Summary: They sent Leon Kennedy to rescue the president’s daughter.
What they barely remembered to mention was the missing agent who got there first. By the time Leon arrives in the village, the infection has already spread too far. The locals move like something possessed, the forests feel alive in all the wrong ways, and every road deeper into the mountains seems stained with rot.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, Ashley Graham is still alive. Protected by a woman who looks half-dead herself.
Now, Leon is forced to place his trust in someone held together by infected stitches, adrenaline, and sheer refusal to let Ashley die.
Because the girl everyone assumed was already dead may be the only thing keeping the rest of them alive.
Summary: They sent Leon Kennedy to rescue the president’s daughter.
What they barely remembered to mention was the missing agent who got there first. By the time Leon arrives in the village, the infection has already spread too far. The locals move like something possessed, the forests feel alive in all the wrong ways, and every road deeper into the mountains seems stained with rot.
And somehow, in the middle of it all, Ashley Graham is still alive. Protected by a woman who looks half-dead herself.
Now, Leon is forced to place his trust in someone held together by infected stitches, adrenaline, and sheer refusal to let Ashley die.
Because the girl everyone assumed was already dead may be the only thing keeping the rest of them alive.
AO3 Link | Playlist
Part 1 - The Other Agent
Part 2 - Arrows and Churches
Part 3 - The Storm
Part 4 - Cabin Fight
Part 5 - Magpie to Roost
Part 6 - Grey Matter
Part 7 - Death Trap
Part 8 - Marble Floors
Part 9 - The Possession
Part 10 - Bread and Circuses
Part 11 - Coming Soon...
summary: Your boyfriend went away for work. It was a mission that was only supposed to last a few weeks. Months later he hasn’t returned, hasn’t called, and no one has answers on his whereabouts. Worst of all, shortly after he left, you found out you’re pregnant with his baby.
word count: 2.7k
content warnings: pregnant reader, domestic life, established relationship, angst, fluff, pet names (baby), feelings of abandonment, suggestive themes, depression/anxiety, guilt, happy ending.
a/n: I have older Leon in mind for this, like RE6, Infinite darkness eras <3 dividers from the legend, @saradika-graphics
"I'm just so alone. I'm afraid. I need you to come back," you took a gulp of air, trying to soothe your sobbing. "Everything hurts, and I have no one."
You winced in pain as tears rolled off your cheeks. You rubbed your stomach while your other hand trembled to keep a grip on the corded, landline phone.
"I don't know when I'll see you next— It's crazy to think you don't even know what's happening… But I promise I'll be waiting. We'll be waiting." You choked a sob, "I love you."
You hung up the phone. Ending your bitter conversation with an answering machine.
It's been months. How the hell is he not back yet? Months spent on the phone waiting. Desperately waiting. Holding onto what felt like a secret.
Your family and friends helped you by keeping you company, taking you to the doctor, they're even helping out around the house. It didn't ease the pain, though.
You replayed your last memory together over and over. It was agonizing. The last time you saw him was perfect. He knew you didn't want him to leave. So he tried to make it up to you.
He took you out to a nice dinner, one you both dressed up for. You drank red wine, while he sipped bourbon. You remember because of how it tasted on his lips.
You came home tipsy and stumbling into his arms. He showered you in hungry kisses full of desire. You couldn't keep your hands from running through his soft, blonde hair.
It felt like a dream being lost in his scent. The warmth of his body, intertwined with yours, was like a fairytale.
You woke up, though. And your bed was cold.
That's how it's been all these months.
Violent morning sickness, tears, and your best friend comforting you over the phone are all you've had.
You call his phone every night, it's become your diary, your dearest confidante, and the closest you can get to your lover.
"This is Leon. Leave a message."
You cling to those short words as if they were a rosary strung around your neck.
"Well, it's now officially the end of the first trimester," You laughed nervously, but not because this was funny, but because you were afraid. "It's been three months, Leon. Fuck. It's so scary. I just want you to come home. I suppose at least the morning sickness is getting better. Anyways— I have to go. I love you."
You hung up the phone and fell into your nightly ritual of lying on the tile kitchen floor, crying next to the phone.
Waiting, waiting, waiting, for it to ring.
You woke up suddenly to the clanking sound of the fridge making ice. Your body was sore from falling asleep on the kitchen floor. You rubbed your stomach, feeling the little movements of your baby. It was the only thing that comforted you. The only good thing in your life.
You sat up, whispering to your stomach that everything was okay.
You glanced at the phone.
0 missed calls.
You sighed, grabbed a glass of water, and headed to your real bed.
Everything on Leon's side of the bed was as it was three months ago. His alarm clock, a pile of books, and some prescription medications.
You stared at his things until you fell asleep.
You fought to open your eyes as reality loudly tried to wake you up, but your dreams were so tempting. Giving up, you finally awoke.
Your heart sank as you heard the final ring of the phone sound off from the kitchen.
"Shit, shit, shit!" You exclaimed, running to the phone.
You were quick to redial the missed call without even checking the number.
"Thank you for calling the Premium Punisher's Insurance Agency. How can we direct your call?"
"Fuck you!" You screamed into the phone, slamming it back down onto the answering machine.
Another day starting with a meltdown and horrible pain throughout your body. This stress overtaking your life worried you— you didn't want to imagine how its affected your baby.
You wish so desperately to just be able to let go and move on.
You tried to contact the FBI and the DSO, asking for information about Leon, and they couldn't care less. He should have only been away for a few weeks. Surely they would have told you if he died?
But, Life went on. Another two weeks of doctors' appointments and debilitating depression.
Whenever you went to the doctor, a nurse or technician would ask you about the baby's father.
Every single time, it filled you with nauseating grief. It just kept getting harder. The reality of you potentially becoming a single mother is more of a burden each day.
It eventually reached that point where they asked if you wanted to know the baby's gender, and you broke down at the thought of doing that without Leon.
So you've decided to wait.
It's now been three months and three weeks.
An enclosed envelope was magnetized to the fridge. Inside was a letter with your baby's gender, waiting to be opened.
You did chores around the house to keep yourself occupied. Many hours you spent quietly sewing clothes for the baby. It was a newfound hobby that helped you to channel your anxiety.
You've been focusing on that instead. It was healthier that way.
Today, you sat by the window, getting lost in the meditative movement of pushing and pulling a sewing needle through what would become a little dress. You don't know if the baby is a girl or a boy, but you figured if it wasn't a girl, you'd just donate the dresses anyway.
It was raining heavily. The first significant rain of fall. The sound was soothing to your ever-anxious soul. Things weren't necessarily better, but you're coping a little better.
The phone rang.
Your heart started beating so fast that you thought it was going to pop out of your chest. But you're working on managing your expectations around the phone ringing.
Despite what your gut told you to do, you calmly got up and walked to the phone.
"Hello?" You tried to keep your voice steady.
A man's voice responded, "Yes, hello, I'm with the United States Federal Bureau of Investigation. I'm calling on behalf of one of our agents."
Your jaw was wide open, covered by your hand. Tears are already pouring down your cheeks. "Leon? You're calling on behalf of Leon?"
"Yes, ma'am. He got back from a work-related trip a few days ago and needs to be picked up."
"Where? W-What's the address?" You were stumbling over your thought and words, completely frantic.
The man on the other side gave you an address and a few instructions.
"I'll be there," you replied, hanging up the phone.
You drove like a crazy person. Speeding well over the limit while tears fell down your cheeks. In your head, you rehearsed how you were going to tell Leon.
How fast would he notice? Did he ever get your voicemails?
You arrived at the J. Edgar Hoover building in downtown Washington, D.C. The building had an unwelcoming appearance due to its concrete, brutalist design. You ran for the entrance while rain beat down on your hair and clothes.
You entered the building disoriented and a bit uneasy to reunite with Leon. It barely felt real. Perhaps this is a cruel dream, or nightmare rather.
You told the young female receptionist what you were there for, and she quietly escorted you through a series of keycard-locked doors and hallways.
She arrived at a door, unlocked it with her card, and stood back. You held your neck tall and your back straight as you prepared yourself for what was going to happen next.
"He's in there, I'll leave you two be." She offered a slight smile and patted your arm as if to express her sympathy.
You nodded and inhaled a deep breath to calm yourself.
You cracked the door open, and to your hopeless disbelief sat the unknowing father of your child.
He sat on a leather chair in some sort of office. His head rested in the palm of his hand, and his leg was crossed in a way that his ankle rested on his knee. His blonde hair had grown out from its usual length.
He perked up the moment he saw you. His tired blue eyes filled with an adoring light that they surely haven't felt in months. He stood up, saying your name over and over again.
"I can't believe it's really you, you're really here." He was choked up as you instinctively ran into his arms. You wrapped your arms tightly around his neck.
"Leon," You sobbed into his shoulder, "I don't have any words."
He rubbed your back, then slowly wrapped his hand around your cheeks, cupping your face. He held you, looking into your beautiful, teary eyes.
He kissed you with a passion you've never experienced before. His lips melted into yours, so desperate to remember what you tasted like.
"I love you," He murmured between kisses, his hands still cupping your cheeks.
You met Leon's stare, eyes round and full of concern, "What happened?" you whispered.
"A lot."
"Did you ever get my calls?" The words nearly broke you to say aloud.
"No," Leon gulped, pained by thinking about it all. "I lost my phone."
You took a deep breath. "We have a lot to catch up on then."
Leon looked exhausted. "Yeah, we do." He rested his hands on your hips, and his eyes immediately widened. He looked down at your protruding stomach and back at you.
He sucked in a breath, "Don't tell me-"
Your face dropped to your hands, unable to keep yourself from sobbing.
"It's been so hard, Leon."
He swallowed, "You're pregnant?"
You bit your lip out of fear and nodded.
He smiled. It felt like the sun shining on a cold place in your heart.
"You poor thing," Leon whipped the tears off your cheek with the back of his hand. "I can't believe it," His mouth quivered as he tried to speak the words, "I'm so sorry, I can't believe you've had to do this alone."
"None of that matters. I'm just grateful you're back." You offered a consoling smile through your pain.
"I'm gonna be a dad?"
"Yes, baby. You are."
Leon couldn't hold back his smile, "I can't begin to tell you how happy that makes me."
It only took such a short amount of time for his words to stitch your aching heart back together.
But, you had to change the subject to what had weighed heavily on your mind, "What happened to you, Leon? I-I was so worried," you stammered.
Leon took a heavy breath and closed his eyes. As if bringing it up forced him back into a dark place. "I don't even know where to start. Shit immediately hit the fan. I ended up far away in rural northern Russia. Several times, I questioned if I would ever make it back. It was a one step forward, two steps back situation."
Internally, you panicked— it was not comforting to know how close he walks the line of death with every assignment.
"I'll tell you all the details when the time comes. But for now, all I want is to be with you, in our home." Leon gave you one last big, adoring embrace before intertwining his fingers with yours. "Let's get out of here."
Leon can't stop looking at you.
You helped him get settled in at home. As you put his things where they belong, he admired everything in the way you moved. He especially admired how beautiful you looked with a developing baby bump. His baby.
"When did you find out?" Leon asked softly as he sat next to you on the couch. His hands immediately gravitated to your stomach, rubbing your skin so gently.
"It was about two and a half weeks after you left. I was so excited to tell you, I thought you would have been home any day."
Leon cringed at the words. He couldn't hide the guilt or the pain in his eyes. His mind flashed with images of you, going through all those moments alone. Moments that he should have been there to witness.
"I'm sorry."
"No, baby, it's not your fault," You tried to reassure him. "All that matters is that you're—"
Leon cut you off. "No, you don't deserve the pain or the turmoil that I cause. It is my fault I'm in this mess. I should be here for all the memories of our family, our growing family."
The room felt cold, heavy with all of the emotions being carried through the air like the moments before a thunderstorm.
"I chose this, too, you know. Is it hard when you're gone? I won't lie to you. Of course it is. But would I trade it? No. I would never. Leon, you're everything to me. The hard work you do, how loving you are—Everything. I wouldn't change a thing. You're gonna watch our baby grow up. You might miss a few things here and there. But, our child is going to be so proud to have the best daddy ever."
Leon collapsed into your arms. A soft sniffle of a cry fell onto your shoulder. His arms wrapped around you, consuming you into an embrace of pure love.
"You mean it?'
Your fingers raked through his dirty blonde hair, "Of course I do. I love you."
"I love you, too."
You sat for a moment. Soaking up the months of missed affection. The calming sound of Leon's breath made you more emotional than you might have realized. The little grunts and sounds he made as he moved about life were so painfully absent— These were the things you don't realize until they're gone.
"Baby," Leon said with a hint of sweetness in his voice.
"Yes?"
"When will you know if it's a boy or a girl?"
You perked up at the words, and Leon abruptly stood, worry painted over his eyes. "Are you okay?"
"Yes! Yes, I'm okay. The doctor gave me a letter with the gender. I haven't opened it yet. I was waiting for you."
Leon immediately relaxed, dropping back to the couch. "Do you want to wait, or?"
"I think we deserve to make a new memory together, a better one," you smiled warmly. "Let's look."
You motioned for Leon to wait as you slowly stood up and grabbed the letter that was held to the fridge with a magnet.
Returning, you handed the letter to Leon and sat down with him. "I want you to be the first to see."
Leon gave you those eyes, "No, baby, you should, I don't deserve-"
"Shh, just open it!" You teased playfully.
Leon's cheeks were flushed from nerves. He slowly coaxed the letter open and took a moment, squinting as he read the words on the page. You held your breath and bit the skin of your finger as you waited in anticipation.
The brightest smile you've ever seen erupted over your boyfriend's handsome face.
"Tell me!" you urged, your heart racing.
"Are you sure you're ready?"
"Yes!"
"Okay, it's a…" Leon paused, loving how cute you look when you're impatient.
"A girl."
"A girl! Really?" You couldn't contain yourself, all those beautiful little dresses you made, she gets to wear them. And even better, your daughter gets to have the most loving father in the world. "I'm so excited," you smiled, holding your stomach.
Leon placed his hand on your stomach and kissed your cheek. "You're gonna be the most amazing mother," He whispered into your skin.
"I can't wait for our little family, Leon."
Leon wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. The warmth of his skin was like a gentle lullaby, soothing and sweet. You wished every moment could be like this.
Leon's scarred, callused hands rubbed your perfectly smooth arms affectionately. He seemed at peace, for once. "Soon, I'll have to stop calling you my girlfriend." He said.
Please Read: This story contains stalking, self harm, discussions of mental illness involving both Dex and the Reader, a female reader, an age gap relationship (Dex is 34 and Reader is in her mid 20's), and consensual sex.
MDNI
Story takes place in 2018, please see the authors notes at the end for more background on the story.
Masterlist
+++
He had seen you around.
The first time was in the mail room, 8:30 on a Thursday night. Work had kept Dex late and he always checked his mail before going up to his apartment for the night. He remembers feeling frustrated that the day ran long, an unnecessary briefing he believed he shouldn’t have had to attend in the first place, so he was edgy by the time he arrived home. Dex stomped into the mail room and beelined to his box, but still took the time to notice you.
Standing in front of an open mail slot dressed in a soft, worn t-shirt that was wet at the neck because your freshly washed hair was leaching into the fabric. You had glanced at him for a brief second then went back to rifling through your own mail. Your face was shiny and smooth in the dim light of the room, recently moisturized. When Dex brushed past he caught a whiff of your body wash, something cool and reminded him of the color green.
He grabbed his mail and by the time he turned back around you were gone.
A few weeks later when he got home after another late night, hands shaky as he slid open the door of his safe and snatched the tape player, he sat on his couch and looked out the window of his apartment. Deep breath in, hold, slow exhale. The soothing voice of Dr. Mercer played in his ears as Dex looked out into the courtyard of his apartment complex. It was early spring, the days were getting a little longer and people had their windows open letting in the fresh air. Down in the courtyard someone was sitting on the bench near the tree that was turning green again.
Dex was a few stories up but he already recognized you. Wet hair, dewy skin, baggy sweatpants and a pair of slides. An old, faded Polo Sport t-shirt with a marlin printed on the front. He wondered if you were cold as you sat on the wooden bench watching the squirrels run past. Out of instinct Dex grabbed his telescope and watched as you slowly sprinkled out the contents of a ziplock bag into the ground in front of you. Squirrels and birds gathered at your feet but you seemed unbothered, sitting still and quiet as they pecked around you. They came, then the went, and when they were gone you got up and headed towards the entrance to the mail room. 8:30 on the dot.
At 8:45 Dex is still looking out the window, his heart no longer racing in annoyance from his long day, and he catches movement in the corner of his eye. He looks up and sees into the window directly across the yard from his, and it’s you. Dropping your mail on the table in front of your couch, a brown tabby cat jumping up on the furniture to greet you, and you falling onto your sofa.
A neighbor. A girl. A nonthreat.
Weeks go by and Dex almost forgets about you. A cold snap hits and you keep your curtains closed while Dex gets caught up in a major case at work. His team successfully pulls off a sting operation against the Albanian mob. There are raids and Dex picks off two men from a rooftop with his rifle making him feel antsy and giddy which was maybe why he agreed to go to the bar after work with a few of the guys. Another case closed, another criminal off the street. A routine and a purpose that kept Dex good.
11 PM on a Friday night and while his colleagues were just getting started Dex was itching to go home. The bar was getting more and more crowded, Ray had already left to go home to his wife and son, and Dex had no desire to have another drink. But still he stayed, keeping up with the self-assured cocky persona he had created for work. He smiled, he laughed at jokes, and he looked normal even though the nagging thought about how he should be home cleaning his pistol kept making his fingers feel itchy.
A quarter till midnight he finally decided to head out when his colleagues decided to switch bars. Dex stood against the sticky bar counter as the tender left to close out his tab. He was half heartedly paying attention to his surroundings, his head pounding from the loud talking and annoying music. A girl next to him was telling her friends how she found another friend’s fiance on Tinder.
“That’s terrible.” A soft voice murmured, sounding genuinely hurt in regard to the story. “How did she react?”
“What do you mean?” The original girl asked. The bartender had dropped Dex’s card and receipts in front of him. He slowly signed his name as he continued to listen. This was the most interesting conversation he had heard all night.
“Is Leah okay? How did she react when you told her? That’s heartbreaking.” The soft voice said. Dex finally glanced over and was shocked when he saw you. Neighbor. The girl across the yard. You had left your cozy clothes at home and instead wore a black cropped tank-top and baggy, ripped jeans. You had heavy boots on and a leather jacket draped over your right arm.
Your friend scoffed and your face winced with hurt. “Why would I tell her? I am not getting involved with that. They’re supposed to get married in four months.”
“Because she’s our friend.” You said steadily. You swallowed harshly and tucked a stray hair behind your ear. “It would be wrong not to tell her, cheating is a horrible thing to do.”
“Babe,” Another girl said, standing across from you and placing a hand on your shoulder, “it’ll come to light, but it’s not our job to make that happen.” You shrugged off your friend's hand and clutched your jacket over your arm.
“Yes it is our job!” You hissed. Dex could see the rise and fall of your chest, rapid and unsteady. Your knuckles were white with how hard you were ripping at the fabric of your jacket. “I’m telling her, she has the right to know.”
You turn around and you leave and your friend makes a half-hearted effort to stop you. Once you’re out of sight they scoff again and murmur something about how you were starting unnecessary drama. Dex stares straight ahead counting liquor bottles on the shelf, one for every second, then he leaves.
You’re already at the end of the street when he spots you but he knows which way you’re going. Your apartment complex was close, another reason why Dex agreed to go out. With each step, each slight movement to stay out of your line of sight, he reminds himself that he is just going home and you happen to live in the same building as him. There’s nothing wrong with what he is doing.
He almost avoids getting into the elevator with you, not wanting you to notice him quite yet, but you’re distracted by your phone which is already held to your ear. Dex can hear the line ringing, your baited breath as you pick at the skin of your nails. The elevator dings and you part ways. When he rounds the corner of the hall he sprints to his door, wanting to get in front of the window before you’re back at your apartment.
He leaves his lights off so he remains unseen and looks through his telescope to see your cat lounging in the windowsill perk up when you open your front door. You’re talking, presumably to Leah, and you’re running your hands through your hair. The more he watches the more you look upset. You start to hyperventilate, you wince again, you pull the phone away from your ear abruptly and collapse onto the floor in front of your couch. Looks like Leah didn’t take the news well and blamed you for something that was never your fault.
And even though Dex had seen you around the apartment this was the first time he had really seen you. Noticed you. Paid attention in any meaningful way because as you tried to calm your breathing by stroking your cat's fur the voice of Dr. Mercer echoes in his brain.
“Your North Star.”
All this time Dex had been following her words like the gospel. Years of rigid military service directly followed by Quantico which provided the job in the FBI. Structure, discipline, strict routine with occasional release that came from pulling the trigger had kept him sane. Every monotonous minute of every day had brought him to you, and you had been right in front of him for so long. Finally he was able to look up to you. His North Star.
The moment at the bar intrigued him. You had the opportunity to look the other way but instead you decided to gamble all of your social credit knowing what it would cost you. Friendships put on the line just so you could do the right thing.
Dex Decided to cash in some long accrued PTO claiming he needed some time off from the last case. The department psychologist signed off on it saying some mental health days were in order because Dex’s job could be oh-so taxing, and Dex decided to get to know you a little better.
He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t delighted at what he learned.
You had a routine. Not just weekly habits or a schedule that you semi-adhered to no, a strict routine that you followed diligently. Dex wondered if your routine brought you that same peace it brought him, that every task that was lined up and completed throughout the day brought you relief. He watched with fascination and found ways to rework his own schedule so it could align with yours.
Sundays were for errands. You woke up at 8 AM and spent ten minutes in bed petting your cat before getting up and washing your face, then applied serums, then brushed your teeth, then moisturized. You’d get dressed in silence and Dex would always turn away to give you privacy, then you’d inspect your small fridge and pantry and make a list. He found out that you liked lists and you especially liked when you could cross something off of one. When he tailed you in the grocery store he couldn’t help but notice how your lips would curve into a smile every time you stopped and placed an item in your basket and got to cross off the item in one swift line of ink.
When you got home you would do laundry and paint your nails one of four colors that you kept on hand and watched a movie. Whatever you watched he would watch too. It seemed like you weren’t just a creature of habit with your routine but with what you consumed as well, whether it be music or food or media. You stuck to the same handful of meals every week. You watched a rotation of about fifteen movies. He found your Spotify and listened to all your favorite songs.
At night you would read before getting ready for bed and it seemed like reading was the only part of your life you felt the need to branch out. You would read anything ranging from horror to non-fiction. Books littered your apartment as the tiny bookshelf in your living room was already stuffed full. He read what you read and he found himself enjoying it too.
During the week you worked at an accounting firm in the operations department. You assisted with billing and worked out of a decent sized cubicle in a quiet part of the office. He observed you Monday through Friday, sitting alone at your quiet desk listening to the same music and podcast episodes that you enjoyed. 1 to 1:30 you had your lunch break where you sat outside your building on a bench and ate whatever leftovers from the night before you packed. You fed your crumbs to the birds, watching as they fluttered around you without flinching. You kept to yourself at work, friendly but you didn’t have anyone you were close with. You left at five every day and took the same train home.
By 6 you were making dinner and Dex mirrored you. Ate when you ate with baited breath, smiling when he tasted what you tasted. Then you showered and so did he and while he didn’t change his body wash or shampoo to yours, he did buy the bottles and smelled the soapy contents of them while standing under the showerhead. By 8 you were dressed in your usual soft sweats and t-shirts and headed outside with a ziplock of birdfeed. Doves and chipmunks swarmed around you, occasionally you would place birdseed in your hands and sit unmoving as pigeons pecked at your fingers, and when it was all gone by 8:30 you would check your mail. Dex started checking his mail at that time too, the one time a day when you would share the same space and he found himself looking forward to it more than anything.
The following week when Dex returned to work, refreshed and happy with a few new adjustments to his routine, he kept you in his thoughts and made time for you when he could.
He sat in his car across the street during your lunch break. He tailed you to and from work telling himself that he was just making sure you were safe. He grocery shopped with you on Sundays and followed you to the bookstore every Friday night when you picked up whatever you’d be reading for the week. On Saturdays you went to the farmers market a few blocks down where you’d buy a new bouquet of flowers that you kept in the apartment all week. Dex would buy a duplicate of whatever bouquet you picked out and stared at them longly.
Dex learned what you liked and disliked. You enjoyed the company of animals, something Dex found difficult at first considering his troubled past with small creatures as a kid. When he observed you feeding the birds he listened to the recording of himself as a child recounting how he killed a family of robins with skipping stones. When you sat on the floor of your apartment next to your cat, who he learned was named Penny, he recalled the time he kicked a stray dog nearly to death as a teen.
This is good for me. He thought to himself as you pet an outdoor cat on your walk to the subway station one afternoon. You were kind to animals so therefore he should be too. You were good and to be good like you he needed to be kind to animals too. He bought a hanging birdfeeder over the weekend and installed it outside his window so while he watched you feeding the birds he could feed them too. Just like you.
You didn’t like leaving your apartment once you got home on weekdays. Errands and time out of the apartment were meant for weekends whether it be a trip to the store or the diner you went to for breakfast on Saturdays. Dex liked that you were a homebody. It meant you were more likely to be safe.
You enjoyed quiet moments. Your lunch break on the bench. Time spent in your living room watching your cat take a nap. The book store. You kept to yourself and you liked when other people did too.
You liked being clean. You swept and dusted your apartment every other day which Dex could appreciate because he took care of his own apartment diligently. You liked showering. You liked laundry. You liked fresh smells like cucumber and pear and wheatgrass. Your perfume was Elizabeth Arden Green Tea and Dex kept a small bottle on his nightstand just so he could remind himself what you were like up close. The scent made something in his chest unravel.
He found himself smiling more. You had become something for him to look forward to. He was less snippy at work and found himself actually laughing at a few of the guys' jokes in the breakroom. Paperwork was no longer as trivial as it used to feel. Briefings and strategy meetings suddenly not as mind numbing. Dex often thought about what you were doing at that exact same moment, at work dressed in your pleated skirts that went past your knees and logging bills for tax clients while listening to a podcast.
Ray even picked up on the shift. While sitting in a van on a stakeout he asked if Dex had been seeing someone and all Dex could do was smirk and try not to make eye contact.
“Kind of.” Dex allowed himself to say and Ray grinned.
“Oh yeah? I’ve known you for almost five years and this is the first I’ve heard of something like this.”
That’s because I keep it that way.
“It’s new.” Dex replies as he watches their mark who is sitting outside at a restaurant and is a suspect in a high profile human trafficking operation. He’s dressed in an expensive suit and smiles at his wife who is wearing designer shoes, all bought from the blood of their unsuspecting victims. Dex pictured ripping the fork out of the man’s hand just before he went in for another bite and stabbing him in the eye with the utensil. His wife would scream but he’d shut her up by taking her champagne flute and throwing it into her windpipe. He’d kick the man’s chair out from underneath him and watch him tumble to the ground then end his life by slitting his throat with the steak knife. The man and his wife deserved it because their operation targeted young women like you.
“Well whoever she is, must be good for you.” Ray said as he popped his gum and smiled over at Dex who had been ripped away from his own thoughts. Dex nods in agreement, cracking his own while he pictures the way your hair falls over your neck.
“She keeps me sane.”
By the first week of May it seemed like spring was finally deciding to stick around in New York. The magnolia tree in the courtyard started to bud and you don’t look like you’re shivering anymore when you feed the birds. Dex has gotten to know you for weeks. Your routine folded and adapted into his.
However as the weeks went by he couldn’t help but notice how morose you seemed to be. Sadness clearly induced by loneliness as your friends hadn’t reached out to you since the fateful night. The few times you talked on the phone were with your parents every few weeks. When he was able to view your phone screen you were rarely texting anyone and you hadn’t posted on social media in over a year. Penny provided as much companionship as any cat could and it seemed to quell your despair, but more often than not you were going to bed exhausted with red rimmed eyes. You started leaving your bedroom window open since it had gotten warmer leaving Dex with an uninterrupted view into your most private space.
It all came to a head on a Wednesday night.
You had just returned to your apartment, mail in hand and an empty ziplock in the pocket of your shorts. Through the telescope Dex could see how tired you looked. Work must’ve been difficult because you ate on your usual bench with your head hung low and that evening you barely paid Penny any mind when she rubbed against your shins when you got home. Even when feeding the birds you seemed uninterested, scattering seed at your feet aimlessly and not paying attention to the critters milling around you. Your constant state of almost bursting into tears tugged at something deep inside Dex’s chest that he tried to expel at the shooting range earlier in the afternoon.
As you laid on your couch with the television off and only the surrounding hum of the neighborhood keeping you company your phone buzzed for the first time in almost a month. Dex watched as you shot up and grabbed at your device. Leah’s name was on caller ID and with shaky hands you answered her call.
Years of sitting behind lenses, watching and waiting for the perfect time to pull the trigger, allowed Dex to be skilled at lip reading. While raking your hands through your hair you asked, “Hello?” and Dex imagined your soft spoken voice he had listened to a handful of times.
You waited patiently as Leah spoke on the other end, biting at your lip as your breathing picked up. You tried to speak at one point but got interrupted causing Dex’s nostrils to flare in anger as Leah wouldn’t let you get a word in. After a minute he watched as your face crumpled and you let out a sharp gasp that cut through the silence of the courtyard and into Dex’s own open apartment window.
The phone slipped from your hand and thumped against the couch cushion. Bottom lip wobbling as you harshly rubbed at your eyes and heaved for air. Penny, aware of your distress, nosed at your arm but you ignored her as you stood shakily and went to your kitchen.
In your half-present state you managed to bump the bookshelf near the doorway which shelved your special glass vase that you kept your weekly bouquet in. If Dex had been with you he would’ve caught it instinctually but by the time you turned your head it was already toppling to the floor. The shatter was loud enough to echo into the courtyard and you stood in its broken wake looking helpless.
Penny was scared by the crash at first but then became curious as she watched you stand silently amidst the mess of broken glass. When she tried to walk to you to investigate you finally snapped out of your daze and shouted for her to not come any closer. The uncharacteristic volume of your voice startled her and she ran away into the bedroom and you winced in regret.
Through his telescope Dex watched the first tear spill over your lashline as you knelt to the ground. Everything was finally boiling over. The loneliness, the phone call, the accident with the vase and to wrap everything together was the lash out against Penny who Dex figured was your only friend at this point. You struggled for air as you let out a choked sob and something white hot zipped down Dex’s spine and settled in his hips.
It was the first time he had witnessed you cry. All this time you had been keeping and repressing and ignoring the inevitable and it was all coming out in this one moment. Angry, betrayed tears spilled onto your face as your shoulder wracked with harsh cries. Dex’s own chest felt tight and his hands shook, he lowered the telescope and let out a few deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself. After a beat he raised his lens just in time to find you sweeping the glass and flowers into a dustpan all while still letting out pained sobs.
Something was gnawing into Dex’s ribs as you held the dustpan over your trashcan, hesitant to throw everything away. You must’ve been attached to the vase, or maybe it was everything else that was making you wait. Foot on the lever that keeps the lid open, you hover and let tears drip onto glass shards and flower stems. With a shaky hand you reach out and pick up the largest of the broken pieces.
Holding in tears your chest starts to heave again. Deep breaths in and out as it looked like you tried to calm yourself but then you started gripping the glass in your delicate hands and Dex watched as sharp edges pierced the skin of your fingers and palms. He gasped at the sight of you hurting yourself, his mind screaming as blood dripped into the open trash. Eventually the shard was crushed in your grip and smaller pieces of glass tumbled into the waste. You gasped for air again and more tears welled up in your eyes as the hurt and pain started to set in. You finished cleaning with an injured hand and cleaned your wounds in the kitchen sink after. It was difficult for Dex to see the total damage done but it was sure to scar.
While you were in the privacy of your own bathroom away from Dex’s prying eyes he laid on his comforter and processed what he just witnessed. His North Start intentionally hurting herself in a response to her own loneliness and maybe as an act of punishment. He wondered if this wasn’t the first time. You were good. So good. Too good. You got sad when you saw missing dog posters and always took a picture of the flyers in case you saw the pet somewhere. You assisted your elderly neighbor down the hall with her groceries and treated your cat with the most care Dex has anyone ever seen give to an animal. You sorted your trash and read the AP. You always did the right thing even if it meant losing everything.
And yet you punished yourself for it.
All you had was Penny at this point and as much as Dex had come to respect her, she wasn’t enough. You needed someone who you could talk to. You needed a companion. Someone who could understand the routine as much as you did someone who could keep you safe even from yourself.
Dex could be that someone for you.
+++
You had never met a guy like Dex before.
Before he was Dex he was “Mail Guy” because he was the attractive man who usually got his mail at the same time as you. 8:30, right after you finish your “outside evening time”, and he’d be there in the mail room standing in front of his box reading through whatever bills or coupons he had received. The first thing you noticed about him were his broad shoulders and the way his hair always looked neat and parted. He was a bright, small moment of your day that appeared during a dark and intense stretch of isolation.
A guy like Mail Guy would never be into you anyways, or at least that is what you had always told yourself. Attractive guys, guys who were normal and didn’t carry a mental checklist around in their heads at all times, guys who didn’t feel guilty all the time.
You were the type of girl who was a little too quiet in an off-putting way rather than a cute, shy way. Blue Planet was your favorite television show. Animals were more comforting and loads more interesting than people. Books were your best friends until freshman year of college. At parties you were the first person to leave or, if your friends managed to convince you to stay, you would go so unnoticed that you’d start cleaning up while everyone danced. One time you managed to reorganize a frat house’s entire kitchen in an entire night, your greatest but also most pathetic accomplishment. In class on Monday you overheard one of the boys who lived in the house say that they were convinced a ghost had done it, unaware that the culprit had been in a group project with him a semester earlier.
His comment made you realize that you were sort-of a ghost in a few ways. You had drifted through your life only occasionally noticed by others, free to roam as you pleased if you were quiet enough. Similar to a ghost you also tended to have the same haunts.
The routine.
The routine, the to-do list, the pattern. An entirely made up and self imposed procedure that you adhered to religiously, the first iteration of it dating back to sixth grade. The method had changed and evolved over the years, guiding you through high school then college til the present, post-college early twenties routine that allowed for the most freedom which is why you kept it so monotonous. The fear of falling off track or messing up so badly that you were in complete social and financial ruin plagued you so relentlessly you often found yourself clutching at your chest in an effort to sooth your racing heart as your mind replayed images of you homeless, or unemployed, or so terribly broke that you lost everything and had no one to turn to.
So instead you lead a simple life filled with simple pleasures and kept your head down and your savings account full so you could enjoy the little things like getting breakfast every Saturday morning or caring for your cat Penny; the first love of your life.
Your friends had never understood your anxieties and you envied their abilities to be careless. To them, your routine was limiting and annoying, something that got in the way of their abilities to be totally free. They never understood the importance of bed time, the joy that “outside evening time” brought you, or how you had to do your laundry on Sundays or else you would feel like a failure.
“One night out won’t kill you.” Mary chided over text when you declined to go out on a Tuesday night.
“A few years ago the Avengers fought an alien invasion in Manhattan. Maybe it will.” You responded, too tired to give any other explanation that they wouldn’t pay attention to. You liked your friends and sometimes it seemed like they liked you too, but they would not ever be able to understand you. No one would, and you knew that was your own fault.
At night when you buried yourself in a book during your designated reading time in an attempt to stay off your phone you could still remember the way Leah screamed at you when you told her the truth.
“Why the hell would you accuse him of something like that?” She spat, already crying because even though she was in denial, deep down she knew that you wouldn’t make something like this up.
“This is the truth Leah. Mary and Izzy just told me about it and they did not want to get involved which I would argue is worse.” You tugged fingers through your hair as you paced your living room and Penny started swatting at a stray thread in your jeans. “I’m not lying, Izzy said she found Jeremy on Tinder. I’m telling you because I don’t want you to be with a cheater. You don’t deserve that. You’re my friend.”
“Friends don’t make up lies! You just don’t want me to be happy. You’re jealous because I’m not miserable and single like you are so you’re going out of your way to make me just like you!” Leah was practically hissing and the loathing in her voice made your heart shatter.
That’s what she thought of you?
You had known Leah since college. At one point you were roommates for almost two years before she met Jeremy and eventually moved in with him. You helped her send wedding invitations and next week you were supposed to go out to brunch. The sage green bridesmaid dress you saved up for was hanging in your closet in a dry cleaning bag and the matching heels were sitting untouched in their box. Leah was your friend who you watched Planet Earth with and was there when you adopted Penny. And now she was telling you that you were a miserable piece of shit trying to ruin her life.
“I-” You stutter, tears threatening to fall but you hold it in because it would be too embarrassing to cry, “Leah how could you say something like that?”
“Next time we speak it better be an apology!” She shouted before hanging up so you couldn’t have the last word. You yanked the phone back from your ear at the shriek and let it set in that something terrible just happened.
Izzy and Mary texted you later that night after Leah called them and they berated you in long paragraphs and said that you always started unnecessary drama even though you had never started drama in your life. When you tried to defend yourself Mary told you to keep your head down and your nose out of everyone’s business which you found ironic because all you ever did was keep your head down your whole life.
Three friendships down the drain in the span of four hours. Your already meager social life dwindled down to small interactions at work and the attention Penny gave you. Anxiety ate away at you for days as you clung to your routine that would never hurt you in an effort to stay alive.
So Mail Guy was kind of a blessing. For roughly 55 seconds every day except Sundays you could admire the side profile of your handsome neighbor who would wear things like tight fitting quarterzips that showed off his biceps. One time when he came into the mail room he was still dressed in work clothes and when he opened his box you saw a gun in a holster on his hip. It made you a little nervous but it also made him a little more attractive.
Mail Guy was part of your routine, a welcome addition to your mental checklist that gave you satisfaction every time you could cross it off.
The checklist is what kept you sane for all of your weeks of social quarantine. It was timed down to the minute. Perfectly planned so every thirty minutes would keep you occupied and just enough time to anticipate what was coming next. The routine kept your mind off of the clusterfuck that were your friendships and without it you probably would’ve hurt yourself a lot sooner than you did.
But even the pattern couldn’t cover up the fact that you had barely had a meaningful conversation in over a month. You filled the void by talking to yourself and Penny but the lack of response was starting to drive you crazy. If Penny wasn’t in your life you often wondered if anyone would notice if you were alive or not. It would be easy to slip away if no one was looking for you. Work could easily fill your position and write you off as a no call no show. Your ex-friends would never know you were gone because they made it clear they didn’t want to talk to you anymore. It would probably be a few weeks before your parents realized you weren’t returning their calls. But Penny would notice. If you did kill yourself you’d probably do it in the soft comfort of your apartment where Penny would be. You wouldn’t be able to feed her so at some point she’d start eating you and even though most people find that sort of thing morbid you always thought it was nice. Good. Penny deserved to eat you. You’d hate for her to starve. That would be so sad.
It would be worse if she got taken by animal control and would probably be put down after your body was finally discovered. You loved Penny more than anything so for her sake you stayed alive.
Then Leah called.
“Jeremy and I talked it out.” She said firmly. “We are still getting married. He made a mistake and I have forgiven him.”
“Cheating isn’t just a mistake Leah.” You said softly, scared of provoking her as you recalled the way she screamed at you last time you spoke.
“I have forgiven him.” Leah reiterates. “But neither of us feel comfortable having you at the wedding. You’re not allowed to come.”
“What?”
“It was a mutual decision between Jeremy and I. What you did caused me a lot of pain for the past few weeks and if you would go as far to do something like this now then I don’t know what you’d do at the wedding. You’re not allowed to come and that is final.” She hangs up the phone quietly this time and you are left speechless.
It’s all your fault. You officially have no one and it was all your fault. You did this. Pushed everyone away. You made the mistake. It’s all on you.
Your chest felt so tight and you realized you were hyperventilating so you attempted to get water but because you’re such a fuck up you broke your favorite vase. Then you embarrassed yourself by crying then you shouted at Penny who was just trying to check on you and that was worse than anything you did to Leah. You were a bad, bad person. Evil. Despicable. You deserved to be punished. The glass was almost silent as you crushed it in your hand and let it dig and break skin on your fingers. You deserved this.
That night you went to bed with aching skin and Penny didn’t sleep by your side like normal. By morning she was laying on the foot of the bed and the hurt under your skin wasn’t as present. You changed your bandages and winced at the large cut that was on your palm. It was no longer bleeding but it was sure to scar.
Work went by with no issue like it always did. You had what you dubbed “outdoor lunch time” and tried to soak up the sun. You always hated crying but you did feel a bit lighter. The calm after the storm. That evening you could only wash your hair with one hand because your fingers stung when you would bend them. Your hand ached from typing on the computer all day but it didn’t look like you were getting an infection. You pressed into the center of one of the wounds over the wrapping and felt the dull twinge.
Then you went to feed the birds like you always did at 8 dressed in black sweats and an Umbro t-shirt. You headed down the stairs to your usual bench and had to stop yourself from gasping when you saw someone sitting next to your usual spot reading a book.
Mail Guy.
He was wearing a soft crewneck and baggy pants while reading a copy of Jaws. He chewed on his bottom lip as he read and looked up at you slowly and then grinned politely. Turns out, Mail Guy had really nice teeth, but sort-of an intimidating smile that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up. You felt your hands start to sweat.
“Evening.” He said coolly. “Do you mind if we share the bench?”
A tiny gust of wind could knock you over if it wanted to.
“Sorry,” He cringes but it’s cute because he is unfairly good looking, “I noticed you out here a few times so I know this is your territory but I couldn’t stand being cooped up in my apartment on such a nice day.” He gestures around the small courtyard and you nod your head before trying to crack a smile of your own.
“You noticed me?” You asked dumbly, chastising yourself mentally for already making such a terrible impression on Mail Guy. You assumed he probably thought you were weird. Feeding the birds and squirrels wasn’t the coolest hobby but “evening outdoor time” was one of your favorite parts of your day. You enjoyed the way the animals interacted with one another and how if you were still enough, sometimes a bird would land on your foot.
“Yeah, once or twice.” He scooted further into the other side of the bench to give you room and you sat down in your usual spot. Already, pigeons were starting to flock around the two of you. “It’s sweet that you feed the birds.”
“Oh!” You blush and suddenly wish you were wearing anything but the ratty old shirt and pants you had on. Your hair was still wet and your bandage probably made you look like a freak. Mail Guy was just being nice so you wouldn’t feel bad, no way a guy like him thought someone like you was ‘sweet’. “Yeah I feed them every day. I really like animals.” You mumble as you throw your first bit of seed in a wide ark around you. Doves coo and flutter around you and you hear squirrels chatter in the magnolia behind the bench.
“But this bench isn’t mine or anything,” You said as you recalled the way he said ‘your territory’ and wondered if any of your other neighbors had taken notice of your antics, “it’s a public space. I don’t mean to hoard it to myself or anything.” You look at him out of the corner of your eye and take note of the way the sunshine made the white-blond hairs on his temples glitter in the light. Mail Guy smiled again, his eyes crinkling at the edges.
“I’ll try to be quiet so no one is disturbed.” He says before running a hand through his hair and settling into the corner of the bench.
There's a moment of silence as just the chatter of animals fills the air surrounding you and him. He goes back to reading and is sitting just as still as you are only occasionally moving to turn a page in his book. You try to keep the fresh bandages on your hands as clean as possible by brushing extra seed onto the hem of your sweats after every throw. A lady bug lands on a blade of grass by your feet and you watch it crawl lazily along the grass before a sparrow lands near it and it flies away.
The bag dwindles down and soon you will go inside and get your mail before returning home but the fact that you’re sitting next to your silly apartment crush makes your heart go wild. The two of you are sitting close enough together that you can smell his cologne, something that reminded you of teakwood and made your stomach flutter.
“Do you like it?” You hear yourself ask, voice low as to not disturb the wildlife. You try not to look at him, instead fixating on some of the tape of your wrapping already peeling off of your skin so you try to flatten it down. Mail Guy looks up from his paperback.
“The book?” He asks, holding up his copy. You nod, still fiddling with the tape and trying to ignore the weight of his stare. You think his eyes are hazel but you can’t quite tell yet.
“Mmhmm.” The last bit of seed is scattered around the two of you and all the courtyard animals flock for one last frenzy. “I read it for the first time a few weeks ago.”
“Well what did you think?” He bookmarks his spot with a yellow post-it that still looks crisp. His movements were clean as he stuck it on his page then closed the book, each action seemingly very intentional. Mail Guy adjusted his posture so he was facing you directly, knee thrown up on to the bench casually but just enough room so he wasn’t touching you. You finally turned to face him, still ducking under his gaze and looking at his chin dimple rather than his eyes.
“I enjoyed it, it was different than I thought it would be but I think that’s what made me like it more. I don’t wanna spoil anything for you though.” You say, a smile forming on your face the longer you speak as you recalled your experience from a few weeks ago.
“I’ve never seen the movie either.” Mail Guy admits, almost looking sheepish. He lowers his head so he can catch your gaze and you blink up at him surprised which makes him flash his sharp smile again. “But it’s good so far. I think I enjoy non-fiction more than fiction if I’m being honest, but it is keeping me entertained. The cheating plotline though…” He trails off and sucks his teeth, “Not my favorite.”
You nod politely even though the mention of ‘cheating’ makes your chest twinge at the thought of Leah and her soon-to-be husband. “You’ll probably enjoy the ending.” You say offhandedly and Mail Guy is still smiling. The tape on your hand is still peeling and it is 8:30, you should be leaving.
“Is your hand alright?” Mail Guy asks, pointing to your poor attempt at first aid that you’re fidgeting with before you can excuse yourself.
“Oh!” You blush again and scramble for an explanation that doesn’t make you look crazy in front of your cute neighbor, “I stupidly broke a vase last night and underestimated how sharp the glass was when I was cleaning it up.” A half-truth that he seems to believe because he lets out a soft hum as he appraises your hand.
“You know,” He says softly as he looks at the already fraying gauze on your fingers, “I’m first aid certified. I can take a look at your hand and bandage it a little more comfortably.”
The offer shocks you and for a second you think you might be dreaming. First Mail Guy admits to noticing you now this direct offer of help. “Is it that bad?” You ask shyly, holding up your injured hand weakly and cracking a self-depricating smile and he chuckles.
“Let’s just say we can’t have our friends out here in the courtyard going hungry because of your injury.” You smile which makes him smile.
You consider his offer for a second. On any other day you would’ve been in the stairwell walking back to your apartment so you could sit with Penny and read for the remainder of the evening and a part of your brain was already getting antsy because you were behind schedule. You hadn’t even gotten your mail yet due to this conversation. But the other half of you knew that if you accepted this offer you’d not only get to spend more time with the mysterious Mail Guy but because he’d be fixing your bandages he’d have to touch you. You hadn’t been touched in months.
“Only if I can check my mail really quick first.”
The elevator ride to his apartment was short and when you stepped out of the car you realized you were on your own floor. “This way.” He nodded, heading left when you would’ve gone right to your own unit. You don’t even know this guy's name nor does he know yours but you’re following him back to his apartment. He could be crazy, a psycho killer who was luring you to your demise but you didn’t even care because you were so intrigued at the possibility of feeling someone else’s skin on yours.
His unit was just like yours except it was sparser and exceptionally tidy. A loveseat in the livingroom, a perfectly aligned stack of newspapers on the edge of the kitchen counter, a small breakfast table with a chair on each side spaced evenly apart from the edge of the table. He pulled out one of the chairs for you and asked you to wait for a moment while he got everything in order. By the door you noticed one of the few framed pictures on his walls. A picture of him and a group of men in army fatigues taken somewhere in a desert. Mail Guy was on the edge of the group smiling a bit awkwardly while holding the largest gun you’ve ever seen.
He returns to the table just after stopping in the kitchen to turn on his electric kettle then settles in the chair next to you. Mail Guy peels the tape and bandages off of your hand so tenderly you think you might melt into his hardwood floors. Once it is all removed he tuts softly, maneuvering your hand gently in his grasp as he inspects the wounds. A large slice into the palm of your dominant hand with four smaller ones on each of your fingers.
“Ouch.” He mumbles, his thumb tracing the edge of the largest cut. “Poor girl.” His voice is a low murmur and you almost don’t hear the last comment and try not to blush again.
“Where’d you learn first aid?” You ask softly. You were standing over his kitchen sink with the kettle coming to a slow simmer behind you. Mail Guy is washing your hand for you and even though the soap causes your ache to return you don’t mind because his touch is so warm, contrasting the cold water lapping against your skin.
“Oh! Uh,” He ponders his next sentence as he dabs your skin dry with a dish towel, “It was mandatory for my work. I’m an FBI agent. I do a decent amount of field work.” Mail Guy, or rather FBI Guy, mumbles and you raise your brows in surprise. No wonder he was so attentive.
You’re back at his table and Mail Guy is prepping each item he plans on using. Unwrapping fresh gauze, pre-cutting ribbons of tape, opening a packet of antibiotic salve, and laying it out in a neat row in front of him.
“This will sting a little.” There’s an alcohol wipe in his hand and he glances at you like he’s waiting for your permission before he begins his work. You stifle any reaction to the burn, staying perfectly still and hoping you’re a good patient as he works to disinfect each cut perfectly. “I’m Benjamin Poindexter by the way.”
Finally a real name. You repeat it in your head and your first thought is that his last name is actually kind of dorky and it makes him a little less intimidating.
“My friends call me Dex.” He adds just as he finishes disinfecting your hand. Suddenly his edge is back. Poindexter is a little silly but Dex is kind of intense and you think it suits him with his sharp smiles and orderly apartment. His hands reach out and grab one of the clean gauze squares with that same precision you noticed earlier and he narrows his eyes as he places it onto your palm.
“No one calls you Ben?” You quiz, keeping your hand steady and your own eyes on his face. Soaking up all his attention as he wraps medical tape around your hand, each movement completely deliberate. First he admits to noticing you feeding the birds, then he makes an effort to pay enough attention to you to notice your injury, he takes it even further by offering to patch you up with the most tender care anyone has given you in a long time. You wonder if this guy was noticing you in the mailroom all this time.
“You can call me anything you want.” Ben says, a sharp smile gracing his features once again, but this time it doesn’t make any part of you want to turn and run.
After ten more minutes of careful and precise work you are left with a much more professional and comfortable dressing than you could’ve managed by yourself. The tape won’t peel and the smaller cuts on your fingers have their own individual gauze squares that Ben cut down to the perfect size. The tape is tight but not too tight and wrapped around your fingers in a way where you can still bend them comfortably. He leaves the table so you can admire his work by yourself while he fixes mugs of tea for the two of you and you can’t help but feel incredibly wooed.
“I can redo it for you tomorrow if you want.” Ben says almost eagerly but you can tell he’s trying to hide it. You sip your tea, something herbal that reminds you of your favorite restaurant. His soft yet sure touch and willingness to help you is starting to become overwhelming and you wonder if you should’ve been eased into receiving small acts of service rather than all at once. “Just leave it unbandaged after you shower. I’ll meet you in the courtyard at the same time and after we can come back here.”
As you finish your tea and he cleans everything up you gaze out his window. His apartment has a clear view of your spot in the courtyard and it’s interesting to see it from a different angle. Your eyes flick up and just across the yard in the window parallel to his you see a familiar shape. It’s Penny, sitting in her usual spot on your living room windowsill watching a crow hop around on one of the branches of the magnolia. Maybe meeting Ben was fate.
The next day he’s already waiting for you on the wooden bench, a copy of Jaws still in his hands but this time he’s almost all done. He tells you it’s the final showdown, Hooper has just been eaten and now Brody and Quint are determined to kill the shark.
“I kind of like the shark.” Ben admits as he inspects your hand in his apartment that evening. “I guess I kind of like sharks in general but it’s a shame he’s being persecuted for what he’s best at. What else is a shark supposed to do?” You let out a laugh which makes him grin and for a second you think that Ben is kind of shark-like himself.
In hindsight you probably should’ve been more cautious when it came to letting a stranger patch you up daily. If one of your friends told you that they were going to an older neighbor's apartment once a day to allow them to perform first aid despite having minimal contact prior, you would’ve told them to be cautious and to go to a doctor. But you don’t have those friends anymore and medical bills are outrageous and besides, Ben isn’t a stranger, he's a Mail Guy. He’s your neighbor. More importantly, Ben is an FBI agent and you remind yourself that psycho-killers don’t work for the FBI because they probably have to go through screenings and training. At least that is what you tell yourself.
The thirty minutes a day in Ben’s apartment allow you to get to know him better. He’s tidy which you admire and appreciate. Ben has shockingly good aim and a good throwing arm because he’s always able to throw your old, balled up bandages in the trash can which is on the other side of the room closer to the kitchen in a single throw and never misses. The third time he does it you wonder if he’s trying to impress you, which he succeeded at, and you ask him if he ever tried to be a professional baseball player.
“I did honestly consider it back in high school.” He says as he applies ointment to your cuts. Your hand has dramatically improved since Ben started working his certified first aid magic on it. You kind of want to heal a little slower just so you can spend more time with your neighbor. “But baseball can be boring. Also they kept pulling me halfway through the game because I’d strike everyone out the whole time. I never got to pitch a perfect game.” He lamented, working the salve over each cut with undeniable precision. “There are other ways to have a good aim.”
Through quiet conversation and cups of tea you also learn that Ben has a routine of his own, and not the simple kind that most people have, a strict one that he says is timed down to the minute. “I know it’s kind of weird, most of my colleagues and friends growing up always told me to loosen up but it’s good for me. Keeps me in the right direction.”
“Trust me,” You’re staring into your mug of tea, decaf because Ben said he doesn’t allow himself caffeine after four PM, in an effort to hide the flush on your face and neck, “I completely understand.”
After a week and close inspection of your hand Ben tells you it doesn’t need to be bandaged anymore and gives you a fresh tube of antibiotic ointment. For a second you’re disappointed, your new extra step in your routine had filled the deep dark hole of social isolation you had been suffering in. But then Ben shyly asked if you’d still like to join him for tea after you feed your friends and check the mail, admitting that he didn't have many people he knew in the city outside of work and had been enjoying your company. You agreed, and suddenly you and Ben made space for one another in your lives.
Two weeks ago you thought that you’d be spending the rest of your life in almost total isolation and tried to come to terms with your new fate. Making friends had never been easy and with your college connections severed you felt hopeless. It had been so much harder to make friends as an adult and it was difficult for you to relate to many of your peers. The incident with the broken vase had been a lapse that was a long time coming, boiling under the surface the longer you had to ruminate in your self-loathing. For a minute it seemed pointless, you would remain a terribly sad girl who had issues with pain and punishment for the rest of your life. Then, suddenly, you had Mail Guy’s phone number and a promise from him that he would text if he was getting held up at work and couldn’t make your meet up. You had someone and it seemed like your someone needed you just as much as you needed him.
Evening tea with Ben also became Sunday morning grocery shopping with one another and he always offered to carry your bags for you and push the cart. He tagged along to the farmers market with you and helped you pick out your weekly bouquet and met up with you at the bookstore on Fridays. Ben cooked you dinner once a week on Wednesdays because you mentioned they were your least favorite day of the week. You introduced him to Penny and he’d come over on weekends and watch nature documentaries with you and wouldn’t complain. Thirty minutes a day morphed into almost any moment you had when you weren’t asleep or at work. Your hand was fully healed and the hurt from your old friends was just a scar.
One summer night you’re curled up on Ben’s couch while he sits a little more properly next to you. You’re listening to an audiobook that is playing through the speaker system in Ben’s living room because he mentioned he liked listening to audiobooks during his morning runs. The two of you sit in silence as you listen to the narrator of Sharp Objects talk about the dead body of a teenage girl who was found in an alleyway with all her teeth ripped out. It was your choice, you liked fiction and Ben liked true crime so a murder mystery seemed like an appropriate choice that suited both your tastes and Ben appeared to be enthralled with the story so far. After each chapter he would pause his phone and you would discuss what you just listened to.
But as the narrator drones on, your attention fades out of focus and you begin to appreciate the slope of Ben’s nose and the way he keeps his jaw clenched as he listens to something with full attention. He’s tapping his index finger on the rim of his white mug. Ben has very well manicured nails despite the rough calluses that you know are on his fingers. He shifts in his spot and your eyes flit back up to his face and hazel eyes are staring back at you and if it was anyone else you’d apologize for staring but instead you hold your gaze.
Ben is so pretty it could almost make you jealous. He was blessed with even, symmetrical features and good bone structure with cute cheek and chin dimples to top it all off. His high cheekbones and chiseled jaw made him look more like a model than an FBI agent. Still, as you stared at one another while an audiobook echoed around you talking about a gruesome murder, you wondered if Ben’s good looks were the one blessing that Dex received in life. Pretty privilege was a lucky thing to acquire and despite Ben’s perfect features there was something about him that always looked a little haunted. After all, you did see his medicine cabinet the week prior.
His bathroom is just as clean if not more pristine than the rest of his apartment. Ben admitted that he wiped it down after every use which was evident by the roll of paper towels under the sink and the squeegee hung up in the shower. You asked if you could steal some floss, Ben had made salmon for dinner and it was lovely but something was poking at your tongue. He said it was in the top left hand drawer of his vanity but you were feeling bold and Ben was your friend so when you peaked in his medicine cabinet you expected to find cologne and moisturizer, not a pharmacy.
Several pill bottles stood in a neat line on the middle shelf of the cabinet, each of their labels faced proudly outward all labeled with his full name and with four refills noted on the bottom corner of the stickers. At first it shocked you, you closed the cabinet quietly and returned to the living room where Ben was sitting on his couch waiting for you to start the next episode of a documentary about the Cold War you were watching together. The rest of the night went on as normal and Ben even walked you back to your apartment afterwards leaving you with a warm feeling blooming through your chest. The second you closed the door you rushed to your laptop where you looked up each of the medications.
Anti-depressants, anti-psycotics, and mood stabilizers. Sterile web articles illuminate your computer screen and you click link after link trying to figure out what all of these pills would be used in combination for. BPD and PTSD are among most of the results and an ugly, evil, unwanted thought rips through you.
Ben was almost too perfect. He was attractive, your cat liked him, he enjoyed the same music that you did and even remembered you liked honey more than plain sugar in your tea. Ben understood the importance and sanctity of repetition and even made the time to alter his life so you could fit into his already curated schedule. Ben was perfect, so therefore the universe made sure he was not, all because you liked him. Of course the one, meaningful, companion you were finally able to hold space for would have such a giant issue. Ben’s routine was probably not something he found satisfaction in, it was probably a lifeline. The more you read about borderline personality disorder the more it scared you.
Before clicking on another web article Penny jumps up next to you on your bed and nuzzles at your hand hovering over the trackpad. Her rough tongue scrapes over your palm and you wince a bit as the familiar ache and sting blooms over your skin. The night of the vase incident plays through your memory like a film and then your greatest, or rather worst, hits flick through your mind after.
The one guy you had any sort of fling with in college telling you that you’re not very fun to be around but you give decent blowjobs which is why he stuck around for so long. You had asked him if he wanted to get dinner at the dining hall after class and that was his way of cutting things off with you. That night you didn’t eat and laid in bed while digging your thumbnail so hard into the skin above your hipbone you managed to break skin. The time you messed up a project at work and had to redo it all resulting in a condescending email from your boss and the four parallel scars on your right shoulder. You were fifteen and your mom just yelled at you for getting a C on a biology exam so you use cuticle scissors to cut off one of your toenails.
You remember that you have issues too and you might be clinging on to your own lifeline more than Ben is. Ben is medicated at least, and if he’s medicated then he goes to therapy regularly and has a psychiatrist and you haven’t seen your GP in two years. The ugly thought fades and you appreciate Ben even more than you did before. It also helps that Ben is very pretty.
Ben has become less intimidating over the weeks that you’ve known and it’s less of you becoming used to how intense he can come across and more of him acting softer around you and only you. It’s evident that he likes you the same way you like him and knowing this information gives you great satisfaction. You’re not the type of girl that guys fawn over and yet Ben does. He speaks softly, he buys your favorite snacks when you have movie nights, he still checks your hand every now claiming he just wants to make sure it’s healing alright. It’s an obvious excuse to touch you and you happily pretend like you don’t notice. It’s fun to dance around one another because Ben is smart enough to pick up on your obvious reciprocated feelings. A brush of the knee feels electric and eye contact burns in the best way possible. The way Ben looks at you while sitting on the couch that night can only be described as vulnerable.
The chapter of the book ends and you know you’ll have to ask him to replay it because none of the words had any sort of lasting effect in your memory. Ben presses pause on his phone without even looking at it, maybe because he can’t stand the idea of missing out on looking at you. For a guy who works for the FBI he’s not very brave when it comes to his feelings and you know he is too scared to make the first move. By no means are you renowned for being fearless but if Ben hadn’t been so obvious in his affection you wouldn’t have gotten the courage to reach your hand out and brush his cheek with your finger tips.
Ben shutters and leans into your touch so your light graze turns into you cradling his face in your hands. The scratch of stubble threatens to irritate your scar but you pay it no mind as Dex looks up at you with wet, almost puppy-like, hazel eyes. You lean in and he moves to fill the remainder of the gap and presses his lips to yours. It’s a soft kiss, sweet and almost chaste and it tastes like wintergreen toothpaste and your nose is filled with his teakwood cologne. You pull away and he rests his forehead against yours as one of his hands cards through your hair and the other wraps around your waist.
It’s your first kiss in years and you wonder if it’s his too, not because it’s bad but because he pulls you in for a tight hug after and takes a deep inhale of your hair and the skin on your neck. You quickly realize that Ben’s nice arms are not just for show because he kind of manhandles you during your hug so you’re practically on his lap as he pulls you closer. His touch is greedy, like your first kiss opened the floodgates for all his yearning to spill out. Ben presses a kiss to your cheek and you have to stifle a whimper, unused to all this touch. It feels like you’re drowning but at the same time you welcome it with open arms because Mail Guy is smothering you with affection. It's almost like a dream.
You kiss him again and this time he does moan into your mouth and an undeniable pang of attraction makes your stomach twist. Ben wants you, maybe even needs you with the way he’s kissing you, like he could die tomorrow and be perfectly happy. His callused hands rest firmly on your waist and back keeping you in place as you make out like teenagers on his couch and you don’t stop until Ben accidentally knocks his phone onto the floor and the steady voice of the narrator announces “Chapter Two” loudly into the living room. You jolt away from Ben and his eyes are wide and frantic until you start laughing as he scrambles to find his phone on the floor to shut off the audiobook. Once it’s quiet again he chuckles along with you, leaning his head into the crook of your neck once again.
That night he walks you home and leaves you with a kiss on the lips and a warm hug goodbye. When you sit on the couch to give Penny some much needed affection you glance out your window to see Dex neatening up his apartment from across the yard. He notices you looking and waves with a shy smile. You blow him a kiss and you swear you can see his blush rise to the tips of his ears.
The next night you tell Ben that you can’t handle a casual relationship, it’s all or nothing and you already knew he would understand. He also agrees that he wants the pace of the relationship to be whatever you want it to be which in this case is slow.
Dating Ben is easy because not much changes except you touch more. He’s awfully clingy in the best way, always wanting some form of contact even if it’s just linking fingers as you walk down the street or a knee resting against your thigh when laying on the couch. Sometimes when he gets home from work he gifts you with small trinkets that he said made him think of you. A very smooth stone he found while he was out on his run that morning, a foreign coin, a petal from a poppy that he kept safe in his suit pocket all day.
He buys you birdseed refills and even helps you scatter it during your evening routine and helps you trim Penny’s nails without complaint. At night when you listen to audiobooks or watch television he’s often draped over you with his head resting over your stomach while his arms are wrapped around you. You comb your fingers through his hair and you swear he actually purrs. Penny has even started getting so used to him that often she’ll lay on his back during these moments.
The first time you spend the night together is at your apartment on a Friday night. When you met up at the book store after work he insisted on buying you whatever your selection for the week was and even bought you one of the cute bookmarks that sit next to the register made out of pressed flowers preserved in resin. You cooked him dinner, pasta and homemade pesto which is one of your favorite meals and he compliments you after every bite. He leaves to shower at his place and grab an extra change of clothes and comes back with damp hair that you think makes him look charming. You feed the birds as normal, sitting in his lap this time while he rests his chin on your shoulder, then check the mail like always and return to your apartment where you watch Blue Planet.
That night is also the first time you slept with one another and you learn that he is shockingly submissive in bed but in the way a guard dog is submissive to their master. Ben thrives when he’s told what to do even if it’s just a simple direction like “kiss my neck” or “touch me here”. His special precision is perfect in these scenarios because on the first try he finds the pulse point on your shoulder that makes you moan as he leaves a purple, crescent shaped hickey while his thumb presses into your clit. He makes you come remarkably fast with just his touch and practically begs to go down on you after.
Your old friends had you convinced that guys who liked to eat pussy were rare but Ben must’ve been an outlier or they just had terrible taste in guys. He loved having his head in between your thighs, pressing your legs against the side of his head seemed to give him some sort of comfort and he made you come again with his tongue buried in your heat while you tugged at the short, blond strands of his hair. Coming down from your high he presses his face into your slit, taking in a deep inhale whimpering at your ripe scent.
“Fuck.” He says, voice gruff and low as he kisses the bend in your knee. “My perfect, lovely girl. All for me. All mine. Mine, mine, mine.” You realize Ben is not speaking necessarily to you but rather about you, his stream of consciousness slipping out of him in his pussy-drunk state. He crawls up your body and gives you a searing kiss where you taste yourself on his lips and you moan as he slips his cock into you in one slow thrust.
In truth you haven’t had much experience with guys and had only seen a handful of dicks but you have a feeling that Ben’s is larger than most. He certainly walks like there’s something sizable between his thighs and as he presses into you it feels like you’re being split open in the best way possible. You’re undeniably full as he reaches the hilt, his cock is practically in your brain because it’s all you can think about.
“Jesus fuck.” You mumble, sweat forming at your brow as Ben lets you adjust to him. He presses his forehead against yours and his eyes are completely blown out. All traces of hazel gone as he stares at you in a way that would make anyone else run and cower. But you stay put because as he finally moves in shallow thrusts, you know that Ben is yours and yours alone.
He doesn’t last long but you don’t care as you were more than satisfied by the time he fucked you and the fact that he came so quickly from just your pussy alone is kind of hot. Beautiful and pretty Ben spills inside of you in just a couple of strokes and the sound he made when he finished was so sinful you made sure to commit it to memory. You shower him in kisses and praise as he shutters through his high and eventually he pulls out and carries you to the bathroom so you can clean up before bed.
That night you fall into a dreamless sleep and are awakened by Penny kneading biscuits into your thigh over the blankets and Ben curled into your chest as you held him all night long. He buys you your bouquet at the farmers market and that night he paints your toenails in perfect strokes so he doesn't get any polish on your skin.
Summer carries on and so do you and Ben. He visits you on his lunch break as often as he can. He buys you books and nail polish and never complains if you want to watch a nature documentary for the fourth time in a row on movie nights. He buys Penny treats and gains her full approval, always greeting him at the door when he comes over and nuzzling at his legs when he sits on the couch. You run errands with him on weekends and stand in line with him at the pharmacy when he needs refills on his meds. You never ask him to explain why he needs them and you know he’s thankful for it. He tells you he made you his emergency contact at work and you do the same. On the nights that one of you sleeps over he fucks you however you want and you fall asleep tangled in each other’s embrace.
“I very much enjoy our time with one another. You’re the best part of my day.” You know he’s trying to say that he loves you and you know it’s probably too early to admit feelings like that; but you welcome it and tell him you’re glad he’s in your life.
So when you wake up at three o’clock in the morning on a Monday, alone because you only do sleepovers with your boyfriend on weekends, and hear the floor shift in the darkest corner of your room you pretend like you didn’t hear a thing. You haven’t given Ben a spare key yet, you’ve thought about it in the case you’re not home and Penny needs to be checked on, but you haven’t made that next step yet. Instead you try to fall back asleep and pay no mind to the fact that you think you can hear someone else breathing and how Penny keeps staring at the corner of the room.
Ben doesn’t always eat lunch with you but you notice on the days he doesn’t there’s always an unmarked car parked across the street of your building. It’s far enough away that you can’t tell if anyone is in it or not, but it always arrives just before you go outside and leaves just after you go back in.
He has a Walkman with an old pair of headphones tucked into his nightstand. The first time you saw it was when he was pulling out a condom and when he saw you notice it he shut the drawer quickly and kissed you so hard you almost forgot about it. A week later when he was in the shower and you were laying in his bed you brought it out, put on the headphones, and pressed play. You only listened to it for a minute, thinking you would find a mixtape not a therapy session. You regretted your snooping the second you heard Ben’s young voice, so clearly him with the quiet and measured tone of voice he’s always had. He talked about baseball and his resentment for his coach and then you stopped listening because it was much too personal.
In his hall closet there’s a large safe that you’ve never seen him open but you know what’s probably inside. He’s never explicitly shown you his gun that he carries for work but it’s always in its holster on his dresser, sitting neatly next to his black belt he always wears for work. You wonder what else is in the safe. His social security card, cash, maybe even more tapes, but most definitely more guns.
Soon it is early October and your friends in the courtyard are begging for food so they can prepare for winter. You sit on your bench curled into Ben’s side as he murmurs to you in a low voice about his day at work. They’ve been tracking an illegal arms dealer that has ties to one of the scientists that was involved in the Sokovia incident a few years ago. It all sounds very intense but he says they aren’t planning any busts soon, just tracking and monitoring.
“And if there was a field assignment I’d probably be halfway across town perched on a roof, far away from any of the action.” He assures, smirking a little as he pictures it which makes you shiver so he wraps his arm around you a little tighter because he assumes it’s the autumn air making you shake. Ben had told you his actual role in the FBI about a month ago. You had assumed he was just a regular investigator but turns out he had a more specialized position, sniper. It made sense and explained the picture of him and his military squad he had hung by his door, but you had to quickly come to the realization that Ben has definitely killed people and will probably kill more people because that was his job.
The same hands that had pulled the trigger countless times were the same ones that took the time to love and heal your wounded ones all those weeks ago. A trained killer bought you flowers every weekend. A murderer always thanked you every time you had sex with him. It was a little ironic but it was all Ben, and you loved Ben.
The next day at work you were logging an expense report when your phone buzzed. You expected it to be Ben, who texted you about three times a day while he was at work. Usually a picture of an animal, a plant, or an interesting building he saw while he was out. If you were lucky there would be an occasional selfie, only half of his face while he took a picture of something behind him, and sometimes a picture of his coworker Ray who you had heard about.
Only it wasn’t Ben, it was Leah.
Hey. If you don’t want to talk I will understand, but if you do would you be willing to meet up? I would like to apologize to you in person.
For a second you had forgotten about Leah. The past few months had been filled with anything and everything Ben that the fallout with your friends felt like a distant memory. Last time you checked she had you blocked on everything but when you opened Instagram she was following you again. Half of her pictures had been deleted, including her engagement pictures, and there was no trace of a wedding.
Yeah, we can meet up. Does this Friday work?
“I don’t like this.” Ben says that night after you show him the messages. Leah asked if she could take you out to dinner and you agreed on the one condition that you go out to your favorite restaurant. She agreed instantly and you mentally started to go through all the items in your closet trying to figure out the best thing to wear. Something that made you look nice but in a sort-of effortless way that made you look nonchalant about the whole situation even though it had your stomach in knots.
Ben’s reaction doesn’t surprise you, the past few months you hadn’t exactly told him any of the good facets about Leah, the reason why you were friends in the first place, so his view was biased. It also wasn’t shocking that he was feeling a little protective.
“If you go out to dinner we won’t have time to go to the bookstore, or watch a movie together.” His voice was steady but the way he had his arms crossed while sitting on the foot of your bed indicated his frustration.
“I know, and that is annoying because I want to buy the next Earthsea book, but would you be willing to go with me on Saturday after the market?”
“Yes.” He agrees instantly, you knew he would and admittedly you were frustrated that your usual Friday night plans were straying from their usual course, but you also knew you had to do this. Despite the hurtful things Leah had said and done to you a few months prior she was willing to extend an olive branch so it was the right thing to do to meet her half-way.
“And we will definitely still have time for a movie. We’re meeting at 6:30 and I want to be home by 8:30 at the latest.” You said as you rifled through your closet looking for a very specific plaid skirt. “Do you think you would be willing to feed the birds for me?”
“Only if you let me drop you off at the restaurant.” Ben said, his voice closer to you than you recalled. When you popped your head out of the recess of your closet you jumped as Ben was right next to you. Sometimes he moves so quietly he reminds you of an electric car.
Friday evening you walk twenty minutes downtown hand-in-hand with your boyfriend to the little conveyor belt sushi restaurant that has always been a favorite spot of yours when you have a little extra cash to spend. Ben compliments your outfit three times on the walk over. “My beautiful girl is so dressed up,” he murmurs, brushing hair out of your face as you wait outside the restaurant for Leah to arrive. You’re predictably five minutes early.
At 6:34 Leah rounds the corner and waives tentatively at you as she approaches. You smile and wave back trying to hide the fact that your stomach is twisting and you’ve had to wipe the sweat on your hands onto the fabric of your skirt three times since you arrived. Ben stands firmly next to you with an arm wrapped around your waist, face unreadable.
“Hey,” Leah says breathlessly, pushing her hair behind her ears and wrapping her jacket around her to protect herself from the autumn chill. “Thanks uh, for meeting me.” She glances at Ben nervously and then settles her attention back to you. “Is this your boyfriend?”
“Yes! Yeah um-” You motion to Ben who smiles tightly at her and sticks his hand out for her to shake.
“Dex, I’m just dropping her off.” His voice is a little more measured than usual and this time Ben smiles with his teeth, shark like, and it makes Leah look a little on edge. A part of you kind of enjoys the fact she seems nervous around Ben, it’s like you have a Belgian Malinois by your side.
Ben turns to you after he releases Leah’s hand and gives you a tight, warm hug and a kiss to your cheek and temple. “Text me when you’re wrapping up and I’ll walk you home.”
“I promise.” You respond, shy from all his PDA that Leah is witnessing. Ben smiles, warmer because this one is meant for you, and kisses you softly on your lips before leaving you with a final squeeze on your shoulder. Ben disappears into the crowd and when you turn back to Leah she looks a little dumbfounded. Is it because she found Ben intimidating, or was she just shocked you were able to find a boyfriend in the first place. You grab the door and hold it open for her, “After you,” You said softly and Leah smiles before heading inside.
The first five minutes are awkward. The two of you sit next to one another at the bar and small, multicolored plates pass pay on the conveyor belt in front of you. A waitress takes your order, tea for you and Diet Coke for Leah, and you exchange pleasantries with one another while you wait on your beverages. Leah’s old engagement ring is noticeably gone from her ring finger. After you take your first bite of food Leah finally cuts to the chase.
“Jeremy and I broke up two weeks before the wedding.” Leah’s pretty face is pale behind her foundation and she’s ripping her napkin into tiny shreds of paper. You chew and swallow as fast as you can, coughing as it goes down so you take a sip of water while Leah looks like she will be ill.
“Oh?” Is all you manage to say. What exactly does someone say in a situation like this? An ‘I told you so’ would be warranted but also you felt like it was too cruel. “I’m sorry-”
Leah held up her hand in order to cut you off, laughing a little as she brushed shredded paper off her jeans. “Don’t be sorry, you’re the last person who should feel sorry about any of this.” She grabbed salmon nigiri off the belt and set it in front of her before unwrapping her chopsticks and breaking them in half. “I’m sorry. I said terrible things to you and cut you off when all you wanted to do was look out for me.”
The restaurant buzzes around the two of you as you eat in silence for a few minutes. Leah is staring intently at the bubbles in her Diet Coke and your gaze is drawn towards the windows. New York City is bustling outside despite the cool autumn air. People getting off of work, couples getting dinner, college kids preparing for a night out. In the hustle and bustle you think you catch a flash of a familiar navy baseball hat from across the street.
“He was cheating on me with Mary.”
“What?” Baseball hat be damned, you whipped your head back around so you were looking at Leah as tears pooled in her eyes. “Mary?” You ask, confused and suddenly angry.
“Yeah, it had been going on for a while. It’s why she wanted to keep his infidelity hidden so badly and why she got so upset with you when you told me. I think she was afraid of getting found out.”
Colorful plates keep passing by and your chopsticks are making your fingers feel sweaty. Izzy’s behavior was still unexplained but you chalked it up to her just being a bad friend who could apparently excuse cheating.
That’s so evil. Ben had said when you explained the whole situation over tea only a few weeks into seeing one another. Cheating is immoral. I’d never do something like that. Loyal. Just like a dog.
“Obviously I knew he had been cheating but he swore it was a one time thing and that he’d never do it again.” Leah wipes fallen tears and pushes hair out of her face, trying to stay composed even though Calvin Harris is playing over the speakers in the restaurant and it all feels so ridiculous. “But apparently I’m an idiot and not only was he cheating with random girls he was also cheating on me with my maid of honor.” She laughs coldly and shoves a piece of sushi into her mouth as you try to process it all. “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. And please don’t feel obligated to forgive me because you aren’t. I said terrible things to you, things no one should ever say, especially not to someone who was the only one looking out for me. I don’t know why I thought you betrayed me when in reality is was Jeremy and that fucking bitch.”
Your face feels flushed and you set your chopsticks down so you can wipe your hands on your skirt again. Something nasty is licking at your heart, making it bloom with anger and frustration and suddenly your hand starts to ache again. All that hurt and pain you thought you had left behind a few months ago comes crashing down as you remember how Mary and Izzy and of course, Leah, had lashed you with their words and left you for dead in the wake of their betrayal. They hurt you so bad you felt the need to hurt yourself. Their actions had left permanent scars and it was all for nothing.
Herbal tea wafts through the air and cuts through your anger like a hot knife. The waitress is serving the person next to you, an older gentleman who is already grabbing sashimi off of the belt. The cup clinks against the saucer and suddenly you’re sitting in Ben’s apartment and he’s inspecting the damage done to your hand while his electric kettle is simmering in the kitchen. Despite his rough hands he had handled you so carefully as he washed, disinfected, and rebandaged your hand every day for a week until you were healed. Then he served you herbal tea, just like the kind they served at your favorite restaurant.
You’re jealous because I’m not miserable and single like you are so you’re going out of your way to make me just like you!
Leah is reaching for a drink but you surge forward and wrap her in a tight hug. Yes, she caused you pain. She hurt you more than any friend ever had. But without that pain you wouldn’t have made the connection with Ben, and without Ben you would no longer be miserable and single. As much as Leah’s words had cut you it wasn’t like they were a complete lie. You were miserable. You had been living in a lonely existence, never truly seen or understood until you made your connection with Ben.
“I forgive you.” You mumble, Leah hugs you back and laughs wetly before letting you go so she can finish drying her tears.
The next hour feels sort-of perfect. Leah gives you all the gritty details about how Jeremy’s mother cussed her out after cancelling the engagement and how she lost 3 grand on her deposit for the venue. She moved back in with her parents in Brooklyn but she did get a promotion at her job so she should be able to save up and move out soon. Mary and Jeremy were still seeing each other apparently but neither of you could stalk them on social media because you were blocked, and Izzy seemed to cut ties with everyone and hasn’t been seen since the summer.
“Jeremy can rot in hell.” You say, throwing back the shot of sake that Leah had ordered once the real tea had started to spill. She laughed, a little shocked at your statement because you weren’t the type to usually be that bold, but it’s what Ben would’ve said if he had been there.
Maybe you should’ve held your grudge towards Leah for a little longer, most people would’ve in a similar scenario but you couldn’t. For the past few months it seemed like Leah was experiencing the same type of isolation that you had gone through earlier in the year so you couldn't help but empathize with her. Jeremy and Mary had manipulated her and she seemed genuinely sorry for her actions. Evil guys could make even the most normal girls do crazy things, plus you weren’t really the type to hold a grudge against anyone unless it was yourself.
By 8:20 you’re waiting for the check and despite insisting on paying for at least your share of food Leah says she’ll foot the bill. “It’s only fair, trust me.” She says as she hands the waitress her card.
“Well then I’ll get it next time.” You say with a smile and Leah grins because you just said ‘next time’. It’s nice knowing that you have a friend again, they came in rare supply.
“So, you gonna tell me about your boyfriend or do I have to wait?” Leah says as she signs the receipt. You smile, blushing as you recall how Ben had kissed you so sweetly before leaving earlier.
“I guess I can share some.” You say coyly. You’re loose and flushed from the alcohol and a little excited because this is the first time you get to gush about your boyfriend. “We’re actually neighbors, he lives in my building and noticed me feeding the animals. We started seeing each other a few months ago, just before spring.”
“Aw,” Leah says, resting her cheek in her hand. “He’s handsome, is he older? No judgement, obviously.” Her eyes widen and her laugh and shake your head in reassurance.
“It’s okay, and he is. He’s 34, but it’s kind of nice. He’s more settled in his life and has an important job. It’s nice having a boyfriend who values routine and stability. I think it’s really good for me.” You say fondly.
“What does he do for work?”
“He’s an FBI agent.”
Leah’s brows raise in surprise. “Oh! Yeah that is really important. I guess that kind of tracks he seems, um…” Her voice trails off and you can tell she’s trying to choose her next words carefully but you know what’s about to come next, “intense.”
“He is. I like it.”
By 8:30 you’re out the door and it’s already nightfall in New York City. You hug Leah goodbye and wrap your coat around your waist as you watch her head towards the train station. You should’ve texted Ben twenty minutes ago so he could have enough time to walk over and pick you up so you could head home. Instead, you walk down the street for half a block. Normally, you would be in a rush, paranoid even. Anything can happen in the city at night, especially to a young woman like you; but there’s no need to feel scared. Nothing is going to happen to you. The street is empty and you look around at the vacant buildings surrounding you.
“Ben,” You say in a steady tone. Nothing happens, the street is still empty but you stay put. “Ben, I know you’re there.” Still, nothing. It’s getting chillier and you tuck your hands into your pockets. “Dex, come out.” You command.
The name felt foreign on your tongue. You never called him Dex, always feeling like the name was a little too harsh for you even though that’s what everyone else called him, including himself. It seemed to get his attention though, because after you said it he finally revealed himself as he came out of the shadows of the alleyway across the street. He crosses over to you, walking steadily even though his eyes are wild and red-rimmed. Wet and illuminated in the harsh streetlight that makes the lines of his face look more intimidating. You don’t startle and stand your ground. Ben stops in front of you, further away than he usually would be and despite his broad stature he looks like a scared little boy.
You stare at one another, his lip wobbles, your cheeks grow hotter from the alcohol and nerves that are signaling that you should be running but you’re not. You stay put, so does he, always waiting for your command.
“I’m not mad at you.” But you should be. You should be freaked out and changing your locks and blocking his number.
“You’re not?” Ben blinks rapidly as he tries to hide his tears, his fear that should rightfully be yours even though it’s not.
“I’m not.” You take a step forward and Ben flinches but you ignore it. “I could never be mad at you.” You say softly. Ben looks down at you and bites his lip and furrows his brows.
“But you should be.” He mumbles. You shrug and nod. What’s the point in being mad? You’ve known for a long time that Ben has issues even though he never explicitly said anything about it. You never talked about your problems either but you know that Ben knew the real reason behind your scars.
You reach up and place your hand on Ben’s cheek and he nuzzles into it immediately. Scruff against scar tissue that makes you shiver. Reaching out you grab his jacket and he immediately pulls you close into a hug. You’re engulfed by his lovely cologne and feel as he kisses along your hairline. You stand on your tiptoes so you can reach the shell of his ear.
“I love you.” You whisper. Ben moans into the curve of your neck, holding you tighter as you comb your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck.
“I love you too.” He whispers back, kissing you behind your ear then your jaw then he places a tentative kiss onto your lips as you hold onto the collar of his jacket. When you pull away he rests his forehead on yours and smiles.
“Take me home?” You ask sweetly.
“Of course.” Ben replies, grabbing your hand and placing a warm kiss on your knuckles. You cling to his side and Ben wraps a warm arm around your shoulders, keeping you close.
+++
Authors Notes:
About a month ago I rewatched season 3 of Daredevil. The only other time I've seen it was back in 2018 a week after it premiered and I remember being blown away by it. What I remembered most was Dex, who upon rewatch is still so captivating and not only because he is played by a handsome guy but also because the way he's teetering on edge and so easily manipulated into a monster, directly contrasting Matt, is so deeply entertaining. I know Born Again season 2 just wrapped and Dex finally got to continue his story almost 10 years later, but I'm unsure if I will watch it. At least not for a while. I think the strongest iteration of Dex's character is the way he was portrayed in season 3. There's something extra special about the way he is so haunted throughout those 13 episodes that really makes him a standout character.
I do want to continue this story but probably just in smaller one-shots capturing more mundane, intimidate moments between this reader and Dex. I'd like to think that this story and anything related to it that I may make in the future is set in an ideal world where Dex is never manipulated by Fisk and Fisk dies in prison where he belongs so both Dex and Matt can know peace :).
If you like the story feel free to comment, I'd love feedback. Thank you for reading!
rare aesthetic: handsome mentally ill stalkers who don't stalk you because they're perverts, but because they're so emotionally and psychologically depends on you that they literally can't live without you.
how did you manage to put more than 10 pictures in your Joe smau??? tumblr doesn’t let me put more than that
heyyyy!! i upload all my fics from my laptop and i believe you’re allowed to put 10+ photos from the web version of tumblr on there! i could be completely wrong but let me know if this works!!🤍
Multi-chapter fic detailing Leon's training alongside you in USSTRATCOM. 64 chapters.
tags: MDNI, gender neutral reader, sparring, sexual tension, eventual smut, slow burn, PTSD, angst, hurt/comfort, military training, torture, flashbacks/nightmares, blood/gore, injuries, oral sex, semi-public sex, minor original characters, found family, reader has scars but no other physical descriptions used
Act 1
Chapter 1: Too Slow
Chapter 2: Proper Introductions
Chapter 3: Your Move
Chapter 4: Bruises are the Best Teachers
Chapter 5: Up Close and Personal
Chapter 6: Back to Back . . .
Chapter 7: . . . Against the World
Chapter 8: Say You'll Be There
Chapter 9: Danger Close
Chapter 10: Firing Range
Chapter 11: Proximity Alert
Chapter 12: Let You Down
Chapter 13: Better This Way
Chapter 14: Afterburn
Chapter 15: Thank God, You're Finally Home
Chapter 16: Quiet Moments
Chapter 17: A Losing Game
Chapter 18: Razor's Edge
Chapter 19: Moment's Silence (NSFW)
Act 2
Chapter 20: Choices and Consequences
Chapter 21: Interrogation
Chapter 22: Voices Carry
Chapter 23: Compartmentalization
Chapter 24: Dehumanizing
Chapter 25: Only You (NSFW)
Chapter 26: Idle Fantasies
Chapter 27: Show Them What You Can Do
Chapter 28: Bloody Lessons
Chapter 29: Pack Mentality
Chapter 30: Old Hurts Healing
Chapter 31: Hell of a Vacation
Chapter 32: Don't Breathe . . .
Chapter 33: . . . Don't Break
Chapter 34: Two Steps Back
Act 3
Chapter 35: Weakest Links
Chapter 36: Don't Let Go
Chapter 37: Hard Truths
Chapter 38: Covert Operations
Chapter 39: Black-Out Names
Chapter 40: Letters From Home
Chapter 41: For the Fallen
Chapter 42: A Little Sorrowed Talk
Chapter 43: Still I Can't Escape the Ghost of You
Chapter 44: I'll Be Missing You
Chapter 45: Secrets and Steel
Chapter 46: Lessons Final and Familiar
Chapter 47: To Be Alone With You (NSFW)
Chapter 48: Not A Word
Chapter 49: The Crucible (Part 1)
Chapter 50: The Crucible (Part 2)
Chapter 51: Race Against Time
Chapter 52: All That Remains
Chapter 53: Fade Out
Chapter 54: The Enemy of My Enemy
Chapter 55: An Eye for An Eye
Chapter 56: Monsters
Chapter 57: Coup de Grace
Chapter 58: Bleed
Chapter 59: Murphy's Law
Chapter 60: The Cost of Violence
Chapter 61: Sacrifice
Chapter 62: Everything You Hoped For
Chapter 63: Wounds
Chapter 64: Weapons
Author's Note
Sequel: Under the Skin
Incorrect Quotes (for the memes)
1 2 3 4 5 6
Vine Comps (also for the memes)
1 2 3
And if you want to read the Krauser spin-off series:
Summary: Rookie! Leon interrupts a bachelorette party OR Rookie! Leon gets mistaken for a stripper.
a/n: look at those puppy eyes, no one would take him seriously 😭😭 my babieee // FLUFF AND HUMOR. Also I haven’t written much this past month so if this isn’t good I’m sorry</3
Pink balloons spelling BRIDE OF THE PARTY decorated your apartment. Glitter and metallic tassels littered the floor as your small group of girl friends celebrated your best friend's last few weeks of freedom before tying the knot.
To say your apartment had disrupted the peace and quiet of the complex would’ve been an understatement. Music pulsed through the walls while laughter rose above it, filling the space with enough noise to make the ice in your drink clink against the sides of the cup. It didn’t seem excessively loud to you, just lively enough for a small gathering. But someone down the hall clearly felt otherwise, because before long, the police were on their way.
Three firm knocks cut through the music and chatter, echoing across the room.
As Maid of Honor, and consequently the least drunk person present, it fell to you to answer the door.
"Oh my God," one of your friends gasped. "Don't tell me you hired a stripper."
"No? Maybe?" the bride said through a fit of laughter. "I don't remember." The room erupted into giggles before returning to the far more important task of taking shots.
Rolling your eyes, you crossed the living room, weaving around discarded heels and half-empty cocktail glasses.
The first thing you noticed wasn't the navy blue uniform, or the tag name spelling L.S. Kennedy, or the badge clipped to his chest, but his face. Soft features, bright blue eyes framed by absurdly long lashes, a stupidly charming deep cleft chin and dirty-blond hair that looked almost perfectly tousled beneath the dim hallway lights.
There was simply no way that man looked intimidating enough to be a cop.
Behind you, someone immediately blurted, "Oh my God, he's cute!”
The uniformed man shifted awkwardly in the hallway.
"Uh... miss?" His voice snapped you out of your staring.
"Oh. Right. Sorry." You blinked and finally took in the rest of him. The vest, the handcuffs, the radio.
So he was truly a stripper.
"Miss," Officer Kennedy tried again.
You glanced over your shoulder to take a look at the bride-to-be and the rest of your friends who had gathered behind you, peering around your frame with barely contained excitement.
Before you could say anything, one of them gasped.
"You actually hired one! I always wanted to be with a man in uniform, they’re so hot." The apartment erupted in excited screams.
The fake officer's eyes widened. Looking increasingly alarmed, he glanced between you and the crowd packed into the apartment.
"No, no, I'm not-" His gaze dropped to the handcuffs hanging from his belt, and understanding flashed across his face.
"I'm actually a police officer," he said quickly.
The sincerity in his voice was almost enough to make you feel bad.
Almost.
"How much extra do they charge for the police package?" another girl called from somewhere behind you and the room dissolved into hysterical laughter.
"Officer," you said quickly.
You straightened, and the poor man's shoulders visibly relaxed.
Before he could respond, you noticed his attention shift past you. His gaze swept over the mess of your apartment: the table cluttered with empty bottles, half-finished cocktails, and scattered shot glasses. Around it, your friends sat in various stages of intoxication, red-faced and giggling.
His eyes lingered for a moment before returning to you, apparently identifying you as the only semi-sober person in the room.
"Would you mind stepping out into the hallway with me for a moment?"
"Of course, Officer." You slipped outside and pulled the door mostly shut behind you, muting the laughter and shrieks from within.
"We don't like bothering people in their homes," he said. "But we've received multiple noise complaints from your neighbors."
You gave a small nod. "I understand. I'll take care of it."
"I'd appreciate that, ma’am." Then he added, "Look, I'm not looking to write anyone a citation tonight. Just keep the noise down. If we get called back, the conversation may be different."
"Understood, I apologize for the inconvenience." You offered him your most innocent smile.
"Good."
The conversation should have ended there. Instead, someone inside your apartment yelled, "Ask if he does birthdays too!"
Officer Kennedy closed his eyes for a brief second, as though praying for patience.
The corners of your mouth twitched.
He opened his eyes again and regarded you for a moment, his expression serious, though not entirely unfriendly.
As if on cue, the apartment door opened a fraction of an inch.
Three of your friends were immediately visible, stacked on top of each other as they attempted to spy through the gap. The moment they realized both you and Officer Kennedy were staring directly at them, the door slammed shut.
A chorus of muffled screams erupted from inside.
"HE SAW US!"
"I TOLD YOU HE'D SEE US!"
"Was he smiling? Do you think he thinks she’s hot?"
Officer Kennedy looked away, but not before you caught the smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. You noticed then that he was younger than you'd first assumed, not much older than you, if at all.
And he looked really cute when he smiled.
Before you could think of something to say, the apartment door suddenly flew open.
Your friend Liv stumbled into the hallway with a wicked grin spread across her face.
"Liv," you warned immediately, but she ignored you.
"Mr. Officer, thank you so much for responding to the noise complaint. We'll keep it down.” She offered her hand, and the officer took it with confusion, giving a strange look at the meeting of their hands.
"Good. I better get going." He said dryly.
"And if you need to come back later... for any reason…"
"Liv, please don’t." You pleaded with her.
Your friend Liv stumbled into the hallway, a wicked grin already spreading across her face.
"Liv," you warned immediately, but she ignored you.
"Officer, thank you so much for responding to the noise complaint. We'll keep it down."
She stuck out her hand; Officer Kennedy hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking it. A flicker of confusion crossed his face as he glanced down at their joined hands.
"Good. Then I should probably get going," he said dryly.
"Absolutely," Liv agreed.
Then she pointed between the two of you.
"But if you need to come back later for any reason whatsoever..."
"Liv, please don't." She shot you an innocent look.
"I think someone would be very happy to answer the door." Liv said, looking at you with a big toothy smile.
You wanted the floor to open beneath you and swallow you whole.
The officer coughed suspiciously into his fist, clearly hiding a laugh.
Liv beamed.
"Anyway, goodnight!" Then she disappeared back into the apartment and slammed the door behind her.
Silence. Painful, humiliating silence.
"I can arrest her myself if that helps." Slowly, you turned back toward him.
He laughed, the sound warm and genuine.
"I don't think that's how it works."
"Worth a shot." You said avoiding looking at his eyes in embarrassment.
His smile lingered but then he took a reluctant step backward toward the elevator.
"Just keep the noise down."
"Will do."
"And good luck with the babysitting."
"Officer, I think I'm going to need backup." You sighed dramatically.
His eyes finally met yours, and you immediately noticed his cheeks had a hint of rosiness. Was he embarrassed as well? Cute.
"Backup, huh?"
"I've got ten highly intoxicated women in there trying to plan a wedding." You tilted your head toward the apartment.
"I'd say the situation is pretty serious." His smile widened.
You shouldn't have noticed how good he looked when he smiled. Unfortunately, you did.
He took another step toward the elevator, and then paused.
"Actually..." Your pulse skipped as you watched him reach into a small pocket on his vest. "You might want this." He held out a business card.
Confused, you took it. Before you could look at it, he lifted the folded scrap of paper Liv had slipped into his hand during their handshake.
"Since your friend gave me this."
Heat immediately rushed to your face when you noticed the scrap of paper had your phone number scrawled across it.
"Oh my God." Mortification washed over you.
"I was wondering why she insisted on shaking my hand."
Neither of you looked away. There was too much to say and no appropriate way to say any of it, and the fact that you were half-drunk wasn't helping.
Your gaze dropped to the business card in your hand, slightly tracing the printed letters with your thumb before looking up again.
Leon S. Kennedy.
His eyes were still on you as the elevator doors began to slide shut.
Just before they closed, he nodded toward the card. "Text me when the hostages are safely contained."
A laugh escaped you, but you nodded in agreement.
"Goodnight. Try not to get arrested before I hear from you. "
"Goodnight, Officer Leon Kennedy."
The doors slid shut, and not even 5 seconds later the apartment door flew open behind you.
"HE FLIRTED WITH YOU!"
A swarm of women spilled into the hallway. Liv was at the front of the pack, looking entirely too pleased with herself.
"HE WANTS YOU SO BAD."
"Oh my God," another friend groaned. "Did you see the way he looked at her?"
"He gave her his number!"
"He told her to text him!"
"But are you going to text him?"
"No."
"You're lying."
"I am."
The screaming started again before the door had even closed.
Description: When Johnny is sent to investigate suspicious steam coming out of a sewer, he doesn’t expect a woman from another dimension to climb out of it. You look at him like he’s your knight in shining armor, and he realizes very soon you possess the ability to completely derail his life.
Inspired on the movie Enchanted ✨
Tags/Warnings: whimsy!reader, fluff, humor, cheeky references to other characters and universes, yearner!johnny being down bad for women out of this world.
Notes: I’ve been feeling whimsy lately and it’s all thanks to my dear @vividxpages, so this one is dedicated to her 🤍 I’ve also missed writing our dramatic prince Johnny, and ended up giggling a lot while writing this. Enjoy 🫶🏼
Masterlist
Johnny had just walked out of the shower when his Fantastic Watch™ beeped. Wrapped in only a towel from the waist down, he steamed the remaining water off his body as he reached for it.
‘Steam rising from a sewer system detected in Midtown, please go check it out – Reed.’
He chuckled. The situation seemed a little bit dramatic to call a whole superhero, but Johnny Storm never missed a public appearance if the opportunity arose. He quickly got dressed in his blue suit, making sure his hair was fully dry before smiling to his reflection, and stepping out into the living room.
Ben, who was reading a book on one of the large couches, watched Johnny stroll to the kitchen island to snatch a fresh Maisie’s cookie from the batch H.E.R.B.I.E was putting on a tray, giving him a little pet in the process.
“Hey, J,” Ben called, just as Johnny reached the balcony and burst into flames. “If you find anything weird down there, try not to flirt with it,” he teased without looking up, and a robotic giggle was heard from the kitchen.
Traitor, Johnny thought, narrowing his eyes at Herbert.
Ben thought he was so smug ever since the whole Herald fiasco. But Johnny, ever the sweet summer boy, just gave him a pearly white condescending smile before finally taking off into the night.
A few minutes later, Johnny lands in the middle of a street in Times Square, where traffic has stopped and a crowd has gathered around a rattling sewer lid. There’s indeed thick white clouds coming out of it, and Johnny can feel the high temperature as he lands next to them.
People gasp when they see him, then cheer and whistle because salvation has arrived.
‘Human torch!’ ‘What’s happening?’ ‘I told the mayor he needed to check on the system ages ago!’
“Alright everyone, back up,” he puts on a smile, shooing people away with his arms. “I got it covered–”
A loud metal sound makes him turn around, and the manhole cover blasts upward landing on top of a car nearby with a loud crash. People scream and scatter away, and Johnny flames on instantly, absorbing all the heat that pours out of it.
The white steam subsides, replaced by some lilac, glittering particles that make Johnny cough a few times, swatting at it with his gloved hands. Once Johnny can see clearly again–or maybe not–he notices there’s something peeking out.
Is that…a hand?
A hand comes out to grab the edge of the sewer, but he sees no claws or scales or weirdly colored skin, no…it’s a woman’s hand wrapped in delicate lace gloves. Then the other hand comes out, clearly trying to prop themselves up.
Johnny’s fire dies when he sees no imminent danger, and he frowns at the small coughs coming from inside, stepping closer to see when something finally emerges from the sewer.
You emerge.
“Oof,” you say, using all your strength to climb out of…whatever you were in.
The puffy white gown you’re wearing spreads around you as your heels finally touch the ground, layers upon layers of sparkling fabric drag through the glittery pavement when you straighten yourself up. You brush away dust from your giant skirt, too lost in your own world to notice that the crowd around you has gone dead silent, and Johnny looks flat out bewildered.
That is, until a car blasts its horn, making you jump so hard you almost fall back into the sewer.
Strong, warm arms wrap around your waist, catching you immediately. You yelp, clinging to your savior, and that’s when your eyes finally meet. Your breath hitches, but all you needed was one look to that perfect blonde hair and those bright blue eyes to exhale in relief.
“Oh, thank goodness!” you say giddily, “Is this the Barbie Kingdom?”
Johnny doesn’t answer because quite frankly, what the fuck?
You don’t seem to mind, your melodic voice keeps spilling out excitedly. “My bad, Ken. I know it’s not a kingdom anymore! That democracy thing you have going on is spectacular, I really admire–” your enthusiasm dies out a little when your eyes dart around, realizing there’s zero pink in this place, only strangers, a bunch of weird colored lights, and the guy you’re holding onto for dear life is looking at you like you’re insane. “But this…doesn’t look like Barbieland,” you add with a nervous laugh. “Are you…a prince?”
Barbieland. A prince?
(I mean, he’ll take the compliment, but ????)
Johnny’s confused gaze darts all over your face, then down to your dress. A wedding dress. There are actual sparkles woven into it, and he’s sure your skirt alone weighs more than him. The white fabric is pristine and you smell like flowers, not like you just crawled out of a sewer.
And you just called him Ken. Thank God Ben is not here.
“Umm, kind sir?” You snap him out of his trance, still gripping his forearms. “Can you please tell me what kingdom is this?”
He looks at you, then at the crowd that’s just as confused as him, before replying hesitantly.
“...Manhattan?” He says, and it does very little to calm you down. He clears his throat, finally releasing you from his grip so you feel more comfortable. “You can call me Johnny, by the way,” he says, giving you his best trademark smile.
You smile back at him, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes.
“Well, Johnny of Manhattan,” you say, wrapping your arms around yourself and trying to avoid making eye contact with the people whispering around you, and the noise of those weird metal boxes with wheels. “Do you know Andalasia?”
Even with all the extensive space knowledge Johnny possesses, he can’t really point out a place in the universe named like that.
“Is that your planet?” He asks, making you chuckle softly. Johnny delights in the sound, he feels like any moment now birds will wake up to surround you and start chirping.
“It’s my world,” you say, your voice turning more nostalgic now. “I was meant to marry The Bat Prince Edward today, my Eddie, and now I’ve fallen into this terrible place...”
“…Right.”
Johnny tries to consider all options.
Maybe you hit your head? Or you were some junkie? A very dedicated theater kid? Method actor? Or maybe, crazy idea, you were telling the truth. He doesn’t get much time to dwell on it because your laced gloved hand suddenly reaches for his.
“Please, can you help me go back?” You ask desperately.
Johnny looks where your hands meet, and decides to ignore the creeping blush on his face and the intrusive thoughts. She’s engaged. She’s probably crazy. But she’s so beautiful–no! Stop it, Johnny.
The last time he had a crush on a woman that showed up unannounced on his planet, things had not ended well.
“I know someone who might,” is all he says, avoiding your eyes. Since when does Johnny Storm get shy?
You squeal immediately, practically leaping into his chest to give him a hug he certainly wasn’t expecting. Johnny laughs surprised, trying not to get lost in your sweet perfume. A white flash suddenly blinds you, and your eyes widen in panic at the crowd closing in.
‘Johnny, who is she?’ ‘Another Herald?’ ‘Is this for a movie?”
Without thinking you cling tighter to Johnny, who you’ve decided is the only person you can trust in this weird place, and that does something alarming to his stupid little heart. Red flag, red flag–whatever, he decides to step up to the role, shielding you from the photographers.
“Alright, show’s over everybody!” He announces with a smile, never losing that golden boy persona, before turning back to you. “Okay, princess, you’re coming with me,” he says, pointing upward.
“...How?” You ask, staring up at the sky with a frown.
“You just hold on, and try not to scream,” he winks at you, and before you can react he’s picking you up bridal style, bunching the skirt of your dress so it’s not on the way. “I’ll try not to scorch it, but no promises.”
“Scorch it? What do you mea–oh my god…”
The night sky glows with fire coming out of this man’s body, as he flies you across the Manhattan realm. Truth to be told, coming from a world of magic and curses, this may not be the craziest thing that has ever happened to you.
You land on the balcony of a tower that looks absolutely nowhere near the ones made of stone back home. And thank the universe you’re too busy gawking at the view, because Johnny is able to sneakily pat the ends of your dress that caught on a few flames without you noticing.
“Oh wow…” you whisper, placing your gloved hands on the railing, overwhelmed by all the movement and lights and floating things. “Your world is strange, Johnny of Manhattan,” you laugh softly.
Johnny chuckles, and wow, this is not what he thought his night would be like. But then you gasp, pointing at the sky.
“We have the same moon!” You exclaim, placing your elbow on the railing and your cheek on your palm as you stare longingly at the sky. “Don’t you like it, Johnny? Knowing she’s always there?”
Johnny smiles, but he’s not sure it’s because of the celestial body he’s admired since he was a little boy, or the way you seem completely mesmerized by it.
“I’ve always loved her,” Johnny says fondly, stepping next to you with both hands on the railing, but he doesn’t look up. His eyes stay on you. He watches you sigh dreamily, and it makes him smirk. “Is this the part where we start singing about our heart’s wishes?”
“What? Noo,” you chuckle, without taking your eyes off the moon. “It just means home must be close if we can see the same stars…”
Right, home. Johnny forces himself to take his eyes off you, and as he peeks inside the empty living room, he notices Ben is no longer there. Perfect.
“Come on, let’s go inside, princess,” he says, and you turn to him with a smile.
He bows to let you go first, and you do a little bow in return. Your enormous skirt barely manages to cross the threshold with a few tugs. The black fabric at the ends, courtesy of the human torch, drags across the carpeted floors as you slowly take in every detail. He guides you into a big metal box, and presses a panel. You extend your arms for balance as the thing begins going up all of a sudden.
“Fascinating,” you whisper.
Johnny watches you with a smile and pride blooming in his chest. The Baxter Building is a marvel even for normal people, to you? It must be mind blowing. The innocent awe in your face makes Johnny feel that familiar flutter of butterflies in his stomach he hasn’t felt in a long time.
Bad Johnny.
“Okay, number one rule,” he clears his throat, compensating by the thing he does best: joking. “We’re going into the ogre’s swamp, so you’re better off not touching anything.”
He feels proud of it, at least until you look at him horrified and recoil in fear.
“An ogre? Oh no no no no…” you shake your head, reaching for the panel and pressing it frantically until the thing stops moving. “I don’t like those, absolutely not.”
“No, wait, sorry,” Johnny apologizes. “It was just a joke. We’re going to my brother in law’s lab, and he’s a bit…particular,” he explains, and only presses the button to keep going up when you nod. “Just uh…follow my lead, and you’ll be fine,” he says, when the elevator comes to a stop.
He stretches his neck, bouncing slightly on his feet and giving himself a small pep talk you can’t really understand. Then the doors open to another colorful, open place that makes your eyes go wide. Johnny strolls in first, and you follow behind like an anxious lost puppy.
“Reed!” he calls out dramatically, to a figure leaning over a counter. “I bring gifts from my mission!”
The man–not ogre, thank the stars–Reed, doesn’t even look up from what he’s doing. His intention to ignore Johnny doesn't last long though, because he hears a pair of heels clicking on the floor that definitely don’t belong to his brother in law. He lifts his gaze, and his eyes immediately land on you.
“Why is there a bride in my lab?” He deadpans, looking at you up and down. “For the love of God, Jonathan, don’t tell me you–”
“Uh-uh,” Johnny cuts him off, holding a finger in the air before spreading his arms in a flourish to gesture at you. “I present to you: the steaming sewer.”
“Hiii!” You smile politely, waving at Reed. “Are you the ruler of this realm?”
Reed now looks at Johnny, exasperation written all over his face. “Explain yourself.”
“She came out of the sewer,” Johnny shrugs, looking too smug for his own good. “Dress and all.”
“I did,” you nod enthusiastically, not really helping at all.
Reed sighs, rubbing his eyes with the tips of his fingers, but by the time he opens them again, you’ve already wandered to one of his old models with a curiosity that reminds him of his own son.
“Oooh, what’s this?” You ask, reaching for a red lever.
“No, don’t touch–“
You gasp in delight as the lights flicker when you pull on it, but Johnny catches your hand just in time before you pull the whole thing and cut the power of the entire building. He gently guides you away from the counters, smiling apologetically at Reed’s resting bitch face.
Ogre, indeed.
The doors of the metal box you arrived in open again, and a woman storms in carrying a child in her arms. He doesn’t even look a year old.
“Not only are you working late, but you’re messing with the power while I’m trying to put Franklin to bed and I–” The woman stops in his tracks when she sees you standing in the middle of the lab. Her eyes go to Johnny, and she only has to raise her eyebrows for him to look like a scolded child.
“Sue, I can explain. Don’t panic, she’s just a–”
“Pwincess!” The baby in her arm babbles, clapping his little hands together.
You coo at the baby, but stay put where you are, not wanting to crowd the woman narrowing her eyes at you. You gather the fabric of your dress and give them a little curtsy.
“Thank you, little bean. But I’m not a princess yet,” you say, pressing one hand to your chest.
Sue notices the way you clutch the fabric of your dress nervously, and curiosity gets the best of her.
“Did you escape from your wedding?” She asks, but there’s no real malice behind it.
“I didn’t escape,” you shake your head, looking down to the floor. “I believe someone may have tried to kill me and I ended up here instead.”
“Oh honey,” her expression softens, not entirely sure why she believes you’re harmless to her family. At least at this moment.
Johnny does, and he sighs, because now you’ve activated Sue’s mom instincts. How is he supposed to not get attached?
At least she won’t be telling him to kill you.
“Where exactly did Johnny find you, sweetheart?” She asks, bouncing little Franklin on her hip.
“Johnny says it’s called a sewer!”
Sue just nods, looking between Reed and Johnny but the latter just smiles with a shrug. A sudden blue light washes over you, but before you can panic Johnny shows you it’s coming from a little device Reed is hunching over.
“He’s just scanning you to see how we can help,” Johnny explains reassuringly, and you nod as the light keeps going all over you.
“Fascinating,” Reed says after a few minutes, walking away from the thingy to circle you. “No traces of chemical intoxication. Her body has adapted to survive in our environment, but her clothing fibers are unlike anything I’ve seen on this planet.”
“Oh! My dress was hand sewn with the help of my friends. Mouses and rabbits are very talented when it comes to special fabrics,” you say matter of factly.
“Mouses and rabbits.” Reed repeats and you nod happily. Jesus Christ.
“H.E.R.B.I.E told me you were all here. What’s going on?” A new voice echoes across the lab as the doors open again. ”Uhh, is Johnny getting married and didn’t tell us?”
You turn around to see a tall man made out of orange rocks and your shoulders sag in relief. Finally, someone normal around here. But before you can ask him if he knows how to get to your kingdom, Reed is already gesturing for him.
“Perfect timing, Ben. Team gathering. Now.”
Ben obeys, following him without taking his eyes off you. Sue walks past you, and Franklin giggles when he tries to grab one of your puffy sleeves and fails. Reed motions them deeper into the lab, and Johnny walks backwards to look at you.
“Don’t touch anything,” he mouths, and your eyes drift immediately towards another lever device on the counter. “Especially that!” He whisper-shouts, and you nod innocently, clasping your hands behind your back.
He flashes you a grin before jogging to meet the others, who are already explaining the situation to Ben. You can hear the whispering, but you can’t really make out what they’re saying, so you distract yourself with your own dress.
On the far corner of the lab…
“She came out of a sewer, and you believe she’s a princess?” Ben asks, biting back a smile as he watches Johnny roll his eyes.
“She could be delusional. Experimenting a psychological episode perhaps.” Reed says.
“Then why didn’t your scans show anything?” Johnny crosses his arms.
Reed hesitates, because the machine may not show physical abnormalities, but your mental state is a different thing.
“My love?” Reed asks the person he trusts the most in the room.
“She looks harmless,” Sue shrugs, shifting Franklin who’s starting to fall asleep on her shoulder.
“She is harmless,” Johnny says immediately.
“You've known her for like twenty minutes,” Ben teases.
“Yeah, and in those twenty minutes she’s been overwhelmed, yet polite enough to ask for our help. After all we’ve seen lately, I think we’re safe–just…look at her.”
They all glance back.
You’re standing exactly where Johnny left you, carefully lifting the edge of your gown and gasping in visible distress when you notice it has turned black.
“Oh no…my dress…”
Johnny mentally slaps himself when you look at the singed fabric with a sad face. Okay, maybe flying in flames while carrying a hundred pounds of magical tulle had been a bad idea.
“So who’s the lucky fella?” Ben whispers, nudging his arm to get his attention.
Johnny takes a second too long to take his eyes away from you, before turning back to the group with the answer.
“She said she was marrying some prince named Eddie,” Johnny explains, trying to sound as casual as possible. “But I don’t trust him, what if he’s the one who sent her away?”
“Or…maybe you just want to steal his bride,” Ben says without hesitation, making Sue snort. Even Reed’s mouth twitches.
Johnny groans, stepping back to point between them defensively.
“No, no, no. I know what you’re thinking, and you’re wrong! Absolutely wrong,” he defends himself, but his family has the audacity to laugh in his face.
“Johnny–”
“No! This isn’t another Shalla-bal situation,” he insists, crossing his arms. “That was months ago. Besides, can you really blame me? She was gorgeous.”
“And do you think the princess is gorgeous?” Sue asks with a knowing smile.
He glances at you once again, and it’s a bad idea, because Herbert has rolled into the room too and now you are bending slightly so you can pet his weird head. You were actually petting him. The droid is complimenting your dress, and you thank him giddily because you somehow understand what he’s saying.
“I fear the gown may be ruined, though,” you add with a small laugh.
“It still looks pretty on you,” Johnny blurts out loudly from his spot.
You straighten up to look at him, and your flustered face makes it difficult for him to not smile like a lovesick puppy. What the hell is happening to him?
When he turns back around, everyone is staring at him. Johnny closes his eyes with a grimace, sighing.
“I walked right into that one, didn’t I?”
“I say you’re toast already,” Ben says, amused, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Good thing you can handle some heat–“
“I’m not handling any heat–“
“Alright!” Reed shuts them up. “Until we understand what happened, we can’t exactly send her anywhere,” Reed says, exhaling in defeat.
That makes Johnny perk up immediately with a smile that’s nothing but trouble.
“So we’re keeping her?” He says.
“We are letting her stay temporarily because she clearly needs help,” Sue corrects, giving him a warning look. “And you are going to behave.”
“Yes, absolutely!” Johnny nods, way too fast and completely unconvincing. Sue narrows her eyes at him. “Your mistrust wounds me, sister. I’m always on my best behavior.”
She glares at him one last time, before gesturing with her head at the group to walk back to you. She notices H.E.R.B.I.E has stuck to your side, and seems to be charmed by you as much as Johnny is. Which is another positive point in your favor.
“You can stay with us until we figure things out,” Sue says with a reassuring smile. “We’ll do our best to find your home.”
Your eyes go wide, the relief washing your face makes you look even brighter. Johnny has to keep himself from clutching his chest dramatically.
“Oh, I’m eternally grateful to all of you,” you say, lifting the fabric once again to do a full curtsy. “But especially to you, Johnny of Manhattan, because you were the one to trust me enough to bring me to your castle,” you add with a smile, straightening up and walking toward him to pressing a soft kiss on his warm cheek.
Johnny stills on his spot as your lips delicately graze his skin, before you pull apart a walk alway like nothing happened. His hand lifts instinctively to touch the spot you kissed, and this time his family’s snickers are inevitable.
Maybe Ben was right. Maybe he’s toast. Burned toast.
As he watches you obliviously hum a little tune for Franklin, who’s drooling away on Sue’s shoulder, acceptance hits him like a train.
He was absolutely doomed the second you climbed out of that sewer.
Thank you for reading this small fairytale! Feedback is always appreciated 💗🦇
SUMMARY: An unexpected group of outcasts and nerds must come together to solve their small town’s mysteries, learning what it means to become found family and heroes.
PAIRING: Stranger Things x Fem!Adopted!Henderson!Reader
INTERACTIVE: This story is completely interactive! Place votes at the end of each chapter to dictate what decisions are made, romantic relationships (within the older teen group), friendships, and more! Every decision matters!!
A/N: Dates on chapters are subject to change, coming earlier if votes lean heavily one way, and chapters coming later if votes are tight.
WC: 226.0K (so far)
♫ We can be heroes, just for one day ♫
Suggestions/Ideas!
Dump all of your suggestions or ideas here! This story is interactive after all!!
Extra!
Find any extra posts I’ve made for Heroes here!
Trailer!
Characters and their respective D&D roles
Fates of Characters as Song Quotes pt.1
Fates of Characters as Song Quotes pt. 2
Chapter 18 Dialogue Breakdown: Parallels
For the girl I love mixtape
You’re Running Out of Time, Reader
SEASON 1
Chapter 1 - The Demogorgon
Chapter 2 - Skater
Chapter 2.5 - What If…
Chapter 3 - Monster Hunting
Chapter 3.5 - What If…
Chapter 4 - 16 Candles
Chapter 4.5 - What If…
SEASON 2
Chapter 5 - Hot Shit Hargrove
Chapter 6 - D’Artagnan
Chapter 6.5 - What If…
Chapter 7 - Electricity
Chapter 7.5 - What If…
Chapter 8 - You’re Pretty Metal
Chapter 8.5 - What If…
Chapter 9 - Self-Fulfilling Prophecy
Chapter 10 - Who’s Gonna Drive You Home Tonight?
Chapter 10.5 - What If…
SEASON 3
Chapter 11 - Bummer Summer
Chapter 11.5 - What If…
Chapter 12 - The Wrong Soul Answered
Chapter 13 - Beginning of the Irreversible
Chapter 13.5 - What If…
Chapter 14 - Be My Lifeline
Chapter 14.5 - What If…
Chapter 15 - That Wasn’t Your Line
Chapter 15.5 - What If…
Chapter 16 - Fate Waits Patiently in the Dark
Chapter 16.5 - What If…
Chapter 17 - Illusion of Choice
Chapter 17.5 - What If…
Chapter 18 - This is All so Paradoxical
Chapter 18.5 - What If…
Chapter 19 - That’s Not Power, It’s Control
Chapter 20 - They. Want. You. He. Wants. You.
Chapter 21 - It is Not in the Stars to Hold Our Destiny but in Ourselves
You've loved Leon longer than you've existed. You attribute a knowingness to him that will never be achieved by anyone else of great purpose in life. Your ligature predates all things of dignity, it will surpass those things yet to come.
You're having a hard time living without it lately. The idea that love could turn someone to a god, that to be consumed is the only way to feel it completely.
PAIRINGS: leon kennedy x reader, slight chris redfield x reader
CONTENTS/WARNINGS: fem!reader, angst, moderate burn?, canon typical violence, unrequited love, explicit language (it should go w/o saying but i'll say it anyway), best friend!claire redfield, i can be a wordy gal (yes this is a warning), a bumpy ride for all involved...will add more as it appears relevant, will also have chapter specific warnings when necessary!
audio files ~ redacted ~ the take
Book I: Don't Panic - RESIDENT EVIL 2 - IN PROGRESS
ex bf! leon kennedy who calls you drunk, slurring his words and tripping over how he wants to fix things, drinking himself into a stupor and misses his alarm the next morning.
ex bf! leon kennedy who searches for you when the breakout occurs in raccoon city, eyes always searching the dead, hoping to never find you among the corpses.
ex bf! leon kennedy who spends the first few months of the breakout searching every town he comes across, the single polaroid of you in his wallet pushing him onward, asking locals if they had seen your face and scanning every person who even slightly resembled you.
ex bf! leon kennedy who hardens as the years pass, hope to ever see you again dull and nearly faded as he finds no leads to you or your whereabouts, dead ends at every turn.
ex bf! leon kennedy who stumbles upon the only lead he’s had in years when searching for ada wong after she stole from him, promising himself at the first chance he would resume his search once again.
ex bf! leon kennedy finds traces of you, traces of your life, entangled with pieces of him he’d long forgotten, telling him that you had been searching for him too, after all this time.
ex bf! leon kennedy who finally catches sight of you, eyes shadowed and cast warily, a small pistol attached to a band on your thigh, and though he’s sure you’ve suffered like he has, thinks you’re the most beautiful you had ever been.
ex bf! leon kennedy who wastes no time in striding over to you, sleeves rolled above his elbow and breathing slightly labored at his pace, who doesn’t let you get a single word out before he takes your face in the palms of his hands and kisses you.
ex bf! leon kennedy who embraces you, sighing in relief just slightly once he feels your heart beating, confirming you’re alive, that you had been alive and his search was over.
ex bf! leon kennedy who swears to never let you out of his grasp again, fighting tooth and nail to survive and make it home to you.
