exactly what it says on the tin

I’m mainly into Marvel and DC so that’s probably what I’ll be writing for, although there might be a few random characters thrown in there

I don’t take requests necessarily, I’m too absent minded for it tbh. This is just for fun and to get my hyperfixations out my brain

RATINGS:

S - Safe for work

E- Explicit

M- Mature

FICS:

Dex/Bullseye - Daredevil

Kiss It Better 15.4k E

Blue Jeans 8.6k E

Robert Robertson - Dispatch

Count Me In 7.4K E

Thanks for visiting!

Jk, but when I was scrolling on tiktok imagine my surprise when I see my own words there that I didn’t post

my dumbass didn’t even notice at first, I was just reading along like “right, right that’s pretty good… wait a min-”

A lil unfair they got more likes than me

Pairing: FBI!Dex X Reader

Summary: You see an intriguing stranger in a cafe, almost immediately becoming obsessed. Too bad he’s not interested. Or is he?

Insp: In S3 when Dex meets with Julie. Also insp by The Drama oddly enough

Word Count: 8.6K

Warnings & Content: no use of y/n, fluff, smut, piv sex, stalking, swearing, happy ending, slight angst, toxic attachment, 18+ mdni please

I do not authorize my work to be used for Al or reposted across platforms. Also, I don’t condone irl stalking, just feel like that should be clarified given… current events.

7:30 am, medium flat white, corner seat.

The first time you noticed him was by happenstance; you had decided to pop into a random cafe on the way to work instead of your usual stop, not expecting to make a habit out of it.

You settled into a comfortable position, glad to find that even though it was a peak time for orders, the line was moving quickly enough that you wouldn’t have to rush through the rest of your morning to stay on time.

Your eyes slid lazily over the place. The interior was polished, yet comfortable. Exposed steel beams and wood gave that ‘hipstery’ vibe a lot of new establishments sought after but few pulled off. It was cute, but a little pricier than your usual hole in the wall you grabbed a coffee from. Unless the order you got today was particularly inspiring, you didn’t really plan on coming back.

Then you saw him.

Tall, with defined shoulders under a dark bomber jacket that shifted as he spoke to the barista. As he turned to the side slightly, you could see a flash of a sharp smile and crop of blond hair that caught alight with the glow of sunlight streaming through tall windows.

He was older than you by a few years, if the hint of grey at his temples was any tell. His style was a neatly comfortable look, distinctly separated from the other mix of impatient business folk and elders.

Normally your gaze would slide over people with a passing awareness, immediately washing away the memory of any faces, but something about him was… magnetic. More than just him being attractive (although that was a plus) everything else seemed to narrow as you found yourself immediately drawn to the man. Distinctly aware of how weird it was to stare at a stranger, especially when anyone could catch you doing so, you couldn’t stop.

It was impossible to hear his voice over the buzz of the cafe and radio pop music flowing through the speakers, but you watched on as he handed a few bills over the counter and stepped to the side for pickup.

His demeanor immediately shifted, polite smile quickly melting into a stony exterior like strings had been cut. His gaze slid from where his drink was being made to the rest of the store, sliding over the patrons languidly.

How interesting…

Even though it looked causal, you could tell that not much got past his perception. It was similar to army vets you’d seen straight off the field, checking exit and entryways before they relaxed in a space.

“Excuse me, ma’am were you looking to order?”

Your head snapped forward to the patiently waiting worker, embarrassment flooding through you. While you were distracted, they’d gone through the other two customers quickly, leaving a large gap in the line where you hadn’t moved.

“Ah, yes. Medium iced latte please.” You’d hoped no one noticed how intensely you were watching the other man, but from the slightly amused expression of the barista, that hope seemed useless.

“Anything else for you?” The woman behind the counter typed the order for you, smirk still ghosting her lips.

“Nope, thank you.” You ducked your head down, fumbling for a card to pay with. You couldn’t help but sneak another look at him after paying, startling as hazel eyes bored into you.

He was staring directly at you, unsmiling, with his head cocked slightly to the side.

Time seemed to stretch as you stood there frozen, the sounds seeming to fall away around you. You should’ve been more embarrassed by him catching you, but if anything were more thrilled by the attention.

“Flat white for Dex!” You almost jumped out of your skin at the barista yelling next to you, attention diverted as he placed a cup on the counter and the mystery stranger scooped it up.

He turned on his heel without a further glance at you, weaving through the crowd until he reached the front corner of the space and sat down.

Okay…he’s clearly not interested, stop being a creep.

You shook it off, walking towards the pickup and grabbing your latte once your name was called. Unfortunately, the coffee was only slightly above average. Not worth the extra time in the morning or the strain on your wallet.

It would make perfect sense to never come there again.

So of course you made a daily habit out of it.

The mystery man-Dex if you went by his order name, did as well. Same time, same order, same seat in the corner where he finished his drink and then went off to whatever job required him to wear a button down and jeans every day.

You were getting addicted, and you told yourself it wouldn’t be a problem. It’s not like you were staking him right? Public spaces are free to anyone.

Never mind the pictures you’d snuck of him while he was turned away.

Who would know if you were explicitly going out of your way to catch glances at a man you’d never even spoken to? Nobody.

Well, maybe him. He’d definitely noticed you were looking at him the first time, but past that, never looked your way again.

So, either he doesn’t care, or he’s filing a restraining order as we speak.

It wasn’t long until you’d mentioned something vague to your friend and she’d caught on, much to your displeasure.

“Okay, so you’re like,” She could barely get out the words without laughing, “vanilla stalking him?”

You sighed, adjusting the phone in the crook of your shoulder as you applied polish over your nails. Why applying tonail polish had to always be a contortionist act, only the powers above knew.

Heat flooded to your face from both her accusation and your bent position. “I am absolutely not stalking him. I just slightly adjust my morning so I can see him, that’s completely different.”

It was the same excuse you’d repeated to yourself since starting the habit, but it sounded weak, even to you.

She snorted, “You sound like an unsub.”

You started to interject with a disapproving noise, but she continued, “No really, that’s what they sound like. ‘No officer, I wasn’t following him, I just happened to take a walk around his house. Don’t worry detective, me writing their name over and over was just me practicing my penmanship.”

A pang of guilt shot within you. If that was just her opinion on what you’d told her so far, you could only imagine the shock and judgement she’d feel about the photos. You could not let her know anything else.

You had a habit of…investing in people. Not many caught your attention, leaving you very disinterested in the online dating scenes or random men who’d took their chance at bars. But when someone was intriguing, you tended to go all in on them.

Immediately.

Some past partners found that type of attention intimidating, others thought it was flattering. One thing for certain, you’d never received that type of devotion in return.

Ignoring your quickly beating heart, you let out a noise between a scoff and a laugh, “Well, considering I didn’t do either of those things, I think you’re proving my point.”

The sound of her clicking her tongue flooded over the line, “Only a matter of time Hannibal, only a matter of time.”

There was a pause before a few rustling noises, and you could imagine her getting into a more comfortable position as she playfully antagonized you.

“So, are you gonna speak to him? Ask him out? Tell him you want him to hit it from the bac-”

“Stop, please for the love of god.” You drug out the last word exasperatedly.

You did not want that image in your head the next time you’d see him, then you’d really prove your friend right. You hadn’t crossed the boundary of certain fantasies yet, it just seemed wrong. Well, wrong-er than what you’d been doing.

“But to answer your question, no.”

“What! Why not?”

You grimaced, swiping at a stray piece of polish that fell when she yelled in your ear. “Because that would actually be weird. He doesn’t seem to be very interested in me.”

“Does he have a ring on his finger?”

“No.”

“Flirt with anyone else there?”

You sighed, “No, but that doesn’t mean-”

“Well then it’s fair game. If he’s not interested or gay he’ll just decline, and then you can stop paying for nine dollar coffee.”

That’s the problem, you thought, if he does finally decline you won’t have any excuse to see him.

“You’re asking him out, you don’t have a choice. I won’t let you bitch-out.” Your friends voice was firm, and you knew she was serious. Unless you told her that you’d talked to Dex, she would bug you endlessly about it.

She’d already been pestering you about getting yourself ‘back out there’, and you gave it about two days before she made a Tinder account for you herself.

“Okay, fine.”

It was that decision that brought you to this moment, loitering around the condiment station as you tried to come up with an excuse to speak with him.

He sat in the same corner as usual, sunlight haloing over the silhouette of him from large windowpanes behind. Same uniform of button down and dark jeans, this time a grey top instead of the navy from the previous day. The only new addition was a book he was reading through casually. He didn’t seem to invested in it, and judging from the near-emptiness of the drink by his side, he’d be leaving soon.

It was now or never.

You took an encouraging drink of your latte, wishing it had a shot of something stronger than espresso inside, and walked over to him.

He tensed slightly with your presence, but didn’t look up until you cleared your throat. “It’s a good read. Ending was a bit confusing though.”

You were bullshitting faster than you could think. You had no clue what book he was even reading, much less the ending.

He tiled his head back, looking at you with a searching gaze before his lips flicked into a smirk. “Oh really? Well no spoilers for me, I just started.”

Oh, you didn’t think you’d get this far. Think, think.

“Wouldn’t dream of it. Did you get to the, ah,” you look down at the pages where he still had it pried open with his hands. “really interesting part yet?”

He didn’t answer right away, raising a brow as he met your gaze with a faint amusement.

“If you’re referring to the part about entry and exit wounds of a .45 caliber, then yes.”

What?

His smirk only widened as you floundered in front of him, hands flipping the book closed so you could clearly see the title. FBI: Special Operations Weapons Guide, newest series.

You muttered a curse under your breath, this had gone even worse than expected. You were going to kill that girl for making you do this.

Well, might as well go for it since you were already at rock bottom.

“I’m-I’m sorry to bother you. It’s just,” you let out a shaky laugh, “I get coffee here a lot and I always see you, but I didn’t really know how to talk to you.”

“Well, now you are talking to me.” He didn’t mention seeing you everyday as well, you didn’t know if it was to save you from further mortification or if he just forgot. You were pretty certain it was the former.

“Right, so, would you maybe want to see each other outside of this cafe sometime?” You said it all in one breath, face burning.

“For what?” His face had slipped into a careful blankness, and there was a slightly suspicious note coloring his tone.

“To,” you paused, considering your words. Date sounded to heavy at the moment, you went for something a bit less high stakes. “get to know each other better.”

“I’m busy with work usually,” His blank expression was unchanged, but his fingers twitched where they rested against the tabletop.

The response was a rejection if you’d ever heard it, and even though it made a sick feeling in your stomach, you nodded in resignation. “Right, well- I won’t keep your time,”

This is why you should’ve kept things the way they were, now it was ruined. He’d probably stop coming here too-

“I didn’t say no.” He stood quickly from the table, chair sliding back with a screech. “I can take your number, let you know what times I’m free and we

can plan something.”

He looked down at you for a moment, forming a smile again like he’d suddenly remembered it was appropriate, then dug his phone out his back pocket. “Here, you can add the contact.”

You took the device, fingers tingling where they’d brushed against his. “Okay, sounds like a plan Dex.”

You realized your mistake, cringing internally, but he didn’t seem to notice the use of his name as he gathered his things to go.

“It’s a plan.” He agreed, giving you a nod of a goodbye before walking out the door.

Okay, maybe you weren’t going to murder your friend.

A week had passed since you spoke to him, you and Dex taking up a pattern of short conversations over the phone.

It started off pretty formal, just asking about each others day and musing about the shitty New York weather, but soon enough it got a bit more personal.

He told you basic things, like Dex was short for a much longer name: Benjamin Poindexter. He told you that he was in the military before becoming a FBI agent (that much you could guess with his ramrod straight posture), and that he didn’t do much with his spare time other than exercising and his morning coffee trips.

You told him about your upbringing, family and friends, even alluding to the ultimatum your friend made for you to speak to him.

He wasn’t as concerned as you thought he would be, just slightly amused that you had to be forced into approaching him.

Any specific questions about his past were usually skirted around, his making the excuse that it was ‘too boring’ or a ‘long story’.

You only knew he was an orphan because of an offhand comment he’d made one day about not having a conventional education. It seemed like the more you knew the man, the less you knew at all.

So, you sleuthed a bit.

A search of his name online brought up little to no results, no social media accounts to speak of. The only thing you didfind was an article outlining a drug bust he’d been a part of, but that was several years ago and only mentioned his name in passing with other agents.

You did the usual searches on inmate records, finding relief that didn’t show anything either.

Usually, you’d stop there. Just a preliminary search to make sure your potential date wasn’t a serial killer rapist or had a secret Facebook family, but that temptation inside you crawled up for more.

You deliberated a moment, cursor waiting over the spacebar of a different identity search website that showed…less than public information.

A twinge of guilt settled in your stomach. Watching him in the cafe was bad enough, were you really going to find his address?

Yes.

You pressed the button, watching the loading bar slowly crawl across the screen until the results popped up with a ding.

It was a modest place, one bedroom on the second floor of a small apartment building of the lower part of the city. Pulling it up on Google Maps showed the weathered but clean exterior, as well as all the surrounding shops.

You wondered if he’d ever gone to the bodega on the corner, or the bookstore down the street. You wondered how long it would take him to invite you back to his apartment.

It would be a lot easier, if you could even get to the first date.

Because of both of your busy schedules, you hadn’t tied down a night to go out together, much to your dismay.

You had picked out a few options for outfits, just in case he’d finally ask, but the opportunity hadn’t arose yet.

You sighed, picking up your phone to finally text your friend back with an update. You scrolled past the multitude of messages asking how it went and wrote a short paragraph relaying what had happened.

As expected, the phone lit up with an incoming call almost immediately. You hesitated, but swiped a finger to answer it after a moment.

“I’m not going to say I told you so, but you know I feel it.”

You sighed again, “Well hello to you too, and you know saying that is just the same as saying I told you so right?”

“Nope,” she retorted, a haughtiness in her words, “just like you following him around wasn’t stalking.”

She barely gave you time to scoff in response before continuing, “So, did you bone yet?”

God, I wish.

“Who says bone anymore, what are you? Eighty?”

Her laughter crackled over the line, “Answer the question. It better be yes.”

You flopped back on your bed, staring at the divots in plaster on your ceiling. “No, we’ve just been talking over the phone. I haven’t seen him in person since that day.”

If Dex noticed you’d promptly stopped showing up to the cafe, he never mentioned it.

“What the hell are you waiting for?”

“Our schedules don’t really align, every time I’m free he has- I don’t know, agent stuff to do. Based off what he said it sounds stressful, I couldn’t do it.”

Another laugh, this time mocking. “Yeah, you couldn’t do it because your aim would be a mile off if you tried to shoot a gun.”

“Shut up, like you could-” The buzz of your phone cut you off, screen glowing with another incoming call. This time, the contact being 'coffee man’ instead of your friends name.

Speak of the devil…

“Oh shit he’s calling.” You blurted, staring wide eyed at the screen.

“Answer it! You can talk to me later, go!” You saw your friends name disappear and slid on the answer button before losing your nerve.

“Hey, what’s up?” You frowned at the ceiling, wishing you could go back in time if only to pick a better greeting.

“Hi, nothing really. I just wanted to hear your voice, was afraid you’d be asleep right now.” His voice was low, the slight rasp of it filling your room.

Just wanted to hear your voice.

He hadn’t even said it in a flirty way, just that weird matter of fact tone that he had, but you were a goner at the words either way.

“No I don’t usually sleep this early, mild insomnia and all that.” You couldn’t keep the smile out of your tone.

He chuckled quietly, “Yeah, can’t say I do either.”

You slid out of bed, feet padding around the room absentmindedly as you spoke with him. “Slow day at work?”

“You can say that.” He took in a deep breath, “The asshole I have to watch hasn’t caused much trouble, still annoying to deal with.”

You hummed in agreement even though you had no clue who he was talking about. “Do you have to do that a lot? Be a bodyguard that is?”

A soft scratching noise filled the air, like he was shifting in his seat, “Less of a bodyguard, more of a babysitter. Waste of my time really, but it’s steady.”

You laughed, turning to a corner of your room where a dartboard had been set up, gift courtesy of a friend from college. It became a quirk of yours to throw darts while you were thinking or when talking on the phone.

You’d become pretty good at it, if you do say so yourself. It happened to be a good party trick to pull out and impress people.

“Hey, at least you’re getting paid, right?” Your wrist drew back, dart flying into the board with a soft thump. “Plus, it can’t be boring all the time.”

“It has been, recently at least. Everyone hates dealing with him. It’s like when you talk to him, a bit of his dirtiness rubs off on you.”

He was half talking to you, half musing to himself. “People like that should be dead, not kept in a penthouse.” There was a resolute anger in his words that made you believe he would do it himself given the chance.

It made you falter on your next throw, shot going wide. “I’m going to assume you’re not a believer in the judicial system then?” You kept your tone light and free from any judgement, so he wouldn’t change the subject.

“Not with this.” He let out a joyless laugh, “All the liars and murderers get locked up and set free again, that’s not fair.”

Another rustle of clothes, “If you choose the wrong path, you don’t deserve second chances, you deserve a bullet in your head.”

You threw another dart, missing the center again. “That is, uh…” You tried to keep your voice steady, even though the anger behind what he said had rattled you slightly.

“You don’t agree with me.” His voice turned icy, clipped at the ends.

Oh great, now he was mad at you.

“Well,” you began diplomatically, “I think it depends. If it’s like minor crimes or a one off thing they should go to jail. I can’t say I haven’t seen truly horrible people in the world though, people that were better off gone.”

And you weren’t lying, occasionally there’d be a case that you heard about that rattled the public. Homicides, trafficking… It was always something new in the city, but the horrible one’s stood out, you couldn’t say you’d be disappointed if the people responsible were taken care of. Permanently.

There was a lengthy pause before he continued, “This one is the worst. He’s responsible for more deaths than you could count, and even more ruined lives. The only reason he’s not rotting in a cell is because he’s useful to us.”

You fiddled with the sharp end of a dart, “Sounds like horrible babysitting duty.”

Thankfully, he let out a chuckle at your sad attempt of a joke, relieving some of the earlier tension.

You basked in the silence for a moment, mulling over his words. Even though you’d never heard him so angry, it wasn’t completely out of character for him to throw out ideas like that of fairness or what someone deserved.

You couldn’t help but notice he sounded less upset that the criminal did those acts and more focused on not being able to delve out the punishment himself.

You couldn’t really blame him, you’d probably be just as bitter if you had to spend most of your day with a murderer.

Another thunk rang out as your dart hit just shy of the middle.

“Have more fluidity in your wrist.”

You almost didn’t hear him at first. Almost.

“What?” You sounded as confused as you felt, staring down at your phone.

How did he know you were throwing darts?

He replied as if answering the unspoken question, “You muttered something about missing the target earlier, and in our texts you mentioned having a dart board.” He answered easily.

You stayed silent. You were pretty sure you had not said anything about missing the target, but the conversation was pretty distracting, so maybe you’d forgotten.

“I ah, have good ears as well. Figured I’d give you a tip.” The last part was added hastily, but still held conviction in his tone.

You released a nervous laugh, “Oh, right. Sorry if you could hear it this whole time, I was listening I promise.”

You silently chastised yourself, what did you think? That he was watching you somehow? That would be ridiculous.

“I did lie about something though,” His tone was still light, “I did have another reason for calling you. Are you free this Saturday?”

Yes, finally.

You hoped that your voice was controlled enough to hide the grin on your face, “I’ll have to check my schedule, let’s see.”

You hesitated, faking a search, “Yes, I think this Saturday is free. What should I be expecting?”

“I hope you like Italian.”

You smiled into the receiver, “I absolutely love Italian.”

“And what will we be starting with today?” The waiter stood to the side of your table, patiently waiting for the pair of you to order.

You’d spent the last five minutes struggling to read the cursive script of the velvety menu he provided, and most of the items being in a different language certainly didn’t help.

The grandeur was honestly pretty out of your comfort zone (and net worth), but when Dex asked you if you liked the place you didn’t have the heart to tell him no. He’d looked at you with such a weighted gaze for the answer, and practically deflated in relief when you said it was great.

“You know what? Whatever you suggest would be fine, preferably pasta adjacent.” You handed over the menu in defeat, looking across the table at Dex, who was still frowning down at the pamphlet in his hands.

He looked just as confused as you did a few moments ago, a line forming between his eyebrows where he had them scrunched together.

You let your eyes drift over the lavish restaurant as he gave his order, gaze drawn to the glittering chandeliers above patrons who were adorned just as sparkling. It made you feel incredibly underdressed in your wrapped blouse and skirt.

Dex hadn’t told you exactly where you were going, so you had no idea how fancy would be, but you still wanted a sense of comfort at dinner. Even though you still looked nice for all intents and purposes, you kind of regretted not going for a more glamorous look.

“You look amazing, sorry if I didn’t say it already.” Like he’d read your mind, the man across from you settled your doubts after giving a quick order to the waiter.

Were you that transparent?

You flushed, “Thank you, you don’t clean up bad yourself.” That was an understatement. You had to stop yourself from pouncing on the man as soon as he walked into the restaurant, all clean dark lines of a black suit over a crisp white shirt.

His hair was even more neatly styled than usual, the cut of it falling over his forehead slightly. His face was smooth with a clear shave, and although he didn’t wear cologne, you could smell a clean airy scent drifting off him.

To be frank, you were less interested in eating dinner and more interested in whatever came afterward. You tried not to be too expectant, Dex had been nothing but respectful, and with his personality he probably wouldn’t make a move on the first date. But there was still a spark of optimism that increased every time you caught his eyes lingering on a flash of your skin.

He shrugged off your compliment, “I don’t usually dress up for things. I wanted to, for you. I wanted to make this-”

He was cut off by the waiter suddenly reappearing, “And for the wine?” He looked between the two of you, noticing your confusion. “For your respective meals I’d suggest the house red and Riesling.”

You sputtered, “Oh, I don’t know,”

“But if you prefer to share a bottle, perhaps the Merlot would be better? Or a Malbec if you like a smoother mouthfeel?” The man rambled on, advertising different drinks with a pleasant attitude, completely oblivious to your disinterest.

Dex shot him a look of annoyance, mouth forming a hard line. “Perhaps,” He started, in a carefully flat tone, “you should come back later.”

The man didn’t seem too bothered by it, ducking away back to the other side of the restaurant with a nod.

You laughed even as the man across from you retained the hard expression on his face, “I didn’t know they had so many options for wine.”

He seemed to make a conscious decision to shake off his annoyance, lips tilting into a weak smile as he relaxed. “Neither did I. I just, ah-”

His eyes shifted to the side, bashful. “I looked up the highest rated restaurant and went with it.”

Despite how uncomfortable you felt before, the words made a flare of giddiness rise within you. “That’s nice, like reallynice. No guy has done that on a date before, I appreciate it.”

He seemed to inflate with your words, a self satisfied smile on his face. “Thank you, I don’t want to be anything like them.” There was an oddly serious note to his tone, and something akin to jealousy tittering at the ends. Like the mere mention of another man dating you had bothered him.

“So,” you took a quick sip of your water, looking at him over the rim, “tell me more about you Dex. Not just the surface stuff like before.”

He shifted in his seat, unsure. “What do you want to know?”

“You know, the really deep stuff.”

“Deep stuff?” His eyes were dark and guarded as he looked at you. Every part of his body language told you that any invasive questions you asked would be avoided.

You had gotten used to it at this point. Every time you asked about his life past the snippets he gave you, it was always met with guarded delight. Like he was simultaneously eager for your questions and too self deprecating to know why you would ask them at all.

You hoped that with time he would let you in more. But for now, you’d go easy on him.

“Yeah deep stuff. Like, what’s your favorite color?”

He chuckled, relaxing a bit. “I don’t have one.”

“I’m not going to let you off that easy, everyone has a favorite color. C’mon.”

His head tilted back, unfocused gaze on the ceiling as he let out a sigh. “I guess blue then, if I had to pick.”

You nodded contentedly, telling him yours.

He laughed again, causing you to raise a brow in silent question. What was so funny?

“No, it’s just that- it’s pretty obvious. I like that you’re so open. Your interests are just ingrained in who you are, even down to your favorite color. It’s in your shirts, your phone case, even your bedsheets. You’re just, you.” His eyes softened as he spoke, words colored with the most affection you’d heard from him since arriving to the restaurant.

Your breath caught, reeling from the fact that he’d been paying so much attention to you. You’d thought he was ignoring you at the cafe everyday, but if he wasn’t, what did that mean?

And there was another thing he said that stood out.

“How do you know what color bedsheets I have?” It was impossible to not let a touch of suspicion seep through, try as you might.

He hesitated for a few seconds. Ten seconds. Then fifteen. “You took a photo of something, they were in the background.”

Your heartbeat speed up, a mix of excitement and fear trickling through you. “No I didn’t Dex.”

Your memory wasn’t that bad, there was no photo you’d sent to him that showed your bedroom.

He let out a noise between a scoff and laugh, “No sorry, I meant your Instagram. I looked there and happened to see it.”

If you didn’t already see his slip up, you’d believe the words. There was a thrum of anxious adrenaline in you, and a strong need for some fresh air.

“No you didn’t.”

He let the mask slip, face slipping into a worried frown. “Please just, hear me out-”

“I have to use the bathroom.” You rose swiftly, only to be tugged back by a vice grip on your arm.

“You can’t leave.” His voice took on an authoritative tone, but there was still the note of desperation. Dark hazel eyes rounded as he stared up at you. “Please, don’t leave.”

You took a deep breath to steady yourself. “I won’t, I promise. Just need a few minutes.”

And you weren’t, you just needed a bit of time to sort out your feelings before deciding what you’d do next.

Even so, the hand on your arm didn’t loosen until you gave him an encouraging squeeze. “My purse is still on the seat, I’m not going anywhere.”

A calculating gaze raked over you and the purse still hanging off your chair before he gave a sharp nod and released his hold.

You didn’t waste time getting to the bathroom, not even bothering with a stall as you stood there staring at yourself in the mirror.

Your face was flushed, skin visibly clammy from the cyclone of emotions you felt inside.

What Dex knew about you could only insinuate one thing, and as wrong and invasive as it was, you…weren’t angry about it.

Surprise and anxiety yes, those were definitely present, but anger? Not even a little bit. Sorting through the tangle of emotions you had, you didn’t find that any of them were that deeply upset.

That’s a bit concerning.

But could you judge him? You were practically toeing that line, your friend had even called you out for it. Who’s to say that you would’ve been outside his apartment, chasing the boys and pieces of his life you could gather?

A while ago you would’ve found it reprehensible, criminal. But now you thought of the other angle. You’d never felt unsafe around Dex, despite his teetering mood swings and proximity to guns.

The idea of him lingering around your home with the need to be close to you- to want to know you, it spread a warmth of validation.

But you just didn’t know how deep this went. How far he’d gone, or how far he’d go now.

Only one way to find out.

You brushed your hair away from your face, straightening your top where it’d gone slightly off center.

“Hope I don’t fucking regret this.”

With one last sobering look at yourself in the mirror, you went back out to him.

You shifted in the seat of the taxi, stealing glances at the man next to you who stared steadily out the window, jaw set in a hard line.

The light of passing stores and traffic lit his face, casting the side closest to you in multicolored angular shadows. He hadn’t said much, if anything, after you left the restaurant.

Dinner itself went without incident, you’d tried to lighten the mood a few times but each attempt failed miserably. The tension even made the chipper waiter more subdued.

After waving off any attempt of you trying to split the bill, he paid quickly and you both stepped outside to the brisk air of the sidewalk. Realizing neither of you had driven, you had suggested a taxi. You had to practically tackle him to share the ride.

You didn’t know what you had to do for the man to calm the hell down.

You already came to terms with the fact that you didn’t care if he was a little (or more than a little) weird, you liked him. There was a pull you felt towards Dex, a likeness you had never experienced with someone before.

He had the air of someone who desperately needed another person to be there for him, but didn’t quite know how to accept it when they did.

So you weren’t playing it safe. You weren’t going to just let him slip through your fingers.

It was a bit difficult to share said feelings after he completely shut down.

“Alright, 44th and 8th.”

The taxi drivers voice knocked you out of your thoughts, and you scrambled to get some bills out of your purse was interrupted by another hand shooting past yours.

You turned towards Dex, mouth open to decline, but he beat you to that as well.

“It’s the least I can do. Considering.”

He didn’t look towards you as he shouldered the door open, stepping out of the cab to let you out behind him.

You followed, giving quiet thanks to the driver before scooting across the seats.

As soon as you were outside, Dex moved to get back in the cab. Your hand shot out, grabbing onto his jacket sleeve to halt him.

“Wait. I just want to-” You paused, gathering your words. “I’m not upset. So if that’s what your thinking to make you all moody, I’m not.”

He stopped moving, but still didn’t look at you. After realizing no one was getting back inside, the cab driver peeled off the curb and back into traffic.

“Im not upset, and I’m not scared. But right now I just want to know how you feel, because you’re giving me nothing to work with here.” Your voice took on a light chastising tone, but it was true that his silence had annoyed you a bit.

At last, he turned to you, a dark anguish in his eyes. “You know I wouldn’t hurt you right? I’m not like that, I’m- I’m not a stalker.”

You didn’t know if he was trying to convince you or himself, but you let him work through whatever he was struggling over without comment.

“When I saw you in the cafe, I wanted to speak with you then, but I didn’t think you’d be interested once you knew me.” He was biting out the words nervously, eyes roving over every inch of your face for any hint of rejection.

“There’s something… wrong with me. Always has been. That’s not going to change.”

You stared at him steadily, eyes widened, waiting for him to continue.

“I like you, a lot. I like your smile, the way you talk about your interests, I like the way you always get exactly two sugars in your coffee.”

He stepped closer, seemingly unconsciously as he got lost in your orbit. “I like the way you seem to care about me, reallycare. I like the way you sort your socks into neat little rows.”

“I can be whatever you want me to be. You want me to be normal-I can do that. Whatever you want.”

Your brows gathered in a frown. That was certainly not what you wanted. “Just be you. Like you already are, that’s all I need.”

It was definitely not what he expected you to say, if the astonishment across his face was anything to go by. “You’re not real. Can’t be.”

You reached up, holding the side of his face in your palm. “Real as you are.”

His face was inches from yours, you could smell the wine you’d both drunk on his breath, sweet and heady. All that was left was taking the dive. “Tell me to stop.”

“Don’t stop.” It was barely a thought as the words passed your lips.

“Tell me you never want to see me again.” He waited for the cut of the knife, the refusal. You weren’t giving it to him.

“I can’t.”

You don’t know who moved first, but the next thing you knew was firm lips on yours. A warm hand snaked into your hair, holding you in place as his other had wrapped around your waist.

He kissed you like it needed, as necessary as it was for him to breathe. Your mouths moved in harmony together, unabashedly in your own bubble even as the sights and sounds of the city bustled around you.

You felt the lap of his tongue against your mouth, opening up quickly to allow him access.

You ran out of air quicker than you’d liked, pulling back with a gasp as you sucked in sharp breaths.

His head followed as yours retreated, eyes lidded as his gaze flicked over your face. He was breathing heavily as well, inhaling your air while he remained as close as possible.

“Come inside?” It was little more than a whisper, but it was clear he’d heard you.

You were practically carried into the apartment with the amount of force he held your waist with.

Pretty soon, you were both walking along the hallway of your apartment building, only stopping so you could unlock your door with a shaky hand.

“Sorry it’s a bit messy-”

Lips crashed into yours again with a fierceness as you were backed up against the wall. He only leaned away to shrug off his suit jacket before stepping back into your space.

You let out a yelp of surprise as strong hands drug across the back of your legs, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist. Once you were seated firmly there, his hands slid to your ass, holding you tight.

And it felt so good.

The slide of his tongue against yours, the warm hardness of his crotch where he’d started slow grinds against you, all of it made the blood rush to your head. It made the cycle of your thoughts turn into a repeat of more, more, more.

Your hands moved from where they’d been tangled in his hair, carving a path down his neck and onto the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open impatiently.

He pulled up the corner of your blouse with a similar ferality, supporting your body with his hips as you raised your arms to shake out of it.

Where the top went was unseen, you were much more focused on sliding his newly unbuttoned shirt off broad shoulders.

You could feel a wetness pool under your skirt at the sight of him. The muscle of his abdomen rose as he took in heaving breaths, eyeing you with just as much want as you gave him.

It was clear that you would need a bit more space for what came next, and he seemed to read your mind as he took your weight fully, carrying you through your apartment with ease.

He trailed open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your chest as he walked, not stopping even as you felt yourself being lowered down to the couch.

You let out a shiver as your skin met the cold leather of the couch, sinking into its plushness while the hard weight of his body lowered over you.

“Tell me where you need me.” He murmured into your chest, slipping his fingers under the waistband of your skirt. “C’mon, tell me.”

Flames broke out over your face as you struggled to string together a coherent request. “Touch me,”

Your breath hitched as his fingers grazed across the dampness of your panties. “please.”

It was like the word had flipped a switch in him, a crazed light flickering in his eyes as he snatched off your skirt faster than you could blink. Your underwear were soon to follow, a loud rip sounding in the room where he’d tugged on the edge too hard.

You gasped as firm digits circled your entrance, swiping around the slick that had gathered there across your folds. Your head fell backward against the couch with a moan but a firm grip prevented you from fully lying back.

Dex’s fingertips dug into the back of your neck where he held you with a steel grip. “Look at me. You don’t stop looking at me, okay?” He sounded like he had run a marathon with how breathy he was, each puff of air brushing against your face as he stared you down.

You didn’t even have the chance to nod before two of the thick fingers previously circling your wetness delved inside, pumping against your walls with expert precision. You let out an embarrassingly loud keening noise every time the pads of his fingers brushed against that perfect spot that made you see stars.

You tried keeping his request, you really did, but with every pass it felt impossible to keep your eyes open.

There was no chastisement for it, just hazel eyes watching in rapt attention as you fell apart writhing on his hand. You couldn’t tell if it was your imagination or if he was actually moving faster every time you let out a longer moan or if you were just losing your mind.

Probably both.

Sorry neighbors.

Your eyes squeezed even tighter as you felt the tightening coil in you release abruptly, legs shaking with your release. Dex’s hand didn’t let up the pace even as your wetness flowed over his hand and trickled down to the couch.

He didn’t stop even as your entire body shook from the stimulation and your moans pitched into a shout.

“You can give me another. I know it,” He leaned forward, resting his sweat dampened forehead against yours, “You’re so good-perfect. You can do it.”

The sounds reverberating around your living room were positively obscene, something you were too lost in euphoria to feel conscious about. The sensitivity inside you transformed into a sharp heat and before you knew it you were coming again against his fingers.

The grin that overtook his face could only be described as devilish, but Dex’s hand finally slowed to a stop as you came down from your high. The pad of his finger rubbed a few consoling circles before removing from your heat entirely.

You released another keening moan at the movement, jerking a bit from overstimulation. “Think I’ve died.”

“Can’t have that, m’not done with you yet.” Even with the cocky words, Dex’s eyes practically lit up at your praise.

Huh.

The world went sideways as you were adjusted to lie down the length of the couch, Dex sliding in the space behind you and placing an iron hold on your waist.

The entire length of him pressed against your back, leaving no spaces. When he talked, his breath cascaded over your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in the wake.

“Do you know how much I wanted to do this?” There were the muffled sounds of a zipper and belt being undone as he spoke. “Every day, seeing you at that cafe. Seeing you see me like I see you.”

His hand trailed down your thigh, cupping under the juncture of your knee to adjust it over his leg. “I know about the photos, I know about all of you.”

You let out a broken gasp as he shifted forward, coating the flushed head of his cock through your wetness.

“That’s why we’re perfect for each other, you and me.” His voice hitched with the level of restraint he had, even though it was obvious with the jerk of his hips that he wanted no more than to bury himself entirely.

“And you-“ He cut off as the tip of his length caught your rim, “you’re so good, s-so good. You’re gonna take all of me.”

He was rambling now, half muttering to himself as he finally adjusted his leaking head with your opening and pushed inside.

His head tilted into the crook of your neck, the grumble of a lengthy moan lost in the flesh. Once inside, he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting faster and faster as he chased the drug of your heat, pressure, skin.

You were quickly rendered a babbling mess, only made worse as he reached up to tweak a sensitive nipple. Your head flew back against his neck when you felt the sharp pressure of teeth on your shoulder, the sting relieved by the lap of his warm tongue over the indents.

“Oh my god, so-so good.” It was a surprise that you could string together a coherent sentence at all at the speed he pounded into you.

You could feel the smile more than see it as he basked in your praise. “Yeah, I’m doing a good job? Making you feel good?”

You could feel a bit of deviousness rise within you. Since he liked the feedback so well, why not go all in? “Yes, you’re a good boy Dex. My good boy.”

His hips stuttered as he shivered against you, letting out a pained moan. He removed himself with your heat quickly despite your whimper and the way your walks squeezed around him.

The world shifted again when he pushed you face down on the couch, tilting your hips upwards slightly as he rested the pressure of his body against your back. You were going to question the change, but the words got sucked out of you as he thrusted back inside to the hilt.

You could somehow feel even more this way. Every throb of his length and vein brushing against you was magnified. That, mixed with the pressure of him pounding down into you, made spots dance behind your eyes.

“Fuck- say it again.” His teeth grazed your neck while he unabashedly let every grunt and whine feed into your ears.

You didn’t respond at first. You didn’t know if you could, but when he adjusted his speed to slowly withdraw before snapping in again, it’s like the words were punched out of you.

“G-good boy. Feels amazing.”

“I can feel you, you’re close. Is this what you wanted? I’m I doing a good job? Hm?” Each word was bitten out, emphasized with the slow grind of him pulling out before snapping his hips down to meet yours. The head of his cock was just grazing that sweet spot within you that made you see stars.

“Ye-yes. Oh my god-”

He sped up, loosing control as his words delved into mindless murmuring. “I’m the only one that can do this, only one that can-shit. Can make you

feel this good. The only one that can see you like this. Fuck, I can feel you coming-“

You were sure that your heart stuttered a beat, or maybe stopped all together. Your peak crashed over you relentlessly, casting wave after wave of bright white pleasure that made you jerk in his arms.

He wasn’t to far behind, the fluttering of your walls sending him over the edge as he choked out a moan against your neck. His thrusts continued through, and you could feel the heat of his spend as he rocked it into you, some trickling out to smear against your skin.

As the pleasure teetered into pain, he slowed to a stop, staying nestled inside.

Gasping breaths filled the room as you both struggled to catch your breath, (you more than him honestly, curse his trained agent stamina.) and you basked in the peaceful silence before an unbidden giggle rose in your throat.

“Hey-” There was a bitten of hiss behind you as a reminder that he could feel that movement from the inside.

“Sorry, sorry.”

A heavy pause, “What are you laughing about?” He rasped, slightly uncertain.

You didn’t have an exact answer, it was bits and pieces of things. Between the giddiness of how light you were and how nervous you both felt to get here, it just felt right to laugh. But you still wanted to assure Dex that the laughter wasn’t athim, since you could feel his hackles start to rise in defense.

“Nothing. Just happy.” You inducted as much warmth as you could into the statement, happy when you could feel him relax against you.

“I was thinking,” He started, barely a whisper, “we can try tonight again, somewhere you’ll pick this time? If that’s what you want?”

He struggled through the question, voice stilted like he wasn’t sure what the correct next step was. His hands had started roaming up and down your sides, rubbing over tender skin.

No worries, you were happy to oblige. “Of course. I think I’m done with fine dining though for now. How does pizza sound?” You had to stifle a yawn at the end, between his ministrations and your worn out body, sleep was approaching fast.

“Perfect.” He rasped out, lips grazing over your cheek. He didn’t adjust himself, perfectly content to stay joined with you.

“Just- not tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll be able to walk.”

————————————————————————-

AN: worked on this way too long and I’m still not completely happy w it but whatevs

Benjamin ‘Dex’ Poindexter Headcannons:

Dex who needs validation. A simple ‘thank you’ or ‘I love you’ would be fine for some people, but he needs you to explicitly say that you’re still on his side, that you haven’t given up-even though it would be the most logical thing. When everyone else sees him only as a monster, he needs you to tell him he’s still a man.

Dex who tends to neglect his wounds unless he absolutely has to take care of them. If you asked him, he’d say it was because he was preoccupied with something else. In truth, he’s more comfortable with the pain, it keeps him grounded, especially after a fight where he’s high-strung on adrenaline. It also helps that leaving the injuries alone gives you the excuse to put your hands on him, gentle and caring like he’s a saint instead of the devil.

thank youuu I appreciate it !! As for a pt 2, not rlly. I don’t have any more ideas for this story, but I am working on a different fic for Dex.