it didn’t seem like a small scratch.
“You should at least bandage it,” you said with uncertainty. “You don’t want it to get infected. Actually… I have supplies in my bathroom. I- um could do it really quick.”
You didn’t know what had come over you, but it was the least you could do for him after that night.
“I’m sure he can manage,” Rhett said turning to you, “Besides, I hoped to walk you up.”
Normally, Dex would’ve declined without hesitation. He wasn’t interested in interacting.. but then he looked at Rhett. He was clearly uneasy, and Dex no longer wanted to decline your offer.
Dex’s glanced back toward you. “Actually,” he said sarcastically, “if you’re offering such exceptional medical care.. who am I to say no?”
Honestly you didn’t expect him to agree, you smiled. “Well.. don’t get your hopes up..” you turned to Rhett, “Dex actually lives on my floor so I will go up with him.”
Your attention was now mostly on Dex, but you turned back toward Rhett with a small wave.
“Goodnight.”
Rhett opened his mouth to say more, but you had already started walking. “…yeah. Goodnight.”
Rhett remained standing near the lobby tree beneath the Christmas lights, watching the two of you disappear.
The only sound up to the fourth floor was hum of the light above you. The elevator felt much smaller than you remember because of how close Dex was standing beside you.
You kept your eyes fixed mostly on the glowing floor numbers, occasionally glancing toward him before looking away.
Why was this making you this nervous?
He was just your neighbor.. who happened to save your life… and who also happened to be very good looking.
You tried to think of something to say. Anything to start a conversation.. but you didn’t know what to say. Dex stood quietly as well, but with ease, silently observing you.
The elevator finally chimed and you stepped out first, trying to ignore the strange warmth growing on your face.
He followed behind you and then embarrassingly your fingers fumbled with your keys and you hated that he probably noticed it..
You step aside awkwardly after opening the apartment door wider for him.
Dex walked inside without hesitation, his eyes scanning the apartment as the door shuts behind him. The area is fitting for what he would expect for you, he thinks. There is a pile of blankets folded around the couch and headphones resting on the table next to it. The lighting is warm and inviting, not bright or headache inducing.
You suddenly wish you had more warning. It wasn’t necessarily messy, but you felt oddly exposed about someone seeing your space unexpectedly.
“The bathroom is this way.” You mumble quickly.
You lead him toward your side of the apartment and into the bathroom. You move toward the cabinet beneath the sink, kneeling as you search around for the first aid kit somewhere in the back. Beside you, Dex leans casually against the bathroom counter and watches you. You can feel his stare without looking, but you try not to think about it.
The cold from outside still lingered on you and a small shiver runs down your body as you finally find the box.
“Your boyfriend didn’t give you his jacket. The temperature is starting to drop low these nights.” He said it casually as if it was just a blunt observation, but the comment catches you off guard and you blink up at him in confusion.
“The guy from downstairs.”
You let out a awkward laugh. “Oh. Rhett’s not my boyfriend.” Then you pull the first aid kit onto the counter while speaking openly. “We are coworkers.”
You clearly hadn’t picked up on the guy’s interest at all, he thought.
Your attention shifts back toward his arm as you pull out disinfectant wipes and bandages. The blood stain has spread further now causing your stomach to turn.
“Um…” You hover your hand awkwardly near his sleeve, unsure whether to touch it or not. Thankfully, Dex spares you the decision and rolls the sleeve up himself.
The cut is deeper than you thought. It probably doesn’t need stitches though, at least you think it doesn’t but then again you had no real medical experience. One thing you were skeptical about was that it was worse than a scrape from some random branch.
Then your eyes wander up, noticing the rest of his bicep below his rolled sleeve. You immediately force your attention back to the injury before your face can get warm.
“This… might sting a little.” You warn quietly, but Dex barely reacts as you wipe some of the blood away.
You try focusing on conversation instead of how aware you suddenly are of his proximity.
“So… are you gonna do anything fun for the holidays? Like ice skating.. thats my favorite or.. visiting family?” You try to sound casual, but your excitement shows through.
The holidays were important to you so it was easy to talk about. You always had plans like decorating, baking, ice skating and other things. You haven’t had the time to decorate your apartment yet, but you made a note to do it soon.
Dex hesitates before answering. “I don’t really celebrate.”
“Wait really?” You pause for a second before you pull a bandage from the box. “Why not?”
“Never really did growing up.” His voice stays calm and detached. “Besides, I don’t have family to visit.”
Now you felt guilty for asking. No wonder he didn’t celebrate Christmas. The sadness on your face must be obvious because Dex sees the way you soften. Before you can say anything else, Dex’s eyes drift toward the bandaid in your hands.
“I had a feeling you were the one who left one of those under my door.”
You glance down at the snoopy bandage in your hand and you feel embarrassed, but you try to play it off anyway.
“What?” You defend weakly. “Snoopy is cool.”
A small smirk curls at the corner of Dex’s mouth.
You carefully place the bandaid over the cleaned wound. “There.”
Dex rolls his sleeve back down afterward and straightens from the counter.
“Thanks.”
You nod quickly.
He moves toward the bathroom doorway before lingering and looking back at you. “That’s probably the first time a Snoopy bandage has been used to treat a life threatening wound, huh.”
The sarcasm in his voice catches you off guard. At least he was trying to joke with you, that’s a good sign, right..?
You smile awkwardly and nod, then he turns and heads toward the front door.
“Goodnight.” You say softly.
“Goodnight.”
That night you struggle to sleep. You can’t stop imagining Dex alone on Christmas. Even if you don’t really know him that well… You start wondering what you can do to change it.
Tags: @hellokittsblog @gojoswaterbottle @snowwythegloww @abbotfan @kakuchosbff @hyperfixations-go-brrr @hushhhs09 @artistadistrada2002 @coolvoidfire @im-not-very-good-at-nothing @star-yawnznn @peanutbutterjellytime3000 @ancientbeing10 @e553nc3
Your Neighbor (part one) 🍪
Bullseye x female reader
Part 2
Summary: After your new neighbor saves you from AVTF, you bake him cookies to thank him. Dex isn’t used to getting gifts and it’s not long before you become important to him.
Tags: Bullseye’s identity is hidden/No one knows he is Dex (slight AU), Reader doesn’t understand social cues, Reader is empathic, Blood/Violence/Murder, Age gap (mid/late 20s reader), Stalking/Obsessive Dex, Jealous Dex, No use of y/n
Notes: I think is my first time writing an x reader fic (or maybe first time in a very long time??). I think this will only be a few chapters, but idk yet.
You made it back to your apartment building with grocery bags in both your hands, already wondering if this would be your last trip for a while. Hell’s Kitchen had been getting worse lately, especially with mayor Fisk’s anti vigilante task force roaming the streets.
You almost didn’t notice the man walking down the hallway leading to your apartment. The noise canceling headphones you wore felt necessary with the city noises, but maybe not the safest choice anymore.
You remembered what your roommate had mentioned a few nights ago while through scrolling on her phone.
“By the way, there’s a new guy down the hall. I think. I saw him talking to the landlord. He’s kinda.. weird.”
You had nodded, even though you weren’t sure what she meant by it.
You hadn’t even saw the new neighbor until now as you fumbled your key out of your pocket while balancing most bags in your other hand.
The man was moving swiftly down the hall faster than most people you see go in and out, like he was locked onto wherever he was going.
You glanced up curiously, not sure what to expect, but his size caught you off guard. Not just tall, but muscular too. Around here, people usually only looked like that if they worked in something rough enough to require it.
As he neared you down the hallway, you realized maybe you should be polite and greet him.. Or maybe it was safer to keep to yourself… but people usually introduce themselves.. or at least say hi.
You paused then glanced at him once more before stiffly turning and lifting your hand to a small wave.
As he brushed past you, his eyes shifted down at you for maybe half a second before looking forward again, not slowing even slightly. No response.
You lowered your hand. “..okay” you murmured under your breath.
You then entered your apartment and for a second, you stood there in the entryway while thinking it over.
Maybe you should’ve said something out loud.. or smiled with the wave… or not even bothered at all.
It’s not a big deal, probably. He looked busy anyways.
-
Your work routine is just fine. At least, that’s the easiest way to put it. You have a semi-manageable job schedule and it pays your bills, sometimes just barely, but at least it is only a 20 minute walk from where you live.
The office you work in is pretty basic and usually doesn’t become too overwhelming.
At your desk you sort through paperwork and organize them properly, sometimes running errands for your boss.
During lunch break a couple of the co-workers that hang closer to you invite you. You agree because, although you wanted the time alone today, they would make an excuse for you to join them anyways.
By the time the day is finished and you are walking back down the hallway to your apartment door, you feel exhaustion and can’t wait to lie down.
You walk toward your door while reaching for the key out of your bag, but your movements slow when you look across to the new neighbor’s door.
The man is there again, standing outside the door as if he is just about to go in, but he is lingering.
You haven’t seen him in about a week since your first sight of him. You wondered if maybe he had already moved out, but there he was again.
He didn’t notice you at first. He leaned against his doorframe oddly, as if he was propping himself up while searching for the key.
You notice red dripping down from his eyebrow. A cut maybe? Did he get into a fight? You wonder.
You try not to stare, but you probably only make it more obvious by the way you turned your head to glance over, then look back at your door, then glance over again in a repeated motion.
Maybe you should say something, you think, like ask him if he’s okay? You could offer a bandaid or-
Your thoughts went quiet the moment he looked over at you. He only stared for a few seconds, but something about the intensity of it sent a chill down your spine. You try to turn your attention back to your door through slowed movements.
Down the hall, you heard the click of a lock turning. Glancing back over your shoulder, you caught him looking at you one last time before he disappeared inside his apartment.
You sighed and stepped into your apartment. You really sucked at socializing in the right ways.
An hour later, after finishing your bedtime routine, you stood in your bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet. You look at your bandaids, but the only ones remaining were a couple of snoopy themed bandaids.
How stupid. You sighed. But it was better than nothing, wasn’t it?
Before settling into bed, you very hesitantly walked back into the hall with a bandaid in your hand. When you stopped at your new neighbor’s door you lifted your arm and contemplated knocking, but you stopped.
This is ridiculous. You thought to yourself.
You almost turned and left, but at the last second you quickly bent down and slid the bandaid underneath the crack of the door before rushing back to your own.
-
A week passes without you seeing him again and work fills most of your time, yet the blood and the look he gave you still occasionally lingers in the back of your mind. What was that about?
At some point, you overhear a front desk worker mention to another resident that he used to be FBI. That makes more sense now. Does it?
People in those kinds of jobs probably get hurt often and it’s probably for the best that you haven’t crossed paths with him. Especially after leaving that bandaid under his door.
-
You get home late after work one night.
The lobby lights are on, but you notice something is immediately wrong. There are people gathered near the front desk, their hands either slightly raised or covering their faces.
Then you see an officer holding up a gun in their direction. AVTF.
Your steps slow to a stop as you observe the officer appears agitated in a way that feels unpredictable. Everything in you tenses like your body is bracing for something you don’t know how to respond to.
“Are you hiding him?” the man snaps, “don’t play stupid with me. I know he’s been here.”
The workers behind the desk look panicked.
“We- we don’t know who you’re talking about-”
“Bullseye,” he interrupts, “you expect me to believe no one’s seen him?” The officer then slams a knife into the desk, carved with some type of symbol. “This is his. I found it outside the building after tracking him the other night.”
To you, the name sounds almost familiar. Like you’ve heard it before on the news, possibly. Something about a vigilante, but you’re not entirely sure.
…But if a vigilante was living here, it would be hard not to notice. There must be some type of mistake.
No one is answering him the way he wants and he seems to be getting impatient, so you try to be reasonable with him.
“Officer,” you say, your voice quieter than you expected, “I- I’ve never seen him, so it’s unlikely he lives here. There must be a misunderstanding-”
The man turns toward you like you’ve done something wrong. “I didn’t ask if he lived here. I asked if he was being hidden.”
You blink, thrown off by whatever accusation he was trying to throw.
“Are you trying to trick me with your words?” His voice rising. “Why don’t you come here.”
He motions to floor beside him with the gun, but your body doesn’t move.
Your mind catches on the phrasing trick me? Trying to understand what part of what you said could be taken that way.
Ridiculous.
The officer steps forward, closing the distance quickly by grabbing your arm. Your breath catches sharply as you instinctively pull back, your body reacting before you can think through it.
“I-I’m not!” Your voice trembles.
“Maybe it takes someone dying to get some answers around here.”
The gun lifts and you can feel the presence of it near your head.
Everything inside you goes still, but somehow your mind races at the same time. You were probably about to die and you couldn’t even process what you should do in this last moment.
Someone behind the desk starts pleading, telling him to stop, but you can’t really make anything out from the fear you feel.
Your eyes squeeze shut and your hands curl in on themselves as your whole body locks up. You don’t know what you’re supposed to say.. or do…
You whisper a prayer underneath your breath, but before you finish a gunshot rings out, but it didn’t echo from where you expect.
Something warm flecked faintly against your check, followed by the feeling of pressure disappearing near your head. There’s a shift behind you and then a heavy thud. The officer isn’t holding you anymore. You don’t move at first and your eyes stay closed for a second longer before you slowly open them.
You turn and the officer is on the ground, gurgling in a pool of his own blood. The sight of it makes you look away immediately, snapping your head back forward to the ground.
Your breathing is still uneven as your eyes flick upward instead, searching for where the shot came from.
Across the lobby, your new neighbor stands near the entrance, like he had just walked in. A gun hangs loosely in his hand, lowered now. Strangely, his grip is relaxed and doesn’t match with what happened. Almost like it required no effort at all.
His expression is also nothing.. maybe slightly irritated, like something inconvenient just occurred, but not enough to matter.
Behind the desk, the tension breaks and the voices rise in relief and gratitude, but your ears are still ringing and you’re still too shaken up to focus on anything anyone is saying.
You’re still standing where the officer left you, but now blood is pooling at your shoes. It causes your stomach to lurch. A faint tremor still ran through your hands as you tried to block out the warm feeling of blood specks on your face.
-
The next few days, the whole apartment was still in a paranoid frenzy after the events of that night. There were so many witnesses to what had happened that your neighbor wasn’t arrested or charged. In fact, the news stirred up citizens of Hell’s Kitchen and raised even more suspicions against the AVTF. The whole incident was passed off as an unstable officer who must have been working against the major’s orders, though many people didn’t believe it.
You called out of work that week, keeping yourself confined in your bed where it was safe. Your phone buzzed occasionally somewhere across the room, but you ignored it. You avoided all news or social media, not that you normally looked at those things often anyways.
Even your roommate knocked on your door a few times to check on you, but you never answered it.
Your hands hadn’t stopped trembling from that night and although you had scrubbed every inch of your body, you could still feel the slight warmth of the blood that hit your cheek.
You couldn’t properly sleep for days because of the memory. The officer’s hand grabbing you, the gun pressed to your head, the gunshot and then seeing him choking on his on blood. It all stayed with you. Hell’s Kitchen had plenty of crime, but you had never experienced, nor seen something horrific like that. It’s something you will never really forget.
Your mind lingers to your neighbor. You think about him more than you mean to. About the way he stood there with cold eyes.. just empty.
The memory sends a shiver crawling down your spine.
Maybe he’d killed people before.. maybe that was normal for someone who used to be in the FBI. Maybe whatever assignments he worked made him used to things like that.
You don’t know, but you try not to think too hard about it. Either way, he saved your life. The realization keeps circling back no matter how uncomfortable it makes you.
If he hadn’t been there, it would’ve been you on the floor instead of the officer. He saved you and you don’t even know his name. You never thanked him.
Eventually you push yourself upright for the first time all day and stare at the wall for a long moment.
The apartment is quiet when you step into the kitchen. Your roommate is at work, which helps because you don’t have to hear questions or get strange looks.
Baking always helped you take your mind off things and this way you would be putting it to good use.
Soon the counter is cluttered with ingredients, measuring cups, bowls and other baking tools. You put your headphones on and start mixing the ingredients together.
By the time you pull the cookies out of the oven, you feel a little more eased. You arrange them carefully inside one of the nicer plastic containers you keep for special occasions.
Chocolate chip should be fine, you think. Everyone likes chocolate chip cookies.. at least you think everyone should.
You stand there holding the container for a while after that. Your eyes drift toward the apartment door and your stomach tightens again.
It’s okay now, you remind yourself.. the officer is dead. The thought brings relief so quickly that the feeling is replaced with guilt. Relief shouldn’t feel good when someone died. …Even if he almost killed you, right? Even if you still wake up with the feeling of a gun pressed to your head..
Before you can overthink it too much, you leave your apartment.
You stop outside your neighbor’s door and stare at it before shifting the container nervously in your grip. You raise your hand and knock lightly against the door then wait for a minute, but no one answers.
Maybe he isn’t home.. or maybe he’s sleeping... Or maybe people don’t usually knock on his door and this is strange and you should’ve thought about that before coming here. But you knock again anyways, a little harder this time.
Still no one answers. You considered leaving the container outside the door instead when the lock finally clicks and the door opens.
Up close, he somehow seems taller than he did before.. broader too. He’s also much handsome then you remember, though you never got a clear look at him until now. You notice the deep healed scar on his right cheek, yet it only seems to enhance his appearance.. you snap out of the thought.
Admiring your, much older, neighbor right in front of his face was definitely an interesting way to start off.
His expression is unreadable as he looks down at you.
You suddenly realize you didn’t think about what you were actually going to say and there’s a long pause while he waits. You just stand there holding the container awkwardly while your mind struggles to fill the silence.
“Oh.” You quickly hold the container out toward him. “I made these for you- I mean to thank you,” you correct yourself. “I know it doesn’t compare to you saving my life or anything, I just.. I was going to thank you sooner, I’ve just been.. uh..”
You don’t really want to explain the last week, but your hands were shaking enough to give it away.
There’s another pause before you speak again abruptly, pushing the container slightly closer toward him like that somehow fixes the conversation.
“It’s chocolate chip.”
Dex glanced down at the container. No expression crosses his face at first, but when his eyes lift back to yours he looks more attentive like he’s studying you.
You keep talking before the silence can settle again. “What you did was..” You swallowed. “Well, if you hadn’t been there.. I would be dead, so… thank you for saving me.”
Saving me.
Dex watches you carefully. The way your gaze keeps slipping away from his before cautiously returning.
Then he thinks about the word saving.
That hadn’t really been the intention. The officer was a problem. The AVTF had been getting too close already and if they tracked him to the building, that couldn’t continue. The man needed to die.
You surviving had simply been convenient and lucky for you.. and yet hearing you say it like that makes something pause in the back of his mind.
Saving you.
He finally reaches out and takes the container from your hands. “Well,” he says smoothly, almost dry, “you can’t really go wrong bringing cookies to someone’s door.”
You blinked once as another thought hits you. “Oh- I should’ve introduced myself.”
You tell him your name then you look up at him expectantly and Dex notices immediately. The long pause and stare he gives doesn’t bother you the way it should. You just stand there patiently, eyes resting on him with silent curiosity, waiting for him to tell you his bame.
He also noticed how close you’re standing and he almost takes a step back out of habit, but he doesn’t. Instead, he tilts his head slightly and forces something close to a smile or a smirk onto his face. It’s not unfriendly, but practiced, it’s not like you notice that though.
“I’m Dex.”
You nodded. “I haven’t seen you around much,” you say honestly. “I was going to say hi last week, but you seemed kind of busy.”
The second the words leave your mouth, you regret it.
What were you even saying?
You sound ridiculous.
You’re trying to have normal conversation with the man who literally saved your life and somehow you’re talking about hallway timing.
Dex’s expression shifts subtly. He knew exactly which moment you’re talking about.
“Yeah,” he says after a second. “I’m usually busy with work.”
You nod, relieved he didn’t mention the bandaid left under his door. There was no proof it was from you, but you were probably the only one to see him.
There’s another awkward pause.
“But thanks for this,” he adds, lifting the container.
You stare at him for a few seconds and Dex waits staring back. You don’t move until you blink as realization catches up.
Right. That was probably the end of the conversation.
A small smile finally spreads across your face. “I hope you like them.”
You lift your hand in a small wave before turning and heading back down the hallway toward your apartment. Dex watches you the entire way until the door shuts quietly behind you.
Maybe that could have went better, you thought to yourself while you begin to clean up the kitchen.
Dex remains standing there for a moment longer with the container still in his hands and he looks down at it once more before stepping back into his apartment.
Idk how I feel about this fic but thanks for reading :D
So, Bethel mentioned how mimicking the motion of throwing objects without actually throwing them can mess up your shoulder. So I thought I'd write something about that with Dex 👀
Sore muscles
Summary: Your boyfriend needs a good massage, that's it
Tags: domestic fluff (and a slightly innuendo/suggestive if you squint)
896 word
Dex has recently been experiencing some pain in his shoulders and arms, especially the area where the shoulder connects to the neck just above the shoulder blade.
And despite the fact that he has been training and doing his usual morning stretches (you yourself have seen him do them), apparently it has not been enough.
physical touch comes to benjamin poindexter as easy and as natural as breathing. whether it's a hand on your thigh when he's driving, or a pinky hooked 'round yours mid conversation. fingers intertwined with yours as you walk outside, of course, is normal for him. and at home, when he's navigating around you, even though he has ample space, his hand falls to the small of your back as he moves you gently to get around. there's a lazy arm slung over your shoulder, a finger drawing distracted patterns across your skin, his head heavy on your chest at night when he's asleep. and that's just the things he's not really aware he's doing.
sometimes, when he's in a particularly good mood, he'll kiss your lips until you're dizzy and laughing and breathless, then move onto the rest of your face while you catch up on oxygen and your surroundings.
"doin' too much, poindexter," you'll laugh, and he'll lean back in to lick a broad stripe up your cheek, because he's nothing if not unconventional, and if you even try to wipe it away, he'll just lick your hand too. or maybe you're not giving him enough attention, maybe you're busy working—most times, you don't even notice him, because of his training. not until he's sinking his teeth into your limb of his choice anyway. on luckier occasions when your camera's off in a meeting, you stifle your surprise until you're able to mute yourself and complain; on important calls, though, he's sitting on the floor by your legs, and you don't even feel his hand wrapping around your ankle, or his breath ghosting over your skin before pain shoots up your leg. on more than one occasion, you've been asked if everything's alright, and when you glare down at him later, all he does is grin back up at you. the worst part is you can't even stay mad at him when he's so beautiful and you're so in love.
the biting also continues… elsewhere, like he's determined to mark you as his territory. even if he's careful to make sure that all of them—okay, most of them—are hidden, he revels in the thought that your knowledge of them will remind you of him, regardless of where you are. oh, and the dull ache of the bruises left in his wake that are totally by accident because he definitely doesn't know his own strength is nice to think about too—even though you both know better than that.
and then there are the bad days. he'll walk in, silent, and you don't say anything, either. you know him too well for that—if he doesn't want to speak, he won't, and if you keep asking you'll just make it worse. so you wait, and he pulls you onto his lap and buries his face in your neck, and your hands are in his hair, and he just stays like that until he feels better—your weight on top of him is more comforting than he'd ever admit. rarer events are when you lose track of time, pass out without realising, and wake up hours into the night, a cramped tangle of limbs. but your shared warmth is more comfort in one sitting than he's felt in his life before you, so who is he to complain?
he wakes up before you almost every morning, but even then, you're conscious enough most of the time to feel his fingers trace over your face, like he's trying to memorise you, like he hasn't a million times over already. and when you pad into the kitchen, still half-asleep, he lets you drape yourself all over him and catch a few more minutes while he cooks breakfast.
you've changed his routine; he's always hated change, but he'll be lying if he says he's not grateful for it this time.
you nudge him with a toe, he lifts you up effortlessly into his arms and doesn't put you down, your feet are in his lap as you watch a movie while he traces those same idle patterns across them—you ask him, "what's that supposed to be?"
he pauses, smiles in the way he does when he knows something you don't.
"i'm sure you'll figure it out," he says unhelpfully. and it's simple—too simple, maybe, 'cause you feel stupid when you figure it out. i mean, you should've known what it was, because obviously—
it's a bullseye.
hi guess who. 0.7k words i think i died and went to hell except hell is being obsessed with this man. i actually hated him so much the first time i watched daredevil (~6 years ago) lol guess this is karma. pls reblog to support ur authors !!
Saw this text and immediately thought of him 💙
Like Real People Do
Summary : Dex finds a getaway bag under your side of the bed and assumes the worst.
Pairing : Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, abandonment issues, obsessive attachment, codependency, established relationship, obsessive devotion, implied suicidal ideation, protective!reader, clingy!Dex, anxious attachment, happy ending. (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count : 3.3k
Requested By : Anon
Notes : First Dex fic with a taglist! Please let me know if you would like to be added, but remember, the taglist only applies to fics over 2k words! My 1000-something word short stories won't have the taglist on them. This fic title is inspired by a Hozier song of the same title. Enjoy!
Dex accidentally found your getaway bag hidden under your side of the bed on a random Tuesday.
He wasn’t snooping. He was looking for the knife he knew had slipped under there this morning when you clumsily knocked it out of the dresser in your hurry to go to work. He was reaching blindly beneath the bedframe with one hand, already annoyed because it was out of place, because he hated when things were out of place, because every missing thing became a hook in his brain until he found it and put it back where it belonged.
And then his fingers brushed canvas.
Huh. What’s that?
Because Dex didn’t believe in minding his business if his business was you, he dragged out the duffel bag from under the bed.
The second he unzipped it, he was frozen in horror.
BENJAMIN POINDEXTER HATES SUMMERᝰ.ᐟ
warnings: this man is a warning in himself let’s be so fr, severely unhealthy relationship dynamics obsessive/toxic behavior, do not romanticize this shit guys but on the other hand i’ve been a victim of the bullseye agenda and the things i’d let this man do to me are unspeakable soo… yeah anyway—
word count: 1.1k pls bare with me i wrote this in thirty minutes, it’s not proofread and i’ve never watched daredevil but i had the insatiable urge to write something for him and this idea popped into my head today 🚬
if you thought your boyfriend, benjamin poindexter was possessive… just wait until the summer season kicks in. because that man reaches a completely new level of feral.
Scars Across Your Body
Matt Murdock x F!Reader | 1.7k
Summary: Matt gets hot and bothered when you start touching his scars.
Warnings/Tags: 18+, MDNI, p in v, oral sex (f receiving), biblically accurate whiny Matt, scratching, scars, no choking but Matt puts his hand on your throat to feel you moan, mentions of past violence, sorta overstimulation.
"What happened here?"
Matt dragged his hand down your naked thigh, and a shudder overwhelmed his already overstimulated body as your fingers absentmindedly danced across his slick shoulders. He slowly raised his attention from where it had strayed between your knees, and his swollen lips parted with a shaky exhale.
"What?"
roy harper and his lovergirl girlfriend! ˚.✦
You're a hopeless romantic, a little let down after your past lovers not giving the same energy back at you.
But with Roy? It feels like you have found your one true love.
The moment he discovers how romantic and sappy you can be, he's matching your energy.
When you text him good morning and goodnight, he's answering your messages like they're his alarm clocks.
He also changed your ringtone so when you call him, he knows it's you.
He always picks up.
And your minimum time to be talking is two hours.
You compliment him a lot; when he's brushing his hair back and letting some strands falling in his forehead, when he's trying new clothes, when he's just laying in bed scrolling. You always call him pretty because that makes him giggle.
He has been feeling less insecure since you started dating, knowing that you love him and cherish him not in spite of his insecurities but because of them. The first time you complimented his rather soft tummy, he couldn't understand it AND made you explain why did you like it that much.
He compliments you as much as you, mostly when it's just the two of you, hugging you from the back and kissing your shoulders, whispering in your ear how you are the most gorgeous girl he's ever laid his eyes on and how obsessed he is with you.
When he's out for a few days for work, he sends you pictures of the scenery on the road, pictures of himself, sometimes pictures of his friend Dick (you always answer that you want to see him, not his friends).
He hasn't tell you that he's a vigilante/superhero yet because he know that you don't belong to that world and telling you that might put you in danger.
But it isn't the first time that you've clocked some bruises or fresh cuts, gently taking care of them and kissing the scars when they're healed.
taglist: @darkxwolfsstuff @nalyarrr @arfemiz @i-gotta-go-so-much-bigger @FanficBoysAreBae @lalalalastacy @bewitched-pearl @pmmemei @livlocus @seeker2028 @oliiidot @Apocal-ips @fr3shsqueezed-tj @sonnyssleepingangel @minandras @vanillakirstein
ꪮꫀ boyfie! jason todd who comes home from patrol absolutely wrecked. shoulders heavy, knuckles split, body screaming for rest. but the second he steps through the door all that weight starts slipping off him because he knows you’re waiting in his bed.
he leaves the red hood behind in pieces. jacket slumped over the couch like a dead thing, holsters clattering onto the counter, boots kicked halfway down the hall. he doesn’t care about the mess. he just needs you.
the bedroom is dark and warm when he finally crawls in. the mattress sinks deep under his huge frame as he slides behind you, careful even when he’s this exhausted. one thick arm curls around your waist, pulling your back flush against his chest until every inch of him is wrapped around you. he’s sooo big, broad shoulders curving over you, scarred thighs tucked behind yours, but the way he holds you is nothing but gentle.
jason buries his face into the crook of your neck, nose pressed right against your warm skin, and breathes you in like you’re the only oxygen he’s had all night. slow, greedy inhales. you smell like sleep and his shirt and that soft vanilla lotion and home. he lets out this low, broken hum against your throat, lips brushing lazy kisses along the side of your neck, slow and sleepy.
“missed you, baby…” he whispers, voice all gravel and exhaustion, barely above a breath. “fuckin’ needed this.”
his massive hand slips under your (his) shirt, palm splayed wide over your belly, thumb rubbing the softest little circles while he nuzzles closer. he tangles your legs together, curls around you tighter like he’s trying to disappear into you. every tense muscle in his body slowly melts the longer he holds you, chest rising and falling against your back, warm breath tickling your collarbone, lips still pressed to your neck like he can’t bear to pull away even an inch.
ꪮꫀ boyfie! jason todd who’s six foot something of pure muscle and danger, but turns into the clingiest, sweetest giant the second he’s home with you. tucking his face into your neck, hugging you from behind like you’re his whole world, finally letting himself rest because you’re right here in his arms.
he presses one last soft kiss right under your ear, sighs deep, and falls asleep like that. wrapped around you completely safe, warm, and so inlove it hurts.
why isn't this man real????? ughhhh