#ben poindexter one shot

[amberlynnmurdock]

Dressing Room

Pairing: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter x Reader Insert

Summary: Dex takes guarding your dressing room at Lululemon a little too seriously.

Genre: FLUFF and a little angst

Note: I'm sorry if this isn't my strongest! I felt like writing a cute little something for Dexy since he's BACK!!!! <3 <3 my DDBA thoughts will have to be another post. ENJOY!

Dex guards the door with his arms crossed in front of him, suspiciously eyeing every person who walks by. It’s reminiscent of the missions he’s been placed on in the past—guarding the door for witness protection, guarding the door of a criminal. It's the same concept, really. Make sure no one gets to whoever is behind the door he guards. Deathly stare at anyone who even glances in his direction. 

A bead of sweat trickles down his back from the heat in the room. Every muscle in his body tenses at every sound he hears. Boots scuffing the wood-paneled floor, paper ripping—all send his heart rate skyrocketing and his eyes scanning the room obsessively for any kind of threat. It was important to him that he be aware of anything and everything. It was important to him that people know he sees them. 

An older woman approaches him. Before she can say anything, Dex holds out his hand to stop her. 

“This dressing room is occupied,” he says in his FBI agent authoritative voice. His eyes darken at her audacity. The woman cowers at his stern, unfriendly look and quickly walks away with shirts draped over her arm—as she should, Dex thinks. 

“Sir,” a male voice comes from his side. “I’m the manager. You don’t work here. I’m going to have to ask you to not scare our customers in the dressing room if you’re not trying anything on. There’s no reason for you to be standing here.” 

No reason? Dex looks at the man but hides his incredulous look. Dex has every reason to be standing in front of the dressing room you’re in—he has to make sure you’re safe. 

“I’m waiting for my girlfriend,” Dex states without a flinch, tightening his arms in front of his chest. 

“You can wait for her on the couches in the middle of the room,” the manager explained calmly. “You don’t need to guard the door.”

Frustration bloomed in Dex’s chest. What was so hard to understand? “Yes, I do. I need to make sure she’s safe.” 

“Sir, this is a Lululemon.” 

“Dex?” You open the door ajar to peek at Dex, standing in his FBI-esque stature, arms crossed and deathly glaring at anyone and everyone. Now, the manager fell victim to such a harsh glare. When Dex heard your voice, it was the only moment his expression softened. He looked at you attentively, as if the manager wasn’t there. “Could you tell me if you like this jacket?” 

Dex looked from you to the manager beside him, watching him suspiciously. When no one said a word, you sighed in exasperation and looked at the manager.

“Can my boyfriend please help me in the dressing room? He’ll be out once I get his opinion.”

“Sure,” the manager said. “But please also tell him to stop scaring our guests away.”

“I will,” you flashed a smile at him as he walked away. You uncrossed Dex’s arms and grabbed his hand, leading him into the dressing room. You shut the door, and Dex beat you to locking it. 

“Dex,” you said softly. “Why are you scaring people away?” You asked with an amused smile on your face. You were used to him being protective—you found it very endearing that he acted somewhat like your personal bodyguard, even if you were at a casual establishment like Lululemon. Dex’s face softened as he sighed.

“I just want to make sure no one will walk in on you,” Dex said. “I’m sorry if I was aggressive.”

“No, it’s okay,” you laughed, giving his upper bicep a gentle squeeze. “I appreciate how protective you are over me.”

Dex shrugged. “I just want you to be safe.”

“I am safe,” you affirmed. “Whenever I’m with you.” 

Dex smiled and held your gaze for a moment. You shrugged and tugged at the seams of the jacket you tried on.

“Well, what do ya think?” You asked him, breaking eye contact to look at yourself in the mirror. Dex was still looking at you, but as if snapping out of his thoughts, he looked at your torso and analyzed the jacket. 

“It looks perfect on you,” Dex said, meeting your eyes in the mirror. 

“Thank you, Dex. Do you like the black? Maybe I should try on the blue. Could you get me the light blue one out there? It’s called the Define jacket.”

Although he was captivated by how you looked, he still registered your command. “I’ll find it.”

He left you in the dressing room as he made his way back out to the main floor. The manager who scolded him before stared him down, but Dex wasn’t intimidated—he’s had much worse foes. He ignored his glare as he made his way to the table that read: Define Jacket. He found a light blue one in your size. 

Dex walked back to the dressing room area and stopped in his tracks when he saw your dressing room empty, door wide open. His alertness set in as his heart rate skyrocketed again, and this time, he was reminded of every person in his life who’d abandoned him without warning. His parents, his therapist… and now, you. He couldn’t bear the thought of losing someone again. A deep heaviness settled in his chest, a deep sense of longing he hadn’t felt in a while overcame him at the missing sight of you. Where did you go? Dex could barely hold onto the jacket he grabbed for you. 

Were you taken? He knew this would happen—he shouldn’t have left you alone. You, your kindness, he knew could be taken advantage of so easily. He didn’t care that this was just an establishment—nowhere is guaranteed safe. That’s what they taught him in training. Suddenly, he felt an intense resentment towards the manager who berated him for standing in front of your door. This is why he “scaring” guests—this is why he was protecting you. 

No, Dex thought. It’s nobody’s fault but his. It’s his fault you slipped from his grasp—it was always his fault. The minute he found the person who took you from—Dex was already planning the ways he’d make them pay. He’s counting each hanger that hangs inside the empty dressing room—it’s how many times he’ll throw it at whoever took you from him. There wasn’t any sadness at your disappearance anymore—he felt rage. Fixated on the hangers and how easily they would slip from his fingers. 

“Dex,” he heard you call his name, and just like that—as quick as a switch—all his anxieties disappeared. Something fluttered in his chest. There you were, standing in front of a large mirror, trying on a light blue tennis dress. Your hair was disheveled from throwing the dress on, but you looked beautiful in Dex’s eyes. Angelic, even—just looking at you brought a feeling in Dex he’s not used to. At first, it was scary, but then it was just…silent. Peaceful. Only you were capable of making him even taste that feeling. “Come here,” you said. 

Dex does as he’s told but doesn’t just stop to look at you and give his opinion—you could wear anything and he would think it’s the loveliest thing. Dex wraps his arms around your waist and holds you tight against him—his fears from before coming to the front of his mind. He thought he lost you. He can’t experience that feeling again.

He buries his head in the crook of your neck, breathing in your scent. He feels you tentatively wrap your arms around him, embracing his hold. 

“I’m sorry,” Dex said, “I thought you were gone.”

“Gone?” You giggled against him. “Where would I have gone?”

“I don’t know,” Dex mumbled in your hair.

“I’m right here.” You pulled back from his embrace to brush your fingers through his dirty blonde hair. 

Dex suddenly couldn’t meet your eyes—ashamed of his paranoia and for thinking the worst. “I got your jacket in blue,” Dex muttered, holding up the soft article of clothing on his arm. 

“Thank you,” you said. “Do you like this dress on me? Your opinion matters to me, you know.”

His opinion matters to you. He matters. Dex looks at you again, and then he takes a step back, fully realizing the image in front of him. You looking at him like he’s the most important thing in the world, and he looking at you like you’re the most beautiful—because you are, to him. 

“It’s perfect,” Dex says quietly. It’s all he can say. The adrenaline of his paranoia from before exhausted him. You knew him well enough to know he was fighting an internal battle. And he was trying his best to hide it from you.

“Take a seat, Dex. I’m all finished up here. Let me change back into my clothes, pay and then we’ll go home,” you said softly. You pressed a soft kiss on his cheek and guided him to sit on the couches in the middle of the dressing room. 

Dex sat down at your command. In front of him was the mirror—he met his own eyes and quickly looked away. When you closed the door to your dressing room, Dex quietly got up to instead sit in front of your door, on the couch that faced it. He waited for you patiently there—just in case. 

[theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction]

Marvel Masterlist

One Shots

Spook-vengers Tower - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

Better Than Gifts - Reader, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Peter Parker, Natasha Romanoff, Clint Barton, Wanda, Vision, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson (all platonic)

New Years Eve - Steve Rogers x Reader ft. The Avengers, Doctor Strange, Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes (all platonic)

Not Making It Out - Loki x Reader

Love Is Sacrifice - Loki x Reader

Champion Selection - Loki x Reader

My Mistakes - Loki x Reader

The Task - Loki x Reader

Pulled From The Timeline - Loki x Reader

Poisoned Ice - Loki x Reader

Pompeii - Loki x Reader

Madripoor - Bucky x Reader

Why Would I? - Bucky x Reader

A Small Thing - Bucky x Reader

Not The Worst - Bucky x Reader

A Little Help - Bucky x Reader

When You Wake - Bucky x Reader

What We Started - Bucky x Reader

Kiss Her, Captain. - Steve x Reader

Attacked - Steve x Reader

Aftermath - Steve x Reader

The Drink Allergy - Steve x Reader

A Subtle Escape - Steve x Reader

A New Mission - Tony x Reader (platonic)

3am - Frank Castle x Reader (platonic)

Trick or Eat - Venom x Reader (platonic)

Halloween Cookie Surprise - Venom x Reader (platonic)

When Ghosts Hunt - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Under The Flame - Robbie Reyes x Reader

As Imagined - Ben Poindexter x Reader

Surprise Guest - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Earpiece Patch - Clint Barton, Reader, Kate Bishop

Imagines + Mini Fic

Imagine Steve wanting to propose but having to hold off because of the Civil War

Imagine Steve's surprise when you hit an entitled party guest

Imagine flirting with Steve much to his surprise

Imagine inviting Steve to the newly created Memorial Centre

Imagine a kiss from Steve to distract you from blinding pain

Imagine boldly telling Steve how you feel mid-mission

Imagine waking Steve up after being disturbed by a nightmare

Imagine being paired with Steve during the time-travel mission

Imagine Steve’s anger when you go off book during a mission

Imagine being the last person that Tony tells about 'moving day'

Imagine Bucky’s therapist asking about you

Imagine laughing at Bucky after his failed plane jump

Imagine getting caught in the crossfire of John Walker’s rampage

Imagine trying to talk John Walker down at Zemo’s apartment

Imagine waiting for Bucky and his cake delivery

Imagine convincing Bucky to get back into dating

Imagine taking Bucky to meet his dinner date

Imagine being ambushed by HYDRA while waiting for Bucky

Imagine Bucky being present when you wake up

Imagine Sam’s pleasant surprise when Bucky treats you gently

Imagine Bucky getting jealous on a mission

Imagine refusing to work with Loki at the TVA

Imagine Loki trying to explain his theory to you on a busy day

Imagine Loki being asked to let you go

Imagine discovering that Loki is to aid in the escape of Asgard

Imagine Loki falling asleep on your hand

Imagine Mobius shocking you with an idea regarding Loki

Imagine Loki hearing about your variants

Imagine sending Mobius to calm Loki after you’re injured

Imagine Loki stealing your pie at the TVA

Imagine your surprise when Thor brings Loki to Norway

Imagine learning that Hela wants you dead too

Imagine waking up on Sakaar to find Loki trying to help

Imagine Loki learning why you lied and faked your death

Imagine Loki accidentally time-slipping when you’re getting dressed

Imagine noticing Loki’s strange behaviour after he time travels

Imagine asking Thor about a gift that you gave him

Imagine Thor trying to grant you visitation with Loki

Imagine Thor learning that you’re in Norway with his father

Imagine Thor asking Loki about your whereabouts on Sakaar

Imagine finding Venom raiding your pantry

Imagine spending the holidays alone in Avengers Tower

Imagine checking on Robbie’s injuries

Imagine helping Matt escape the prison after Fisk takes control

Imagine Marc Spector inquiring about your hand injury

Imagine Khonshu trying to convince you to be his avatar

Imagine going present shopping for the Avengers

Imagine the Avengers when they learn that you and Bucky were attacked

Imagine Clint coming to you after a mission gone wrong

Imagine Fury asking you to be a diversion

Series

The Rider’s Guardian - Robbie Reyes x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Stowaway Cloak -  Stephen Strange, Reader (platonic)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

(Return to the Easy Navigate Masterlist)

[asongofmarvelanddc]

Fic Updates (Duty, Sworn Enemies, Others)

Heyyy everyone!

So I've been MIA for a bit, only popping into tumblr here and there – a lot going on in life, don't want to get into it 😂 I'm playing catch up now, I have 955 unread notifs and God knows how many asks to check (😳) which I will be going through tomorrow and I feel so bad cause it's like I left some of you talking into the void 😩 But I'm back now so here are the fic updates (in order of priority)!

Duty:

Proofreading PT6 tomorrow so should be out that night/midnight. PT 6.5 is half written so should be out this weekend if I'm not too busy. Either way I'll update you guys after 6 drops!

HOTD fics:

Someone Anyone PTII/final part (half written) is next on the priority list, followed by and Aemond one-shot request, also half written.

Sworn Enemies:

Getting back to this after soooo long 😩 I just read over the pt11 draft and I don't even know why I didn't finish it before going on hiatus because it's literally almost done!

Other Oneshots:

I've got Michael Gray, Matt Murdock, Klaus Mikaelson (yes), Tyrion Lannister, Theon Greyjoy, Jaime Lannister and Ben Poindexter one-shots all in the drafts. I'll probably drop these at random but it should be fun!

Jon Snow Miniseries:

This is a 5 part fic I drafted like a year ago set during the events of season 8 and I never got around to finishing it so that's also on the list!

aaaand I think that's everything! The ones I definitely aim to have out by Sunday night are Duty PT6 and 6.5, and I'm looking forward to reading all your asks tomorrow! Love you guys! 💞☺️

[antique-traveler]

How to Be in Love with Your Best Friend: A Step-by-Step Tutorial | Step Three: Call Him

Step 1 | Step 2 | Step 4

Foggy had been sound asleep. Emphasis on the had. He was having a dream about a pirate ship (at least, he thought it was a pirate ship, it might have turned into a commercial jet later on in the dream), fast asleep, enjoying the comfort of his bed, until his phone started loudly ringing. He was pulled into consciousness, sleep still gluing his eyelids shut as he slapped around his nightstand to find his phone. He brought it lazily up to his ear and answered with an eloquent, “Hmuh?”

“Fogs? Are you awake?” Matt’s voice sounded a little strained through the phone, and Foggy shot up, instantly alert.

“Yeah, I am now. Are you okay?” Foggy swung his legs onto the floor and switched on the lamp on his nightstand.

“Yeah, I just got back from patrol. I’m fine, I just have this gash on my arm that needs stitches, and I can’t do it one-handed. Can you–”

“Already on my way,” Foggy interrupted, pulling on a t-shirt and stepping into a pair of sneakers. “Be there in five.”

Matt sighed a little through the phone. “Okay, thank you. See you then. I love you.”

Foggy paused as he grabbed his keys and wallet off the kitchen counter and smiled to himself. “Love you, too, Matty.” He pulled the phone away from his ear and tapped the screen to hang up. 

Foggy barely even let himself think as he rushed through the sleeping streets of Hell’s Kitchen to Matt’s apartment. Every time he passed an alley he thought, this could have been the place where he got cut. His blood might still be drying on that wall. He heard his heart pounding in his ears and knew that, even at this distance, Matt could probably hear it just as clearly.

Not for the first time since Matt came back, Foggy found himself deeply missing his old suit. Dorky as the horns were, it gave him a hell of a lot more protection than a black gym shirt and a bandana. Foggy knew that they both had mixed feelings about the suit. The last time Foggy had seen it, Ben Poindexter was wearing it, throwing a billy club straight at Foggy’s face. Poindexter’s body in that suit was wrong, uncanny; he didn’t move with any of the grace and precision that Matt did, his wry smirk didn’t belong below that cowl. But at the end of the day, Matt was safer when he wore the Daredevil suit, and Foggy would have to learn to push that memory of Poindexter attacking the Bulletin to the side.

He rushed up the stairs to Matt’s apartment and pushed through the door, shifting straight into Doctor Foggy Mode, as he called it in his head. Matt was sitting shirtless at the kitchen table, pressing a rag to his right bicep, first aid supplies already laid out on the table. He tilted his face up towards Foggy and gave an unconvincing smile. “Hey. What brings a guy like you to a place like this?”

Foggy sighed and pulled the rag away from Matt’s arm, noticing that he must have already cleaned the gash while Foggy was en route. “My dumbass boyfriend got himself stabbed by a common criminal.”

“Hey,” Matt protested lightheartedly, “I wasn’t stabbed. I was sliced. There’s a difference.”

“I don’t care if you’re sliced or diced or minced or julienned, I still don’t like seeing your blood all over your nice dish towels.” Foggy sat down next to Matt and pulled the suture kit out of the first aid box, scanning over the supplies inside to find the right size needle and forceps.

Matt stilled and his face fell while Foggy put on a pair of latex gloves. “I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“Clever phrasing, counselor,” Foggy hummed with a smile. “Turn a little to your left, I need to get a better angle.” Matt winced as Foggy pushed the needle through his skin and pulled the thread through after it. “Oh, don’t be such a baby, Daredevil.”

Matt laughed despite himself. “How about I start stitching you up, and you tell me if I’m still a baby for wincing a little?” He bared his teeth and sucked in a breath as Foggy pulled the  first knot tight.

“Yeah, yeah. Well, of the two of us, only one is a famous superhero, and it’s not me, so.” Foggy snipped the thread and started on the second stitch. Matt would probably need ten or so, maybe twelve.

“Can we talk about something else?” Matt hissed through his teeth as Foggy pulled the needle through his skin again. “Distract me.”

Foggy paused for a moment and racked his brain for something else to talk about. He needed something stupid, something inane to get Matt’s mind off of the pain. “Oh, you know what I don’t get?” he asked, resuming his stitching. “How come you can butter toast, but you can’t cream cheese a bagel? Why does ‘butter’ get to be a verb but ‘cream cheese’ doesn’t?”

Matt laughed a little through his wince and thought about his answer for a moment, biting his lip pensively. “Maybe people have been buttering toast for longer? Bagels are newer than bread, I think, so ‘buttering toast’ has probably just had more time to enter the… what’s the word? The lexicon.”

“So what you’re saying,” Foggy posited, “is that it’s my responsibility to make ‘cream cheesing a bagel’ a thing?”

Matt’s face became deadly serious. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, counselor.”

Foggy chuckled to himself and finished off the rest of his stitches in silence. As he started on the last one, though, he turned serious again. He chewed the inside of his cheek a little and made up his mind. “Are you ever gonna start wearing the suit again?”

Matt sighed a little and ducked his head. “I don’t know. The last time people saw that version of Daredevil, he was killing people in a church, in my church.  I don’t know if people will trust it anymore.”

“Well, reputations can be healed, Matty. Some of these scars can’t.” Foggy finished off his last stitch and tore off his gloves before leaning back in his chair. “I know I can’t stop you from going out there, I know that Daredevil is who you are, but I at least want to know that you’re protected out there. At least a little bit.”

Matt leaned forward slightly and cupped Foggy’s cheek with his left hand. His thumb stroked beneath Foggy’s eye and Foggy smiled sadly. “If you want me to put it back on that bad, I’ll do it. For you.”

“Don’t just do it because I ask you to, Matt,” Foggy breathed. “Do it to keep yourself safe. Because you deserve to be safe and in one piece, plain and simple.”

Matt thought for a moment, nodded slowly, and mouthed “okay.”

Foggy leaned forward and pressed a light kiss to Matt’s forehead, looking forward to the day when he’d know with absolute certainty that Matt was safe.

This case was minorly kicking Foggy’s ass, if he was being completely honest. Matt swore that Dave Joiner was innocent, and Foggy trusted him, but his fingerprints were still on the murder weapon and the motive was there. Three days ago, police had found Dave’s brother Todd’s body slumped in an alleyway with fourteen stab wounds, a knife from the restaurant where Dave was a sous chef still buried in his sternum. 

“Okay, let’s go over it again,” Foggy said from his kitchen as he got them each a beer, “Todd borrows $5,000 from Dave, doesn’t pay it back after a year and a half, blames Dave for their dad’s suicide, and, to top it all off, sleeps with Dave’s girlfriend. Dave tells his work buddies about it, breaks up with Shannon, and cuts Todd out. Two days later, Todd’s dead with Dave’s prints on the knife and no one can corroborate Dave’s alibi of being at home at the time of the murder. That’s all the evidence against us. Now you tell me again what the evidence in our favor is.”

“Dave’s telling the truth,” Matt said simply. 

“And the means by which you know that are inadmissible in a court of law,” Foggy sighed, slumping back into the chair at his kitchen table where he and Matt had all their work laid out. “Don’t get me wrong, Matt, I believe you, but we gotta have something better to work with than ‘my blind superhero boyfriend can hear the defendant’s heartbeat, and he says he’s telling the truth’.”

They’d only gotten the case two days ago, and they had already resolved to pull an all-nighter at Foggy’s place to prepare their defense. They’d sent Karen to reexamine the evidence and statements at the precinct with Brett’s help, and now all there was to do was figure out how to flip the existing information in their favor.

“I know that, Foggy,” Matt said placatingly. “I never said this case would be easy, but Dave’s an innocent man. I can’t let him go to prison for a murder he didn’t commit.”

Foggy groaned dramatically. “Ugh, you and your morals. I should have stayed corporate and just sold my soul for easier cases.”

“Come on, Fogs,” Matt laughed, “we both know that Jeri wasn’t giving you ‘easy’ cases.”

“Let me reminisce in peace, Matthew,” Foggy said, turning to his laptop to get to work.

They spent the next hour quietly working alongside each other, Matt writing the first draft of his opening statement while Foggy started researching case law, when Matt stilled. His left hand was resting on a pad of sticky notes while his right roamed over the table near him, head tilting this way and that as he apparently extended his senses to look for something.

After a moment or two of that, Matt stopped and clenched his hands into loose fists. “Shit,” he whispered.

“What’s up?” asked Foggy, looking up from his laptop screen.

Matt sighed. “I left my slate and stylus at home. I need to write something on a sticky note so I don’t forget it; are you okay if I run home and grab it?”

Foggy could clearly picture the slate and stylus that Matt usually just kept in one of his jacket pockets. He was always fascinated by how quickly Matt wrote with it, instantly lining up the slate on a piece of paper and gliding the stylus along the holes before pressing through to the paper, leaving lines and lines of perfect braille writing behind. “Yeah, totally. Honestly, those things are cheap enough, I should just buy a couple for you to keep here and at the office.”

Matt stood and tugged on his jacket before leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Foggy’s head. “You’re the best. See you in a few.”

“Beat feet, Murdock,” Foggy said as Matt left the apartment and started making his way down the hall, not even bothering to raise his voice as Matt got further away. “I’ll order us some food.”

Foggy took his time calling up his and Matt’s favorite Chinese restaurant, he knew that they would both be working long enough that they were in no rush to eat early. Oddly enough, the apartment felt just a bit emptier with Matt gone.

Matt came back soon enough, proudly brandishing his slate and stylus in the hand that wasn’t holding his cane, and Foggy greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. Food was delivered and enjoyed, research was done, sticky notes proudly written on with the stylus, and the case was still as daunting as it had been two hours ago. 

Until Karen called.

Deep within Matt’s pocket, the electronic droning of “Karen, Karen, Karen,” filled the room, and Matt quickly put the call on speaker phone. “Hey, Karen, you’re on speaker,” Matt said.

“Hey,” Karen’s voice was chipper and upbeat through the phone, and Foggy leaned forward in anticipation. “I think Brett and I found something. We were reexamining some footprints left at the scene, and the murderer clearly had a limp– a limp that Dave doesn’t have.”

Foggy threw his hands up joyously and Matt smiled. “There it is!” Foggy said. “That’s something we can use! Karen, you’re a godsend.”

“I know,” she answered matter-of-factly, smile evident in her voice. “Brett and I are gonna finish up over here and then I’m going home. You boys good for the night?”

“We are now,” Matt said. “Thanks, Karen, this really helps.”

“And thank Brett, too!” Foggy interjected.

“Sure, Foggy. I’ll see you two tomorrow,” she laughed, then hung up.

Matt sighed in relief and sat back in his chair. “Pretty sure that will be admissible.”

“Okay, fine,” Foggy rolled his eyes, “you told me so. Do you want the honor of calling Dave, or should I?”

Matt stood up and gathered the remaining Chinese food containers from the table and dumped them unceremoniously into the trash. “All yours, Foggy.”

Foggy smiled lightly and pulled out his phone, tapping through his contacts list to find Dave’s number and pressing ‘call’.

The phone rang a few times on speaker phone, enough for Matt to sit back down at the table next to Foggy, and Dave picked up. “Uh, hey, Mr. Nelson, what’s up? D’you guys find something?”

“It’s ‘Foggy’, Dave,” Foggy said with a laugh, “and yes, we did.”

Matt scooted forward in his chair and leaned an elbow on the table. “Dave, do you know anyone with a prominent limp?”

Dave was silent for a moment before speaking up. “Yeah, one of the guys from work, Mitch, he has a limp.”

“What’s Mitch like?” Matt asked. “Do you two get along?”

“Ha! The guy fuckin’ hates my guts after I told his wife about all his sleeping around. He’s a real piece of work.” Dave was quiet again for a split second. “Wait, do you guys think he…?”

Foggy spoke up, “We can’t say anything for sure, Dave, but that definitely sounds like a motive to me.”

“Mitch could be framing you, Dave,” Matt said cautiously.

“Oh, Jesus Christ,” Dave whispered. “By going after my– my own brother… Oh, God.” Dave made a noise that was muffled a bit through the phone, but Foggy was willing to bet he was crying. 

“Listen, Dave, if Mitch did frame you, we’re gonna do everything we can to make sure he’s brought to justice, okay?” Foggy poured every ounce of sympathy and confidence he could muster into his words.

“Yeah, yeah. Thank you,” Dave said softly.

“That’s our job, Dave,” Matt added. “We’ll talk to you soon, okay?”

Dave merely gave a quick “mm-hmm,” before hanging up, leaving Matt and Foggy in a hopeful silence.

“Well,” Foggy started, “that makes our job a lot easier.”

Matt smiled and ran a hand through his hair. “Yeah.”

Foggy nudged Matt’s ankle with his foot and leaned forward. “You wanna call it a night? Break in those silk sheets I just got?” He bought them especially for nights when Matt stayed over, but he found that he liked them enough to keep them on all the time.

Matt looked darkly interested for a moment before his smile dimmed slightly. “Shit, I don’t have any clothes here. I took them all back last week for laundry.”

“You could just swing by yours in the morning…” Foggy said before trailing off, realizing why his plan wouldn’t work, “... but you have that meeting with the prosecution early tomorrow. Damn it.”

Matt stood up, soft smile spreading across his face, and pulled Foggy up with him. “Tell you what, you come over to my place on Friday and we’ll have an actual date night instead of just a post-work hookup. I’ll make dinner and everything.”

“Wow, and he cooks!” Foggy joked, gladly accepting Matt’s kiss. “See you tomorrow, babe.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

It was finally Friday, and the universe seemed to be doing everything possible to keep Foggy from going to Matt’s apartment for their date. First, Foggy’s hair refused to fall into any sort of coherent shape (he was growing it out again, and it was still in that awkward middle phase between short and long), then his favorite shirt had a stain on it that he’d forgotten to wash out, and to top it all off, it was pouring rain and he couldn’t find his umbrella anywhere. 

He couldn’t call Matt and tell him any of that, of course; he’d instantly go into full-on Catholic guilt mode and insist that Foggy shouldn’t come over, that he might catch a cold or get struck by lightning or drown in a puddle. The only option was to put on a brave face and haul ass through Hell’s Kitchen and be grateful that the rain would at least give him an excuse for his unruly hair (he knew that Matt couldn’t actually see his hair, but he still had his pride).

Foggy finally made it to Matt’s apartment, soaking wet, shoes squelching unpleasantly with every step, and tried to pull himself together at least a little bit, even if to sighted people he probably looked like a wet pomeranian. He straightened his back and knocked on the door for courtesy, even though he knew that Matt could have smelled his footsteps from a mile away.

Matt opened the door a moment later, already looking crestfallen at the smell of rain still clinging to Foggy’s clothes and the quiet tap, tap, tap of water dripping off of him onto the floor. “Foggy, are you–”

“Couldn’t find my umbrella,” Foggy interrupted before Matt could get too guilty. “I’m fine, just a little wet. Okay, a lot wet, but I didn’t want to be late.”

Matt stepped aside to let Foggy in and placed a soft kiss on Foggy’s lips, an odd, pensive look on his face. “You could have called, you know. We could have rescheduled.”

“That,” Foggy replied, “is exactly why I didn’t call. I’m a grown-up, Matt, I can survive a little rain.” Foggy turned the corner into Matt’s kitchen and inhaled deeply, the rich scents of parmesan and prosciutto filling the room. “Mmm, plus I didn’t want to miss whatever delicious smelling thing you’re making.”

Matt trailed behind him and put on a resigned smile. “Carbonara. It’ll be another few minutes before it’s done, though, why don’t you borrow some of my clothes and I’ll put those in the dryer?”

Foggy’s heart melted. God, he thought, he’s such a sweetheart. “Sure. You keep cooking, though, I can put them in the dryer myself.”

Matt conceded to the compromise and walked back towards the pan on the stove, that strange look still on his face. Foggy dug through Matt’s closet to find the comfiest things he had before shucking off his soaking wet clothes and redressing. After taking a detour to the bathroom to try and sort out his hair, Foggy finally made his way back to the kitchen, seeing Matt expertly piling two plates with pasta before filling two wine glasses with pinot noir. 

Foggy stepped right up behind Matt as he re-corked the wine bottle, wrapping his arms around Matt’s waist and kissing the space where his shoulder and neck met. Matt hummed softly before turning around in Foggy’s hold and wrapping his arms around his neck. Matt kissed Foggy’s forehead and smiled that new smile that Foggy had only just begun to see; soft and genuine and completely natural, as if that particular smile was etched into his DNA for only Foggy to see.

Matt’s cooking skills had certainly improved since law school, and Foggy delightedly finished off his plate while he and Matt chatted aimlessly, easily. At the start of their relationship, he’d expected that there would be some sort of paradigm shift in their dynamic, that they’d act like all the overly sappy couples on TV, constantly cooing over each other and spouting out cliched pet names. There had been changes of course, they touched more, days filled with kisses on the lips and cheek, and nights filled with kisses everywhere else, but the foundation below them was still the same. They were still Matt and Foggy, Foggy and Matt. They had the same dumb inside jokes and playful insults, they still knew each other’s soft spots and boundaries. It was all the same, just so, so much better.

They kept talking and joking and teasing, until eventually Foggy checked his watch and saw that it was almost midnight. His clothes were dry by now, and the rain had long since stopped. Reluctantly, he cleared his throat. “It’s getting pretty late, I should probably head home.”

Just as Foggy started to stand, Matt’s hand shot out and grabbed Foggy by the wrist. Distantly, Foggy wondered if he’d ever get used to seeing Matt do that– interact with the world almost the way sighted people did, grabbing things without having to feel for them or be told where they were. “Wait,” Matt said, his voice low and determined, “stay.”

Foggy felt his heart pick up in interest at what Matt might be implying. “Oh? Lookin’ for a little action tonight, Murdock?”

Matt blushed the slightest bit and set his jaw. “No, I mean, stay. Here. Forever. Move in with me.”

Foggy’s heart might have sped up, or it might have stopped beating entirely, he couldn’t tell. He and Matt had only been together, what, six months? Seven? Weren’t they supposed to wait longer? “M- Matt, I… Isn’t it a little soon for something like that?”

Matt shook his head and pulled Foggy back down into his chair. “Foggy, I… I think this is the right thing for us. I mean, your lease is up soon, right? And– and, we’ve already lived together once before, we know how to be in each other’s space. I don’t want you to have to run through the rain to spend the night with me. I want spending the night and having dinner and being together to be our default.” Matt blushed furiously and seemed to search for his next words carefully. “I… want you to use my umbrella.”

“You want me to… use your umbrella?” Foggy asked, having completely lost the plot.

Matt furrowed his brow and shook his head a little. “Shit, no, I mean, if you lose your umbrella, I want mine to be here for you anyway. I want to be in your space again. I want to wake up with you all the time, Foggy. I love you.”

Foggy was at a loss for words. Maybe it was the wine, maybe it was Matt’s mixed metaphors, but Foggy was completely overtaken by emotion, and he needed to take a moment to gather himself. “I… really can’t think of a good rebuttal to any of that,” he said wetly. “I love you, too, Matt, I… sure, I’ll move in.” Huge grins broke over both of their faces as he said it, and Matt pulled him into a bruising kiss. Foggy’s lips moved to the same rhythm as Matt’s and he let out a soft hum as Matt’s fingers found their way into his hair.

Matt pulled away and his smile turned dark, hungry. “How about you stay tonight, too? You mentioned something a little earlier that… piqued my interest.”

[trashmouth-tozier89]

Welcome to the Loser’s Club Asshole - Ch. 1 | F O U R

warnings: swearing, pretty disgusting stuff (dead bodies) , angst, pretty sad stuff but the next chapter will be worse

word count: 4,748

pairing: richie tozier x reader, platonic!losers x reader

a/n -  fourth chapter in and y/n finally gets her encounter with pennywise... also she takes a big step with richie!! this is quite a big chapter for y/n, so pay close attention and more importantly... enjoy!! 

If you wish to be added to the taglist, send in an ask or pop it in the comments! :)

taglist: @grapesauze​

Welcome to the Losers Club Asshole! Masterlist

Y/N had never been one for swimming. She hadn’t grown up around the ocean, or even swimming pools; there was a quarry on the other side of her hometown, but the idea of swimming in polluted water never appealed to her and her friends. Especially after her father’s accident.

So, of course, hearing that the boys wanted to spend the rest of their afternoon at the quarry swimming didn’t exactly have her jumping for joy. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t go though; they were the only friends she had made so far, and ditching them on their first official ‘hang out’ together wouldn’t have been a good first impression.

As the rest of the boys planted their bikes firmly on the ground, Stanley propping his up with the stand, Y/N had already made her way over to the edge of the cliff. She stared down at the gentle waters below, gulping at the thought of having to jump, beginning to nervously bite her lip. Richie seemed to sense Y/N’s hesitation, as he glanced over at the girl as he began to remove his shirt; “what’s wrong?” he mumbled, not wanting to catch the attention of the other boys who were currently arguing with Eddie about the health risks of going swimming.

“Uh… nothing” she muttered, eyes not even flicking towards the boy who was now stood at her side, also looking over the edge. He had a wide grin on his face, full to the brim with excitement and exhilaration. She needed to come up with an excuse believable enough so that she didn’t have to dip even her pinkie toe into that water; “I just, um- I can’t swim”

“You can’t swim?” Stan piped up from where he was stood, making Y/N jump as she hadn’t realised she had said it loud enough for them to hear. The glares coming from the boys felt like it was burning into her skin, as she tried to explain.

“W-we didn’t have anywhere to swim back in my hometown, so I-I never learnt. Sorry, I should’ve told you before I dragged myself out here” she explained, earning small nods from all the boys except Richie, who wasn’t sure whether he believed her or not. He saw the look on her face, and that was a look of fear; he would never confront her about it though, the last thing he’d want to do was make her uncomfortable.

“It’s n-n-no problem Y/N. There’s a p-p-path leading down to those rocks, if you’d rather just sit there for a while? W-we probably won’t be in the water for too long.” Bill proposed, pointing out the edge of the water where the boys would often sit to dry off after they had been swimming. Y/N considered it; it was better than just going home, and she supposed now would be a good time to do some sketching.  

“Thanks Bill” she grinned, feeling relief wash over her with the fact the boys weren’t judging her. She played with the hem of her dress as Eddie led her back to the path; throwing her satchel over her shoulder and waving goodbye to the boys before heading down the trail. It didn’t take her long at all to get down to the spot, and by the time she arrived, the boys had only just finished stripping down to their tighty-whities. She giggled at the sight, settling herself down on the edge of a rock comfortably and unclipping her satchel to pull out her sketchbook. She was rather glad she didn’t want to swim, considering the day was a perfect one for sketching.

Before she began to let her imagination run free, her eyes drifted up to the 5 boys who were still stood at the top of the cliff, partaking in a loogie contest which Richie was sure to win. Everyone knows it’s about distance, not mass. Who care how cool it looks, if it’s green or it’s white or juicy and fat? What matter is how far it goes; that was Y/N believed anyway. Soon after watching the boys, mainly Eddie and Richie, argue about nonsense, she noticed that someone had finally made the jump; though when said person bobbed back to the surface of the water, she recognised the red hair to be that of Beverly’s.

“What the fuck?” Richie shouted, watching alongside the 4 other boys as the girl made the leap none of them had been brave enough to take yet. “Oh, holy shit! We just got showed up by a girl!”

“Do we have to do that now?” Stan mumbled; he had already been nervous to do the jump in the first place, but after watching Bev, he was now even more uncertain of performing the feat. Maybe he should’ve just joined Y/N where she was perched near the bottom? Though, the other boys seemed just as nervous, but they knew they’d look like absolute pussies if they didn’t. Eddie answered almost immediately, as if it were obvious; “Yes!”

“Come on!” They heard the feminine voice of Beverly come from the below waters, so they at least knew she was alive and hadn’t drowned. Ben waved down at the girl, while Stanley simply mumbled an “oh shit” with a petrified expression on his face. He was extremely close to backing out, until Bill took the first step and jumped down to where Beverly was. Which meant there was absolutely no way they could back out now, so one by one they joined.

Before they knew it, they were all together in the water and splashing about with the widest grins on their faces. Bill suggested a game of chicken, and so Beverly mounted his shoulders and Eddie on Ben’s, Stan spotting the two on top to ensure neither got hurt in the process. Richie, however, stood away from the group with his eyes on something much different; it hadn’t taken long for his gaze to fall onto Y/N where she had sat perched on the rocks in the distance. He watched the way she focused on her art, drawing as if the ideas were just flowing through her; he wished he could have a talent like that. No, all Richie was good at was annoying people. Y/N had decided drawing the scenery before her was something she hadn’t tried, but would like to; she was used to drawing smaller things like birds or insects because she found she was best at capturing the finer details they carried. However, the sight of the quarry sparked something of inspiration in the girl, and she was stirred into a world of art before she knew it.

After about 20 minutes, Y/N’s hand had begun to cramp from the constant movements, and smudges of lead pencil coated the side of her hand. She was happy enough with the sketch to say it was done; she could always go back to it and add more later on. Nevertheless, the girl was eager to take advantage of the summer weather and so she took to sunbathing on the towel she had brought along for some reason. Pulling her dress over her head to leave her in only her underwear, she put her sunglasses on to protect her eyes and lay down. She hadn’t been aware of the eyes which were staring her down; Richie couldn’t find his voice. He felt his cheeks flush hot, and his stomach grow heavy. His heart pounded in his throat, threatening to break out; his eyes stayed locked on her. How many love songs had he heard that said, “She takes my breath away”? Now that line made a lot sense to him. He couldn’t comprehend the feelings taking over his brain; he hadn’t felt anything like it before. Sure, he thought girls were hot, and he found his cheeks blushing when his hand would brush against someone else’s, and sometimes he’d even stutter on his words when a girl asked him the answer to a question in class; but he was a teenage boy with a penis going through puberty, of course he got overwhelmed from time to time. But it was never this intense; he hadn’t ever looked at a girl in this way. Looked at a girl as if he was in love with her. No Richie, he thought, there’s no way!

The boy was pulled out of his thoughts by the sensation of something nipping at his ankle; “Ah fuck! What was that?” he yelped out, catching the attention of the rest of the group who had been too distracted to notice he had zoned out moments before; “Something just touched my foot right here!”

Both Richie and Stanley ducked their heads under the water to see if they could spot the mystery creature, but they were unsuccessful. Eddie tried to help too, asking “where are we looking” and Richie had tried to point it out to the small boy but they couldn’t see anything for the life of them.

Bill ducked under too, and was quick to notice exactly what it was; “It’s a turtle!”

****

This here’s a tale for all the fellas

Tryin’ to do what those ladies tell us

Get shot down cause ya over-zealous

Play hard to get females get jealous

Y/N wasn’t sure at what point the Beverly had lay beside her and began sunbathing, as she had been dozing off for the past 10 minutes; the beams of the sun were surprisingly relaxing. Thankfully, one member of the group had brought a radio, which was currently playing Young MC’s Bust a Move; one of Y/N’s personal favourites. She had soon found herself mouthing along to song, unaware of the fact she didn’t know every word because that didn’t matter.

Her h/c hair had splayed over her shoulders and her skin almost sparkled in the sunlight. A deep curve on her lips made the world stop around her; she has a smile that makes you feel happy about being alive. She was lay on her front, a novel in hand as she scanned the page to find where she had previously been after getting distracted by the music.

Okay smarty, go to a party

Girls are scantily clad and showin’ body

A chick walks by you wish you could sex her

But you're standing on the wall like you was Poindexter

Y/N was yet to notice the sharp glares of the boys, as she had found herself too caught up in the pages of her book. Richie couldn’t tear his eyes from the girl lay in front of him; none of the boys could divert their gaze from the pair really. Stan kept glaring at the boy who had to keep pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose; he couldn’t stop thinking about what Y/N had told him just the night before. She hadn’t had a conversation with Stan about her so-called crush on Richie since then, and so Stan was yet to have the chance to apologise for making her feeling bad. He just didn’t expect someone like Y/N to like someone like Richie. The boys, not used to seeing girls in nothing but their underwear, all sat eyes wide and mouth ajar while admiring the girls; though Richie only had eyes for Y/N and was finding it difficult to disengage his attention.

Next days function high class luncheon

Food is served and you’re stone-cold munchin’

Music comes on people start to dance

But then you ate so much you nearly split your pants

It wasn’t until Y/N started to feel herself getting cramp in her neck from the awkward position that she noticed the boys staring at her. A smirk growing on her face, she began to turn around to watch the boys scuttle around eyes wide, some coughing awkwardly, attempting to make it seem like they hadn’t spent the past 5 minutes preoccupied by the sight of the half-naked girls. Both Y/N and Beverly glanced at each other and chuckled, before propping themselves up onto their elbows to face the rest of the group.

Richie was almost certain he’d been caught checking Y/N out, if not by her by Stan. Thankfully, he distracted himself when he caught sight of Ben’s backpack open, digging his hand in to realise it was probably full of school stuff; he announced to the rest of the group in a comedic voice “News flash Ben, school’s out for summa’”

Y/N couldn’t help but chuckle at the boy, never getting tired of his ridiculous voices and impressions which nobody else found funny; Stan noticed the way he blushed almost immediately, and he would’ve questioned it if Ben hadn’t but in; “Oh that? That’s not school stuff.”

“Who sent you this?” Richie chuckled, a humoured smirk growing on his face as he pulled out a small postcard from the bottom of the bag. He looked to Ben, wiggling his eyebrows up and down teasingly.

“No one! Give it-“ Ben insisted, snatching the card out of Richie’s hand before he had the chance to read it and shoving it back into the bottom of the backpack. The smile failed to fall from Richie’s face as he pulled out a book, filled with old newspaper articles about the Black Spot explosion; it was titled “Easter Explosion Kills 88 Children, 102 Total”.

“What’s with the history project?” Richie questioned, furrowing his brows as he read through the first few lines of the article. Y/N had found herself growing curious at what the boy was reading about, so she pulled herself to her feet and went to sit on the rock between Richie and Stan. Richie gulped slightly as he processed the proximity of the girl, her leaning over him to look at the paper intently before paying attention to what Ben was saying

“Oh, when I first moved here, I didn’t have anyone to hang out with, so I just started spending time in the library” Ben explained, earning a snigger from Richie.

“You went to the library? On purpose?” Richie asked, sounding completely serious with the question. Y/N took a little offence by this as she had always been an avid reader, and the library was one of her personal favourite places to go. She nudged him lightly, scolding him; “Some people enjoy going to the library, Richie!”

“Why? It’s all just books and… well, more book” Richie pointed out, earning an eye roll from Ben and the girl. He stared at them in utter bewilderment.

“That’s the whole point Richie; maybe if you’d learn to actually read, you’d realise it can actually be interesting”

“Oh, I wanna see” Beverly changed the subject, jumping to her feet and grabbing the folder out of Richie’s hand. Sitting beside Bill, she handed it to him without noticing the way his eyes followed her as she sat, his throat bobbing up and down to clear his throat.

“What’s the Black Spot?” Stanley asked, considering he hadn’t had the chance to properly read the paper.

“The Black Spot was a nightclub that was burned down years ago by that racist cult” Eddie explained.

“The what?” Y/N questioned at the same time as Stan; they were both clueless at this point.

“Don’t you watch Geraldo?” Eddie questioned, and at the sight of Y/N’s head shaking he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest in a joking manner as if he had been wounded. The couple chuckled softly, Y/N shoving Eddie’s shoulder gently; Richie watched on at the interaction with a pit of jealousy growing in his stomach.

“Y-y-y-your hair…” a soft voice pulled them out of their interaction, turning to see two pairs of eyes gazing intently at the redhead; Ben and Bill. As Y/N managed to match the voice to Bill after a few seconds (thanks to the stutter), she let a small smile perk up on her cheek; there was something going on between those two. It was obvious Bill wasn’t going to finish his sentence as about 10 seconds of silence passed by, finally being filled by Ben perking into the conversation; “Your hair is beautiful, Beverly”

“Oh” Beverly smiled at the boys compliment; “Right. Thanks”

There was a hanging tension between Bill and Ben, as Ben grinned towards the ground bashfully; Y/N could tell from the moment Bev joined the group that Bill had something of a crush on the girl, and so she wanted to investigate into a little further. Perhaps it was to take her mind off her own problems with Richie, but that didn’t need mentioning. Richie was beginning to feel awkward, staring at the two infatuated boys who were practically pining over Bev. “Here, pass it” he snapped his fingers, holding his palm out flat for Bill to pass the folder back over. Once having received it, he reopened and scanned the page.

“Why’s it all murders and missing kids?” Richie questioned, passing it to Stan and Eddie so they could read it too.

“Derry’s not like any town I’ve ever been in before. They did a study once and it turns out people die or disappear six times the national average,” Ben explained, not noticing the way their eyes all widened at the statement.

“You read that?” Beverly asked, while the rest shared worried looks. It wasn’t difficult to realise that the conversation had taken a turn for the worse, yet Ben still continued.

“And that’s just grown-ups. Kids are worse; way, way worse” Ben said as Y/N and Richie locked eyes; she gulped loudly at the thought and he could see the ounces of worry in her eyes.

“Well that’s great, my mum decides to move to the one town I could realistically die in” she mumbled, feeling her palms grow sweaty at the notion; this was not what she expected to come from her first summer in Derry. She felt a hand place itself on hers, shooting her head up at the source; Richie. “I-I won’t let that happen.”

Usually Richie would make a joke at this point, or a snide remark about how pathetic Y/N was being; that was if it was any other member of the club. Considering he could tell how spooked she really was, and he felt a little unsettled too, he wasn’t in much mood for jokes. Y/N searched his eyes for any sign of sarcasm or humour laced in his intentions, before nodding slowly and letting the corners of her lips curve up slightly; he meant it.

“I’ve got more stuff, if you want to see it?” Ben suggested, more enthusiastic than everyone else combined. Eddie was quick to deny it, shaking his head as his eyes scanned his friends. They were hesitant, but they knew it would probably be better to know it all than be in the blue. The group packed their stuff away, getting dressed and heading back to where their bikes were left. Eddie was ranting to Y/N about the dangers of grey-water, which she found ironic considering the boy had been swimming in quarry water only an hour ago, when she realised she had forgotten to pack her sketchbook back into her backpack.

“O-oh, guys, I think I left my sketchbook behind. I’ll catch up with you!” Y/N shouted out from the back of the group, watching as they all turned and nodded at her words before continuing their walk to where they had left their bikes. Believing nobody was going to follow behind her, Y/N went in the opposite direction, back to the spot where the group had been sat only minutes ago. She could spot the pastel yellow sketchbook from almost a mile away, and considering she didn’t want to completely lose the others (she didn’t have a clue where Ben lived), she almost raced over to the sketchbook. Placing it in her red satchel hanging over her shoulder, she went to turn away and catch up with the boys, who’s heads were now only just bobbing out of sight; that was, until she heard a voice from behind her.

“Y/N” the voice almost choked out, sounding as if its mouth was gargling ounces of water. Y/N’s eyebrows furrowed almost immediately, confused considering there hadn’t been anyone there before. Not wanting to turn around, afraid of the possibility that there was a random homeless man who had followed her back down to the quarry, she brushed it of as just her imagination. It was just her imagination. “Y/N…?” ‘

That stopped her in her tracks; the voice had become clearer, as if the water had drained out of their mouth, and she knew that voice. She could’ve recognised that voice anywhere. Her whole body turned at the speed of lightning, eyes brimming with tears at the sight before her; “D-dad?”

There stood her father, just how she remembered him; the same high-waisted chinos, which were held up by the same pair of brown suspenders. The same tacky Hawaiian shirt, which she noticed looked a lot like what Richie was wearing the day before, but green; no wonder she liked Richie’s style. The same pair of brown loafers he insisted on wearing every day, whether he left the house or not. The same thick-rimmed glasses he would wear when sat at the dining table with the newspaper and a coffee in his hand. The same bushy moustache which would always tickle her cheeks when he’d give her a small kiss goodnight. It was all the same, except he looked exactly the way he should’ve; a corpse.

The corpse was almost devoid of skin and pitted by burrowing sea insects, and Y/N almost had to turn away as her stomach heaved, nostrils filled with the smell of rotting meat. The clothes were ripped to shreds, drenched in saltwater and algae just like the rest of it. Froth emerged from the corners of its mouth and nose, the sound of spit almost becoming worse than the smell. Its hands were almost down to the bone, the tissues having turned into grave wax, and the greenish black skin blistering over. She didn’t know what this was, but it wasn’t her dad, her dad was dead.

“Y/N, my sweet” The voice choked out, if you could even call it that, it hardly sounded like words. It was as if its lungs were full to the brim with water. She didn’t understand what was happening; what was this thing and why did it know her name? “I’ve missed you”

“What the fuck are you?” She almost yelled out, wanting to back away from the sight before her, but she found herself almost frozen in place; she felt paralysed with fear. Her eyes brimmed with bitter tears threatening to spill as the thing began approaching her slowly. It wasn’t even walking; it was floating through the surface of the water; the hand reached out to grab her own.

“Why, Y/N, you know who I am.” It spoke, so calmly she couldn’t quite help but believe maybe it wasn’t dangerous.

“Y-you’re not my d-dad. He’s dead” She tried to convince it, when really she was only trying to convince herself that this wasn’t real; it couldn’t be real. There was absolutely no way this was real… right?

“Oh, dear, don’t you think I know that. And let’s not forget who’s fault that is” he chuckled at her expense, watching as her head shot up at his words in shock. “Don’t look so shocked, we both know it was your fault. You did this to me, you’re the reason I died that day at the quarry” his voice became louder and harsher with every word, his hand now grasping the collar of her dress so tightly that she was struggling to breath.

“I-I didn’t do anything! I didn’t know!” Y/N defended herself, but her voice came out as mere wheezes, the tears pouring down her cheeks.

“Such a shitty excuse for a daughter, aren’t you? You left me to die, and so now you’ll be next. Come join me, Y/N, come join your old man. You’ll float, float just like the rest of us” he spat, face mere inches away from hers. She tried to fight back, kicking and punching at the monster that wasn’t budging at all.

“D-dad, stop!” she cried out, gaining nothing but a laugh. It wasn’t her dad’s laugh though, it wasn’t the monsters laugh. It had risen in pitch, morphed into laughter that Y/N didn’t recognise. Her scrunched eyes burst open to see a clown, replacing the corpse that was once there. Its grin was wide, rows of razor-sharp teeth sticking out, and eyes an unnatural orange colour. Before Y/N could scream, the clown spoke up.

“You'll float down here. We all float down here.” The clown teased, and in a split second the two were dunked into the deep waters of the quarry. Before she could surface to catch her breath, darkness had enveloped her. The water began to close in around her, filling her with a deep dread. She tried to hold her breath for as long as she could, but it ended up being too long. Red and black splotches danced in front of her eyes and she couldn't really tell if her eyes were opened or closed at that point. The coldness she had felt upon entering the water was completely gone; a desperate hot wave had washed over her, warming even her frosted toes. Her heart was beating rapidly in panic, the urgency for air was more apparent than ever before. There weren't red speckles in her field of vision anymore; it had become all black.

She opened her mouth, gasping for air. She revelled in the sensation of fresh air filling her lungs, rather than the salty, polluted water she had tasted only seconds before. Her vision was still blurred, but she could tell she wasn’t submerged anymore, as the bright light hit her eyes faster than she’d have liked; though she couldn’t have complained. Her ears felt clogged, all sound around her was extremely muffled; she could barely make out the begs and pleads coming from the figure in front of her. Wait; there was a figure in front of her?

“Y/N, breathe… say something… come on, say something”

As her eyes began to zoom back into focus, she could just about make out the shape of the body before her; it was wearing a green shirt over white, what seemed to be patterned grey shorts, and thick-rimmed glasses which sat across the bridge of its bright red nose. Her mind immediately drew back to the rotting body which lured her into the water, and how much it resembled whatever was before her now. With as much strength as she had, she attempted crawling backwards away from it only to find she couldn’t, as her back was perched against the rock ledges. Her hoarse voice screamed out; “get away from me! Leave me alone! I can’t-”

“Y/N, it’s me! Stop moving around, you’re going to hurt yourself; it’s me!” The voice shouted over her, clamping its hands down on her shoulder so that she would stop moving; he was afraid she’d bang her head on a rock or scrape her knees. The girl didn’t calm, still having trouble identifying the individual as anything but the monster; “what do you want with me? What are you?”

“Y/N calm down, please!” he pleaded, feeling tears brim in his own eyes at the sight of the girl in such distress. As she shivered vigorously, she felt herself losing energy being wasted on trying to escape, so she calmed herself and focused on getting her vision to return. Tears pooling in the corners of her eyes, she slowly began to recognise the person as not her dad, not the clown or the monster, but someone she was much happier to see.

“R-Richie?” she croaked out, launching her whole body forward to wrap him in a swaddle of her arms and chest; she was soaking wet and absolutely freezing, but the boy couldn’t care less.  He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, gently rubbing her arm. Despite the heaviness in her stomach, it fluttered at the feeling of her body pressed against his. She sunk into the warmth of his side, finally feeling a sense of comfort.

Then it dawned on Y/N; Richie had rescued her, pulled her out the water and saved her from drowning. He didn’t let her die.

He kept his word.

*****

A/N guys i imagine y/n’s drawing to look something like this ^^

[lavenderhyrdrangea]

Moon River 2.0

If you prefer to read on ao3 the link is here

Butch had undoubtedly sprained his ankle; the mild caution in his step had given it away.  Dedicated to making matters worse, he  kept his usually flippant mouth shut about  the pulled joint even with Grayditch, by then, miles behind them.Viola deferred his much needed chiding in favor  of hammering her fist on the door to her  happy place, a dream land where she didn’t have to deal with his screw ups.

Frustrated was too gentle a word to describe her feelings about their predicament.  Sure, no one wanted to admit that the first thing they did when they saw a fire ant was shriek then ragdoll fling themselves in the opposite direction—But that was the most common reaction. Those incendiary pests made even the most skilled Wastelanders wet their pants, so a trembling valutie was no surprise. Most people understood that.  But Butch? No, not him. Of course not. Most blowhards had a problem admitting to their shortcomings and he was no exception. He was a dummy and thought that his wounded pride mattered in the Waste.

Instead of pressing him for a confession, she opted for the sit back and watch method.  If he wanted to suffer in silence like an obstinate little turd, then far be it for her to break her back trying to lend a hand.

With the way his nostrils were flared his breaking point had to be soon.

“Whys the crapshoot settlement got to be so far?”

“Yeah, got to admit—I don’t remember the walk being this long.”

“Map’s probably all wrong. Makes stuff appear to be where it ain’t.”

Viola stopped. Not hearing her steps behind him, Butch followed suit and glanced over his shoulder.

“ If the directions and the destination don’t match then maybe you’re on to something.”

He raised a brow, urging her to go on.

“Maybe Megaton got so sick of hearing you whine about it that it got up and ran.”

Butch gave a hard roll of his eyes and went back to walking, no, shuffling ahead.

“I ain’t got no time for games, girl.”

“Girl, Nosebleed, Poindexter, Wet rag. I love the  variety, but I’m sure you know I’ve got a name,” She started walking again and met his pace, “and a gun.”

She’d been threatening him with a bullet ever since she was old enough to traipse the lower parts of the Vault with Sister Beebee. Much like her single barreled friend’s Bbs, the constant shots she and Butch fired at each other could pierce through skin;often times it did. Arguments ended with balled fist and gnashed teeth. He tried to steal her sweet roll so she spat on it. He yanked her hair and called her ugly, so she got a hold of some hair removal product, walked right up to him and poured it all over his head. He ran a rumor about her and Freddie, so she told Wally about all the trips he and Susie took to closets when they thought no one was looking.  

The only reason why she hadn’t tried to kill  him was because he would try to do her in the moment he saw her coming.  Of the little pre-war history she had been taught, she remembered that something called the Nuclear Deterrence Theory followed the same  notion. One nation  would hold off on blasting another to bits for fear of a full and equal retaliation. Given the fact that they were trekking through radiated rubble, a couple of somebodies screamed “screw that” while pounding on their respective shiny red button.  Regardless, her and Butch’s civility with one another had always come down to survival, and that sentiment doubled once they no longer had the Vault’s fortified walls to protect them.  

Butch looked as if he was going to say something smart but it came out as a grunt instead.

“I think that thing back there bit my ankle.” He croaked.

“If that were the case you wouldn’t have a leg and I would’ve had no choice but to leave you to die.”

Before he could spit his usual venom, Viola offered him her shoulder to lean on. He seemed startled by it. This wasn’t the first time he’d been injured but it was definitely the first time she’d voluntarily offered to allow him to use her as balance as oppose to him just pressing his weight on her after getting fed up with the tough guy act.

He eventually gave in after she reminded him of the type of mutants that stalked around once the sun set. They made some advancements. And by some that meant none at all. She considered finding a raider camp and telling Butch to hang back while she took care of them.  The shot gun was empty so it wouldn't be an easy task. She rarely used her sniper rifle though it would be useless in close quarter combat, plus there was a reason why she didn't use it much.

She had a bat and rusty pipe. Using them in each hand would…

“Hey, Nosebleed?”

“ Whatever it is,  shorten it. Trying to figure out where we’re sleeping tonight. ”

“How long did you know about my ankle?”

“You’re an open book, Deloria.” She snorted. “Wide open.”

“Did your old man teach you how to spot stuff like that?”

Viola chewed the inside of her cheek as she eyed the dilapidated overpass ahead of them. No respite.

“Sorry.” He said sheepishly.

"No, you're good."

It wasn't like she hadn't done something similar. During her first day of her little vault rescue mission, she'd asked him about Paul.

The next few minutes of silence was unnerving. She'd rather hear Butch's mouth than to go down the rabbit hole that was her father and the pain he had inadvertently caused those in the vault.

“Why do you ask? You’re not one one to care about my home life unless it’s for ammunition.”

“Just thinking.”

“Quit that will you?  The Wastes are as  hellish enough as it is without the universe folding in on itself.”

“ Oh ho ho! You’re a real  walking stand up show ain’t you? You’ve really missed your calling. Maybe you should drop the guns and plant yourself in the Rudder. That place is rough, they could use a clown.”

If anyone was a clown it was the guy limping the way home.

She peered across the large expense to the left of her. Maybe they would be more likely to find a camp if they veered off the main path.

"I get it. Scarecrow has a  brain now and wants to think and be serious."

"What do you think our lives would be like right like if the door never opened?"

Huh.

" The GOAT  sorted that out  didn’t it? You'd be a hairdresser and I'd be in Vault Management.”

"Barber."

“That’s not what the GOAT said.” She playfully sang.

"Forget that stupid test. If I say I'm a barber then I'm barber." He sounded like he would've shouted that if he had any energy to do so.

"Looks like you’ve got an answer to your half of the question."

"No, wait. I'm not a barber."

"You sound very confused. I’m guessing the great Oz put that brain in backwards or something."

" Forget everything. Act like the door never opened and the GOAT never existed. Where would you be?"

Viola fell into silence again, in search of an answer to his question. With putting nearly all she had into surviving the Wasteland, she only ever had time to think about lost friendships and broken bonds not the normal, ground level what could have beens. Where would she be? Not helping Butch for starters. Also, working with her father as receptionist for his medical office. After that she might have taken a part-time job helping around at the diner. There wasn't much variety in the Vault, and with certain jobs being limited to only one or two people what little options she had dwindled even further.

Butch had taken the reigns of the conversation after she had assigned herself back to searching duty. He gave a response she didn't think she'd hear: An officer.

"Don't go shooting me funny looks," He said, eyeing her as she gave him a sidelong glance.

She decided to leave that as it was, looking for a resting place and holding a serious conversation as he called it proved to be harder than she thought.

Their trek eventually led them to an abandoned campsite. There was blackened wood and a smoky aroma that indicated there was a fire not too long ago, a backpack with some sugar bombs, and canned pork and beans inside, and a note with barely legible scrawl stating to a Ben that a Ricardo, she learned from the closing statement, was going to go ahead to the old scrapyard without him, and that he should eat something before meeting up with him later and that if someone had taken the food before he got there it was his fault for not hurrying. She wouldn't touch the food left for Ben, however, the  junkyard peaked her interest. Most of the items would be picked over but Viola discovered a while ago that few Wastelanders knew that if you accumulated enough junk you could earn a decent amount of Caps.

She’d been deciding whether or she should drop Butch off at Megaton and get Dogmeat first, or try to make the quick stop to the Scrapyard before Megaton when Butch started taking dinner out from his backpack. The rotten smell of Yum Yum Deviled Eggs was enough to keep her present.

She picked up the conversation where she left it. “You rebel without a cause  types wouldn’t even waste the spit it would take to put a fire out if the thing burning happened to be some type of authority or institution. I doubt you’ve experienced any type of growth since you’ve stumbled out of the Vault.”Her gaze trailed over the length of his frame,taking in the relative newness of the jeans and white Tee he procured from Seagrave, shocked that they weren’t filthy yet.   “Imagining you willingly wearing another uniform is enough to induce  a fever dream.”

“Says you. I’ve grown plenty,”

“In the ego department, maybe.” She muttered at first then brought her voice back to a level tone.” Is this  some type of kink in your psyche? You hate what you secretly desire?”

“You calling me a boot muncher?”

“I’m saying that your sudden  judicial interests are suspect.”

“ They’re untouchable. People don’t mess with them. If someone’s stupid enough to push their luck they’ve got  three other officers there to back them up.” He managed through half chewed up deviled egg chunks.

She added her own items to their little spread: Muttfriut, Peaches,and Pinto Beans.  With his eggs and Sugar bombs they  almost had the four basic food groups, albeit the poor man’s version.

“So,” She paused, thinking, “you wanted to be a big man with legal backing, huh?  Gives credence to that one saying.”

Notwithstanding the obvious dig, He asked easily, “Yeah? What saying?”

“Bullies seek out positions of authority. Typically, the guys try to be officers and the girls go for nursing jobs. I’m a little surprised you didn’t get that as a result on the GOAT.”

Butch’s lips quirked into a stupid grin. “What’s all that make you miss Vault Managament?”

“ I’m only a partial bully and that’s thanks to you.”

“ Everything’s my fault. Right. I forgot.”

She shrugged. "You said it. Not me."

The conversation lulled as they fell to the rest of their meal. Gingerly holding a piece of Muttfruit under the fading sunlight, Butch shifted from his lazy supine  position to a full on crouch and put his nose to it. With that litmus test out the way, he nibbled on it like a molerat, sampling bite after bite, until the  full flavor zinged on his tongue. He spat the chewed mush  past his puckered lips.  Viola had gobbled down her cheekful of sugar bombs to free up space so she could tease but went for a subtle side eye last minute. Leave it to Butch to turn his nose up at something good for him.

“People move for them, you know?” He  admitted, jumping back into their intial conversation. More so to not have to take another bite than eager a need to continue their chat.

Narrowing her eyes, she said, “So you fantasize about the badge because  you have a naive fantasy about power and control.  Is that it?  You’re idea of  law  enforcement  and people in leadership explains your past behaviors a bit too well. ”

“Christ, way to miss a point. That ain’t it at all. Security has guns and stuff.”

“Weapons intimidate.  Intimation  can lead to power or control. Use your head for something besides hair gel for once.

“No, no,no-You brought up the badge, right?  That’s it.  That’s all it is.”

“I’m still not sure about what ‘it’ is.”

Butch huffed.

“Say I draw pretty picture.  Cogs in a circle. A winged sword jabbing through. You’d think..?

“Oh, an inkblot test almost.”

“A what? Quit stalling, Nosebleed.”

“The Brotherhood of Steel.  Resourceful. Altruistic. Tech-savvy. A bit frigid when it comes down to the more human side of things. Order, Structure, Chain of command—That’s them. Forming an order  and plotting ahead is smart of them. I don’t like their...well, steel but I respe--”

Butches eyes went wide and he pointed. “There.”

Viola chewed on that for a bit.   " I think I get you." She said, nodding.

Butch’s expression grew soft for split second but smoothed out and eventually went back to it’s normal wise guy grin.  

" How come I'm the only one sharing?"

" I honestly don't know what my answer would be."

" You never wanted nothing?"

She rolled the deviled egg she pilfered before Butch demolished the rest of them between her fingers.

"I remember wanting to do things that would make my father say that my mom would happy."

"And being a receptionist would have done that?"

"It did. He would tell me all the time that she would be happy that I'd taken to the working around the office. I think my mom and my dad valued my safety. That's what made them both happy. But out here safety’s luxury."

"Well, you’re not dead, stiff as a board, but not dead. I’d say you’re doing a good job of keeping yourself safe."

"Not for long. Not with all these curve balls."

They each took their turn taking watch as night fell and passed. Viola made Butch promise to wake her in case something happened and either through guilt or some form of pride he asked her to wake him if she ever got too tired.

A blinding sunlight woke Butch up.  Since she’d been out of the vault longer than he had she’d already adjusted to the wastelands rays, and simply took her pair of shades from her backpack and tolerated it on her skin.

"Wish we had something to drink." He said with sleep thick in his voice.

"I brought some purified water from home."

"Something stronger."

"That's not a good idea outside of any settlements," She shot him a withering glare," for you, I personally don’t think that's a good idea at all."

Butch grumbled, "Gimme the water then."

Butch took a three huge, loud gulps.

"I thought of something Mr. Brotch said."

Butch's crumpled his face up like she just told him she spat in his water. "Why?"

"I talked to him after the GOAT. I wasn't happy with my results—“

"—He never told me nothing like that."

"That's because he didn't like you. Look.  He told me the whole thing was a joke. And if  it is actually is joke, and we we could forgo those results then why not here?"

"What?"

"No one really knows who we are out here. As long as we're not blowing towns up, we can do anything. And if we get bored we can do something else."

"Something tells me the Officer thing is a pipe dream."

“You don’t have to be an Officer. That’s not what you want. Just make some noise and people will associate you with it. I know I do.”

"Yeah, I like that. And you can make your folks happy then."

“Yeah.”

Viola decided to take Butch to Megaton first. They gathered their belongings from around the camp and continued their journey. This time Butch leaned on Viola from the start.

“Hey.” He said a little too quietly.

“Is your ankle bothering you?”

“Nope.”

“What is it then?”

“Would you really have left me behind if I lost a leg?”

She let silence past so he would sweat some.

“No, but I would’ve given you one heck of a nickname.”

For the first time she made him rumble out in that snorting laughter only his friends back in the vault could.

“Nerd.”

*                                                  *                                                         *

A bit sentimental are ya? You might like my Young Justice(animated) fic, Game Plan, starring Wally West, long roads and glaring insecurity.

[nadisabug]

Ben Poindexter

First Meetings // One Shot

Summary: Kira is getting ready to go to work when she bumps into a familiar face.

Warnings: cursing

[bookwormdeen]

Requests Open

Requests Open

Hello!

These can be pairing with Reader, OC (fanfic or one-shot) or just one-shot without pairing (just the character).

I do dates special (b-days, Christmas, etc)

Smut (Only in some cases), Dark themes: Allowed.  I like polemic, yes! Feminism, Gender questions, Politic, Health. All of it. The world is a lot of things, writing has to be too. Plus, art is here to help.

I value things that run from stereotypes or cliche. So your character can be LGBTQI +, Black... Anything really. I don’t wanna just white perfect characters. I want different.  Because different is far more challenging and fun to write.

I am taking requests with the following characters:

TV Shows

Daredevil: Foggy Nelson; Benjamin Poindexter, Matt Murdock, Vladimir Ranskahov

The Originals: Kol, Klaus, Elijah

Vampire Diaries: Damon, Kai Parker

Vienna Blood: Max Liebermann

The Punisher: Billy Russo.

The Witcher: Jaskier, Cahir, Lazlo

The Order:Hamish Duke, Randall 

Justified: Tim Gutterson

Limitless: Bryan Flinch

Ragnarok: Fjor Jutul, Laurentis

Dark: Jonas, Magnus Nielsen

Peaky Blinders: Thomas Shelby, Michael Gray

Amazing Spider-Man: Ben Reilly (Scarlet Spider), Peter Parker, Alistair Smyte, Miles Morales

A Discovery of Witches: Marcus Whitmore 

Merlin: Merlin, Arthur, Mordred, Gwaine, Lancelot

Grimm: Nick Burkhardt

Good Wife: Cary Agos, Finn Polmar

Star Trek: Spock, Khan, James Kirk, *Data

Dusk Till Dawn: Richard Geko, Seth Gecko

Glee: Sam Evans

Scream: Noah Foster, Gustavo Acosta, Eli Hudson, Will Belmont

Hannibal: Hannibal Lecter

Money Heist (La Casa de Papel): Berlim

The Good Doctor: Shaun Murphy, Neil Melendez, Alex Park

Castlevania: Adrian Tepes, Trevor Belmont

Clone Wars: Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker

Sex Education: Otis, Adam Groff, Eric

Movies

Marvel: Loki, Bucky (Winter Soldier), Peter Parker, Sam Wilson, Bruce Banner, Doctor Strange, Quicksilver, Black Panther, Harry Osborn

DC: Bruce Wayne, Scarecrow, Joker

Ex Machina: Caleb Smith

Riot Club: Miles Richards, Dimitri Mitropoulos, Guy Bellingfield, James Leighton

1917: Blake, Scholfield

Narnia: Edmund Pevensie, Peter Pevensie, Caspian 

Hobbit: Legolas, Thorin, Thranduil 

Fantastic Beasts: Newt Scamander, Theseus Scamander

6 Underground: 4, 6, 7

HP: Draco Malfoy

Game of Thrones: Robb Stark

Maze Runner: Newt, Gally

Characters 

Iron Fist Austen: Mr Darcy, Mr Tilney, Sidney Park, Frederick Wentworth

Noah Centineo

PS: Here are listed only man but you can ask woman too (I don’t know which ones to put, there are much more than these ones).

Ships

Crossover ships are accepted too!

Davina x Kol

Mr Darcy x Elizabeth

Mr Tilney x Catherine Morland

Anne x Gilbert

Sidney Park x Charlotte

Matt Murdock x Karen Page

Billy Russo x Krista Dumont

Amy March x Laurie

Rich Gecko x Kate Fuller

Anastasia x Dimitri

I love AUs and crossovers: like HP meets Narnia, or something like that. Ask about Actors are good too. 

Free Stories 

These ones I pretend to write more of it or remake it. These will be long fanfics. Feel free to share ideas. If you want a one-shot involving these TV shows or movies is good too. 

Obs: Some of them may be only in my Wattpad account. * @lucy_beau

The Alienist; Dirk Gently; Northanger Abbey; Sherlock, Sanditon; The Adventures of Tintin; Chained; Fallet; Ripper Street; Byzantium, Jumanji; Carrie Pilby; Vallerian; The Name of The Rose, Crimpson Peak; Revenge; Red Sparrow; Hookup Plan; The Ottoman Lieutnant

Free Ask:

Saw a thing and want a fanfic? Send me the idea. The movie is bad but could be good? Let’s write it. Want a prompt but can’t write? Maybe I can do it. Send it to me!

Free fanfics or stories have a limited number of chapters: 20.

Obs: I don’t do terror. Horror? Yes. 

SEND!!!!

If you want to be in my TAGLIST, say.

Need some help getting ideas? Look here: Prompts

[amberlynnmurdock]

The Good In You (Chapter 6)

Pairing: Benjamin “Dex” Poindexter x Reader

Chapter Summary: She goes to the gala expecting Dex to be there too.

Genre: Fluff and some light angst

Words: 4.6k

Notes: Finally updating this series! Now after this I can really follow Season 3... ahhh! Hope you guys like it :)

Ao3 Link

She sat at her desk in front of her mirror, brushing her face with foundation and the makeup she used for special events. Music played on her TV as she set the mood to get excited about tonight's FBI Gala. She just couldn’t shake the feeling of anxiety in her chest. 

Earlier that day, Dex came to say hello in her office. 

“Maybe I’ll see you tonight?” She called after him as he was halfway out the door. He paused and looked over his shoulder—enough she could see his perfect profile. 

“Maybe,” Dex said quietly. 

Whether Dex came tonight or not, she was hopeful the gala would be fun. She’d try to find Nadeem immediately so she could sit at the same table as him and his wife, Seema. Despite it all, she still hoped Dex would make an appearance tonight. She wasn’t going to bet on it, though. 

After she had finished her makeup, she went to her closet and pulled out the dress she had bought specifically for tonight. It was a long, dark blue, one-shoulder dress. In the light, it sparkled, and the material was close to velvet. She slipped it on easily and fixed it in the mirror so it didn’t scrunch. When her phone lit up, it showed the time—and one glance was enough for her to quickly throw on her black heels, grab her purse, and call a taxi to take her to the venue. 

It was luckily a warmer fall night—there was still a chill in the air but not enough for her to be freezing with her light jacket. As the buildings passed by on the way there, her anxiety increased in her chest. Suddenly, she realized that she would be feeling very seen by all the agents and their significant others. It dawned on her that she wasn’t close with that many people in the office. It also dawned on her that the person she was closest with likely wasn’t going to be there.

“We’re here,” the taxi driver announced. “Do you need help with the door?”

“I’m okay. Thank you,” she smiled and paid her fare. She saw people she recognized from the office walking up the steps into the venue, all dressed up and out of their typical FBI uniforms. Her eyes scanned the groups of people, hopeful she’d see a familiar face. When she didn’t see him anywhere, she began her trek up the steps. 

Upon arrival at the door, a few security officers with metal detectors were standing at the entrance. She walked through the clearance and checked in with a venue employee. 

The ballroom was grand: high ceilings and low lighting. The tables were round and numbered. It didn’t seem like there were assigned tables, which was a relief. She went to the coat check and gave her jacket to the kind man behind the counter. She was mindful that the keys to her apartment were in her pocket. She clutched her purse and took a deep breath as she scanned the room in front of her. 

Nadeem was waving to her from a table near the center of the room. Relief washed over her when she saw his familiar face—and Seema, right next to him. 

“Oh my gosh, __, it’s so good to see you!” Seema beamed as she got up from her chair to embrace her. 

“It’s good to see you too, Seema. Ray talks about you and Sammy whenever he’s in my room,” she said. “I tell him to keep me posted on Sammy’s sports ventures.”

“Oh, Sammy’s just so excited for tryouts. I’m glad we got a sitter tonight so we could enjoy the gala.”

“You look beautiful, by the way,” she told Seema. After letting his wife speak first, Nadeem made his way to greet her. 

“You look stunning yourself,” Nadeem kissed her on the cheek in a friendly manner. “I don’t think the tables are assigned, so I hope this one’s okay. And if you don’t mind sitting with us.”

“Of course not, are you kidding? You and Dex are the only people I really talk to at the office,” she replied, her heart sinking at the mention of Dex. 

“Speaking of, where is he?” Nadeem asked, looking around at the swarm of people. 

“I’m not sure if he’s coming,” she answered, masking her disappointment as best she could. 

“The night is young,” Nadeem said. “He’s the type to make a last-minute appearance.”

“I hope you’re right.”

◎◎◎

After about an hour, anyone who planned to show up to the gala had already arrived. She made it a habit of looking over her shoulder anytime someone new walked through the giant doors—and each time, she was disappointed that it wasn’t Dex. She was so distracted by his potential appearance that she mindlessly said yes each time a server came by with a new glass of red wine. 

“__, you look beautiful,” a voice came from behind her. As she was mid-sip, she turned and looked up to see Tammy Hattley. Hattley placed her hands on her shoulders and gave her a light squeeze. 

“Oh, Tammy, thank you! So do you!” She got up to hug Tammy. “It’s nice to see everyone all dolled up and relaxed for once.”

“You’re telling me,” Hattley laughed. “I’m sitting by Special Agent Winn and some others from Professional Responsibility if you want to say hi.”

“Will do,” she smiled. Others had joined her at the table with Nadeem and Seema—some friendly agents she was familiar with at the office who had been treated by her before. She kept her bag on the chair next to her—just in case. 

Friendly conversation, meeting coworkers’ significant others, and passing appetizers to each other at the table: a vision she hasn’t been a part of in a while. The hospital she worked at before rarely had events like this; she appreciated the FBI for hosting something like this so everyone could take the mask off, just for a night, and rejoice in all the hard work they’d put in the year before. 

Even Nadeem seemed lighthearted tonight: no looming worry of a delayed promotion over his head. Of course, coworkers talk, and she was aware of the trouble it brought home, so it was pleasant to see Seema in good spirits as well. Even better, another thought just dawned on her—there was no Beckett to worry about at an event like this. Goodness, she could only imagine the annoyance he would’ve brought if he was still at their office. 

Of course, the group of men that he socialized with were all at the same table, directly across from hers, across the dance floor. She didn’t bother to say hello—perhaps she had a certain bias against them for their treatment of Dex. It didn’t matter anyway. Her people were at this very table, namely Nadeem. Just one person was missing. 

The pop music playing quietly faded out when Hattley got the microphone at the front of the room. 

“Good evening, fellow agents and staff. It’s time we start our recognition awards part of the evening,” she spoke into the microphone that at first echoed then returned to normal. “I’m very glad to see you all tonight with your significant others. We have a lot to celebrate and for good reason. It’s been a tough year, but our agents are the best and persevere through any situation.”

It was at that moment she realized how much she had drunk in two hours. When she turned in her chair, she felt the warmth of the effects of the wine hit her face, and everything around her swirled. She giggled at the feeling and suddenly felt a little self-conscious. She straightened in her seat and took a deep breath—her heart always started to race after she had been drinking. She reached for her glass of water and finished it. 

Hattley began to read a list of names to honor this evening—names she didn’t recognize or names she didn’t often see in her exam room. Despite it, she happily clapped along at each agent, genuinely happy to be a part of an organization that recognized hard work. Part of her thought that Nadeem should be up there accepting an award. She glanced over at him and saw his attention glued to the front, showing nothing but admiration on his face. Seema whispered something to him, and he smiled.

When she returned her attention to Hattley, she was already walking back to her seat. The DJ took hold of the microphone.

“Agents, it’s time to party!” He shouted into the microphone, turning up the music to an R&B song. Some agents and their dates were walking up to the dance floor.

“Come on, nurse,” Nadeem nudged her shoulder. “Let’s take a shot and then hit the floor.”

Who was she to say no? It wasn’t often (actually, ever) that she had an opportunity to drink with coworkers. Who better to drink with than Nadeem and his wife? Seema took her hand and led her to the bar, towards the back center of the venue. 

“I don’t ever indulge,” Seema said to her, “but tonight feels the first night in a while that Ray is genuinely happy.”

“There’s no shame in a little indulgence,” she replied, squeezing Seema’s arm with comfort. “Tonight’s a night for celebration.” Walking towards the bar with her and Ray, her senses were completely thrown off by the wine. She gave herself some grace—she never drank like this. 

Ray ordered three shots of tequila from the bartender and passed them over to Seema and her. Raising his glass, he smiled.

“To another year of kicking ass and loving my wife!” He shouted. With cheers, the three of them took their shots. It took her a moment to swallow the burning liquid and let it settle in her stomach. Every part of her body felt warm to the touch, but she wasn’t complaining. 

Seema led them both to the dance floor, where other agents joined. Even Hattley came out with her husband, dancing—or at least moving with the music. She didn’t want to worry about the anxieties of the next work week or wonder where Dex was. She turned those thoughts off and continued dancing with her coworkers—well, now she could say, friends. 

◎◎◎

Perhaps she had too much to drink. 

She made her way to the bathroom from the dance floor, sweating from the heat or liquor that filled every sense of her body. She’s a nurse, she knows how to handle herself in situations like this. It’s just that it’s been a while since she’s found herself in a situation like this. 

She was not going to throw up. 

She leaned over the sink, staring at the tap dripping, watching each drop of water go down the drain. Three seconds breathe in, three seconds breathe out. Not at a work party. Not at a work party. Not at a work party. 

She looked in the mirror—at least she looked better than she felt. Still, she patted the concealer under her eyes and fixed the shoulder strap of her dress. She reached into her purse and reapplied the lipgloss she had on. For as nice as a venue it was, it sure was hot as hell in the bathroom. 

Air. Fresh air. That’s what I need. 

She politely pushed past some agents on her way out of the bathroom. One of the male agents—friends of Beckett—stopped her in her tracks. 

“Need some help?” He asked with an amused smile on his face.

“No,” she said under her breath, “please don’t touch me.”

When she was out of the crowds, walking past couples talking to each other, she finally made it outside in the chill New York City air. If she weren’t a little sloshed, she’d be freezing, but the cold air felt cooling in all the best ways. She leaned on a pillar and closed her eyes, taking a few deep breaths. It was helping her regain stability. 

When she opened them, her eyes landed on someone sitting on the front steps. Dirty blonde hair, black suit jacket, sitting alone. It can’t be. When he turned his head, revealing his side profile, she couldn’t help the gasp that escaped her lips.

“Dex!” She shout-whispered as she lifted her dress to walk faster toward him. Looking at him took a weight off her chest she didn’t know was there. “Dex, you came!”

Dex immediately stood up, catching her eyes. “Hey, Doc. Better late than never?” His dark hazel eyes squinted as he smiled. 

As she was about to answer, her heel slipped on the stair approaching him—but with his FBI-like reflexes and training on anticipating moves, Dex grabbed her waist and kept her from falling, pulling her into him. 

“Oh my, God,” she laughed and steadied her hand on his chest. “I’m so sorry. I think I’ve had enough to drink.” Dex placed her carefully in front of him and let go of her waist. 

“It’s okay,” Dex said, shaking his head. “Having fun in there?”

“Yes, but—how long have you been out here?”

“About an hour, maybe?” Dex scrunched his brows, thinking about how accurate his answer was. 

“Why didn’t you come in? I’ve been waiting for you all night,” she exclaimed, happy and surprised to see him. When she finally took the time to look at him, she noticed how dressed up he got—a black suit and black tie. He looked handsome and a little shy. His whole look was endearing to her. 

“I don’t know,” Dex answered truthfully. She noticed that it was his turn to take her in—and suddenly, she felt very self-conscious. “You look beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” she blushed, incredibly hard, and looked away. She was terrible at hiding her emotions when slightly buzzed. “I’m happy you decided to come. You missed dinner. Oh, but do you want to get a drink? I think the bar is still open.”

Dex shook his head and looked down. “No, it’s okay. I don’t drink.”

“Oh,” she said, embarrassed for assuming. “I’m sorry.”

Dex met her eyes again, a smile on his face. “No need to be sorry. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“Too much fun,” she felt her words slur again, and she took a deep breath. “Do you want to say hi to Nadeem and Seema?”

Dex looked over her shoulder and saw agents starting to trickle out. He checked his watch and saw it was nearly 11 PM.

“I think people are heading home now,” Dex said with relief. “Looks like the party is over.”

She underestimated just how many people worked at the bureau—hundreds of people were walking out, and she couldn't spot Nadeem and Seema to say goodbye. Dex suddenly wrapped his arm around her and brought her in close to him as people bounded down the steps. He kept his arm around her waist and led her down the steps, away from the crowd.

“Can I take you home instead?” Dex asked in her ear. Feeling his voice against her skin made her shiver. 

“Yes, that’d be good.” 

◎◎◎

They walked a few blocks before Dex hailed a cab. Unfortunately, that last shot of tequila she took with Nadeem and Seema was catching up to her. She stumbled so much in her heels that Dex had to hold her steady at the corner of the block. She was shivering against him, but the cold felt good—it made her feel more sober than she was.

A taxi pulled up, and Dex opened the door for her, letting her enter first. She slid on the leather seats and tucked herself in the corner of the cab. She immediately rested her head on the window. She felt Dex’s warm hands reach around her to buckle her seat belt. She looked at him as a thank you.

She whispered her address to Dex, who then told the driver. Dex leaned back in his seat and looked at her—her eyes were closed as her forehead rested on the window. He looked forward and watched as the taxi driver drove toward her apartment. 

Upon arrival, Dex paid the fare, hopped out of the cab first, and opened her door to help her out. She took his hand and stepped out of the cab, mustering all the strength and focus she could. Dex held her steady as he walked her behind the cab to the front doors of her apartment. 

“Thank you,” she said under her breath. Dex pushed the front door open and let her walk inside first. He trailed behind her and naturally looked at the entire lobby. He’d never been inside her building before. There were a few elevators and an empty front desk. The doorman was standing by the desk. Dex made eye contact with him and nodded his head in acknowledgment. She smiled at the doorman and wished him goodnight. 

Inside the elevator, she focused on the numbers on the panel and clicked her floor number: four. She leaned in the corner of the elevator and felt dizzy suddenly. She gripped the handles in the elevator. 

“Thank you, Dex,” she whispered, forcing her eyes to stay open. “I’m sorry you had to take me home.”

“You keep saying sorry when you haven’t done anything to be sorry about,” Dex smiled and spoke softly. “It’s okay. I wanted to. We’re almost there.”

When the elevator dinged, the doors opened to her floor. She reached for Dex’s hand absentmindedly, and he reciprocated by letting her lead him down the hall. When they approached her door, she rummaged through her purse. She gasped so loud it even startled Dex—which never happens. 

“Oh my, God,” her heart sunk in her chest as anxiety crawled on her skin, “Oh my, God, oh no, no, no!” 

“What’s wrong?”

“Fuck,” she cursed to Dex’s surprise. “I left my keys in my jacket, and my jacket is still at coat check at the venue!” 

“Do you have a spare key?”

“I should, but I’ve put off getting it copied,” she placed her hand on her forehead. “I’m such an idiot.” 

“They don’t have them at the desk downstairs? The doorman can’t help?” As an agent, it was in Dex’s nature to consider all possibilities until there were none left to accept defeat. 

“No and no,” she sighed. “I’ll have to wait to go to the venue in the morning and get my jacket. I’m sure it’s closed by now.” 

Dex stood for a moment contemplating. He looked at her in her not completely sober state and saw how frustrated she was. She probably already felt bad making Dex come all this way. What was she to do now? 

“You can sleep at my place tonight,” Dex offered. 

“Oh, Dex—“

“It’s okay,” Dex shook his head at her protests. “I’ll take my couch,” he reasoned.

Truthfully, she would’ve argued more had she not felt buzzed and nauseous from drinking. But in her agreement to go to his apartment, she put up a new wall—she didn’t want to give Dex any ideas about anything happening. She immediately felt the anxiety of the uncertainty. And apparently, it was written all over her face. 

“Just to sleep,” Dex reassured her softly. “Nothing else.” 

She held a soft gaze—she didn’t know if it was the liquor in her or the way he looked so earnest, but she decided to trust him. 

◎◎◎

Her apartment was nowhere as clean and organized as Dex’s. It was small, about the same size as hers, but very well-kept and bright. From the marble countertop to the white walls, it was spotless. There wasn’t much for decoration, save for the fake plants in the corner that probably came with the apartment when he signed the lease and a picture on the wall near the front door. As Dex brewed a fresh pot of coffee, she looked at the photo. 

It was a group photo—Dex standing on the far right smiling. Behind the group was a banner that read: BROOKLYN SUICIDE PREVENTION CENTER.

“Did you work there?” She asked Dex with interest. “The Suicide Prevention Center?”

“For about a year,” Dex nodded. The coffee started to drip into the pot. “Shortly after I left the army and right before I started at the FBI.”

“Wow,” she replied. “What was that like?” 

“Wasn’t easy, but it was rewarding, as they say,” Dex said. 

“Do you still keep in touch with the people you worked with? It must’ve meant a lot to you to have this hanging in your apartment.” 

“Not really.” Dex shook his head, leaning on the counter. “I just like to have it as a reminder.” 

She moved towards the counter and sat on one of the stools. She held his gaze for a moment. 

“A reminder for what?”

“They teach you how to talk to people who are struggling. Sometimes you gotta take that advice for yourself.” 

“I bet it’s even harder as an FBI agent. You’ve probably seen a lot of stuff you can’t unsee.”

“That’s why you compartmentalize it all.” The coffee was brewed and Dex poured two cups. She let the aroma of the coffee fill her nose as a way to calm down. She blew on the steaming cup and took a sip. 

“How do you feel?” Dex asked. 

“A little buzzed, but this is helping me settle down.” She took another sip and leaned against the counter. “I’m sorry, Dex.”

“Stop saying sorry,” Dex replied. 

“You don’t have to give me your bed. I can sleep on the couch,” she suggested, in hopes of making light of the slightly awkward situation. Dex shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’m not arguing with you,” Dex said gently. “You can shower if you’d like, too.” 

“Now you’re just being too kind,” she smiled behind her cup. 

“You can borrow a shirt. As beautiful as that dress is on you, I can’t imagine it being comfortable to sleep in.”

She looked away, unsure of what to say. 

“I’ll set it up for you now.”

◎◎◎

Dex quickly changed in his room while she occupied his shower. This wasn’t something he ever did—bring someone to his home. This was his space—his privacy. Part of him felt like he shouldn’t have done it; the other part was glad he did. He assumed by the end of the night, he’d know which side was right. 

He waited on his couch and stared at the empty coffee table in front of him. When he heard the shower turn off, he shifted in his seat to make sure he wasn’t looking at his room. His door was slightly ajar. He saw her expression when he offered to sleep at his place: nervous, apprehensive. Dex wasn’t like that, whatever it was she assumed. 

He heard her step out of the bathroom and into his room. He laid a plain white shirt and shorts for her to wear. He glanced at the clock. It was nearly one in the morning. Somehow, Dex didn’t feel exhausted at all. 

“Dex?” She called his name from behind the door. Dex stood up and paused before entering his room.

“Yes?”

“Do you want me to leave the towel somewhere specific? I don’t see a hamper in here,” she said, peeking out from the door. Dex took it as a sign that it was okay for him to enter. He pushed it open and saw her in her natural state—no makeup, freshly showered, damp hair dripping on his carpet. Wearing his clothes. Holding his towel. 

“It’s okay, you can leave it in the bathroom. Shower good?”

“Amazing. Thank you,” she smiled sheepishly. “And thank you for letting me stay. I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course,” Dex nodded. “I’ll let you settle. If you need more blankets, they’re in—“

“Dex,” she gently cut him off. “I wish you had come to the gala tonight.”

“I did come,” Dex scrunched his brows, unsure what she meant. 

“Right at the end,” she said.

“I was there earlier. You just didn’t see me until the end.”

“Touche,” she sighed, looking at the floor. She looked up at him again. “I missed you.”

“You can’t miss me.” Dex gave her a sideways smile. 

“I did,” she gently argued. “I feel like you always think no one wants you there. Whatever the other agents say or think about you… It doesn’t matter. I wanted you there.”

Dex looked away from her now, feeling his throat tighten with…regret. “Well, I’m here right now,” he said. His voice was as dark as his eyes looked. But unlike normal darkness that pushes her away, it only drew her in more.

She traced her fingers on his forearm, sliding them up the length of him to his shoulder. He sighed at her touch—he suddenly couldn’t remember the last time he was in her office and was this close to her.

“Dex, I really want you to kiss me,” she whispered. 

“So do I,” he replied.

She dropped the towel to the floor as Dex placed both his hands on either side of her face, closing the distance between them with a kiss. Gentle at first—he couldn’t remember the last time he kissed someone or if he was doing it right. But he did know that he liked how her lips felt on his—he liked being connected physically this way. He held her gently in his hands, like she was the most delicate thing he’d ever hold. In a way, she was. 

She placed her hands on his chest as he deepened the kiss, holding her right where he wanted her to be. She’d touched his skin before, but never like this. He felt soft and tough as leather. She wondered how she felt to him. 

She tugged on his shirt and began to walk them backwards to his bed.

Suddenly, he stopped.

“No,” Dex pulled back, eyes shut and lips wet from the kiss. “We can’t.”

“I know,” she shook her head in agreement. “I just wanted us to be more comfortable.”

“I’m comfortable here,” Dex smiled. He nuzzled his nose against her cheek. “It might be too much there. Not when you’ve had a few drinks.” Restraint was another thing they taught him in training. 

“Okay,” she nodded. “That…means a lot.”

Dex kissed her again, slowly, savoring every second. “It’s late,” he said. “Do you want water?”

“Yes, please.”

Dex slowly pulled away from her. When he turned his back, she slowly crawled into his bed, under the covers. By the time he came back with a tall glass of water, he saw that she had fallen asleep.

He smiled to himself. She took his side of the bed. Dex placed the glass of water on the nightstand, quietly enough so it didn’t clink. He brushed her hair out of her face and took one more look at her before turning the lamp off. 

As he laid on his couch, he positioned himself in a way where he could see her sleeping through the small opening of the door. It was hard for Dex to fall asleep. But watching her peacefully sleeping was enough to lull him to sleep too. So, he stayed up a little, watching her breathe deeply in her sleep. Every slight movement she made as she slept. Not even a troubled expression her. Just peace. Safety. He didn’t know if it was envy or admiration he felt. Envy for the bed which got to experience her; admiration for how easy it was for her sleep. Soon enough, Dex’s eyes felt heavy, and he closed them. 

[daresplaining]

What If? Daredevil Vs. Elektra

    I have been meaning to write a full post about this chilling alternate universe, and Halloween seemed like the perfect time to do so. With the success and popularity of Spider-Gwen’s Hand ninja Matt Murdock, it can be easy to forget that he is not the only one. The first story of a Matt whose life took a darker and more ninja-y path was told in the one-shot What If? Daredevil Vs. Elektra, which is a chilling tale of murder, regret, and painful memories that won’t stay buried. 

    The story is told from the point of view of Elektra Natchios, agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. who, in the midst of a successful career in espionage, is forced to face again a traumatic event from her past-- a hostage situation in college, in which her boyfriend tried to rescue her and was killed. 

[ID: A flashback to Columbia University, Elektra’s origin story. Cops outside a building shoot into an upper window.]

Cops: “They’re killing the hostages! Wait... what’s that? I can see something... Yeah, a clear shot, and I’m taking it...”

Elektra: “Matt!”

[ID: Young Matt Murdock gets shot multiple times. Young Elektra kneels on the floor, holding his body in her arms.]

    It’s a memory she has learned to live with, a little piece of trauma she has long since buried, but then, suddenly, people around her start dying. She and her fellow agents begin to investigate scenes of carnage, carried out with terrifying stealth and skill by an unknown enemy. 

[ID: The Kingpin’s office, chaos. The Kingpin sits at his desk while a ninja in red clothes and a devil mask fights Bullseye. The ninja slices Bullseye’s head off with his sword and then advances on the Kingpin.]

Elektra (off-panel): “His bodyguards slaughtered upfront, Fisk’s personal assassin... Poindexter... Bullseye... whatever they called him... was the Kingpin’s only prayer.”

    Elektra, horrified but still clueless about how this connects to her buried memory at this point, investigates further. Her character development is an interesting variation in this universe, which presents a fairly clear-cut role switch between she and Matt. Her experience in college was painful, and her career as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent has given her a fairly jaded view of life and people, but she has retained some of the optimism and naivete that was snuffed out in the 616 universe by her father’s death. Elektra wants to see justice done, even if the only people so far killed have been dangerous criminals. She asks around, and eventually finds a surprisingly informed old blind man in a bar. 

[ID: A bar. Stick is playing pool and talking to Elektra, who is dressed in a black coat and red head scarf.]

Stick: “Ever heard of the Hand?”

Elektra: “As in ‘talk to’?”

Stick: “You’re a barrel, too, y’know that? The Hand. Corrupted ninja order. Heirs to the Beast. Intent on infiltrating the empires of man. In other words-- one bad outfit. Their current leader, ‘the Advocate’, is a servant turned master. He uses a unique approach to taking out his foes. He finds a discontented underling, exploits their dissatisfaction, nurtures it into betrayal... then attacks from within.”

Elektra: “Very Hong Kong triple-feature, old man. How does it connect to Fisk’s murder?”

Stick: “The Kingpin’s lawyer. Talk to him. And while you’re at it, talk to your boss... he just might help you find another blind guy whose kung fu is better than yours...”

    It doesn’t take Elektra long to find the Kingpin’s lawyer, Foggy Nelson. She discovers him sitting alone in his apartment, a bitter shell of the Foggy we know in the 616 universe. Losing Matt hit him hard, and-- as is true in several other alternate universes as well-- sent his life into a tailspin. 

[ID: Flashbacks from Foggy’s life: in the library with Matt in college, Foggy sitting at a desk in the Kingpin’s office, a body (Ben Urich) with a bag over its head, Foggy defending the Kingpin in court.]

Foggy (off-panel): “The two of us had high hopes... aspirations. We were gonna open our own practice once we passed the bar... and change the world, or what little of it we could. Funny how life goes. After law school I could barely pay back my student loan. I was desperate for money. Fisk made me an offer I would have been an idiot to refuse. A six-figure retainer. When he was on trial a few years back for placing a hit on Bugle reporter Ben Urich... having an honest, decent man shot dead... body dumped like trash... I fought for his freedom like my life depended on it. Probably did. In the end, it was the judge who’d been bought, but I was party to it. My life had become a sick joke.”

    He is bitter with regret and disgusted by the person he has become. He admits to Elektra that he was the weak link in the Kingpin’s organization-- the person indirectly responsible for his murder. He also gives her the name of the man who did the deed-- the Advocate-- along with some terrifying news: that  his next target is S.H.I.E.L.D. Sure enough, ninjas attack one of the helicarriers shortly afterward, killing Nick Fury and many of Elektra’s other friends and co-workers. Elektra realizes what she is up against. She realizes who she is up against. The Hand have brought Matt back from the dead and turned him into a killer, and she has to do something about it. 

    Elektra returns to Stick. She trains with him, attempting to prepare herself to face the Hand. When Stick suddenly vanishes, Elektra takes things into her own hands. She takes the name Sai and forms the new Chaste (one of my favorite alternate universe teams). They prepare to attack the Hand at their home base, and finish things once and for all. 

[ID: Elektra, now dressed in her 616-verse red outfit, addresses a group of other heroes: this universe’s versions of Wolverine, Black Widow, Power Man, Iron Fist, Echo, and Silver Samurai.]

Elektra: “Our differences may be many, but we share common ground. Each of us has lost someone... something... to the Hand. We are now the Chaste. The only ones who can stand against them. This is how we go in...”

Caption: “Old names forsaken, each member of this new order of seven took on another one to signify rebirth-- Claw. Sting. Stone. Flame. Seer. Sword. Sai. Woe to the Devil and evil men.”

    This comic is relentless in its carnage, which feels exactly right for the flavor of the story it is telling. When the new Chaste storm the Hand’s headquarters, Elektra discovers that Stick is dead. Matt has killed his first teacher, and Elektra knows she is out of options. She has to stop Matt herself. 

[ID: In the Hand’s fortress. Elektra has discovered Stick’s severed head.]

Elektra: “Stick... teacher, I’m sorry... you were right. Time to grow up.”

    She seeks him out. Of course, he is expecting her. 

[ID: The Hand’s fortress. Elektra approaches Matt from behind. He is dressed in a red ninja outfit but without a mask. His eyes are an unnatural red. Elektra has her sai; Matt is holding a gun.]

Elektra: “I’m here to stop you.”

Matt: “From doing what? Bringing order to chaos? Imagine these widowmakers without my guidance. You’re still holding onto the ideals of youth. Your father raised you in a sheltered, protected bubble allowing you limited contact with the rest of the world. Clouded your thoughts with fairy tale notions of ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Isn’t that why you hate him? You know this world is a savage garden. Beauty in duality. Good and evil intertwine like copulating serpents. Indistinguishable. It’s not worth saving because there’s nothing to save.”

    Here, we see the other half of the role switch. Reanimated Matt is brainwashed, and that is part of it, but his words have the feeling of a deeply ingrained truth. His existence has been nothing but pain. An attempt at heroism cost him his life, and since he has been back, all he has seen is the worst of people. His words echo 616-verse Elektra’s mindset in the wake of her father’s murder-- that the world is a cold and uncaring place and all one can do is attempt to survive in it as best one can. And like 616 Matt in the equivalent situation, Elektra is horrified to see what has become of the hopeful, caring person she knew in college. 

    They fight, and Elektra realizes the inevitable-- there is no saving Matt. And she is Elektra, no matter the universe, and so finds the strength to do the deed. 

[ID: Elektra shoots a bullet past Matt’s head. He drops to his knees, his hands pressed to his ears in pain.]

Caption: “The gun is S.H.I.E.L.D. ordinance... with a built-in sonic disruptor. It sends the Advocate’s senses into overdrive.”

[ID: Elektra draws her sai and stabs him through the chest.]

[ID: Matt lies, dying, on the ground. His eyes now look normal. Elektra kneels beside him.]

Matt: “Elektra...?”

Elektra: “Matt...?”

Matt: “Terrorists... taken care of... you and... your father... safe?”

Elektra: “Yes, darling... we’re safe... we’re safe.”

    It’s a beautiful little one-shot, bloody and tragic and poetic as the best Elektra and Matt comics are. I’m sure I’ll discuss it again, but for now, I wanted to give it the attention it deserves as an important alternate universe story and a compelling re-exploration of Matt and Elektra’s relationship. 

[kilyra]

You Idiots

Special Agent Ben Poindexter/Bullseye (Daredevil) One-Shot

A/N: I received an Anon request where the reader is pregnant and Dex is protective of her. I’m sure this isn’t quite what Anon was hoping for, and I’m sorry! There are some really great Dex writers on this site who might be able to do a “Dex in a relationship with a child on the way” type story but I just can’t get my brain into that scenario. However, with that prompt, this popped up!

Agent Poindexter just happens to be taking a meeting with Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney when a hectic day at the precinct turns scary.

Warning: Threat of violence.

If you want to be on a taglist (all or a specific character) just let me know.

Working at the precinct was never dull, but that day, it was especially crazy. The holding cell was fuller than usual and each detective seemed to have a witness at their desk giving statements. On top of that, two FBI agents, Poindexter and Nadeem, were having a meeting in Detective Sergeant Brett Mahoney's office. And judging by the pacing and arm waving, it wasn't exactly pleasant.

Trying to tune out the chaos, you quietly took a sip of your tea and kept working on your reports. Absently, your hand dropped, and you gently patted your noticeable baby bump. Some people in your life had been trying to convince you to take a transfer to a less busy role, and it was days like today where you could see their point.

And that's when it happened.

There was a loud crash behind you followed by yelling. Spinning in your chair, you saw a crazed-looking man charging across the room, racing up up the aisle towards you. Adrenaline burst into your system and you sprang to your feet to get out of the way.

Or rather, you tried. Your chair was just low enough to make getting up awkward, and it added too many seconds to your getaway. The man was on you. 

Spinning you in front of him, you let out a loud gasp and everyone froze. Something cold was held against your throat. It all happened so fast but you knew you had a pair of scissors on your desk so maybe...

“Don't move! Nobody come any closer and this will all be cool. Now I'm walking outta here and no one's gotta get hurt.”

Your heart was in your throat and you desperately wished you had taken some defensive training. It wasn't mandatory for admin staff but it had been offered...

From the corner of your eye, you saw movement in Mahoney's office. Taking slow sidesteps your direction, Mahoney spread his hands out, palms facing you. Before he started talking, you noticed Poindexter slink in the opposite direction.

“Hey man, you don't have to do this. You're in a police precinct, what do you think is going to happen here?” Mahoney asked in a firm tone.

The man tightened his grip on you, pressing harder against your neck. “I'm going to walk out of here is what I think.”

“Fine. But Y/n needs to stay here. I'll go with you. Everyone will listen to me and give you some breathing room. But I can't let you walk off with her. Look at her man. I can't.” Mahoney kept the man's focus, and you realized you couldn't see Agent Poindexter anymore.

Your pulse was racing so fast, you were light-headed. Every worst-case scenario ran through your mind and as you stared into Mahoney's dark eyes, it got worse. His palms were still out as he inched closer, but as in control as his voice sounded, his eyebrows were deeply creased. He was worried.

“I'm not an idiot. That's exactly why she's coming.”

Mahoney flinched, his eyes widening slightly at the man's words. The idea of your pregnancy being a bargaining chip made your stomach roll.

Applying pressure to your shoulder, he forced you to walk back. A new rush of terror ran through you. He was actually doing this.

Suddenly, you heard a grunt. You jerked forward when his grip loosened, but froze as the metal pushed against your skin.

There was a distinct smack and he grunted again, dropping whatever was pressed to your throat. After another smack, he collapsed, pulling you with him. As he crumpled to the ground, you fought falling, landing on your hip and propped up by your hands. 

Glancing on the floor you saw a pen holder, a heavy stapler and a hole punch all splayed near the man's head. Through your fog of fear, you couldn’t comprehend what you were seeing. Where did those come from?

Cocking your head in confusion, you were suddenly distracted by a strong set of hands sliding under your arms and lifting you to your feet. Immediately, you stumbled, and the hands firmly held your arms.

Turning, you looked up into the intense, hazel eyes of Agent Poindexter. “Ma'am. Are you alright?”

Your knees felt weak, but you steadied yourself and nodded. Jerking your chin, you looked back at the all the office supplies. “Was that you?”

Still holding your arms, he lead you away from the sudden rush of officers closing in to handcuff the man. “I couldn't see a safer way to take him down and I didn't want to put you at risk.”

Safe. Immediately, your hands dropped protectively over your stomach. “I-I don't know how to thank you, Agent Poindexter. I don't know what I would have done if...”

The corner of his mouth turned upward in a mild half smile. “Dex. And there's no need to thank me. It's what any decent person would have done...right?”

It was only a slight hesitation, but you realized he might actually be asking you that. His expression was stony and hard to read, but his eyes flickered down to your stomach before he looked away. 

“Yes...but still. Thank you.”

His eyebrows drew together lightly as though he were giving your confirmation some thought before he offered a sharp nod. Not looking back at you, Dex loudly snapped his fingers towards the officers who were leading the newly handcuffed man. They both stopped. “Was that your perp?”

Shooting each other a nervous glance, one of them finally nodded.

“Well, I suggest one of you idiots grab...Y/n, was it? Grab Y/n some water. After the shit show you just caused, it's the least you can do.”

Clearing his throat, Mahoney's gaze darted between his officers and the agent. Finally, he frowned. “Look, I'm thankful you stepped in, but you can't talk to my guys like that.”

Narrowing his eyes, Dex arched his eyebrow. “No? Then maybe you should. She could have gotten seriously hurt. There's no excuse for what just happened here.”

As he spoke, he guided you back into your chair, not giving you a choice about getting off your feet. There was a gentleness to his touch that you didn't see reflected on his features. The muscles in his cheek popped from how hard he clenched his teeth as he stared Mahoney down.

Stepping between the pair, Agent Nadeem smoothly broke in. “Listen, we're done here anyhow, so we'll be on our way. We'll be back if we need anything else alright?”

Sighing through his nose, Mahoney pushed his jacket back to set his hands on his hips and nodded.

Before he followed Agent Nadeem, Dex squeezed your shoulder and lightly pat your back as he shot you a quick side glance.

“Thank you,” you said again, getting a nod from the agent as the pair walked to the stairwell.

The entire precinct seemed frozen in place as everyone stared at Mahoney. Finally, he glared at the pair of officers.

“Well...one of you idiots, get Y/n a glass of water!”

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[everlastingdreams]

Ben Poindexter x Reader : Into My Bloodstream Chapter 34

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Notes: This is not the last chapter. I broke this thing into two chapters. Chapter 35 will be the last and I will upload that tomorrow. Enjoy the little cliff hanger. You’re welcome.. haha. 

Summary: OooooOOOoooh boy... chapter 35 is gonna be good *_*

Chapter: 34/35

Word count: 1861 words

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

He gave you the duffel bag before he crawled through the window. You putted the bag down on the coffee table.

He looked around for a moment “It's worse then I thought.”

You scoffed at his remark “Well excuse you. If you don't like it, you are free to leave. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.” you crossed your arms “Unless you're into that sort of thing.” you quietly mumbled.

“I heard that.” He walked past you, his shoulder brushing against yours as he did.

He walked around the apartment, a smile tugging at his lips until he stopped in front of a drawing that was held on the wall with a paper pin “Did you draw this ?”

You walked over to where he was standing “I did. But I stopped drawing years ago.”

His eyes were fixed on the drawing you once made of a girl, underwater and wired in a glass tank surrounded by scientists. “What made you stop drawing?” he asked as he looked at you.

You shrugged your shoulders “Honestly ? I lost inspiration. There is no story there, I just found other things to do. Do you have any other things that you like to do besides throwing stuff ?” a smile tugging at your lips.

He thought for a moment “Yeah.” he answered shortly.

You waited for him to tell you what it was, and you were getting impatient as he seemed to stay silent.

“Dex, are you gonna tell me what it is?” the impatience in your voice was clear.

“Aren't you a nosy one.” he raised a brow at you.

You nudged him with your shoulder biting your lip as he looked at you “Please tell me ?”

He leaned closer to you and you felt yourself get that familiar nervous feeling, his hand found its way to the side of your face. You realised he was carefully brushing his fingers over the cut on your head, the one the stapler had left there. He stepped closer and placed a kiss on the side of your head, where the cut was “This.” his voice was husky.

You closed your eyes for a moment “Sorry, I think you need to clarify that a bit more for me.”

You felt his other hand find it's way on your neck before his lips locked on yours.

The tip of his tongue brushing your lips for a moment, sending shivers through you, and you let him caress your tongue with his.

Your hands finding their way to his abdomen, pulling him closer to you until your chest met his.

The suit did a great job at complimenting his body. When you two worked together in the FBI, Dex wearing his white button-up shirt and jacket, you had an idea of how toned his body was. But the suit was like a red ribbon around a christmas present at this moment.

His breathing got heavier and you let your hand slide over his body before you noticed something.

You pulled back a little, which disappointed him, as you looked down at your hand and saw there was blood on it.

“Dex..” your voice filled with worry and he looked down at your hand.

You took a small step back and noticed there was a tear in the suit.

You gasped a little “You're bleeding!”

Dex just shook his head a little and chuckled “It's just a scratch.” he tried to brush it off.

“Are you kidding me right now ? Damnit, Dex. You call that a scratch and it makes me wonder what you call being dead than, 'naptime' ?” you tried to see how bad it was.

“That's what you get when they bring knives to a gunfight.” he tried to lighten the mood but you weren't having it.

You walked to one of the cupboards and opened it, pulling out a med-kit “I will have to stitch that up, Dex. So you..” you pointed at him “Sit.” you now pointed to the couch.

You looked at him for a moment, realising that that suit was anything but handy to be wearing while being stitched up.

“No, wait. You said you brought other clothes?” you enquired.

“I have. You're saying you want me out of the suit then?” he smirked mischievously at you.

You hoped you were not turning red now “Pretty much, yeah. But I also think Matt wants that suit back and probably without a lot of bloodstains.”

You threw the duffel bag at him “Bathroom is over there. Call me over if you need any help, alright? And carefull with that wound, Dex.”

“Yes ma'am.” he saluted you as he took the bag to the bathroom.

You rubbed a hand down your face. Dex could be as stubborn as you were. You checked if the med-kit had everything you needed.

After a few minutes you went to the bathroom door and knocked. “Dex?”

“Yeah, Just trying to clean the wound i'll be-” you heard him groan in pain.

“Just a scratch, uh?” you sarcastically remarked. You heard the door open and took a step back, Dex walked out shirtless while pressing a cloth to the right side of his abdomen where the wound was.

The sarcastic remarks you wanted to make were wiped from your brain and you gulped as you looked at Dex.

He was oblivious at your lingering gaze on his torso, if you were not blushing before, you sure as hell were now.

You turned around quickly and walked to the med-kit on the counter. Checking it's contents once again while you took control of your thoughts.

He walked to the couch and lowered himself on it carefully “I might have underestimated it.” he told you as he checked the wound again.

“Me too..” you murmured as your eyes lingered on his toned body.

His eyes shot to you “What ?”

“I said, I told you so.” you quickly answered and he rolled his eyes at that.

You took the kit and made your way over to the couch where Dex is sitting to sit next to him.

You kept your eyes on the med-kit, thinking of something to say before he notices something is off.

“(y/n) ?” Dex shifted on the couch. Your eyes met his “Yes?”

He looked at you for a moment before a smile grew on his face and he cleared his throat “Have you done this before ? Stitching someone up.”

“Uhm.. yeah of course I have. It was often unavoidable. I stitched up loads of people.” you blurted out nervously.

He scratched his jaw and let out a chuckle “Did you blush when you stitched them up as well?”

Your eyes snapped away from him and focused on something else, anything else but him.

Damnit, why did he have to notice that ?

“I'll take that as a 'no' then.” you knew he was enjoying this by the sound of his voice “ You said the red suit looked good on me ?”

You sighed, wondering when Dex had learned to tease you “I did.”

“Red looks good on you too. Especially on your cheeks.” he said it casually and your eyes shot to him as he leaned back on the couch.

“Do you want me to stitch you up or should I let you bleed out, Dex ?” you smiled at him sweetly.

He snorted “I prefer the former.”

You opened the kit and prepared the needle and thread, a smirk growing on your face as you grabbed the rubbing alcohol.

Dex noticed the look on your face when you took the little bottle out “Don't even think about it.”

“What, scared Poindexter?” the worried look on his face almost made you laugh “Don't worry, this won't hurt much. I promise I won't torture you.”

He scoffed at that “I guess this is payback for the stapler?”

You nodded “Yep.” and you put some rubbing alcohol on a cloth before you used it on the wound.

He winced as the cloth touched the wound, the sight of him in pain wasn't something you liked so you put your other hand on his arm with a worried expression “You okay?”

He leaned back again and looked at you “(y/n), Can I ask you something ?” his eyes were soft and you nodded “Why are you here with me?”

His question took you by suprise “ What do you mean, Dex?”

He evaded your questioning eyes “I'm not the easiest person to be around. Murdock, your friend, hates my guts..” he traced his palm over his face “I guess what I'm trying to understand is why you are with me.”

You finally understood what he meant, and you placed your hand on his chest.

"Because I saw you, I saw you try so hard everyday, again and again. I saw someone who battled their demons everyday. You did all that and you still became a special agent. And not just any special agent, one of the best. You made me want to be more like you. I thought you were one of those people that walked with their nose in the air, believing they are better then everyone else. But after working with you for a while I saw another side of you. One that was kind, protective, honest and loving. That and your shyness works like a magnet on me. It made me wonder what hid beneath it.”

He shook his head, he was starting to smile "You helping me.. it could cost you your job. After what I did.. there is no way they will take me back. But you still have a chance." "I have a plan that might work." You told him as you focused on stitching him up. "What's that?" He looked at you curiously "Fisk made you wear the suit to frame Daredevil. What if.. we framed one of Fisk's people. I mean.. nobody knows who was under that mask, Dex." He exhaled "That's a long shot." "Maybe. But we can try and I am not going back to the FBI without you, Dex." You drew the needle through his skin again "I will miss working at the FBI if it fails, but there is something that I love more then my job."

You cut the thread and covered the wound with a gauze.

He sat up on the couch and you helped him a bit “And what's that?” his eyes landed on your hand which was on his arm.

You bit your lip, not looking at him as you pondered the question. Finally you looked at him, and you reached your hand out, placing it on his cheek. He looked so vulnerable now. His eyes searching yours for the answer to the question he was afraid of asking out loud. As if the answer could pierce the bubble of happiness he found himself in with you.

“Perhaps the world will come crumbling down on us, but if it does, I'll always be by your side.” his eyes widened at your words and you continued “What I'm trying to say is.. I love you, Dex.”

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[fuchsiagrasshopper]

Fragments of a Fractured Mind (Ch 2)

Benjamin Poindexter x OC

Wordcount 1.4k| No warnings

AN: Dex & Zoe get to know each other better

It was the end of a workday, not unlike many others before it. Most of the agents were already off duty or finishing the final paragraph of a report that was past due. Dex was still seated at his desk, getting ahead on his paperwork when most agents were behind. He was usually one of the last to leave the office, and always the second to arrive after Hattley.

When there wasn't a mission in progress or an important case pending, the agents with families were always the first to clock out early. Nadeem had left the office an hour ago, along with a handful of other agents before the sun had even gone down. Then those with a significant other had soon followed.

You could tell an agent's situation just by looking at the pictures on their desk. It seemed everyone was either married, in the middle of a relationship, or at the end of the cycle with a divorce. Dex didn't fit into one of the three molds. He was just alone.

"You're still here Poindexter?" said Hattley. She was on her way out. Jacket on, leather bag in hand, and all of the winter clothing fixings wrapped tight up to her neck. "I don't want to be sitting at my desk with a novel, just keep those reports clean and concise."

"I'm working on it," He said back with a brief glance at her sour face.

She nodded, and began to move away from his desk, but not before getting the last word in. "And for God's sake, go home and get some sleep. You're no good to us at half capacity."

Her parting words of boss-like advice went unanswered. Dex sat in tense silence, dreading the idea of sleep. Julie had been busy as of late, and with her schedule full, it left his woefully empty. It was no good to be near her when she was surrounded by other people, so that left him stuck at home between his bed and the pale moonlight.

"Getting ahead on work, look at you busy beaver."

Dex's eyes snapped up to Zoe, who had managed to startle him from his thoughts. He had forgotten she was still there at her desk around the corner, though judging by her coat and scarf that were haphazardly thrown on, she was on her way out as well.

"You're here late," he replied back with a glint in his eye.

"Trying to set a better example for Hattley," She said with a shrug. "But I think it gets to a point that my being here can only do more harm than good. Don't want to hurt my chances, so I'm calling it a night."

"You know your limits."

"You should get to know yours as well," She said cheekily. "Catch you later, Ben."

Zoe shot him a wink before traipsing her way out of the office. His grip on his pen tightened. The action was so familiar, and not something he felt was there between them. They were work colleagues who occasionally spoke over coffee. Nadeem, Alvarez, and Lim were colleagues who he respected and considered to be good agents. It had never occurred to him to even consider McClung as anything other than the new transfer, and she wasn't even that anymore. She'd been with their branch for almost ten months.

The humming of a vacuum had his attention shift to the back of the office. The cleaning crew had arrived, and he hadn't noticed. Frowning, he started to organize his paperwork and shut down his computer. It seemed his usefulness had run its course. He wouldn't be able to get anything more done now.

As he stepped into the elevator, he stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets, feeling around for his keys. The ringing in his head was like a siren, and nothing seemed to be able to silence the noise. He hadn't needed to listen to Dr. Mercer's tapes for quite a while, but it would still be too early to sleep when he got to his apartment. It seemed he would have to fall back on relying on an old crutch to make it through the night.

When he reached the main lobby of the building, he could see through the doors that the snow had stopped falling. The wind was bitter against his cheeks as he pushed the door open, and traffic was moving with haste now that peak hours had gone by. His eyes flicked to the side and he spotted Zoe perched against the building. She didn't immediately notice his approach, her eyes turned to her phone and his steps drowned out from the cars.

"Thought you'd gone home," he said, watching her closely as her eyes flitted up to meet his.

Her smile was bright, and she pushed up from the wall with her foot. "Oh hey. No, I'm still waiting for my cab."

Dex frowned. "Where's your car?"

"I don't have one."

"You don't have a car." Her face was flushed, but he wasn't certain if it was from the cold or if he had embarrassed her. "How do you get around?"

"It's a big city, I use public transit. It takes too long to drive anywhere anyway," she countered, shifting from one foot to the other. "And financially speaking, it came down to the choice of having a roommate to save money for a car or live alone and forgo the vehicle. I hate having a roommate. Not sure why I'm telling you about this."

Dex didn't either. "I live alone and have a car. Guess that means I'm a better investor than you," He said with a smirk.

"I'm pretty sure there are many things you're better at than I am."

Dex felt hot around the collar at her praise, and he started to fidget in place. "Probably."

A silence fell over them and he wondered if she felt uncomfortable. She barely made a move to indicate as such. "Well, I guess I'll see you tomorrow then."

Fog formed in the air as she spoke, and hung between them even after she resumed her waiting position. Dex thought he would have been long gone by now, but his feet remained rooted in place. He felt heavy, and he had no idea what to do with his hands.

"Hey, McClung," He called. "Do you want a ride?"

'What are you doing, Dex?'

It was too late to take it back. Zoe was coming at him with a bewildered expression.

"This isn't a pity invitation, is it? I really don't mind taking a cab."

"It's nothing like that. I..." He paused, grappling for words. "You're not the only one with something to prove to Hattley. I think she's decided I'm not much of a team player."

"Really, I can't imagine why," Zoe retorted. She smiled, assuring she meant nothing by it. "Alright, Poindexter, I'll take you up on that offer, but at least let me buy you dinner."

Dex rolled his eyes. "You don't have to do that. It's not like you're taking advantage of the situation, this is a one time deal."

"Yeah, I don't care about that. I'm hungry, and I've been on a quinoa power bowl kick lately. My treat, take it or leave it."

"Fine, whatever," he said with a huff. This was turning into a huge mistake.

Without a word, he began to lead the way to his car. He could hear her footsteps following behind, and she was tall enough that she caught up to him in a few strides. If she was bothered by his abrupt turn to silence, she didn't let on about it.

They made it to his car, both sliding inside in the same swift motion. His keys let out a jingle, breaking the quiet while he started the engine.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You're going to whether or not I say yes," he pointed out and she let out a laugh.

"You've got me there," she said. "Everyone calls you Dex and not Ben. I didn't realize you preferred that. I'm sorry."

"That's not really a question."

"I guess not." She reached for her seatbelt, fastening the buckle and then stared straight ahead. "I'll work on it."

"You're strange, McClung," he said as he drove the car out of the office lot.

"So are you, Dex."

He wasn't sure if she was baiting him to reply, but he let it hang in the air between them until she turned away in favor of the window. As much as he didn't want to be out having dinner with a work colleague, he had to acknowledge that it served as a perfect distraction. The loud noises in his head had vanished, and only the sound of her calling him Dex remained.

[sceawere]

fairground feats | ben ‘dex’ poindexter

dex struggles with dating, but man can he yeet

“You didn’t have to do this, Dex” you reminded him as you strolled under the glimmering lights together. Well, you strolled. Dex patrolled. The two of you, hand in hand, winding between the crowds of screeching kids and giggling teenagers.

The former zoomed around you, hopped up on the half-eaten bags of candy floss gripped in their sticky little hands. The latter seemed to roam in packs, oblivious of their own fluid borders, and you had to veer this way and that a few times as they hurried passed.

Neither were amusing your boyfriend much, and he oscillated between death stares, and heavy sighs.  

“I promised I would,” he replied, eyeing a particularly raucous crowd that caused you to guide him to the right once more. You tucked into his side, the grip on his hand increasing, and you moved your free hand up to grip his arm through his jacket.

“Down, boy” you half soothed, half teased, winking as he pulled his eyes back from over your shoulder. “And, uh…to be honest, I assumed you were just joking, or winding me up or…”

You finished it with a shrug as you slowed your pace.

“Why?” he stalled as you pushed up onto your toes, trying to peer up over the crowds. You lifted your hand up to grip his shoulder and push up onto the very extreme of your toes, gaining that extra inch that helped you spy the line for the Ferris wheel. Too long. Damn it.

“Because, this is so not you! When I mentioned the fair, I wasn’t honestly suggesting we come together,” you explained, and he watched carefully as you dropped your feet back to the ground, sliding your hand down his chest. It was your turn to question as you caught his considering gaze. “What?”

“What isn’t me?” he questioned, and you tilted your head.

“Special Agent Benjamin Poindexter, very serious Fed Man and notorious grumpy-old-guy-before-his-time is frowning in front of a very cheerful balloon stand,” you nodded towards the cloud of glittering Mylar hovering above you, “because funfairs are not his thing.”

He followed your pointed gaze as it bore into a grinning monkey emoji inflatable. He let his head loll back a little, and his frown dissolved as he took a deep swallow. An acerbic smile grew on his face, and you licked at your lips, your own grin growing. You released the grip on his hand and slid your hand back up his chest to rest your palms over his shoulder. He crossed his arms, and you rested your chin against your knuckles as you waited for him to speak.

“Ok. Point taken. I just…”

“You were trying to be normal again.” you droned, and he sighed, opening his mouth to protest when you cut him off. “I hate when you try to be normal, Dex.”

“I wasn’t trying to be normal,” he spat the words out as sarcastically as you had, “I was trying to make you happy. You deserve it.”

You took a big breath, and exhaled deeply, with a little hum in it.

“That’s adorable.” You nodded, smiling at his eye roll, and enjoying the grin that spread across his face as you pushed up onto your toes once more and lay a kiss onto his cheekbone. “And I truly appreciate the effort. But you know what else makes me happy? Eating Chinese food half naked in your apartment makes me happy. We could have done that!”

Dex flexed his jaw, still staring straight ahead as you grinned.

“We always do that. It’s not special.” He argued. You replied with a vague throat noise, beginning to bounce on your toes a little.

Trying to look cute was a mistake. Date night or no, the floaty skirt and ballet flats combo you were sporting in late Autumn/early Winter was a silly choice and you regretted it currently. Probably weren’t going to regret it later when Dex inevitably got bored of behaving and slipped his hand up the back of your thigh to warm you up, but…for now…regret.

“Well, I like it! And that makes it special to me, mister.” You defended, but his expression remained unchanged, even when he turned his head to stare you down. “I like it, Dex. I like that we’re not fussy. I don’t need fussy. Ok? I like that I don’t have to pretend to be all…fussy. I can just…be…around you.

That’s enough for me. I know it’s enough for you. So why are we trying to do other people’s relationships? Hmm?”

He slid his gaze away, and you pinched his chin tilting it back.

“This is because of Zywicki’s stupid book report, isn’t it?” you probed. “Listen, just because he reads one bullshit newlywed try hard book and goes on about it at lunch, does not mean you suddenly have to go all Notebook on me, ok? I mean, I never actually paid attention to that movie, but I know its romantic stuff and I assume there are- regardless!

Listen, I also heard him talk about how you’re supposed to compromise and do nice things for each other and all of that. Ok? We do all that. We’re good. You do not need to prove yourself to me by doing things that make you unhappy. That’s not making this relationship better, babe. The whole surprise date, keep things fresh stuff…that’s right for them. That’s not us. We’re…eat Chinese food in the bath kind of people.”

“When the hell have we eaten- “

“We haven’t. We haven’t. It’s something to try maybe, alright? If we’re going to spice things up, why not start there, I ask?” you bent a brow, and he shook his head.

“I don’t want you to think I’m…not trying, or…I’m not…good…at this” he crossed his arms again, adjusting his whole body, a physical manifestation of his discomfort with the topic at hand.

“Dex, I’m not going anywhere,” You insisted. “Nowhere. Unless the line for the Ferris wheel dwindles significantly, and then I’m out of here.”

He didn’t laugh, but his cheek did pull up a little, and you softened.

“I know you try. All the time. I don’t need grand displays of affection. I know every day you’re there that you love me. And I like that you don’t demand anything of me, you know? We understand each other. That’s us.”

He unfolded his arms, dropping them to shove his hands into his pockets, until he opened the palm closest to you at the last second. You stepped back, delving your grip into his, and folded your fingers together.

“You know what you could do though? To prove your unending affection?” you probed.

“You want the monkey?” he asked, staring straight ahead again, mask back in place.

“I’m seriously considering it. But it is a wise investment? I think perhaps not.” You zoned out, staring deep into the eyes of the cartoon monkey as it swayed back and forth above your heads. “Oh!”

You exclaimed as Dex started moving, pulling you along with him as he surged forward. You laughed as you saw the stand he was stalking towards, beaming as he turned with a grin to wink over his shoulder at you.

“NO! Benjamin, that is cheating,” you increased your pace, so you were beside him, pulling up to hold your palm against the side of his throat as he continued guiding you towards the shooting booth. You lowered your voice, “You’re a fucking sniper!”

“Yeah, well. These things are all rigged anyway. So, if anything, I’m evening up the odds” his grin was sinful, and you pushed your tongue into the corner of your lips, staring him down.

“No.” You insisted, the two of you at a smirking standoff. You stayed how you were, hung off his side, his arm delving around your waist, fingers gripping tight against your ribs. You gasped into his touch, rolling your body that important inch closer. “That.”

You dropped your eyes to across the way, and he followed, scoffing.

“How is that any different?”

“Because,” you unwrapped yourself from him, grabbing each of his hands in yours, and walked backwards to lead him towards the stand, “I’ve seen you shoot a hundred times, and while it certainly does do it for me, Sir- “

His grin quirked, and you turned to walk beside him once more.

“I want to see you chuck a bean bag at a cup. Now that’s how you get the girl.” you joked.

“Aim is aim. This is easy.” He complained, and you hummed.

“I can throw a pretty good paper ball into the trash can – I’m not starting for the Lakers”.

“This is easy.” He repeated, more insistent.

“Well, firstly, get on with it then. Secondly, there’s a difference between pointing a gun in the right place and having the bullet follow the line-I know it’s not that easy and, listen, don’t give me that look! But you know, making your arm throw it in the right place, that’s a succession of skills, that I want to see you perform. So, perform for me, big boy” you teased, leaning against the support beam at the side of the stand.

Dex hovered in front of it, eyeing only you, with a wicked glint in his eye.

“I played baseball as a kid. Well.” He bragged, and you shrugged.

“Prove it.” you mouthed.

He dragged his eyes away from you, shouldering his jacket off. Your grin widened as you reached out to take it from him. He threw down a note from his pocket and nodded to the guy staffing the stand, who passed him the bags, and gave a quick run down of what each colour cone got him.

You rolled to rest your shoulder against the beam, eyes flicking between the display and your boyfriend.

He tested the weight in his hand. Surveyed the target. Took a quick breath.

And then he whipped his arm back and snapped it back across his body. The first target fell before you could whip your head towards it, and your brows flew up.

“Oh.” you breathed, about to make a comment, when the second cone fell. You snapped back to Dex, watching as he flung shot after shot, and then finally stepped back.

“What the fuck!” you exclaimed, and he dissolved from the sure-fire expression he had into a softer, unsure expression. “That was incredible!”

You pushed away from the stand, jumping up into his arms. He chuckled, and you planted a big kiss on his cheekbone, your usual spot to adorn with your affection. He spun you around, hands rolling up and down your arms.

“Pick something out.” He instructed, breath fanning over your ear, your throat. You bent your neck just slightly, reluctant as you stepped forward to rest your palms against the counter and survey the options.

There were ridiculously oversized teddy bears hanging from the underside of the ceiling, sickly neon coloured hunks of fluff, and you debated which one to get. You lifted your free hand, the other still had Dex’s jacket looped around it, bunched up over your forearm, and pointed towards one in a particularly offensive shade. You hooked your finger over your smiling lips as the guy turned to fetch a stool and jumped up to mess with the ties keeping it in place.

You were so focused on watching him work with a tough knot, still marvelling at the scattered cones, that you didn’t feel Dex’s hand until it was already up under your skirt. He leaned his hip up against the side of the counter, his hand shaded by his jacket lumped up against your own hip and ghosted the pads of his fingers against the side of your thigh.

You licked at your lips, tongue pushing into the side of your teeth, and you refused to allow him the win of your gaze. His smirk grew in your periphery, spurred on by your defiance. His fingers trailed just a tad higher, and his thumb joined to grip over the span of your thigh.

You relented as the guy finally freed your prize, pushing away from the counter, and gripping Dex’s hand in yours. You tore it away from your thigh, shooting him a look as he brought his other hand over to lift his jacket. He stepped around to rest it over your shoulders as the man returned with your prize.

You had to hand the bear to Dex in order to shrug into his jacket properly, arms wiggling and waving in the too long sleeves.

“I love this jacket,” you gushed, gathering it up around you, the shearling lining soft to your body as the denim exterior scratched at your jaw.  “Oh, it’s so fluffy and it smells like you and I love it!”

He shook his head as you reached for the bear again, filing the sight of him holding the giant fluffy mess away in your mind, but his grin was locked onto his face as you re-joined hands. You tucked the bear up under your arm, snug against your side, and it stretched down the length of your body to bop against your knee as you walked.

“We didn’t go on the Ferris.” He said, and you hummed as he led you back to the car.

“Oh, no, I don’t really like them. I just wanted to smooch ya.” You broke into laughter, and he shook his head at you for the fifteenth time that night.

[douxreviews]

The Punisher - ‘The Whirlwind’ Review

Frank: "You know kid, sometimes you find things, and they change your life."

In the Season 2 finale, Frank, Madani, Russo, Amy, Pilgrim – it all comes to an explosive end... or so I thought, but I'll still settle for a somewhat-rushed and cobbled-together end with shining character performances scattered throughout.

Madani seems to have a bit of a death-wish here and immediately prepares for a shootout next with a hysteric Billy Russo. Even with three shots fired into his stomach, Russo succeeds in almost strangling Madani to death. As it turns out, both combatants miraculously survive the confrontation. As relieved as I was that Madani makes it out alive, the more I reflected on it, the more I decided I would have also been fine had she died right there at Russo's hands. Much of Madani's arc this season consists of the raised question regarding what is it that separates her from Frank Castle, and if they are nothing alike, at what point then will Madani make a transition towards becoming more like Castle? Here, I believe Madani fully expected that she'd die by Russo's hands and was prepared anyway to go out guns literally blazing, a manner not that unlike how Frank views each of his own showdowns.

Anderson and Eliza Schultz honestly feel mostly like afterthoughts this late in the series, almost as if they are now plot points The Punisher has to quickly wrap up. As Pilgrim seemed to have in 'Collision Course', the Schultzs have also forgotten about what Amy possesses that could impair their plans for David and now concur that having Pilgrim eliminated too would solve all their problems and also preserve David's future. This whole subplot just felt jumbled for me at this point, as if the writers suddenly realized they had been backed into a corner because they didn't really have a set ending in stone for Pilgrim or the Schultzs. Amy meanwhile tails Pilgrim to an apartment hideout, initially with plans of her own to kill him and secure her own safety, but calls in Frank at the last moment. I've really enjoyed watching Amy grow over the course of this season, and becoming less and less apprehensive about Frank's methods. Plus, her humdrum face once other tenants start fleeing after the shooting begins had me in stitches.

As cliche as it may have been for some, I was hoping that after everything she had been through, Amy would get a chance to shine by actually being the one to save Frank's skin from Pilgrim. This doesn't happen though, and Amy ends up as Pilgrim's hostage, bargained with Frank in exchange for the return of David. Frank unfortunately is left without his ace here because Curtis, understandably at his wit's end with the cat-and-mouse games, frees David to Mahoney. Frank's final confrontation with Pilgrim and his efforts to negotiate the release of Amy was probably the most tense for me in this finale, knowing just how tight a spot Frank was stuck in without David, combined with a fear of Amy getting caught up in the carnage. I sensed that Frank's plea with Pilgrim too is somewhat of an effort to rectify his inability to protect his own children by saving Amy, so it gets points not just for suspense, but for being sentimental too.

As for Frank's actual grudge-match with Pilgrim, I wouldn't say I was completely underwhelmed, but the threat Pilgrim posed to our heroes even until the very end was never going to compete with the forces that were Wilson Fisk or Benjamin Poindexter in Daredevil, or even Kilgrave in Jessica Jones. I will though give Pilgrim credit for being able to obtain something most foes of Frank don't get: his respect. I would have been just fine had Frank chosen to waste Pilgrim too, but in Pilgrim, Frank sees a twisted reflection of himself – a man who would go to extreme lengths all for the sake of his own children's safety. While we're skimming the subject of sidesteps, I thought at first it was quite a cop-out to have Dumont survive her fall from the previous episode, but Madani getting to gloat to her was absolutely a welcome inclusion to the end of Dumont's arc. It's also an amusing call-back to the beginning of the series when Dumont fancied being in a position to judge Madani for her questionable decisions in the past.

Somehow, Russo's able to walk away from his and Madani's battle. When his wounds aren't treated properly, he begins bleeding out and, knowing he's finally at death's door, calls Curtis, making a final plea to at least die with someone else by his side. At first I figured this was only Russo exploiting Curtis' inability to just let another brother in arms die alone. When Frank showed up instead, I immediately knew this was the end for Russo – I just wasn't expecting Frank to cut Russo off mid-eulogy like that with two shots! As controversial and polarizing as I can see this final confrontation being between fans, I personally loved it. Frank has long since learned his lesson since the end of Season 1 about letting someone like Russo go, and for him, there were simply no more words to be said to someone who had indirectly played a part in the murders of his family.

It can't be denied either what a phenomenal job Ben Barnes has done this season as Russo. I can't say I rooted for him the entirety of the season, but what makes me feel just a little bad for him in the very end is that, without condoning every gruesome and horrible thing he's done, he was, in death, someone still struggling to make amends and trying to understand all the repercussions of his vices. Whether or not he was willing to issue a final apology to Frank here is something best left up to every viewer's interpretation, but for me, his muddled psychological makeup in Season 2 made him a much more interesting character.

I think it goes without saying that Season 2 of The Punisher is quite all-over-the-place; even though it has thirteen episodes to work with, it felt as if there was too much going on in this clunky narrative, and certain characters and plot points got more screentime over the ones I personally felt should have been fleshed out just as much, if not more. Season 2 also never lives up to the zealous endeavors Frank went through in Daredevil's second season, or even in The Punisher's first season, but I'm also never one to pass up an opportunity to see the Punisher punish in any capacity, and Jon Bernthal as always was magnificent this season. It's bittersweet to see Frank finally come to the conclusion that the doors to living a regular day-to-day live will be forever closed to him, because he simply cannot abandon his vigilantism. If this truly is the end for The Punisher on Netflix, then I suppose he goes out on a high enough note for me.

Aaron Studer loves spending his time reading, writing and defending the existence of cryptids because they can’t do it themselves.

[abyssaldyke]

My thoughts on DD s3 (seriously do not read if you haven’t seen the whole thing, SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS)

- Ben Poindexter is the least sympathetic character I’ve ever seen and some of y’all are still like “I knoooow he stalked a woman and killed a bunch of baby animals but he’s a white man with no lips so you know I must stan uwu”

- Seriously the dude is a Creep™ and his whole steez made my flesh crawl. The shit he does with his therapist in the last session? The awkward, horrifying “date” with Julie? PIZZA NIGHT? NO THANKS.

- So much good sad Matt content. The bloody shirt with Maggie’s cross?? Are ya kiddin me?? Also Maggie is where Matt gets 100% of his sass.

- I’m glad Foggy had a good season. So glad we had more Marci because I adore her. Tower also has the patience of a saint.

-Foggy’s family!! His sweet parents! You know he took Matt home for Thanksgiving and Christmas and Matt got loved.

- I’m not gonna harp on the eleven and a half minute one shot hallway fight but GODDAMN. Also that medical accuracy!

- NADEEEEEM. I’m so glad we got so much of him in the season. I loved his relationship with his wife. She was so brave and tough.

- FLIPPING THE ICONIC COMICS PANEL BY HAVING KAREN HOLD MATT IN THE CHURCH????? BITCH

-Karen’s backstory ep aka someone please hug her

-Vincent D’onofrio is my King(pin)

-The scene with rabbit in a snowstorm just... no words. And FUCK Bullseye