sun-hashira

[sun-hashira]

𝐑. 𝟐𝟎𝐬. 𝐬𝐡𝐞/𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐬. 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦. 𝐧𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

𝖩𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅 𝗂𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝟤𝟢𝗌 𝗐𝗁𝗈 𝗂𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗅𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗌.

𝖭𝖾𝗐 𝗍𝗈 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆𝗌, 𝖿𝖺𝗇𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗌, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗒𝖻𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉𝗌.

𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗆𝖾 | 𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 + 𝖺𝗌𝗄𝗌 | 𝗋𝗎𝗅𝖾𝗌 | 𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖼𝗁 𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 |

𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙨 𝙗𝙮: @uzmacchiato

[sun-hashira]

no thoughts just dr. jack abbot in his SWAT uniform

[sun-hashira]

So apparently tumblr is intentionally hiding my visibility or something so some people aren’t seeing my newer Benjamin Poindexter x Female!Murdock Reader posts which sucks!

But on the bright side I’m at 452 followers which is amazing! 🥳

[sun-hashira]

hii the glitch series masterlist list isn’t working and it doesn’t take you to masterlist just had to let yk :))

Oh thank you! I’ll try and get that fixed soon! 😊

[sun-hashira]

Hii! I’ve read all 4 chapters of your Glitch series and I freaking love it!! I was wondering if I could be added to the tag list for it? Thank you!🫶🫶

Just added you to the latest chapter 🩵

[sun-hashira]

Sparks Fly

summary: a surprisingly soft first date with Dex makes it impossible to keep pretending you don’t want him.

who: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader

word count: 2.9k (sorry not sorry)

warnings: soulmate au, fluff, mentions of stalking. If I have missed any please let me know!

divider by: @uzmacchiato

a/n: Part 5 of this series! Like before feedback is welcome!

Glitch Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: Untouchable

Previous Chapter: Guilty as Sin?

“You’re the kinda reckless that should send me running…“ — Sparks Fly by Taylor Swift

You had changed outfits eight times before finally deciding you were being ridiculous.

It was a date.

It wasn’t a surgery, or a court hearing, or a life-or-death situation.

Just a date. A date with Dex. 

That has somehow caused your entire bedroom looked like a bomb filled with clothes had exploded.

You stood in front of your mirror adjusting the lace-up straps of your floral-patterned sundress for what had to be the tenth time before sighing softly at yourself.

Karen would never let you live this down if she could see the nervous state of you now.

Your fingers brushed absentmindedly over the soulmate mark resting on your collarbone. The skin there felt warm today. Not burning, not aching, just warm like it was reacting to your nerves and excitement.

Sighing softly, you stepped away from the bedroom mirror and grabbed your bag just as a knock sounded at your apartment door.

Your heartbeat stumbled immediately.

Early. Of course he was early. 

A small smile tugged at your mouth before you could stop it. Crossing the apartment, you opened the door to find Dex standing there holding a small terracotta pot carefully in one hand.

For a moment neither of you spoke, and annoyingly your breath caught slightly at the sight of him because he looked good wearing a black shirt, dark jacket, and his hair neater than usual. Like he’d actually spent time getting ready.

Stupidly good, you thought to yourself. 

But then the realisation that Dex had dressed up for you made warmth spread low in your chest and stomach.

His eyes moved slowly over you before settling on your face. His expression softened instantly. “You look pretty.”

Heat flushed your cheeks as the honesty in his voice hit harder than any flirting would’ve.

“Thank you,” you said softly before glancing at the plant in his hands. “What’s that?”

Dex immediately held it out toward you. “Lemon balm.”

Your eyebrows lifted slightly as you carefully took the pot from him.

“Lemon balm? Most people give roses.”

“You use it constantly, and you don’t like roses.”

Of course he noticed that. Your fingers brushed gently against the soft green leaves as warmth spread through your chest.

“It helps with anxiety and sleep,” he continued quietly. “And headaches.”

You looked back up at him slowly. “Nobody remembers the things I use at the apothecary.”

Dex’s expression barely changed. “I do.”

God, that shouldn’t affect you as much as it did.

Stepping aside, you let him into the apartment while trying very hard to ignore how warm your face suddenly felt.

“You’re early,” you said, setting the plant carefully beside the window.

“I know.”

“You know most people usually pretend not to be eager.”

“I wasn’t pretending.”

You laughed softly before you could stop yourself.

Dex immediately looked at you, focusing like your laugh was a bottle of liquid gold. It did strange things to your heartbeat.

“You’re staring again,” you muttered, grabbing your cardigan.

“I like looking at you.”

“You say things like that very casually.”

“They’re true.”

You shook your head softly despite smiling as you walked toward the door.

“Come on before I decide not to go.”

Dex opened the door for you immediately. “You won’t.”

The confidence in his voice should’ve annoyed you, but instead it made your chest warm. Because for the first time in months, you didn’t want to run from this, from him.

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The park he took you to was beautiful.

Quiet enough that the city noise faded into a distant hum, trees swaying gently in the warm afternoon breeze as sunlight filtered through the leaves.

You stared at the picnic setup in front of you before slowly looking at Dex.

“…You brought an actual blanket.”

“Yes.”

“And three containers of food.”

“Yes.”

“And backup utensils.”

“Yes.”

You blinked at him. “Dex.”

“What?” The way he tilted his head was awfully like a lost puppy.

A laugh escaped you. “A backup fork?”

“You dropped yours once at the diner and refused to use it afterwards.”

Your chest warmed again because, of course, he knew that too.

Dex watched your face carefully. “You think it’s excessive.”

“I think it’s a little adorable.” The word slipped out accidentally.

Dex froze, actually froze, before a Cheshire-like smile spread across his face. You felt heat immediately crawl into your cheeks.

“Well,” you muttered, sitting down quickly on the blanket. “Now I regret saying that.”

Dex slowly sat beside you. “You called me adorable.”

“Don’t make it weird.”

“You think I’m adorable.”

“Oh my God.”

The quiet amusement in his voice made you laugh again, and something in Dex’s expression softened so quickly at the sound that your heart nearly betrayed you entirely.

Oh, it’s scary how easy this feels, you thought to yourself, how easy he feels despite how dangerous he is. 

You pushed the thought away as Dex opened one of the containers, and your eyes widened slightly.

“You got food from Pop’s Corner Deli?”

“You like their sandwiches.”

“You noticed that?”

“You buy lunch there every Thursday.”

You stared at him.

Dex paused slightly. “…Was that strange?”

“No,” you said honestly. “Just very…observant.”

“I observe you a lot.”

The blunt honesty nearly made you choke on your drink, and Dex immediately handed you a napkin.

“You okay?” He asked, rubbing your back. 

You snorted softly.

“You cannot say things like that so casually.”

“They’re true.”

There it was again, that impossible honesty that made your heart flutter. Honesty that wasn’t fake or a game. It was honesty that was just Dex, and it was becoming your favorite version of him.

That realisation settled quite nicely inside your chest.

The two of you spent the next hour talking more easily than you expected as Dex asked questions constantly, and not the shallow ones people ask when they’re just being polite, but real ones. 

“What was your favorite book as a kid?”

“The original Fear Street series by R. L. Stine.”

“What made you start working at the clinic?”

“Extra money. I was a poor mid-twenties girl.”

“Do you like healing people?”

“Yes, but it’s tiring sometimes.”

“Do you ever wish you’d left New York?”

“Yes, I have always wanted to travel.”

“What makes you happiest?”

“Plants and chocolate-covered strawberries.”

Nobody had ever asked you questions like they actually wanted to know the answers before, yet Dex listened to each one like it mattered. Like you mattered.

“You ask a lot of questions,” you said eventually, leaning back on your hands as the breeze lifted strands of your hair.

Dex looked completely unashamed. “I like hearing you talk.”

Your stomach fluttered annoyingly at how straightforward he always was.

“Well,” you said carefully, “then it’s your turn.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly.

“What? You think you can interrogate me for an entire afternoon without answering questions yourself?” You smiled. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “Interrogate?”

“You literally asked me what my favourite childhood book was.”

“That’s important information.”

You laughed softly. “Okay then, Poindexter. Favourite movie.”

He answered immediately. “The Empire Strikes Back.”

You blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.”

“You like Star Wars?”

“You sound surprised.”

“You don’t exactly give off sci-fi fan energy.”

“What energy do I give off?”

You opened your mouth, paused, then grinned. “Serial killer documentaries.”

Dex snorted quietly into his drink.

Actually snorted.

You stared at him in mild shock. “Was that a laugh?”

“No.”

“That was definitely a laugh.”

“It wasn’t.”

“You just made a noise.”

Dex looked deeply offended. “I make noises all the time.”

“That sounded worse than what I meant.” You laughed.

His eyes flickered with amusement as more laughter escaped before you could stop it.

God, it was dangerous how easy he was becoming.

“How about you?” he asked after a moment. “Favourite movie.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “I’m not sure.”

Dex tilted his head slightly. “Why?”

“I’m more of a TV series girl instead of a movie girl.”

“Really?”

“I mean, I’ll watch a movie if it interests me, but I like shows more.” You move from leaning back on your hands to your elbows.

“Well, then, what’s your favourite TV show?”

“Supernatural.”

“Why?” Dex asks, passing you another sandwich.

“Because it’s about two cool brothers hunting monsters like demons and vampires.” You say while taking a bite from the sandwich.

“You like that?” 

“Yes.” 

“I can tell.”

You kicked his foot lightly on the blanket.

Dex looked down at where your shoe touched his before glancing back up at you with something unbearably soft in his expression. Like even that smallest touch meant something to him.

Maybe it did.

“You know,” you said after a moment, “you’re much calmer than I expected.”

His expression shifted slightly at that. “Disappointed?”

“No.” Your answer came instantly. “Just surprised.”

Dex looked away briefly toward the trees swaying overhead. “You make it quiet.”

Your heartbeat stumbled softly. “What does that mean?”

“When I’m around other people…” He paused carefully, like he was trying to explain something he normally kept locked away. “Everything feels loud and irritating. But with you it doesn’t.”

The honesty in his voice settled warmly deep inside your chest.

You looked down at your hands for a moment before quietly asking, “Is that why you keep finding me?”

“Yes, and because you’re mine.”

Another honest, certain answer that no longer made panic claw up your throat. Instead it made warmth spread through you slowly.

A comfortable silence settled afterward as the two of you kept eating, sunlight warming your skin while distant laughter drifted through the park.

Then your eyes narrowed slightly as you watched Dex effortlessly toss a grape upward before catching it in his mouth without even looking.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

Dex glanced at you innocently. “What?”

“That sharpshooter nonsense doesn’t count.” You say, pointing at him.

“It was a grape.”

“You’re showing off.”

“I wasn’t trying to.”

“That makes it worse.”

A smug look of satisfaction flickered briefly across his face before he picked up another grape and held it out toward you.

“Try.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously before taking it. “I’m going to regret this.”

“Probably.” He smirked. 

You tossed the grape upward, tracking it carefully with your eyes, only for it to bounce directly off your forehead.

Dex stared at you for half a second before laughing quietly into his hand.

Actually laughing.

Your jaw dropped. “You’re laughing at me.”

“You hit yourself.”

“You distracted me!”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You have distracting energy.”

That only made him laugh harder and louder this time, and the sound made your heart race in your chest as a wonderfully warm feeling spread across your body.

And suddenly all you could think was, Oh, I’m in trouble, as you found yourself relaxing without realising it. Laughing easier, talking more, teasing him.

“You definitely practiced this date.” You said popping a grape in your mouth. 

Dex looked offended with another sandwich raised halfway towards his mouth. 

“I did not practice.”

“You absolutely practiced.”

“I planned.”

“You researched parks, didn’t you?”

“…Maybe.”

You laughed again.

“I knew it.”

“It’s a quiet area,” he defended immediately. “Minimal noise, minimal people, fewer interruptions.”

“You sound like you’re planning a kidnapping or something.” You teased. 

“I wanted it to go well.”

The quiet sincerity in his voice made your stomach flutter softly because suddenly you could see it so clearly. The careful planning, the attentiveness, the nervousness hidden beneath every decision.

This mattered to him. A lot. But it also mattered a lot to you too.

The buzzing of a bumblebee flying near the picnic blanket is what broke your thoughts as you instinctively leaned back slightly so you wouldn’t accidentally hurt it.

Dex noticed immediately, and without a word he carefully cupped his hands around it before standing and walking several feet away before letting it go near the flowers.

When he returned, you stared at him quietly with your chest twisting pleasantly.

“What?” He asked. 

“You moved the bee.”

“You didn’t want it hurt.” The simplicity of his answer made your heartbeat stumble hard enough to nicely ache.

Because nobody besides Matt noticed things like that. They didn’t pay attention to tiny reactions from you, but Dex always did.

Always.

“You’re staring now,” he said quietly.

You smiled before reaching over and fixing the collar of his shirt slightly where it had folded inward. Dex immediately went still beneath your touch, his eyes now fixed on your face.

Your fingers lingered against his collar for a second too long, but neither of you moved away as the air between you shifted softly into something warmer. More intimate.

Your hand slowly slid from his collar down his arm before resting lightly over his hand on the blanket. Dex inhaled sharply enough that you noticed before his fingers immediately intertwined carefully with yours. Like he’d wanted to do it for hours.

And honestly? So had you.

The soulmate bond tingled warmly beneath your skin. But for once it wasn’t the thing overwhelming you.

It was him.

The way he looked at you, the way he listened, the way he noticed everything about you, and the way he touched you like you were something precious. 

“You’re quiet,” Dex murmured softly.

You looked down at your joined hands.

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

You glanced back up at him slowly. “This is nice.”

Something almost unbearably soft and relaxed crossed his face.

“Yes,” he agreed quietly. “It is.”

And God, you liked this, liked him. Not just the bond, not just the attention.

Him.

The realisation settled strangely peacefully inside your chest. There was no panic, no guilt. Just truth.

Hours slipped by far too quickly after that.

You walked through quieter trails together afterwards, shoulders brushing as the sun slowly dipped lower across the city skyline. At some point your shoulder started aching faintly from the colder evenings and overworking yourself at the clinic earlier that week.

You hadn’t even realised you were rubbing it until Dex’s hand gently caught your wrist.

“Come here.”

Before you could ask what he meant, he stepped behind you and rested his hands carefully against your shoulders. Warmth spread slowly through the aching muscle as he gently massaged it.

Your eyes fluttered shut immediately. “Oh.”

“Tense?” he asked quietly.

“Very.” 

His thumbs worked carefully against the knot of pain near your scar. Not pressing too hard, not rushing, just steady but gentle circular motions.

“You take care of everyone else,” he murmured softly behind you. “Someone should take care of you too.”

Your chest tightened painfully because maybe that was the problem. Ever since your dad died all those years ago, it had only been you and Matt, but it had been years since you two had gotten separate apartments. 

You leaned back slightly into his warmth before realising what you were doing, and Dex immediately stilled before slowly wrapping his arms around your shoulders, testing to see if you would push him away or not. 

His breath caught quietly behind you as you slowly relaxed against him fully, but neither of you spoke for a moment. The parks noise drifted softly around you as the sun painted everything a soft gold.

His arms felt safe…and warm…and peaceful.

You hadn’t realised how badly you needed something peaceful until now. Eventually Dex’s hands slid carefully down your arms before he stepped beside you again.

His fingers brushed yours once. Twice. Then paused before you reached for his hand first.

Dex looked at you immediately, something vulnerable flickering through his eyes before softening into your affection.

And for the first time, you didn’t look away from it. From him. 

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By the time Dex walked you back to your apartment building, the sky had darkened into soft blues and blacks.

Neither of you seemed particularly eager for the night to end as you stood awkwardly near the entrance for a moment before laughing softly at yourself.

“This is the part where normal people say goodbye.”

Dex tilted his head slightly. “You want normal?”

You thought about it honestly, then smiled. “No.”

Something satisfied flickered across his expression, and you gathered that neither did he. The realisation should’ve scared you, but instead it felt strangely right for the two of you.

Dex stepped slightly closer. Close enough that you could feel warmth radiating from him as his eyes searched your face carefully.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

The fact he sounded genuinely uncertain made your chest ache softly. So instead of answering, you reached up and kissed his cheek gently. Right on the scar. 

Dex froze completely as your lips lingered there for a few seconds before you pulled back slightly.

“Yes,” you whispered honestly. “I really did.”

Something in Dex’s expression nearly took your breath away because for once it held no trace of obsession or possession. It was just happiness. Real, genuine happiness.

His hand lifted slowly toward your face before stopping near your cheek, like he was still giving you room to pull away. You didn’t as his thumb brushed softly across your skin.

Then he leaned down and pressed the gentlest kiss against your forehead, and your stomach fluttered as your chest warmed. 

“Goodnight, baby,” he murmured quietly.

You smiled. “Goodnight, Dex.”

He waited until you got inside the building before finally turning to leave, and later that night, curled beneath your blankets and lying there in the darkness replaying his soft smiles, careful hands, and the look on his face when you kissed his cheek, you finally stopped trying to deny what your heart already knew.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

TAGS: @benspoindexter @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @genya1617 @monikastuff @peanutbutterjellytime3000 @hanniesrock @not-the-teen-witch @its-jackie-bb @that1weirdweebgirl @trulovekay @star-yawnznn @snowwythegloww @ethereal-athalia @musicalfan2026 @mewmew222 @scarlet48 @doesanyonereadthis @skylerepost @disappearintofanfiction @floatingintheupsidedown @abbotfan @ancientbeing10 @sarahskywalker-amidala @artistadistrada2002 @kakuchosbff @weallhaveadestiny @hyperfixations-go-brrr @capri-cuntz @bullseyeshandcuffs @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @muffinbrown @cowboylover00 @hearsaygoose @badbishsblog @celleryxo @thecityofspareparts @miixkl @ninajambrich @iangelofmusic @planetevermore @sadest-bookshelf @paige0103 @bury-me-in-the-star @mrsxchase @kkkeeeiiirrraaa @clowninavan @mossmydarling @lostfallenangelsblog @ofmyownvolitionfics @shoxji

[sun-hashira]

Guilty as Sin?

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: after cutting Dex out of your life, his spiraling desperation leads you to make your first real choice for yourself instead of everyone else.

𝙬𝙝𝙤: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: soulmate au, hurt/comfort, blood, injury, Dex has a mental spiral. If I have missed any please let me know!

𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙮: @uzmacchiato

𝗮/𝗻: Part 4 of this series! Like before feedback is welcome!

Glitch Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: Sparks Fly

Previous Chapter: The Great War

“They’re gonna crucify me anyway… “ — Guilty as Sin? by Taylor Swift

The silence became unbearable on the fourth day.

It wasn’t Matt’s silence, nor was it Karen’s. Those you could survive because you knew that your brother loved you more than anything, and Karen had never stayed angry at you for long.

You knew that eventually the three of you would have a conversation or another argument or more tears to break the silence and fix this situation.

But what you hadn’t expected was how much Dex’s absence would ache. How the lack of gifts and him not breaking in through your window at night would hurt so much.

You stood in your kitchen staring at your phone while rain hit hard against the windows, exhaustion heavy on your body. Your apartment felt colder now and empty in a way it hadn’t been for a while.

Like something else had quietly left when you told him to leave.

Your fingers brushed unconsciously against your mark again, a gesture that once brought you a small bit of comfort now made tears well up in your eyes.

Sighing softly, you unlocked your phone again despite knowing what you’d see.

23 unread messages.

14 missed calls.

9 voicemails.

All from Dex.

You hadn’t answered a single call, hadn’t listened to a single voicemail, and hadn’t opened a single message. 

Tapping the messages app, you saw that they had started normal the messages had gradually got less coherent as the days passed.

Dex: Are you okay?

Dex: Please answer.

Dex: I’m sorry.

Dex: I’m trying.

Dex: You said leave you alone.

Dex: I’m trying to do that.

Dex: Please answer the phone.

The last message had arrived nearly seven hours ago, and the lack of anything else since has left you feeling more unsettled than relieved. But the ache in your chest still deepened as you locked your phone again and tossed it onto the counter.

Leaning heavily against the counter, you closed your eyes to try to stop the tears from coming because this was what they wanted, wasn’t it?

Distance. Space. No Dex.

So why did it feel like something was broken and bleeding inside you now that he was gone?

Because he had noticed you. You thought to yourself.

Because Dex had noticed everything about you.

He had noticed when your shoulder hurt, when you skipped meals, when you were exhausted, when your smile wasn’t real.

How he looked at you like you mattered, like you were something precious.

And now the silence he’d left behind haunted your apartment like a trapped ghost.

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Your phone ringing loudly on your bedside drawer startled you awake hard enough that your heart jumped painfully.

Grabbing it with a groan, the brightness of it blinded you before the name flashing on the screen made your stomach twist immediately.

Dex.

Glancing at the numbers on the top of the screen, you felt your heart begin to race again.

2:17 AM.

Dex never called this late. He knew your schedule too well and knew how little sleep you got between the apothecary and the clinic. Your stomach clenched again as the ringtone ended and a ping indicating a voicemail came through a few moments later.

But what made your chest tighten was the notification that showed he had already called four times before this one had finally woken you up.

You knew that you had been tired last night, but tired enough to miss four phone calls? You bit your lip with worry.

Then your phone rang again, and before you could think yourself out of it, you answered.

“Dex?” You asked into the phone.

He didn’t answer, but the sound of heavy, uneven breathing came through the phone.

But it was the sound of something falling somewhere made you worry instantly.

“Dex?” You asked again.

A long pause.

Then finally he spoke quietly, “I’m sorry.”

Your eyes closed briefly as your stomach settled, but hearing those words from him made your chest ache.

“What happened?” you asked softly.

More silence.

“You told me to leave you alone.” His voice sounded wrong. “I was trying to.”

The words hit painfully as you swallowed hard.

“Dex—”

“I can’t think when it’s quiet.” His voice was frustrated now as something crashed faintly in the background.

You straightened up immediately. “Are you hurt?”

Another pause.

“… No.”

A lie, and you could hear it instantly.

“Where are you?” You asked as your fingers tightened around the phone.

“At home.” His breathing stuttered unevenly again. “Baby, I’m trying very hard not to come see you.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek at his words. Because he had listened, even if it was destroying him.

You stared out at the rain streaking your apartment windows before moving out of bed and through the apartment.

“I’m coming over.” You said sliding on your shoes and then grabbing your coat and keys.

The silence on the other end was immediate.

“You don’t have to.” He whispered.

“I know.”

Another long pause.

“Okay.”

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Dex’s apartment looked like a war zone.

The moment he opened the door, you immediately froze. Glass littered the floor, a lamp had been shattered against the wall, one of the dining chairs lay broken near the kitchen, there were dents in the drywall, and blood was smeared across the edge of the counter.

And standing in the middle of it all was Dex.

Barefoot, breathing unevenly with his knuckles split open and bloodied.

Your chest tightened sadly because now every unread message felt heavier. More desperate.

Dex’s eyes immediately found yours and stayed there as if he was checking you were real.

“You came.”

The words sounded almost uncertain as your gaze slowly swept over the apartment again.

“What happened?”

Dex looked away for the first time since opening the door.

“I got angry.”

Your eyes dropped to his bleeding hands.

“You punched the wall.”

“Yes.”

Apparently several times you thought to yourself.

You stepped carefully over shattered glass as you entered his apartment and shut the door behind you. The place smelled faintly of blood and something electrical from the broken lamp.

But Dex didn’t move. Didn’t come closer. He was still doing what you’d said that night.

Leave me alone.

“Sit down,” you said quietly, pointing to his sofa.

He obeyed immediately.

You grabbed the first aid kit from where it sat untouched under the kitchen sink before kneeling carefully in front of him.

His eyes never left your face. Not once.

The cuts across his knuckles were messy and swollen already as you gently took one of his hands in yours. The soulmate mark on your collarbone burned faintly at the contact.

Dex inhaled sharply.

You ignored it.

“Why didn’t you clean these?”

Dex watched your thumb brush carefully beneath his split knuckles.

“I couldn’t focus.”

Your chest ached at his words as you carefully soaked a gauze and gently cleaned the blood from his skin.

The apartment remained painfully quiet except for the sound of heavy rain against the windows.

Dex looked exhausted. Like something inside him had been wound too tightly for too long and finally snapped.

“You should’ve listened to the voicemails,” he said quietly after a while.

You glanced up briefly. “Were they coherent?”

“… No.”

Despite yourself, a small, tired laugh escaped you.

Dex’s mouth twitched faintly at the sound and then disappeared again.

“I tried,” he admitted softly.

Your hands stilled slightly against his skin. “I know.”

“No,” he said quietly. “You don’t.”

His jaw tightened once. “I stayed away.”

Guilt twisted low in your stomach.

Not because his spiral was your fault. It wasn’t.

But because you suddenly understood how hard he’d actually tried.

“I know,” you repeated softer this time.

Dex finally looked away again. “I kept thinking about what you said.”

Leave me alone.

The memory made your chest tighten painfully.

“I didn’t mean forever, baby,” you whispered before you could stop yourself.

Dex’s eyes snapped back to yours immediately. Something desperate flickered there so quickly it almost hurt to look at.

You quickly focused back on healing his hands.

Your powers stirred faintly beneath your skin as you carefully brushed your fingers across his bruised knuckles. Warmth spread softly from your touch, easing some of the swelling before the wounds closed.

“All done.” Your hands faintly shook as you pulled them away from him.

Dex exhaled softly as the pain left his hands.

“You’re tired,” he murmured immediately.

Of course he noticed, you thought to yourself. “I’m fine.”

“You’re lying.”

You snorted quietly. “A little hypocritical coming from you.”

His mouth twitched again. A tiny, almost smile.

God, you had missed that.

The realisation settled heavily in your chest.

Carefully setting the supplies aside, you leaned back slightly against the sofa, Dex still watching you like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked.

“You destroyed your apartment,” you muttered softly.

“I know.” He whispered.

“You probably scared the neighbours.”

“I know.”

“You called me at two in the morning.”

At that, something conflicted crossed his expression.

“I didn’t know what else to do.”

The honesty in his voice hit harder than anything else tonight.

You looked at him quietly for a long moment, then slowly reached out and touched his face.

Dex immediately went still beneath your hand. His eyes fluttered shut briefly as he leaned into your touch.

Your thumb brushed gently beneath the bruise near his cheekbone.

“You should’ve called earlier.”

Dex opened his eyes again slowly.

“You told me to leave you alone.”

God.

The fact he treated every word you said like they were sacrosanct made your chest ache.

You swallowed thickly. “I know.”

A softer silence settled this time as Dex leaned further into your touch almost unconsciously, like he needed it.

Your heartbeat stumbled painfully.

Because this right here felt dangerously close to the tenderness you had wanted for years, and maybe that was what scared you most. Not the violence, not the obsession, but this.

This softness.

“I missed you.”

The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

Dex froze completely as his eyes searched your face like he didn’t trust what he’d heard.

Then something inside him visibly unraveled.

His hand lifted slowly toward your face like he was afraid you might pull away. When you didn’t, his fingers brushed your cheek carefully.

Reverently. Like you were something breakable.

“You did?” he asked softly.

Your chest tightened. “Yes.”

The confession settled heavily between you.

Dex stared at you for one long second before suddenly leaning forward and kissing you.

This kiss felt nothing like the last one.

It wasn’t desperate, wasn’t forceful, and there was no panic like before, just warmth and careful hesitancy in a way that almost hurt more.

Your breath caught sharply.

Then slowly you kissed him back.

The soulmate bond burned warmly beneath your skin as his other hand slid carefully to your jaw, thumbs caressing against both your cheeks like he still wasn’t fully convinced you were real.

And God, you wanted this, wanted him.

The realisation hit hard enough that you pulled back abruptly.

Dex immediately stiffened as panic flashed across his face so quickly it hurt to see.

“I’m sorry,” he said instantly. “I thought—”

“No.”

You cupped his face quickly before he could spiral again.

“No, that’s not—”

But his breathing had already started changing again, sharp and uneven.

You moved closer instinctively.

“I wanted that,” you admitted softly.

Dex stared at you. “But you’re upset.”

“No, baby, it’s—I liked it.”

His expression shifted into something stunned and painfully hopeful all at once.

You let out a shaky breath. “This is complicated.”

“I know.”

“You don’t actually.”

That nearly made him smile again as your thumb brushed carefully across his cheek.

“I just…” your voice softened, “I don’t want this to happen because you’re vulnerable right now.”

Understanding slowly crossed his face before it turned almost unbearably soft.

“You stayed anyway,” he whispered.

The vulnerability in his voice nearly wrecked you as your forehead gently rested against his.

“I’m still here.”

Dex went completely still beneath your touch. Then slowly his eyes closed. Like those words physically settled something broken inside him.

The apartment remained quiet around you, the rain still landing hard against the windows.

Your fingers slid gently through his hair as his breathing finally began to even out beneath your touch.

“You should sleep,” you murmured eventually.

Dex opened his eyes again immediately. “You’ll leave.”

The certainty in his voice hurt. You shook your head softly.

“Not tonight.”

Fragile relief crossed his face then.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The apartment was less like a war zone come morning light after you spent the three hours that you couldn’t sleep tidying it up as best as you could.

You stood in Dex’s kitchen wearing one of his shirts while making coffee as the sun shone in through the windows. Behind you, Dex leaned silently against the counter watching you.

“You stare a lot,” you muttered softly.

“I like looking at you.”

Heat crawled faintly into your face as you turned toward him, holding out his coffee. Dex took it carefully, his knuckles looking significantly better this morning after your healing.

“You didn’t sleep much,” he observed immediately.

“Neither did you.”

“But I slept.”

You blinked slightly at the quiet honesty in his voice before you realised that he meant he slept because you stayed. The thought settled pleasantly deep in your chest as you leaned lightly against the counter beside him.

The silence this morning didn’t feel awkward.

Just…quiet.

“You’re not scared of me.”

The words came suddenly.

You looked at him carefully. “No.”

Dex studied your face closely. “You probably should be.”

You snorted softly. “There’s the self-awareness.”

His mouth twitched slightly, then faded. “I never wanted to hurt you.”

The sincerity in his voice made your chest ache again. “I know.”

Silence stretched softly between you.

Then Dex spoke again. “What do you want?”

The question caught you off guard.

Not because of the question itself. But because no one had really asked you that through all of this.

What do you want?

Not what would Matt want? Or what would Karen think? Or what’s morally right?

Just…you.

Your fingers tightened slightly around your mug.

You. You thought to yourself. 

“I don’t know,” you said quietly. 

Dex nodded once like he understood.

“One date.” He said after a moment.

You looked at him.

His expression remained calm, but there was something careful underneath it now. Something uncertain.

“I’m not asking for anything else,” he said quietly. “Just one date.”

Your heartbeat stumbled.

Because this wasn’t fate demanding something from you, it wasn’t obsession, this was a choice. Your choice. And for the first time since all of this began, you let yourself think about what you actually wanted.

Not what everyone else feared.

Not what everyone else expected.

You thought about the warm takeout left on counters, the flowers at the apothecary, the eye-colored rocks, his gentle calloused hands against your skin, and someone who looked at you like you mattered.

Your lips parted softly “… Okay.”

The word barely left your mouth before something in Dex’s expression softened so completely it almost took your breath away. It wasn’t triumph, not total possession, but quiet happiness.

Real happiness.

Happiness that felt far more satisfying than anything else.

TAGS: @benspoindexter @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @genya1617 @monikastuff @peanutbutterjellytime3000 @hanniesrock @not-the-teen-witch @its-jackie-bb @that1weirdweebgirl @trulovekay @star-yawnznn @snowwythegloww @ethereal-athalia @musicalfan2026 @mewmew222 @scarlet48 @doesanyonereadthis @skylerepost @disappearintofanfiction @floatingintheupsidedown @abbotfan @ancientbeing10 @sarahskywalker-amidala @artistadistrada2002 @kakuchosbff @weallhaveadestiny @hyperfixations-go-brrr @capri-cuntz @bullseyeshandcuffs @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @muffinbrown @cowboylover00 @hearsaygoose @badbishsblog @celleryxo @thecityofspareparts @miixkl @ninajambrich @iangelofmusic @planetevermore @sadest-bookshelf @paige0103 @bury-me-in-the-star @mrsxchase @kkkeeeiiirrraaa @clowninavan @mossmydarling

[sun-hashira]

Part 4 of my Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Female!Murdock Reader which has now been named the Glitch Series thanks to @skylerepost should hopefully be out on Monday! 🤞🏻

[sun-hashira]

Just finished watching Untamed on Netflix and damn it was good! Definitely recommend it!

But now I can’t stop thinking about making a Shane Maguire x Female!Reader that will probably be canon divergent like my Dex/Bullseye series that I’m currently writing!

[sun-hashira]

The Great War

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: how did one weekly dinner manage to ruin everything?

𝙬𝙝𝙤: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader

𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 2.5k

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: soulmate au, arguing, swearing, mentions of bodily harm, a forced kiss (I think), angst/hurt. If I have missed any please let me know!

𝙙𝙞𝙫𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙮: @uzmacchiato

𝗮/𝗻: Part 3 of this series! A bit of angst/hurt before these two start their journey. I really need to think of a name for this series. Any suggestions? Like before feedback is welcome!

Glitch Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: Guilty as Sin?

Previous Chapter: I Can See You

“Flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur…“ — The Great War by Taylor Swift

The past three days had been unbearable.

Matt had called six times, Karen had texted eleven, and every single time your phone lit up with their names, guilt twisted in your stomach so hard that you felt sick.

You knew avoiding them wouldn’t solve anything and that it would just make them concerned and confused. But every time you went to answer their calls, your nerves made you panic. Because how were you supposed to tell them?

How were you supposed to look your brother and best friend in the eyes and tell them that the man who shot you is your soulmate and you keep letting him back in your life?

Sighing tiredly, you rubbed the mark on your collarbone as your phone buzzed on the kitchen counter.

Matt. Again.

You stared at it until the ringing stopped, and then a ping indicated that a text had come through. Dropping the spoon into your half-eaten bowl of cereal, you grabbed your phone.

Matt: Dinner tonight. No excuses.

You closed your eyes briefly before another ping sounded.

Karen: If you ghost us again I’m coming over there and dragging you out with us.

Despite everything, a weak laugh escaped you. God, you missed them. Which made your guilt even worse.

Your fingers hovered over the screen before finally typing and sending a single sentence.

You: I’ll be there.

The response from Karen came immediately.

Karen: Suspiciously fast answer. Are you dying?

You snorted softly.

Only emotionally, you thought to yourself.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

Matt’s apartment smelled like pasta sauce and garlic bread.

Which made the dread clawing at your chest almost painful.

Karen stood near the stove with a glass of wine in hand while Matt finished plating dinner, movements smooth and precise despite his blindness.

For one horrible moment, you thought about lying again. Considered faking a smile and pretending that everything was fine.

“There she is.” Matt smiled when he heard you step inside.

Sliding off your shoes, Karen set down her wine glass as she walked over and hugged you tightly.

“You look exhausted,” she muttered against your shoulder.

“I’ve been busy.” You say, hugging her back.

“You’ve been avoiding us.” She said, hugging you tighter.

You forced a weak smile. “That too.”

Karen pulled back just enough to study your face before letting you go.

Matt’s head tilted slightly. “You haven’t been sleeping.”

You swallowed thickly. “No.”

The silence lingered a little too long for Matt to not notice your nerves.

“Dinner’s ready,” he said quietly.

The three of you settled around the small kitchen table, the room glowing warm under dim lighting while a soft breeze swept through it from the open window.

Normally this would’ve comforted you. Tonight it just made you feel trapped as Karen talked about work and Matt complained about a client.

Nodding at the right moments while barely tasting the food they made, your heartbeat refused to slow down, and you knew Matt could hear it.

It was halfway through dinner when Karen sighed and set her fork down.

“Okay,” she said carefully. “What’s going on with you?”

Your stomach dropped. “Nothing.”

“Bullshit.”

“Karen,”

“No! You’ve been avoiding us for days,” she interrupted. “You look miserable, you’re barely speaking, and don't think for a second we haven't noticed how weird you get when Poindexter is mentioned.”

You froze as your breath stuttered, and across the table, Matt went completely still.

The apartment suddenly felt suffocatingly quiet as your already racing heart got faster.

“Wait.” He whispered.

Your chest tightened painfully as Matt turned towards you, and in that moment you realised by the look on his face that he already suspected your secret.

“That’s why,” Matt said quietly.

Your eyes burned immediately. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Karen stared between the two of you, confused. “Is this another one of those twin things?”

“Say it,” Matt said.

“Matty,” your voice cracked as your fingers shook around your fork.

“Bug,” Matt softly said your childhood nickname. “Just say it.”

You swallowed hard as you looked down at your barely touched dinner.

“Dex is my soulmate.” You finally whispered.

Your eyes lifted as the room fell silent at your confession despite your chest feeling a little lighter.

“Oh my God.” Karen's words came out angry as she looked at you like you'd physically struck her.

“No,” she said immediately after. “No.”

Beside her, Matt sat motionless.

“Does he know?” He asked.

You almost released a bitter laugh because, of course, that would be Matt’s first question.

Not are you okay? Or has he hurt you? Or are you seeing him?

But does he know? Because Matt understood exactly what it meant if Dex did.

“Yes.” You say.

Karen let out a disbelieving laugh. “You told him?”

“I didn’t have to.” You tell them.

Matt’s jaw tightened slightly. “How long?”

Your throat closed. “Since the night he shot me.”

Karen inhaled sharply, and Matt looked sick for the first time all evening.

Because now they understood.

Dex had known the entire time. While imprisoned, while isolated, while unmedicated and unstable.

Obsessing about you.

“Oh my God,” Karen whispered, horrified now instead of angry.

You stared down at your hands in your lap. “I didn’t know what to do.”

“You should’ve stayed away from him.” Karen exclaimed, standing abruptly from the table.

You twisted your fingers tightly together, hoping the slight pain would ease the tightness in your chest.

“I tried.”

“He shot you.”

“I know.”

“He nearly killed Foggy.”

Your breath caught painfully as your eyes stung with tears.

The apartment went quiet again.

Karen’s eyes filled with frustrated tears. “And you still let him into your apartment?”

You flinched as a tear ran down your cheek. But that wasn't the worst part because what was worse was the fact that you wanted him there.

Matt's voice was steady when he spoke again, “Has he been contacting you?”

“Yes.” You confirm wiping the tear off your cheek.

“How?”

Matt’s expression hardened when you hesitated too long.

“Has he been seeing you?”

You looked away as your heart began racing again.

Karen stared at you in disbelief. “You can’t see him.”

Something inside you snapped slightly at her words. “Karen.”

“No,” she interrupted sharply. “Absolutely not. He is dangerous.”

“I know he’s dangerous.”

“Then why are you doing this?”

You froze at her question.

Because he notices me. You thought to yourself. Because he makes me feel seen. Because I want him to keep coming back.

Matt’s voice cut through your spiraling thoughts.

“How can you possibly want this?”

Your throat tightened at the crack in his voice. Because your brother wasn't angry, he wasn't judgmental. He was hurt.

Your eyes burned again. “You think I don’t ask myself that every day?”

Neither of them answered.

So you kept going. Mouth moving before you could stop it.

“I waited years for my soulmate,” you whispered shakily. “Years. And then it was him.”

Your voice cracked.

“Do you think I wanted it to be him?”

Karen’s expression faltered slightly.

But the words wouldn’t stop now that the hurt and suffering you had kept locked away for months had broken free.

“I know what he’s done,” you continued. “I know who he is. I know what people think when they look at him.”

Your breathing shook as you looked them in the eyes.

“But every time I try to stay away from him…” your voice softened painfully, “… I can’t.”

Silence filled the apartment for the third time that night. This time heavy and miserable.

Matt’s face tightened again. “He’s already attached to you.”

“Don't,” you looked at him sharply. “Don't use that against me. Against him.”

Matt’s jaw flexed once. “I can hear it every time his name comes up.”

Anger twisted low in your stomach. Because Matt was right, Dex was attached, and you knew that from his gifts and his relaxed attitude whenever he broke into your apartment.

But so was a part of you.

Karen sank slowly back into her chair, rubbing at her face.

“You’re my best friend,” she whispered. “And I’m terrified he’s going to destroy you.”

The anger in her voice finally cracked enough for the fear underneath to show.

Your eyes burned harder. “I know.”

Because that was the horrible truth. You knew exactly what this could become, how this could end.

And still you wondered about the what-ifs and the maybes and the possibility that this might not destroy you.

The apartment suddenly felt suffocating.

You pushed your chair back abruptly. “I should go.”

Karen immediately looked guilty. “Wait.”

But you were already sliding on your shoes.

Matt stood quickly too. “Hey, bug.”

You paused near the door, coat on only one shoulder.

Matt’s expression was a mix of protective, worried, and nervous all at once.

“You’re not alone in this,” he said quietly.

But somehow that only made your tears burn harder because, despite his words, you had never felt more alone.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The rain had soaked through your coat by the time you got home.

Your chest still hurt, but at least your tears had stopped. Karen’s voice still echoing in your skull.

He shot you.

God. You knew that.

Hands trembling slightly, you unlocked your apartment and stepped inside. The lights were off, but you immediately felt his presence.

“You told them.” Dex’s voice came quietly from the darkness.

You switched the lights on and slowly shut the door behind you.

Dex sat on the sofa, half-hidden by shadows. His head tilted as he watched you again.

You suddenly felt exhausted down to your bones. “Yes.”

Silence filled the apartment as rain tapped softly against the windows.

Dex’s eyes moved slowly across your face, studying every emotion there.

“They’re upset.” He said.

A sad, humourless laugh escaped you. “That’s one word for it.”

Dex stayed quiet for a moment. “What did they say?”

You dropped your wet coat onto the chair. “That you’re dangerous.”

His expression didn’t change. Because that wasn’t news to either of you. “And?”

You looked away first. “They don’t understand why I keep letting you come back.”

The second the words left your mouth, anger shifted on Dex’s face.

Sharp and immediate.

Your chest tightened when you saw it.

“You told them why?” he asked quietly.

“It’s not that simple.”

“It is to me.”

Of course it was. To him you're not just soulmates, you're fate, you're destiny. And you knew that because Dex had always looked at you like you were it for him.

But for you? Nothing about this was simple.

“You don’t understand what this is doing to my life, Dex, to me,” you whispered tiredly.

Dex stared at you. “You think I don’t?”

“You have killed people, Dex.”

Your words cracked through the apartment sharply.

“I know.”

“You nearly destroyed my family.” You could feel the tears forming again.

His jaw tightened immediately. “I know.”

“You shot me.”

Your words were sharp, and you saw the emotions immediately on his face.

The guilt, the anger, and the frustration.

“Do you think I wanted to do that?” he snapped suddenly.

You blinked, stunned as Dex stood up and stepped closer.

“I didn’t know,” he said harshly. “I didn’t know who you were then.”

“But you know now.” You felt the first tear fall.

“Yes.”

“Then you know why this feels impossible for me?”

Dex’s breathing came out sharper than before. Because this conversation was turning into something he couldn’t fix.

And it was terrifying him.

“You keep pushing me away,” he said quietly, gently cupping your face.

Your chest ached at his words and actions. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“I do.” He said as his thumbs gently stroked your cheeks.

A bitter laugh escaped you.

“No, you don’t.”

“I know you’re mine.”

The words hit like a punch as his name burned hot on your collarbone.

“I’m not a possession.” You snap, putting your hands on his chest, ready to push him away.

Dex stepped closer again.

“Baby, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?” You asked, ignoring your heart fluttering when he called you that. 

His eyes searched yours desperately, like if he could just make you understand his view, everything would stop hurting.

“You feel it too. The connection between us. Our bond.”

Your breath caught.

Because that was the problem, you did feel it.

You felt it in every glance, in every touch, and in every moment he looked at you like you were something precious. 

Something his.

You felt all of it, and you were too tired to deny that you didn't want more.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” you whispered shakily and knew that it was a lie.

Dex looked genuinely confused by the question.

“You.”

The simplicity of his answer made your heart flutter and break at the same time.

“You can’t just,” your voice cracked as more tears fell, “you can’t just come back after everything and expect this to be easy.”

“I don’t expect easy.”

“Then what?” You pushed against his chest, but he barely moved.

Dex stared at you for one long, awful second.

“You keep acting like loving me is the worst thing that could happen to you.” He whispered.

Your eyes widened.

Because that wasn’t what this was.

That wasn't what you meant.

But before you could explain, Dex suddenly closed the distance between you.

One hand moving to the back of your head while the other wrapped around your waist.

And then he was kissing you.

Desperate and impulsive, like if he could get close enough, this distance you kept between you two would finally disappear.

For a second you froze.

Because this was your soulmate, and you had imagined this moment for years. But also because this was Dex, and half of you wanted this.

Then reality slammed back into you.

Your hands shoved hard against his chest. “Stop.”

Dex stumbled back instantly, his hands leaving your body.

The apartment fell silent except for your uneven breathing, but you could see his expressions shifting.

From confusion to realisation and then panic. Like he’d only just understood what he’d done.

Your own mixed emotions made your head spin.

“You can’t do that,” you whispered.

Dex looked wrecked. “I thought.”

“I know what you thought.” Your tears were flowing freely now.

“But you can’t fix this like that.”

Silence filled the apartment again, and for the first time since meeting him, Dex looked uncertain.

And you hated that look on his face. You never wanted him to feel uncertain around you, but why is this situation making you feel like you have to choose between your family and your soulmate?

“Leave me alone.” Your throat tightened painfully.

The words shattered something between you instantly.

Dex went completely still, and the look on his face nearly made you take the words back. Because for the first time since you met him, he looked scared.

Scared of losing you.

But you forced yourself to hold his gaze anyway, and after a long, horrible moment, Dex nodded once.

Then, without another word, he stepped backwards toward the open window and stopped as if he was waiting for something before disappearing into the rain.

Leaving you standing alone and crying in the middle of your apartment, feeling like a fool for believing that you could have had it all.

TAGS: @benspoindexter @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @genya1617 @monikastuff @peanutbutterjellytime3000 @hanniesrock @not-the-teen-witch @its-jackie-bb @that1weirdweebgirl @trulovekay @star-yawnznn @snowwythegloww @ethereal-athalia @musicalfan2026 @mewmew222 @scarlet48 @doesanyonereadthis @skylerepost @disappearintofanfiction @floatingintheupsidedown @abbotfan @ancientbeing10 @sarahskywalker-amidala @artistadistrada2002 @kakuchosbff @weallhaveadestiny @hyperfixations-go-brrr @capri-cuntz @bullseyeshandcuffs @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @muffinbrown @cowboylover00 @hearsaygoose @badbishsblog @celleryxo @thecityofspareparts @miixkl @ninajambrich @iangelofmusic

[sun-hashira]

omg I sent in an ask awhile ago on another bloggers page about their thoughts on a dex soulmate au, and found your story through your comment in that post so I had to run to read it! I like the characterization of dex! He’s serving lowkey pathetic vibes which is exactly what I was thinking!!

I have a question. Is foggy still alive? I re read it to make sure and it’s kind of ambiguous. It doesn’t confirm that foggy died during the scene where he gets shot so I’m wondering if you changed it so that he lived? But then he’s also not mentioned after, especially in regards to what dex has done to the reader (she only mentions he shot her and not that he killed foggy which I feel like would be an important thing for her to mention if foggy died).

I am glad you’re enjoying it! I honestly couldn’t decide between FBI!Dex and DD:BA!Dex so they’re kinda mixed together personality wise 🤣

You are right about it being ambiguous regarding Foggy and that is because when I was writing Willow and I Can See You I hadn’t decided yet if I wanted him to live. BUT it will be revealed in part 3 which will hopefully be out on Monday! 🩵

[sun-hashira]

Part 3 of my Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Female!Murdock Reader should hopefully be out at the end of this week! 🤞🏻

Hope you’re ready for a bit of angst before everything is uphill and (hopefully) happy 😊

[sun-hashira]

Kind of thinking of her going on a date. I don’t how accurate that would be to her character, knowing her soulmate already, but maybe Karen set her up, maybe with someone from the Bulletin

And Dex stalks the whole date, or maybe even kills the guy so he can’t show up

And maybe this is my Frank Castle obsession shining through, but maybe she’s kind of close with him (which shows she may be a bit more lenient with ‘criminals’ than her brother) which makes Dex jealous

Ooh this is a good idea but sadly the date wouldn’t be accurate for her character especially since we’ve already seen she does feel something for Dex.

I might use the Frank Castle idea if you don’t mind (credit added) because she is more lenient than Matt especially with her job at the back-alley clinic!

[sun-hashira]

I Can See You

summary: you should’ve known Dex would have unusual ways of keeping an eye on you.

who: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader

word count: 2.9k (i got carried away again)

warnings: soulmate au, mentions of stalking, break-ins, and blood. If I have missed any please let me know!

divider by: @uzmacchiato

a/n: Part 2 of this series! It should hopefully have 12 main parts total if all goes well 🤞🏻. Like before feedback is welcome! 

Glitch Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: The Great War

Previous Chapter: Willow

“I could see you being my addiction…“ — I Can See You by Taylor Swift

It’s been two weeks since you last saw Dex.

Two weeks of pretending that he wasn’t there that night, two weeks of spending your time at the apothecary and the back-alley clinic, and two weeks of smiling at your brother and friends, pretending you still hadn’t met your soulmate.

In those two weeks, Dex never came back to your apartment while you were home.

But he’d been there.

You knew because he left gifts.

Like a book you liked left three days earlier, your favorite snacks in the kitchen, and a smooth rock placed on your coffee table that you still hadn’t figured out the meaning of.

So the pretty red flower sitting on the counter when you and Karen entered the shop for a day of restock and date checking didn’t surprise you as much as it should have.

“What’s that?” Karen asks, already reaching for it before you can say anything.

She turns it between her fingers, brows knitting slightly before a teasing grin grows on her face. “Have you got a secret admirer you haven’t told me about?”

You only shrug in response.

Because you know exactly where it came from and who left it.

“…hun?” Karen asks, now frowning in worry. “You okay?”

“It’s nothing.” You say stepping forward and plucking the flower from Karen’s hand a little too quickly. “Just a flower.”

“A pretty flower,” Karen says teasingly, watching you twirl the flower. “Do you know what type it is? What it mean?”

“It’s a red salvia.” You force a small smile. “It means forever mine.”

But your grip tightens around the stem as you tell her the meaning. 

Karen’s teasing expression softens slightly as she watches you turn the flower between your fingers. “Well,” she says slowly, “that’s either very romantic or mildly concerning.”

You snort quietly. “Probably the second one.”

“Hm.” Karen narrows her eyes at you for a moment like she’s trying to piece something together. “At least your mysterious admirer has good taste.”

You roll your eyes, moving past her towards the shelves lined with herbal teas. “You say that now, but wait until he starts leaving dead animals on my door like an unwanted cat.”

Karen gasps in mock horror. “Are those the standards these days?”

You hum noncommittally, carefully placing the flower back on the counter before throwing an apron towards Karen and putting on yours.

The rest of the morning passes quietly.

You and Karen work your way through the apothecary together, checking dates, organising shelves, and restocking the herbal remedies that always sold quickly once flu season hit. 

Normally, this monthly routine soothed you.

But today every time the shop bell rings, you find yourself tensing, and every tall silhouette outside the frosted window makes your stomach tighten for a second.

It annoys you that he’s affecting you like this.

By the time the shop closes for the night, your feet and head ache.

“You’re distracted today,” Karen says casually while pulling on her coat.

“I’m tired.”

“You reorganised the same shelf three times.”

You pause halfway through locking the door. “… Did I?”

The look Karen gives is filled with worry.

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The warmth of the diner feels welcoming compared to the cold outside.

Sitting across from Matt and Karen, you’re happily stealing fries off your brother’s plate while Karen animatedly tells a story involving a customer she had this morning, and for a little while you manage to relax like everything's normal.

Until the second Karen casually says, “Oh, and someone left a flower for her this morning.”

You nearly choke on a stolen fry.

“What kind of flower, you ask?” Karen continues, clearly enjoying herself.

“Red salvia,” she answers before you can stop her. “It’s romantic.”

Matt’s fork stops halfway on his plate.

“It’s a flower.” You say it with a smirk, ignoring your brother’s stare.

“It’s not just a flower,” Karen corrects, standing with her empty glass. “It's from your secret admirer.”

That makes Matt go quiet, and you can feel his full attention on you.

“You’ve been distracted lately.” Matt comments after a moment.

“It’s nothing,” you reply too quickly. “Just work.”

“You have been working more hours at the clinic recently,” Karen adds concerned. “Are you sure it’s nothing?”

“You’re both making this a bigger deal than it is." You force a laugh, pushing your empty glass towards Karen. “Go get us those drinks, would you.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Matt asks quietly a few minutes after Karen arrives at the bar. “You can tell me anything, remember?”

You glance toward him. Even with the glasses hiding his eyes, you can see the worry written across his face, and for a second you want to tell him everything.

About Dex, about the bond, the break-in, and the gifts. About the way your stomach pleasantly twists every time you think about him.

Instead, you force a smile. “I’m fine, Matty. Really.”

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Dinner with Matt and Karen had left you feeling lighter than you had felt in days as you walked inside your apartment building.

That last Manhattan cocktail had been exactly what you needed, keeping you warm beneath your coat as you rode the elevator upstairs, your cheeks still flushed from shared laughter.

The apartment is warm and cozy when you step inside, making sure to lock all the locks before sliding your shoes off and shrugging your coat onto a nearby chair.

Walking into the kitchen, you pour yourself a large glass of water while already dreading the dehydration you'll have tomorrow morning after tonight’s drinks.

Sipping from the glass, you make your way to the living room for an hour of mindless television before bed when something on the coffee table catches your attention.

A familiar cardboard box sits neatly in the middle of the table.

“Seriously?” you mutter quietly. “What is it this time?”

Because somehow, despite locking every window before leaving that morning, Dex had apparently been inside your apartment… again.

Sighing softly, you place your glass down before grabbing the box and lowering yourself onto the sofa.

Cardboard damp beneath your fingertips as you carefully lift the lid to see what he’s left you this time.

Your brows pull together slightly as you reach inside and pull out the knife resting in it.

It’s smaller than the ones you have in your kitchen, the handle worn in a way that shows it's often been used, and beneath the warm glow of your lamp, you can see the dried blood staining parts of the blade.

“Jesus Christ, Dex.” The words leave you quietly, more exhausted than alarmed. “This is the worst one yet.”

You turn the knife slightly in your hand, seeing where he had attempted to wipe the blood away.

The sight should concern you more than it does, but after everything that has happened over the past few weeks, you often find yourself feeling irritated, in disbelief, and occasionally flattered.

But this? Who leaves someone a bloody knife as a gift?

Setting it carefully back into the box, your mind drifts to the other gifts left in your apartment by Dex when you weren’t home.

A pretty purple hyacinth had been the first thing he left, followed by your favorite snacks, a book you’d wanted to read, and lastly the smooth rock sitting on the table.

Which you’re still confused by.

For a long moment you stare at the knife inside the box before laughing under your breath.

“Next he’ll bring me dead animals like a stray cat,” you mumble to yourself, putting the box back on the coffee table and grabbing your glass of water.

You know you should throw it all away, the knife especially.

But instead, you pick the box back up and carry it towards the hallway cupboard where the others already sit neatly on the top shelf.

The sight of them all lined up together makes something uncomfortable twist in your gut. Because somewhere over the past two weeks, this had become normal.

The gifts. The break-ins. Dex finding his way into your apartment whenever he pleased.

You hate how little it all unsettles you.

Carefully sliding the newest box beside the others, your thoughts lands on the first one he left. A purple hyacinth that has since been pressed and turned into a bookmark.

A bookmark that now rests inside the book that has made itself a home on your coffee table, half-finished after too many late nights spent reading instead of sleeping.

And the flower from this morning now sat in a glass of water beside the till because part of you couldn’t bring yourself to throw that away either.

Instead you close the cupboard door and head towards your bedroom.

The apartment is quiet as you complete your nightly routine, trying not to think about the fact that Dex had once again been inside your home while you were gone.

Outside, the chilly wind had turned into rain that tapped softly against the windows as you finally slide beneath your blankets.

Exhaustion pulls heavily at your body, helped by the drinks and the lingering comfort from dinner with Matt and Karen.

You reach over to switch off your bedside lamp, your thoughts drifting toward the smooth rock in the living room.

“What does a rock even mean?” you mumble tiredly to yourself.

⠈⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄

The next day unusually sunny for New York.

The city moves at a gentler pace than usual, a soft breeze blowing through the park while birds sing through the noise of traffic.

Arms linked with Matt, you two walk at an easy pace that makes it harder to hide how distracted you are.

“You’re quiet today,” he says after a while.

“It’s a nice day for quiet,” you reply, adjusting your grip on the ice cream in your hand.

“I’m serious,” Matt continues, slowing until you both come to a stop. “You’ve been… distant lately.”

“Work, the clinic, life in general.” You let out a small breath that could almost be a laugh if it weren’t so forced. “Take your pick.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

You don’t answer immediately.

Because you know exactly what he means but you don't know how to explain it.

Not the gifts. Not the feeling of being watched. Not the way your apartment no longer feels like just yours.

“It’s nothing,” you say, a little too quickly, gently tugging him to walk again. “You’re imagining things.”

Matt doesn’t respond again.

He just walks beside you, quiet in a way that he usually is when trying to understand you.

For the rest of the walk, you fill the silence. Talking about the apothecary, about how the clinic has been busier lately, about anything that comes to mind.

Anything that doesn’t remind you of him.

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By the time you got home that night, rain had started falling again.

Droplets clung to your jacket as you unlocked your apartment and step inside. Shrugging your jacket off you throw it over the sofa before freezing.

Sitting in the middle of your coffee table was the medium-sized rock. Brows furrowing as you picked it up and admired the unique colours of it again.

Pretty, you think to yourself, running your thumb over the smooth texture before a deep voice speaks from your bathroom.

“It’s the same colour as your eyes.”

You gasp as you turned sharply, your arm now raised in a position to immediately throw the rock in your hand if needed.

There, in the doorway of your bathroom, stood Dex. Sleeves rolled up to his elbows as he wiped blood from his hands with a damp cloth.

Your eyes immediately scanned him. The healer in you searching for any injuries that might need attention but not finding any.

Good. You were far too hungry to be dealing with that again.

Lowering your arm, your gaze dropped back to the rock in your hand.

“The same colour as my eyes?” you repeated.

Dex threw the cloth into the hamper as he left the bathroom, flicking the switch as he walked out and into the living room. His hair was still damp from the rain as his eyes stayed fixed completely on you.

“Yes.” He said, stopping a foot away from you as his eyes roamed your body.

Your fingers curl gently around the stone. Nobody had ever noticed something like that before. Sure, Matt knew how to read you like a book, but you doubted he remembered the colour of your eyes.

But Dex did.

Your mouth slightly curves before you could stop it.

Dex stilled the second he saw it grace your face, his eyes focusing on your smile like he’d never seen anything more beautiful before. A small smile of his own appeared.

You felt your cheeks flush as you looked away, clearing your throat. “You better have not bled all over my bathroom floor,” you muttered.

Dex’s expression shifted slightly. More teasing this time.

“It’s not much blood.”

“Say that to my sofa.”

“That was also not much blood.”

You snorted softly despite yourself.

Oh God. This was becoming dangerously normal.

Setting the rock carefully back on the coffee table, you walked towards him before noticing the streak of dried blood he’d missed near his jaw.

Without thinking, you pulled the sleeve of your shirt over your hand and gently wiped the remaining blood from his face.

"There," you murmured quietly.

Dex didn’t move, didn’t blink. His eyes focused on you with the same intensity as two weeks ago. The same look that made your chest feel too tight.

Neither of you stepped away.

Your warm fingers still lightly brushing against his jaw as his name on your collarbone tingled pleasantly.

“How did you even get in here again?” you asked softly, taking a few steps away from him.

“The bedroom window.” Dex answered, his footsteps following yours as if the distance was something he couldn’t bear.

Your eyes fluttered closed as you sighed.

“You know I have a door, right?” you ask, turning around to make your way to the kitchen.

“The windows work,” he says, shrugging.

“You keep leaving them open,” you reply, rummaging through your cupboards for a quick meal.

“I close it.” He states, following you.

“Not properly,” you say, now rummaging through the fridge. “My heating bill is going to kill me.”

“Windows are quieter.” He tells you while sitting at the island.

A laugh escaped you before you could stop it.

Dex’s expression softened at the sound, looking at you like he was memorising it.

Your chest tightened again as you stopped laughing. This is bad, you thought to yourself.

Because two weeks ago Dex had been an escaped prisoner bleeding on your sofa, and now he’s sitting barefoot in your apartment after just using your bathroom to wipe blood from god knows where off his hands and after weeks of him bringing you gifts like a stray cat.

But what was worse was the realisation that you wanted him here.

Dex’s eyes slowly scanned your face as you moved towards the island, a tray of chocolate-covered strawberries in hand.

“You’re exhausted,” he noted quietly, reaching for a strawberry.

“I’m fine.” You dismiss him while grabbing two bowls.

“Your hands are shaking again.”

Your fingers curl slightly. “I worked all day.”

“And then went to dinner instead of resting.” He stated.

You frowned. “Were you following me?”

“No.” The answer came too quickly.

You narrowed your eyes at him, still holding the bowls.

Dex blinked once. “… Mostly no.”

"Dex." You stared at him in disbelief.

“You looked happy.” He commented.

The irritation that was rising quickly turned into something warm that made your stomach clench because the way he said it sounded almost relieved.

Like your happiness was important to him.

For a moment neither of you spoke as you slid a bowl towards him and his growing pile of strawberries.

“You ate the food.” He said, looking towards the empty takeout wrappers.

“I was hungry.” You shrugged, shoving a strawberry into your mouth.

“You forget to eat when you’re tired.” He said, adding more strawberries to his bowl.

“Ugh, you sound like Matt.” You groaned, dropping your head onto the counter.

Dex’s jaw tightened at your brother’s name. “He notices too?”

“Matt notices everything.” You say grabbing a handful of strawberries after noticing how full his bowl was getting.

“I notice more.”

The words landed like a slap. Too honest, too intense, too real, and you think you should’ve shut this down sooner.

Should’ve reminded him that none of this changed what he’d done, should’ve said that none of the gifts were working, and should’ve reinforced the boundaries you created in your head.

“Are you hurt?” You ask instead.

Dex looked down at his bruised hands. “Not badly.”

“You could stop doing stupid shit.” You tell him.

“You’d stitch me up anyway.” He replied.

You hate how right he was.

Dex leaned in closer, his eyes never leaving yours. “You smiled,” he said quietly.

Heat immediately flushed your face.

“It’s just a rock.” You say. 

“It made you smile.” He smirked.

God, you wanted to punch him.

Looking away quickly, you hated how those simple words affected you, how your heartbeat sped up when he smiled, and how a rock, of all things, gave you butterflies.

“You should probably go,” you uttered softly.

Dex stayed quiet for a moment before he nodded once, getting up and putting his empty bowl in the sink.

He moved towards the living room window before pausing. “The flower looked nice by the till.”

Your eyes widened. “You were watching the shop?”

Dex glanced back at you. “I was watching you.” 

Then he disappeared out the window and into the rain.

Your gaze drifted towards the rock sitting on the table, and butterflies filled your stomach again before your eyes lowered to your bowl only to frown.

“Asshole ate my strawberries as well.”

@benspoindexter @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @genya1617 @monikastuff @peanutbutterjellytime3000 @hanniesrock @not-the-teen-witch

[sun-hashira]

Plsss if you do make a part 2 to Willow, I’d be so cool (heartbreaking actually) to explore the anger and frustration the reader would have at dex essentially ruining their chance at a happy life before they ever even met.

All I could feel while reading was loss, because what does it matter that they FINALLY found each other? That she waited her entire life for him, and that he’s there now? What life could they possibly have (esp taking into considering the people she loves most besides Dex, Karen and Matt). She won’t get to marry him. She won’t get to have a family with him. She won’t get to live happily ever after with him and they literally have no one to blame but himself. She did nothing wrong and now she has to willingly choose to hate him because he forced them into this situation. That’s all they (might!!!!!!) ever have and the worst part is Dex can’t even begin to see why she would feel like that (especially with his dumb ahh being like “why didn’t you come see little old me :((“ my brother in Christ you shot and killed her family maybe that had a little to do with it??????)

Anyways ramblings aside, I loved it your writing so so much! Your characterization of Dex is spot on and I’m definitely eager to see if you have anything else in store for them :))))

While I haven’t got a set plan yet for this series she’s definitely going to be struggling with her loyalty to her brother and friends and with her feelings towards Dex and their bond.

But I will neither confirm nor deny if they will get their happy ending they do live in a world where aliens and gods exist so who knows 🤷🏼‍♀️

[sun-hashira]

Willow

summary: prison was never going to stop Dex from finding you again.

who: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader

word count: 2.9k (i got carried away)

warnings: soulmate au, mentions of blood, injuries, break-in, imprisonment, emotional tension, and obsessive themes. If I have missed any please let me know!

divider by: @uzmacchiato

Glitch Series Masterlist

Next Chapter: I Can See You

“Wherever you stray, I follow…” — Willow by Taylor Swift

It was the uncomfortable pain in your shoulder that woke you from your restful sleep.

A pain that was no longer sharp, not like it was that night, but one that still lingers as a pinching, persistent ache that settles deep in your shoulder on cold and wet nights like tonight.

Rolling onto your back, you lie there for a moment, staring at the ceiling and breathing through the pain as you gently massage three fingers against the ache, hoping it will pass and you won’t have to leave the coziness of your warm bed.

Feeling the rough scar beneath your fingers, you lie there trying to ignore the memories of how you got it, but when the sirens pass your apartment building, you find yourself slipping back into your memories of that day.

The day your life changed forever.

You, Foggy, and Karen had just left Josie’s Bar to check on Cafaro when the loud crack of a gunshot filled the air and pain hits you from behind. It rips through your right shoulder, taking your breath away before you fully understand what’s happened, as the force of it sends you stumbling forward.

But what made you stiffen was the blood splatter on Karen’s face as you realised that the bullet had exited your shoulder and hit Foggy, who had collapsed onto the ground as people around you screamed in horror, and for a few seconds you froze in pain and panic before adrenaline kicked in and you were moving before your mind caught up.

Yelling for someone to call an ambulance, you press your hands firmly against Foggy’s wound, willing your powers to stop healing you and to heal Foggy.

To keep him breathing, and to keep him stable. To keep him with you.

You were so lost in your panic that you didn’t even notice when Karen put her hands against your shoulder until she pressed down hard enough to make you gasp in pain as she tried to keep as much of your blood where it should be.

“Stay with me.” Her voice broke as each word filled with more panic. “Both of you, please.”

But you don’t answer. You can’t.

Not when you're forcing everything you have into Foggy. Not when you can hear your brother fighting on the roof of Josie’s Bar, knowing that he’s listening to Foggy’s heartbeat, to your blood dripping onto the street.

With your body begging to heal the hole in your shoulder, your vision blurs as you push through the pain, putting everything you have into Foggy. You hadn’t even realised that you'd been repeating the same things over and over.

“Keep breathing. Just keep breathing. Stay with me.”

But the strain keeps building, becoming sharper with each passing moment, when a heavy impact lands behind you three. Your breath catches as your powers flicker for just a moment as you silently pray that you won’t lose them both tonight. Not Foggy and Matt.

Not your brothers.

Breathing deeply, you steady your hands, channel your powers, and check that Foggy is still breathing as the paramedics that have just arrived rush to help before you turn your head and let out a sigh of relief.

Not Matt.

You slouch into Karen's waiting arms, your pain finally catching up with you as you fully turn to look at Benjamin Poindexter on the ground, barely conscious, and as you make eye contact, it happens.

The pleasant burning feeling on your left collarbone. The sign you've been waiting nearly your whole life for.

The sign that you have met your soulmate.

And yours has just shot you.

Breathing deeply, you push the memory out of your mind, reminding yourself that you’re in your apartment tucked away in your warm bed and not bleeding in the arms of your friend.

But the ache is still there, still pinching, and you realise that no amount of gentle rubbing is going to relieve it tonight. Sighing you toss your covers back, slide your feet into your soft slippers to make your way to your kitchen, where you last put the pain relief balm.

Slowly you push yourself to stand, your aching shoulder throbbing in protest as you put on your fluffy robe, fingers brushing against the scar, and take a deep breath.

Checking your clock that reads 1:44 AM, you tighten the robe and step into the hallway.

The apartment is pitch black except as you make your way towards the kitchen, you don’t bother turning on any lights, using the moonlight to help lead you to the balm left on the center island.

Opening it, you gently massage the soothing gel onto your scar, letting out a sigh of relief as you feel it take effect. Placing the lid back on the tin and tucking it into your robe's pocket, you turn back towards the bedroom when the sound of fabrics moving against each other comes from the darkness of the living room.

Slowly you grab a knife from the wooden block and move carefully towards the sound, slippers gently slapping against the wooden floors. Keeping your breathing as quiet as possible, you slowly crept around the corner and quickly flicked the lamp on, flinching at the brightness and nearly dropping the knife when you saw who was sitting on the sofa.

Benjamin Poindexter was supposed to be imprisoned and serving multiple life sentences. Not casually sitting on your new sofa.

Blood darkening the side of his shirt as one of his hands pressed tightly against it, though a slow trickle of blood slips through his fingers. His head lifts the second the light turns on, and for a moment he doesn’t move; he just stares at you with a look in his eyes that you can’t quite place.

For a few seconds, neither of you speak. You just look at him, cataloguing everything that has changed since you last saw him. He’s bigger and bulkier than before, as if he had nothing to do in prison except gain more muscles. You ignore how it makes your heart stutter.

Dex’s eyes flicker briefly towards the knife clutched in your hand, and a smirk appears on his face as he looks you in the eyes. “Are you going to use that?” he asks quietly.

“Why are you here?” Your voice comes out stronger than you expected. “What do you want?”

Soulmate or not, this is still the man who shot you.

Dex’s eyes lower briefly to the blood staining his side. His hand still tightly clutching the wound. “I needed help.”

Then his eyes lift back to yours. “And I wanted to see you.”

Something tightens in your chest because part of you understands exactly what he means.

For a moment you stay where you are, knife still low at your side, eyes flickering once again towards the blood dripping from his hand and staining your sofa.

“You’re staining my sofa,” you say, placing the knife on the shelf, hands more steady than you feel.

Dex tilts his head, eyebrows twitching in confusion. “What?”

“My sofa is brand new, and you’re ruining it.”

“Oh,” he says, finally noticing his blood soaking the cushions. “So I am.”

You exhale slowly, feeling the last bit of adrenaline leave your body. When your brother told you this morning he was going to see Dex in prison, this wasn’t how you expected your night to go.

“Let me see it,” you say.

Dex stills at your words, his hand moving to his ribs, his eyes slightly hopeful.

“Your injury,” you sharply say, face flushing red. “Not that.”

His eyes stay on you for a second before he slowly moves his hands away from his body. Blood immediately gushes through the tear in his shirt, a stab wound from what you could see and probably a few hours old.

You swear softly under your breath. “You should be at a hospital, especially with those face wounds as well.”

“No.” His answer was quick but certain. “Just you, only you.”

You don’t bother arguing as you step closer, removing your robe and setting it below you on the coffee table. He looks worse up close, pale even in the light of your warm lightbulb, and the left side of his face was bruised.

But his eyes never left you, slowly roaming up and down, taking in your light blue PJs, and smirking at your fluffy cow slippers.

“What?” you ask, reaching for the box of medical supplies you kept in the ottoman. Usually you would have used your powers, but tonight you were too tired and drained from helping out at the back-alley clinic your boss ran.

“Fluffy cow slippers?” His amusement was clear in his voice.

“Shut up,” you say, putting all your supplies on the table beside you. “They were a gift from Karen, and they’re very comfortable.”

Dex snorted. “Sure.”

“Are you armed?” you ask, pulling on gloves and sliding to your knees.

“Yes.” He said, spreading his legs to give you more room.

“… Are you planning on using it?” You ask, facing your supplies.

“No.” His answer was quick and certain again. “Not on you, never on you.”

Again. You couldn’t help but think.

“You’re nervous,” Dex says quietly, still watching you, and you begin to wonder if he’s even blinked.

You snort at that. “You broke into my apartment in the middle of the night and are now bleeding all over my sofa.”

“You’re still helping me.” He says like this means something.

You refuse to answer that as you reach for his shirt because deep down it does.

“Lean forwards.” You say quietly.

Dex obeys immediately and you lift his shirt. The movement exposing his defined muscles, and a few inches above the wound in black letters was your name. Unblemished, like he had done everything to protect it.

You freeze slightly at the sight of it, feeling the rush of emotions that happened every time you thought about him. Shaking the feelings away, you grabbed the disinfectant and soaked a gauze.

Silence settled between you as you dabbed at the wound, soaking up as much blood as you could before grabbing a fresh gauze.

“You didn’t come to see me,” he whispered breaking the silence, his eyes leaving you and going towards his blood-soaked hand.

“Don’t,” you say quietly, pressing the alcohol-soaked gauze harder against the wound than intended.

Dex barely reacts as his eyes move back to you. “Don’t what?”

“Talk like this changes anything.” You whisper, grabbing a new gauze to wipe away the remaining blood.

And for the first time since you walked into the living room, something shifts in his expression. Not anger, not hatred, but something you didn’t expect to see on him.

Hurt.

“I was in prison,” Dex continues quietly. “You knew, but you never came.”

You still at his words because what was there to say? For months you’ve refused to talk about what happened that night, focusing on your family and pushing every thought or feeling about him away.

For months you’ve kept your bond with him to yourself despite how much you wanted to cry and rant to someone about it without being judged or scorned.

You force yourself to keep working, fingers steady despite the sudden tightness in your chest. “Yes,” you say evenly. “I knew.”

The quiet is heavy as it fills the room before you clear your throat, reaching for the needle and thread in the kit. “You need stitches.”

“Sit up properly if you can,” you instruct, pulling all the necessary items closer to you.

Dex watches you for a second longer before pushing himself upright from the cushions, his jaw as he straightens himself up.

“Take the shirt off.” You say, preparing everything that you needed to stitch him up.

Dex drops the blood-soaked fabric onto the table behind you, exposing the full extent of the wound. The weapon grazed more than it pierced, but it still tore enough flesh to make a mess of his side.

Wiping the surrounding area with a fresh gauze, you gently rubbed some numbing cream around the wound and threaded the needle while waiting for it to dry.

“This is going to hurt.” You say, leaning closer towards him.

Dex goes still at your words, his attention once again focused fully on you.

You try to ignore his eyes on you, focusing completely on stitching the wound perfectly and not on how close he was now that you’re kneeling between his legs and leaning against him to get better access to the wound.

“You should’ve had this cleaned hours ago,” you mutter nearly halfway done.

“I was busy.” He answers as his hand gently brushes against your shoulder.

“With?” You ask, eyes still not leaving the wound but not shrugging his hand away.

His eyes scan your face. “Finding you.”

Your hand slips slightly. Not enough to hurt him, but enough for him to notice.

“You already knew where I lived.”

“I wanted to see you.”

There’s that sentence again. So honest, like there was nothing else more important.

Silence settles between you again, broken only by the quiet rattle of paper as you open fresh gauzes and the sound of rain against the windows. Focusing once again on your task, you quickly lose yourself in what is familiar.

Then Dex quietly says, “I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

You tie off the last stitch before grabbing more gauze and soaking it in antiseptic alcohol. “Most prisoners send a letter.”

“I didn't think you’d like letters from me.”

You couldn’t stop your quiet snort.

“Did you think about me?” he says quietly after a while. Hand tightening on your shoulder like the answer to this question could hurt him more than his wound.

You press the gauze against the stitches, cleaning them and the surrounding area. “You were all over the news, quite hard to miss.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He says cupping your face and forcing you to look at him.

His face is blank, but his eyes are looking at you like he’s already decided you belong in his life.

And maybe you did. But it causes that familiar complicated feeling to twist in your chest.

“You shot me,” you say softly before you can stop yourself. “I waited years for you, and you shot me.”

Your confession settles heavily between you, and for the second time that night, Dex looks away.

“I know.” He says his face filled with something you couldn’t place—guilt, maybe.

The apartment smells faintly of antiseptic, rain, and blood. Outside the storm gets stronger.

Inside the living room, neither of you move.

“You’ll live,” you say, taking off your gloves.

Dex looks down at the neat line of stitches crossing his side before his gaze drifts back to you. “I know.”

Standing up, you move all the soiled items aside so that you can toss them in the kitchen bin. “You should go before the numbing wears off.”

Moving back to the table, you pack up the remaining medical items, making a mental note to restock and place them back in the ottoman.

Leaning down to grab your robe, your breath catches as Dex reaches out his hand, gently grabbing your wrist, his thumb gently pressing against your pulse.

“You’re shaking,” he says quietly.

“I’m tired.” You say, making no move to pull away.

“You’re drained.” He states.

You almost deny it. But what would be the point? He noticed everything else about you tonight.

“I’ve had a long night,” you remind him.

“And you still helped me.” He states like this means something.

Before you could reply, Dex’s gaze drops to your shoulder. To the scar barely hidden by your shirt. His expression shifts into the same look as earlier.

“I didn’t mean to hit you,” he says honestly. “You moved in front of him so quickly I didn’t have time to stop.”

You look away at his admission, part of you wanting to believe him while the other part wants to shoot him to make it even.

Rain hits the windows harder as you begin to feel it again, that persistent and wanting pull between you becoming tighter the longer he stays.

“You need to leave,” you say quietly.

Dex looks at you for a long second. “Why didn’t you come to see me?”

The question hit you like a punch to the gut. Months of knowing exactly who he was to you, and you’d done nothing.

No visits. No letters. Nothing except pretend the name on your skin didn’t exist.

“I was in prison,” Dex continues quietly. “You knew where I was.”

You couldn’t force yourself to hold his gaze. Not when you knew what he was really asking. Why didn’t you come? Why didn’t you choose me?

But you can’t answer that. Not honestly. Not when the truth was that every day you wanted to see him, to betray your friends and your family just to get a day with him.

“You need to leave.” You say, instead of spilling the truth, pulling your wrist out of his grip.

For a second, you think he might argue. His stare fixed so intensely on you that you almost cave and spill the truth.

Then he stands, pulling his shirt back over his head, and makes his way towards the window. Pushing it open wider, as storm blows cold air and rain into the living room as he tosses one leg out before he pauses and turns to look back at you again.

“I’m going to see you again.” He states.

Then he disappears into the night, and you’re left standing alone in your living room.

Your fingers slowly brush his name on your skin, and you can’t stop the feeling of wanting to see him again.

A/N: This is my first one-shot written so feedback is welcome!

@benspoindexter @noisyinfluencerstrawberry @genya1617

[sun-hashira]

The results are in and the winner for my Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x Female!Murdock Reader is Soulmates (Names on each other’s body)! If anyone has any ideas feel free to send me them but just a heads up I’m not the biggest angst fan so this series won’t be angst heavy but if you want it I’ll try it!😁