#benjamin pointdexter

I WOULD CONTINUE IT, MY LOVELY, BUT I DID NOT WATCH THE SHOW, AND I DON'T WANT TO DO HIM ANY INJUSTICE ... i just saw a few clips and pictures, and it inspired me to write that ...

i don't know the source material ... i have failed you ...

like maybe she's his neighbor, or his coworker. and they become friends and sometimes go for a jog together or get coffee. and somehow she finds out that he has been stalking her for months prior to even knowing her. kind of like the julie situation where he slipped up on knowing about her ballet stuff and how long she worked at the call center.

and he starts to panic and spiral but the fact that he knows everything about her and has stalked her to protect her kind of turns her on and yeah basically.

let me know if y'all would wanna see smth like this!

tbh if you're thinking of writing and you like to do it, i'd say screw it and just post it😌

i was nervous asf at first to post a fic on tumblr cuz i feel that literally every story ive read on here is sooo good and well written. so i was shocked to the core when people actually enjoyed my writing cuz i really believed it was bad compared to others😭

i used to write one shots of harry potter characters on wattpad back in like 2020 and they were horribly written 💀💀

but i think that one thing i've started doing was re-reading my fic a bunch of times to fix my mistakes. it also gives me a chance to add/remove certain parts.

i fear that one of the BEST tips for writing fics is so simple. READ LOTS OF FAN FICTION😛😛nah it really does help. you can learn from others and i'm not saying to copy their work. not at all. but it really does help.

i would read others fics and it would help me to think, "oh maybe i should add more detail to this" or "i think this word would work well here". you can get small inspirations from others.

also i try not to use the same word too many times in a paragraph.

for example, "She stepped through the door and stepped onto the mat"

i'd look up synonyms for "step" and use a different word for the second one!! or just reword the sentence.

going back and reading what you've wrote like 5 times can reallyyy help.

and overall i would say, just jot your ideas down. as you're writing just put down whatever comes to mind. you can always edit it later. i've scrapped like 3 fics already cuz i just thought they were unreadable to the public💀

im not the best at tips and advice but i really hope this can help you to post your first fic!! i'd be happy to read it🩷🩷

Nerdy!benjamin pointdexter who has a massive crush on you, but you don’t even know who he is. He just opts to watch you from afar, watching as you make out with your boyfriend in the hallways, your back against his locker. He clears his throat, and you mutter an apology while your boyfriend glares and spews insults at him.

pairing Benjamin Pointdexter x girlfriend!reader word count around 500 words masterlist here

pairing: pathetic needy mentally ill dex x reader

summary: poor dex crashes out thinking you've left him </3

themes/warnings: suggestive, yearning, just straight up desperate/needy/pathetic dex, self-harm (dex hits himself, makes himself bleed a little)

The sunlight filters through the blinds, cascading small slits of light onto your face. Your eyes peek open at the warmth creeping up your cheeks. You turn your face slightly. 7:00 am.

A constricting arm around your waist encloses your body. You're barely able to breathe with the vice like grip it's got on you. It feels like a large teddy bear is hugging you from behind, although it's not just any teddy bear.

It's your boyfriend, Benjamin Poindexter. His soft snores are muffled by the pillow his face is smushed into and his finger tips are slightly digging into the skin of your belly. It's not unusual for him to be on edge, even while sleeping. Even when you think he's knocked out cold, he's still half awake, listening for any kind of possible threat. Waking periodically to scan the room for any anomalies. Listening for your steady breathing to guide his own breathing pattern.

You roll over in his grasp. His face is barely illuminated by the bright sun as you're partially blocking it from hitting him directly. Mornings like these are what you live for. When both of you have the day off, sleeping in together. You love waking up before him and just taking in the sight. Seeing those lines of frustration and anxiety between his eyebrows disappear. The way his lips are slightly parted as he breathes deeply. The cute twitch his nose does when he's inside a dream.

You think what could he be dreaming about? Work? You? Something fun?

He's never told you. And you don't ask. He doesn't like to be questioned. You understand that. He already has enough on his plate as it is.

As the sun continues to rise, you decide you want to do something nice for dex. Maybe make him some coffee, wash his hair after, maybe even give him a scalp massage. Trying to pry his arm away from your torso is completely useless. He's way too strong for you. So instead, you lightly scratch your finger nail under his nose. He twitches, but doesn't budge. You do it again. Finally, he releases you from his bear hug and uses his finger to scratch under his nose. Unfortunately, this wakes him up.

His eyes barely open, "Morning baby", he yawns out.

"Hi", you say with a kiss to his nose.

All your efforts to escape are put to rest as he pulls you back into his arms again, caging you in for good. He buries his face in your hair, inhaling deeply as his warm hands massage your waist. He feels you wiggling in his grip slightly and his body goes tense.

"What's wrong?", he asks.

"Nothing babe. I just wanted to go grab some coffee", you tell him.

Immediately his grip on you tightens.

"I'll go out and buy you some", he counters.

"Baby-no. I want to make it for us. Just....you stay here", you argue back.

"Why?", he automatically questions.

"Because I want to take care of you today. Go back to sleep my love. I'll come get you when it's ready", you kiss his forehead and he's staring at you like you've just killed his entire bloodline.

"You're leaving?"

"Dex...I'm not leaving. I'm just going to make some coffee. It's okay", you reassure him while pushing a few stray hairs away from his face.

You see his adam's apple bob up and down as he stares at you questioningly.

"Hurry back", he says. With that he finally releases his death grip on you and you slip from his arms. The second you're away from him, he feels cold. Doesn't matter if he's got the covers upto his chin, he needs you like he needs oxygen. His chest goes tight and suddenly he's thinking of all the reasons you could leave him.

1: He's literally bullseye. The armed and dangerously skilled psychopathic killer.

2: He stalked you for 5 months before he even spoke to you. Knew every little detail about your life. Why are you with him?

3: No one has ever wanted him. He's a defective human being, if you can even call him that. He's not right in the head. At least that's all he's ever been told. He's an outlier. No one has ever accepted him the way that he is. Always forced to fit in, to be normal.

He can think of a dozen more minuscule reasons for you to be out the door in seconds. He thinks, why haven't you done that yet? Aren't you scared? Knowing about who he is, what he's done. Doesn't it terrify you? Why aren't you running as far as you possibly can? It doesn't make sense to him. What he possibly could have done in a past life to ever deserve the love and kindness you willingly give to him.

He watches as you slip into some sweat pants and one of his old fbi hoodies.

"Promise you'll come back", he says. You can see his eyes becoming glassy and the way his fingers dig into the sheets.

"I promise, baby. Get some rest", you pad over to the bedside and lean over, giving him one last kiss before heading to the kitchen.

It seems silly. Him panicking from you being in the next room over. But this is normal for him. His separation anxiety with you is no joke. It actually physically pains him to be apart from you. And you have no problem with being his reassurance.

As you dig through the kitchen cabinets, you're disappointed to find that you've ran out of coffee grounds.

Damnit. You think to yourself.

Only thing for you to do is make a trip to the store to grab some. You put on your tennis shoes and quietly close the door behind you.

It's been too long. He thinks.

What could possibly take you so long to brew some coffee? The worry starts to stir inside of him and bile creeps into his throat. Are you hurt? Did you slip and fall? Has someone taken you? Did you actually...leave?

Dex throws the sheets off of his body that is now drenched in a cold sweat. He doesn't bother to put on pants or a shirt, he's in his own home that is. Standing only in a pair of black boxers, he throws open the bedroom door expecting to see you in his direct line of sight. Only he's met with a cold and empty apartment. No sound of you humming, no coffee maker buzzing, just nothing.

His blood runs cold. This is it, he thinks. The day has finally come that you've left. You came to your senses and realized how fucked in the head he is. How dangerous and pathetic he is. That he's a freak who will never be capable of finding a real connection with anyone. He'll be alone forever. Stuck listening to the tapes of Dr. Mercer to keep him grounded. Endlessly searching for his North Star.

He can already picture you with a new man, smiling as he makes you breakfast. Wearing that pretty red dress he likes with the slit up the side, on a date with a "normal" man. Seeing you laugh as he charismatically flirts with you. Not like Dex ever could. No, all Dex could do the first time speaking with you was stutter after every third word he said. Like some little kid that got caught in a lie. He can see you having a family. A normal life with a normal man.

His skin feels itchy and his vision starts to go black around the edges. His legs feel like jello beneath his bodyweight and he stumbles towards the kitchen counter.

"No..."

He looks around at anything. For anything. Any sign of you. A sign that you're still here and he's just imagining things.

"No."

His fingernails dig into his palm as blood trickles down his knuckles. He brings his fist upto his head, pounding it into his skull repeatedly.

"No, no, no, NO NO NO-", he screams over and over as he hits himself. Dex feels the room swaying slightly as his arm falls to his side. He looks around for the object closest to him, which happens to be his coffee mug that you set on the counter. He chucks it at the wall with all his force, creating a hole in the wall. He looks at it with disgust. Another reason for you to leave—his violent outbursts. He can never control his emotions, his reactions. He just does things as he feels.

His eyes fall to the shattered ceramic on the floor. Regret instantly hits him straight in the chest. He feels a dozen knife's ripping his heart open as he stares at the mess he's made. You bought that mug for him. It was a gift. From you. His North Star. His Angel. How could he do this? If you haven't already left him, you'll definitely leave him now.

He falls to his knees, scrambling to gather the broken pieces of a good memory. The jagged edges only slice up his fingers. He couldn't care less about it. He picks up all the pieces and places them on the counter.

His whole body is trembling as his back slides down the fridge. The metal feels cool on his skin. A nice contrast to the hot itchiness he's feeling right now. His butt hits the ground and his knees are drawn to his chest. He wraps his arms around his legs as he attempts to coddle himself.

It's okay, anyone with a decent heart will do. You just need a North Star to guide you.

Dr Mercers words ring through his ears. He recites her words over and over and over. Hoping it will do something, anything to bring him back to reality. He fails miserably.

The front door clicks. Through the buzzing noise, he hears someone humming. Soft footsteps entering the apartment. The door clicks once more. His eyes snap open and he's met with the sight of you still wearing his clothes. Only now you hold a plastic bag in your hand and you've got your shoes on.

You stop in your tracks as soon as you turn and are met with the sight in front of you. The broken mug, the new hole in the wall, your 90% naked boyfriend curled up in a ball on the floor with blood stained hands. He's visibly shaking. Chest heaving up and down as his hands paw at his chest like he can't breathe.

The bag drops from your grasp and you're frozen for a few seconds, eyes scanning around the room.

Without second thought, you run to him, crouching down in front of him so he can see you.

"Dex? What the fuck happened?"

His eyes are looking at you but he's not looking at you. He's looking through you. You place your hands on his cheeks, your thumbs rub soothing circles under his eyes.

"Dex baby look at me- what happened?", you're scrambling for words, searching his face for any kind of reaction. He looks up at you as his lips tremble, eyes overflowing with tears.

"You left me."

He really looks at you for the first time. He questions whether this is reality or if he's passed out and you're just another dream. Most night he dreams of you. Not good ones. Usually you're taken and killed. He's forced to watch and unable to save you. Or you tell him the truth. That he's a crazed murderer and you want nothing to do with him. His worst fears become a reality when he sleeps. If this is a dream, it's the first pleasant dream he's ever had about you.

"Why'd you come back?"

You let out a small laugh with no humor behind it.

"Dex what the fuck are you saying? I left for 10 minutes to buy coffee! We ran out!", you tell him.

You can see him start to dissociate again. His eyes drift towards the broken mug again and without another second, you throw your arms around him and pull him into an embrace. Your chin lays atop his head as you stroke the hair down the back of his neck.

"Dex- I'd never leave you. You know that."

You're crying now. Seeing what he's done to himself. The damage he's caused. The state that he's got himself into. It's tragic. His arms slowly but surely make their way up and around you. His sniffles are muffled by your skin and his tears run down your neck.

"I'm sorry- fuck i'm so sorry. Please don't cry", he pleads. His hands paw up and down your back as he shakes in your arms. You lower yourself further onto the ground, pushing your face into his shoulder.

This has only happened one other time before. When you left early for work and he somehow didn't wake up until after you left. He scoured the city searching for you until he burst into your job mid-panic attack. He fell to his knees, relief crashing over his body as he finally saw you. Safe and alive.

You know it's not his fault. He's had a tough life ever since he was a child. You want nothing more than to make him feel loved. To make him feel like he has a reason to live. To give him a good life, lead him towards the good side and not the bad side. He wants to be good, he really does. But when you suddenly disappear, all of the progress he's made caves in on itself and he loses it.

Eventually, he begrudgingly pulls away.

"I-I'm sorry...for-", he looks around at the mess he made, "for this."

"Shhh baby don't be sorry. We can fix it", you assure him. You're sniffling and patting his head like he's a good dog.

He looks down at the floor like he's in trouble. "I broke the mug you got me...", he barely whispers it.

Your eyes trail over to the counter where the broken pieces lay. It does hurt a little bit because you went through a lot of trouble to get that mug but in this moment, nothing matters more than Dex.

"I saw. It's okay I'll get you another one. First, let's stand up, yeah? My legs are starting to cramp", you tell him.

"Fuck- i'm sorry. Here," he grabs your hands and weakly stands up with you. With the emotional torment he just put himself through, his body feels like he just ran a marathon and his knees wobble beneath him. You catch him with an arm around his lower back.

"Let's get you patched up", you tell him. He gives you a small nod and you guide him over to the couch. He sits first. "Wait here. I'm getting the first aid kit", you urge him to wait patiently.

You return after 30 seconds with some rubbing alcohol and bandages. He sits there like a good patient while you play doctor and clean up/bandage his fingers and knuckles.

"There. All better", you kiss his finger tips, setting his hands back down beside him. His breathing has evened out by now and he has stopped shaking. For the most part.

"So...you left to buy coffee?"

You move closer to him, lowering yourself down onto the couch beside him.

"Yes. I saw that we had none. How was I supposed to make you coffee?"

He brings his newly bandaged hand up-to his face, rubbing his forehead.

"You tell me! and I go out and buy it. Or at least tell me where you're going", he looks away out of guilt.

You shake your head and thread your fingers through his slightly greying hair, gently scratching his scalp. His hand falls from his face as you see him become slightly less stiff.

"Well then that defeats the purpose doesn't it? I wanted to treat you today, Dex. Not the other way around", you tell him.

"But-" you interrupt him.

"No buts. You wake up most morning and make me breakfast and coffee. Why can't i do the same for you sometimes?"

He looks to the side. Your hand cups his jaw, guiding his sights back to your face. "Hm?", you prod.

"I-I don't know. I don't like being away from you. I like doing things for you. Seeing you happy...it- it gives me a sense of fulfillment."

You smile and pinch his cheek, giving it a soft squeeze.

"Same for me, Dex. Seeing you happy makes me happy", you agree.

He scoffs and places his hands knees.

"You wanna make me happy?"

You nod, nudging your nose against his.

"Stay by my side forever. Don't ever leave me. You have to promise."

"Dex I never left you in the first pla-", he cuts you off.

"Promise. Me." His grip on your knee is a little rough but you don't mind.

You take a deep breath and look into his eyes.

"I promise you, Dex. I'm with you forever. I love you...".

Gravity pulls him towards you and his forehead rests against yours. "I love you so much it hurts me. I don't know how to live if you're not in my life", his eyes begin to water again.

His lips barely graze against yours. His breathing is ragged, his hands are still on your knees. You lean in and press your mouth onto his. Interlocking your lips together. It's not a hot and bothered makeout, nor is it a quick peck. You just allow your lips to simply rest against his for a few moments, enjoying the intimacy of it. You pull away first and you feel him chase you.

His hand comes up to cup your jaw, pulling your face close again. "A little bit more...please-", he begs you.

You indulge in his desires for only a moment, pressing your lips to his once again. This time, he kisses you like a starved man. Slow and sensual, all tongue and no teeth. His hand travels up your thigh while his other hand tilts your head to allow better access inside your mouth. You place your hand on top of his, stopping it from going further up.

Pulling away with a bite to his bottom lip, you grin. "Not so fast Mr. Poindexter", you bring your index finger up-to his lips to silence him.

"I told you I wanted to make you coffee", you explain.

"Baby plea-", your finger digs into his lips. You can tell he likes it by the way his breath hitches.

"Be a good boy, and go take a shower. Put on some clean clothes and wait for me in the bedroom."

His jaw goes slack as he nods, "Yes ma'am".

"Good. Maybe after, I might give you a reward for behaving so well".

With that, you stand up and go to retrieve the bag of coffee you bought. He stares at you from the couch, watching every movement with precision.

"Do I need to repeat myself?", your voice breaks his thoughts.

"Uh- no, no. I'm going." He stands up and makes his way into the bathroom, though his eyes never leave your frame until he has closed the door behind himself.