Mentally, physically, so much energy tightly wound that you are bursting at the seams and overwhelming every one of Dex’s senses like you are aiming for them individually and he loves it, though sometimes still flinches at your volume. He’s found that you have only two settings: loud and screaming.
Dex could hear your laugh across a bustling grocery store but he loves it—makes it easier to find you, lets him know you’re safe and well, yes, drown out his intrusive thoughts with your comic book info-dumping.
Yes, tell him about the progress you’ve made on your ever-growing comic wall and the issues that he only reads to be able to ask you better questions because he likes the way that you retell them more than he likes to read them.
Tell him about how you don’t really care about that cover, so you’re gonna put it away and swap it out with this new one. He is going to pretend that he doesn't notice how the wall is ever-expanding despite being the one who corrects their symmetry because although he loves you, so deeply and so much that your heartbeat could've replaced his own, so much that Dex only knows he has a heart in the cavern of his chest because of how it beats in tandem with yours, but somehow, you manage to hang every comic slightly crooked.
Yes, get into fights with men that are thrice your size because you know that Dex is right behind you; dark, intimidating but carrying your cute little canvas tote under his arm with your laptop covered in stickers poking out slightly with a silly little romance novel while always thinking that you are in the right—even when you are devastatingly wrong because you always believe that Dex is good, even when he is murderous and violent and unhinged.
Dex has, and will kill for you, so beating some motherfucker up isn’t an issue. When that bicyclist yelled at you, when that fool shouted ‘I’ll fucking run you over’ while speeding away and you started shouting that you ‘wished he fucking would’ Dex had thrown a quarter at his handle, watching it ricocheting off the grip and bouncing into his head before the cyclist crashed and laid crumple half down the trail.
You didn’t even register what had happened, not really, it all happened so fast: you were yelling, calling him a cunt and then he was crashing onto the cement of the trail and Dex was ushering you back towards the river.
Dex doesn’t even mind that you are determined to keep your car despite living in New York and almost exclusively using public transit because occasionally, you like road trips. Though Dex is not fond of your solo traveling, hates it really, he doesn’t like going with you either.
He tries not to think about the first, second and third time he attempted to tag along. (he still tries.)
5:59am
Wya pingpong? I’m loading up colette
5:59am
Coming now.
Dex never understood why you named your car.
6:00am
FBI agents aren’t very punctual huh?
6:00am
I’m sorry.
6:00am
Start running then.
You hadn’t expected him to actually start running. You felt horrible afterwards, holding his little face and kissing him all over while saying how mean and awful you were for daring to insinuate he wasn’t punctual—really, you were just so early. It was all your fault, don’t worry, he’s your most precious littlest thing.
He might've been slightly overdramatic so he could bask in more of your attention.
Dex refused to let you drive any other time—you were quick and often unpredictable and he had broken a guy’s side mirror right off for the crime of throwing his hand up at you and cursing behind his window when you parked with a little too much force.
Dex couldn’t stand men that like that: the ones that thought they could berate you until he stepped out from the passenger side, every bit bigger and more murderous than he should be.
You encountered a man who had his sense of self destroyed, his personhood diminished and loved him like someone would’ve loved a hero.
Even when most random carny psychic looked at him and shuddered because this is the world where sorcerers and witches and superpowers exist so some of them really could see how his aura was devious enough to spoil milk.
Though in tandem they might’ve been able to see yours—bright and overpowering, crowding him and suffocating the dark that surrounded Dex.
In the way Dex imagined someone would’ve held a good man, you bundled him to you and acted like he was fragile.
You introduced him as your ‘littlest thing’ when he stood imposing and looking terrifying behind you, you kissed his forehead and you pulled him down to you and swayed with his head to your chest, ‘my littlest thing, my littlest thing’ you would say, leaning into him with your head against his bicep and your arm wrapped around his while he looked terrifying but called him variations of your ‘precious princess’ to your friends. He had seen your group chats—he had never been referred to as Dex.
1:04pm
Is princess allowing u out of the house tonight?
1:04pm
Oh ya whats babygirl got to say?
1:08pm
fairy princess said he’s ok to drop us off and pick us up
So yes, Dex would kill for you. Dex would die for you, even worse, Dex would live for you. It was the least that he could do when all you asked was for him to love you and sit patiently as you explained your most recent comic haul.
It was the least Dex could do when you looked so cute, tapping your foot and huffing in your pretty little pajamas because you wanted to go to bed right now and Dex was in the middle of cleaning his rifle—it could’ve waited, but Dex loved when you whined, when you stomped your foot and inevitably walked over, pulling on his arm, squishing his cheeks and rubbing your face against barely there stubble as you begged him to come to bed because even after dating for a handful of years by this point, there were times when Dex still couldn’t believe you wanted him around. Couldn’t believe that your day couldn’t start without him making you coffee and oh did Dex love making you coffee, he loved how excited you became at his impeccable latte art and his beautiful cold foam and his immaculate flavor combos.
He loved how you hovered around him, trying to look at what today’s drink would be, he loved how excitedly you took photos and as a treat, as a little reward for not spiraling when you went to meet with friends, Dex would sit at your laptop and scroll through your group chats, obsessively rereading.
7:01am
My LITTLEST THING MAKES ME THIS TIRAMISU LATTE AND you guys can’t even get a text back!
DEX THAT CONVINCED HIMSELF YOURE HEAD OVER HEELS FOR HIMEVEN THOUGH YOURE JUST BEING NICE !!!! DEX WHO TAKES THE FRIENDLY GOOD MORNINGS AND SHARED SMILES AS ‘oh she likes me’
DEX WHO TAKES GENERAL NICE SOCIAL CUES AS REASSURANCE THAT YOU’RE INTO HIM EVEN THOUGH YALL NEVER INTACT OUTSIDE OF SHARED GREETINGS !!!!
dex who one day shows up at the cafe you work during his usual time frame with a bouquet of your favorite flowers with a card writing his number and address, leaving you to do with that what you will.
