i never miss

animal kingdom

andrew “pope” cody

barry

barry berkman

magnum, p.i (1980)

thomas magnum

the bear

sydney adamu richie jerimovich

miami vice (1984)

james sonny crockett ricardo tubbs

the walking dead (comics + tv show)

daryl dixon rick grimes maggie greene michonne hawthorne glenn rhee

a knight of the seven kingdoms (show only)

dunk ☆ ser duncan the tall aerion targaryen ☆ aerion brightflame baelor targaryen ☆ baelor breakspear daeron “the drunk” targaryen maekar targaryen ☆ the anvil valarr targaryen

one piece (anime + live action)

doom

the doom slayer

halo

jerome-092 ☆ jerome cable john-117 ☆ master chief

wolfenstein (machinegames universe)

probst wyatt iii fergus reid

kingdom come: deliverance 1 + 2

sir hans capon of pirkstein ☆ jan ptáček ze pirkstein henry of skalitz ☆ jindřich ze skalicez theresa of skalitz ☆ tereza ze skalicez

devil may cry (+ 2007 anime) *if you request the netflix series, i'll kill you

dante mary ann arkham lady nero nicoletta “nico” goldstein trish vergil

hades

chaos hypnos megara nyx thanatos zagreus

team fortress 2

dell conagher ☆ the engineer tavish degroot ☆ the demoman jane doe ☆ the soldier herbert ludwig ☆ the medic mikhail “misha” medvedev ☆ the heavy mundy ☆ the sniper jeremy willis ☆ the scout the spy

metal gear

adamska ☆ revolver ocelot donald anderson ☆ sigint the joy ☆ the boss john ☆ naked snake, big boss dr. clark ☆ para-medic eva kazuhira miller ☆ hellmaster miller ahab ☆ venom snake quiet ☆ tixij dr. hal emmerich ☆ otacon frank jaeger ☆ gray fox david, iroquois pliskin ☆ solid snake

fallout

fallout 1:

tycho

fallout 3:

butch deloria

new vegas:

courier six (any interpretation of yours) benny gecko craig boone edward sallow ☆ caesar rose of sharon cassidy dr. arcade gannon (only masc/nb readers!) joshua graham ☆ the burned man vulpes inculta the king veronica santangelo (only femme/nb readers!) sunny smiles raul alfonso tejada

fallout 4:

daredevil, daredevil: born again (tv series)

daniel blake buck cashman frank castle ☆ the punisher jessica jones franklin “foggy” nelson matthew “matt” murdock ☆ daredevil karen page benjamin leonard “dex” poindexter ☆ bullseye bb urich

marvel (comics + mcu) *specify which universe you mean! MCU is default

james buchanan “bucky” barnes ☆ the winter soldier yelena belova ☆ white widow robert “bob” reynolds ☆ the sentry, the void peter parker ☆ spider-man (non-mcu only!) steve rogers ☆ captain america ava starr ☆ ghost sam wilson ☆ captain america john walker ☆ u.s agent

x-men: the animated series (1992) + x-men '97 (2024)

remy lebeau ☆ gambit erik magnus lehnsherr, max eisenhardt ☆ magneto anna marie ☆ rogue morph ororo munroe ☆ storm scott summers ☆ cyclops kurt wagner ☆ nightcrawler

dc (comics & movies) *specify which universe you mean! comics are default

john constantine ☆ the hellblazer, the laughing magus guy gardner ☆ green lantern hal jordan ☆ green lantern ck ☆ superboy prime kon-el, conner kent ☆ superboy kal-el, clark kent ☆ superman lois lane bruce wayne ☆ batman richard “dick” grayson ☆ nightwing jason peter todd ☆ red hood timothy “tim” jackson drake ☆ red robin selina kyle ☆ catwoman

venture bros. (tv series)

dr. girlfriend ☆ sheila gary fischer ☆ henchman 21 henchman 24 malcolm fitzcarraldo ☆ the monarch dr. byron orpheus brock samson dr. thaddeus “rusty” venture pete white

invincible (tv series)

allen the alien amber bennett donald ferguson deborah “debbie” grayson mark grayson ☆ invincible invincible variants ☆ mohawk, omni-mark, viltrumark, maskless, full-mask, sinister nolan grayson ☆ omni-man rex sloan ☆ rex splode cecil stedman samantha eve wilkins ☆ atom eve

the boys (tv series)

hugh “hughie” campbell jr. john gillman ☆ homelander kimiko victoria neuman maggie shaw ☆ queen maeve

dispatch (video game)

It’s been three weeks since Dex’s break in. 

Your window is still annoying, still hard for you to push up beyond a crack. A wire you need for a monitor dies, so you order a new one over Amazon and splurge a little on a Depeche Mode CD you find on your homepage.

In that time, you find nothing. No hits on Dex’s name. No inquiries into his history, his records, his existence. It's like he really is dead.

So you keep going about your days.

You walk a little because like your doctor likes to say: the A in “ambulatory user” means able. Your goal is to build enough tolerance to walk to the corner bodega and back with just a cane.

You tell yourself that the digital silence excellent news. Dex is safe, which means you're safe. The money trickles into your account like water through a closed fist, eroding nothing but your irrational fear of being out on the streets. You’re being paid to do nothing, which is something all versions of you, past and present, would been cheering at. 

But you still don’t sleep well.

Call it anxiousness. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why your dreams feature men in SWAT vests, guns in their hands and flashing badges that keep shifting symbols and names. Your apartment door splinters inward with a single kick, the windows shatter for no reason. You dream about Dex standing over you with that hollow-sharp look, saying you’re not trying hard enough. When you’re thrust in front of your keyboard, all monitors read his name and your fingers are melted into the keys and you can’t move and you can’t move and you can’t move and maybe you never could.

The dreams are stupid. 

You know they’re stupid, just your brain being annoying about your job. You go through patches of guilt from time to time, the way you imagine a drone strike driver does behind their console. But knowing this doesn’t stop your hands from shaking when you wake up at three in the morning with your heart trying to punch through your ribs.

So when your laptop chirps at 01:47 AM on a Tuesday, you're already half-awake and transferring to your wheelchair. 

False alarm. Another project— that businessman you’d looked at the night Dex climbed in through your window. You save the file and wheel back to bed.

You don’t go back to sleep.

The real thing comes three days later.

You’re halfway through a plastic takeout bowl of lukewarm ramen at your dining table. Stop Making Sense plays on your not-work laptop as white noise. David Byrne’s huge suit and dancing with the lamp is good for the soul, especially when it almost flies out of your body when Saberfind’s alert pings. You set the bowl aside and limp to your office.

Saberfind has flagged an inquiry about Poindexter, Benjamin. It's in the New York State records. Not a deep dive, not a formal request that would leave obvious tracks. Just a single query that gets buried in a sea of legitimate traffic. Submitted to the Department of Vital Records just now, at 7:01 PM Eastern Time.

You trace it back. The IP routes through three different servers, two of them international, which tells you whoever’s looking knows what they’re doing. 

But you're better.

Forty-five minutes later, you have an origin point: a secure terminal in the FBI New York field office.

You lean back in your fancy ergonomic office chair, staring at the screen. The noodles in your ramen have probably gone cold and swollen with soup, David Byrne’s voice is tinny from the other room where you didn’t pause your movie.

Dex said powerful people thought he was maybe-dead. Powerful people apparently meaning the FBI, which you should have guessed. And now they’re starting to doubt him being dead, or someone else is running their own investigation about what happened to him when he “died.” You’ll have to ask about how he “died” soon, which is a whole other can of worms you’re not even looking at yet.

You check the other parameters you’ve set— missing persons reports that match his description, Interpol inquiries, the P.I forums searches. Nothing else. Just this one query, sent at an hour when most agents are trying to have dinner and look busier than they are. It has to be off-book, right?

You pick up your work phone. 

You pause. Dex didn’t give you a proper number, just whatever burner he’s using at the moment before the next. Communication’s also always been one-way: he finds you and you let it happen because it felt safer that way. Knowing more about him felt uncomfortable.

But now you have his name, which means something’s changed. Minutely so, because he’s still just Tony in your brain, but he’s also now pointedly a person with a past and buried as a John Doe by your assumptions. 

You type.

one hit. new york fbi field office. 7:01pm. off book query

Three dots appear immediately.

Name? only says Rankin, D. just agent level. want me to look more?

A long pause. You watch the dots appear and disappear three times before the message finally comes through:

No. It’s fine. Just look for more hits. I’ll come over later.

You want to ask more—who Rankin is, why this matters, what you’re actually caught up in.

Instead you type.

use the door. buzzer code is 1024

Another pause.

Door it is.

You almost smile.

☆☆☆☆☆

Dex shows up at 11:47 PM, and he looks worse than you've ever seen him. You step aside and let him in.

The denim jacket is the same but the tee under it is wrinkled up like a motel bedsheet. He’s surprisingly let himself grow a five o’clock shadow that glints in your apartment’s lamplight in the very specific way short blond hair does. His eyes have that hollow quality turned up to eleven, and when he sits on your couch he does it like you do after walking for too long.

“Rankin,” he says, and now this is all about work, so you put away the mild concern about his appearance. “Tell me everything.”

You walk stiffly to your armchair and sit across from him.

“Special Agent David Rankin at the New York FBI field office in organized crime division. He’s got a clean record. He’s fourty, he’s being doing this right out of college. He doesn’t have any obvious connections to anything dirty.” You massage your knee. “But he’s the one who ran the query. I traced it back to a terminal, and it’s under his credentials. Either he’s working alone, or he’s point man for someone else. It could even be someone using a computer he’s logged onto.”

Dex stares at the coffee table for a long moment. The lamp casts shadows that carve his face into something almost skeletal. He hasn't blinked in what feels like ten minutes.

“Rankin,” he repeats, and the name sits in his mouth like something rotten. “Organized crime.”

“That's what the file says.” You knead at your knee again, the joint complaining about the walk from the door and everything else. “You want to tell me why an organized crime agent is poking around your dead body?”

Dex’s hollow-sharp eyes slide to you. “No.”

“Right. Yeah.” You lean back. The deluxe edition of Violator is still in its plastic wrap on your bookshelf. When you look at it, Dave Gahan says enjoy the si-lence as neither you nor Dex speak. “Well, for what it’s worth, it was just the one search. It could be just him going I wonder what happened to that one dead guy.”

“That's how it starts.”

You don't ask what it is. You’re learning the contours of what Dex will and won’t reveal, the shape of who he is being formed like the negative space in those still life drawings. The white void of nothing. 

“Did you know him?”

Dex’s jaw flexes. You see it in his neck too, the tendons tensing under his skin. For a moment you think he’s going to deflect again.

“We were partners for a bit, and then we got moved around. Sometimes went out for drinks when our schedules lined up.”

“So he was a friend.”

Dex shrugs. An acquaintance, then.

“And now he’s looking for you.”

Dex doesn't answer. His right hand rests on his thigh, fingers splayed, and you watch the index finger twitch once, twice, three times. Reaching for something that isn't there.

“What happened?” The question slips out before you can catch it. "When you died, I mean. What happened that made you… fake die?”

The silence stretches. The rain has started again, it’s a wet, wet week. The shadows of raindrops against the glass makes your apartment feel smaller. Dex looks at the window like he can see something far through it, like he’s watching something happening six blocks away instead of sitting on your couch.

“Fisk,” he says finally. His voice is flat. Clinical. Like he’s reading you a police report about someone else. “He broke three of my vertebrae.”

You keep quiet. You’d read somewhere that the quiet usually makes people elaborate. 

When you’re about to call it a fluke with Dex, he continues.

“There was a doctor who did… experimental work. I was given a choice when I came to: stay paralyzed, or let them try something new. Something that might kill me on the table, or might give me back my legs.”

You think about the way Dex moves— that perfect posture, those long strides, the way he climbed up and down your fire escape like it was nothing. 

“What was it?”

Dex finally looks at you. “He fused my spine with Adamantium. When I was up, I started killing again.”

“Fisk’s people?”

Dex nods. “Everyone low, then I worked my way up.” There’s no pride in his voice. No satisfaction. Just fact. “Every associate, every enforcer, everyone who helped him run his empire. I’ve been at it for about a year and a half now. They’re not sure who it is. Bad luck, rival gang shit, maybe the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen.” He smiles to himself when he says that. It’s private and utterly without soul, blank eyes and his lips thin across teeth. “But it’s me.”

You process this. The late-night swaps, the information you've been stealing like financial record and personal schedules… you’ve been feeding Dex the locations of his targets. You know you’ve been dooming these people, because it took an incredibly stupid person to think that someone like Dex would ask for intimate information like this to just scare someone.

“The people I used to work for,” Dex continues, “they don't know I'm alive either. I told the doctor to bury me after the surgery. So FBI thinks I’m dead. Either way, I’m not their problem anymore.”

“And Fisk thinks you’re dead too.”

Dex smiles thinly again. “The doctor who approached me was underground. He could’ve blabbed.”

“So Rankin,” you say slowly. “If Fisk has people inside the FBI, and one of them is checking on a dead man—”

"Then Fisk is getting suspicious. Someone knows that too many people are dying. They're looking for a connection."

"And if they… solidify the connection?"

Dex finally drinks his tea. His expression doesn't change, but something in his eyes goes distant. Calculating. The way he looked that first night ever at the diner, reading a file about some common thug with that focus that could cut diamonds.

"Then I’ll need to disappear again.”

The words hang in the air. You think about the window that’s hard to open, the fire escape, the way Dex moves through shadows like he could melt into them. You think about your life, how you carefully built yourself in this space accessible by a wheelchair and a cane and a reluctant will to keep living.

"If you disappear," you say slowly, "what happens to me?"

Dex looks at you. Really looks, in a way he hasn't before. You don’t feel like a resource, hacker, UberEats for file deliveries at Red’s. It’s like he’s seeing you as a complete person.

"I don't know," he says. It might be the most honest thing he's ever said to you.

“Then I guess we better make sure they don't find you.” You say with absolutely fake confidence.

Dex smiles in a different way. Thin, but it’s softer. It’s almost there.

"Okay," he says. "Where do we start?"

a/n reply to any reach out, touch faith post to get put on the taglist!

taglist: @prawnst4r

he’s a bottom.

okay, elaborating on that. he calls his bpd “favorite person” his “north star” and uses them as a framework of morality and day-to-day function to structure himself around. it only makes sense that he’d let them take charge in the bedroom too

but if you want him to top, he’d be a great service top

not very vocal (not many words, heavy breathing, groaning, the works) unless you coax it out of him.

but if you make it obvious that you like it when he’s vocal, he’ll try his best to use phrases that he knows you like

he’s pretty basic at the beginning (especially if this is fbi!dex), but in a blank canvas way. you can absolutely get him to like more things. do you SEE how freaky he gets with matt?

with born again dex, i’d say at this point he knows he’s at least a little into gunplay and the chasing/catching type of foreplay