benjamin pointdexter x forced bride reader
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Your glare could wither roses, despite it being neatly tucked behind the intricate lace veil you donned.
Your posture was relaxed, bored in a sense, the bouquet of genetically altered roses slumping over unenthusiastically in your hold. They were nearly as big as your head. It was almost clown-like.
You glanced across at your fiancé. Your soon to be husband.
Tattoos painted up the side of his neck, a hickey you never gave hidden just beneath his collar. His tuxedo was far too elaborate for a wedding. His hair far too greasy. His eyes far too dark and empty.
Dread pooled in your stomach, low and subtle, numbing with each day that passed, because what could you really do about it all?
Your soft huff blew gently against your veil.
Then he moved to pull the thin lace back over your head.
He ignored your deadpan expression. You lifted your bouquet back up.
Everyone was settled in their seats for the midsummer wedding. The wedding officiant, with his black tuxedo and slim glasses, began speaking nonsense you didn't absorb.
And then the two guards stationed at the entrance suddenly dropped like bags of cash.
The room instantly fell silent.
Something was saidâor perhaps it was laughterâthat echoed down the vast hall beyond the large doors.
You glanced at your family as they turned to watch the entrance doors in confusion. Murmurs laced the air and seats shifted against the floors.
Your partner turned to his men, a deep frown contorting his features as he began barking questions and orders at them. One of the men drew a gun from inside his blazer.
Then something slim buried itself into his throat - dead in the centre. Quick as a lashing.
The room erupted with chaos.
The dark figure finally approached; his walk more of a steady, confident stride. His shoulders broad, face masked, and aim lethal.
A precision that could not be replicated or understood.
It hooked your attention. You were but a fish biting the bait.
A guard was quick to grab a nearby candelabra and swing. The man dodged it and easily... neutralised the guard.
He bounced his own weapons off of his surroundings, forcing them to rebound back into the men fighting back.
One of the remaining groomsmen, with his weapon in hold and shoulder shielding your fiancé, breathed the name in fearsome realisation.
The masked man gave a smile.
Guests filed out of the room through the grand doors, shrieks and outcries leaving them as they ran. It seemed the man was letting them go.
They weren't his targets.
Another groomsmen was hit, falling to the floor like cement before he could even put up a fight.
Your hands clung to your bouquet as you slowly side-stepped - moving to your left as Bullseye made his way to the right of the room, working through each and every person that tried to stop him.
Your eyes clung to him like gunpowder. The same way the smell of roses clung to everything within the room - before the metallic scent of blood began to dominate.
People slipped on the marble floors. Tripped over bodies.
Dexter sensed the presence, its weight strange and immense, especially in such a situation. So after wrapping a groomsmen's belt around their own neck, he looked back over his shoulder at you.
It was something from a painting.
You stood at the precipice of the small marble stage; dipped in a soft white, a veil of lace hugging your frame from behind. Roses still in hand as they hung by your side, their large blossoms facing the floor.
Blood speckled the ends of your dress like rubies. He almost felt bad, until he saw the intrigue that lingered on your face. The soft smirk that tugged at your lips as you watched him and his ways.
Dex's whole body short-circuited.
All you could do was stand and stare in return.
Your partner, however, had other plans. Especially once it dawned on him who was here, hunting them all down.
Especially once he realised his men were dropping like flies, one by one.
He grabbed at you, desperation heavy in his actions as he gripped onto your arms and tried to pull you in front of him for protection.
You eventually managed to shove him off and move back, brows raised in mock amusement and cringe as you watched the man you were betrothed to beg and whine to Bullseye like a squealing piglet.
He made a sharp turn and cowered before Dex, bringing his hands together as empty promises left his lips.
But Dex didn't care, and he had just watched the entire thing - how his target tried to use his own bride for protection.
Dex moved to where the four tier cake stood, surrounded by more elaborate arrangements of large flowers, all colours of the sunset.
Your fiancé took the moment to sprint to the edge of the stage, eager to gun for the doors whilst he had the chance.
Before he could even get down, a low whistle sounded through the air, and the cake knife sunk into his chest.
You turned your head a little, and a loud thud echoed as your fiancé fell down to the floor.
An odd stillness filled the warm, evening air.
The carnage had finally come to an end as most were already gone, and the rest dead. All there was now was a simmering kind of silence. A settling of chaos. An interlude.
Dex finally turned to face his body towards you, chest heaving.
"Most brides would have fled." He frowned, his breathing heavy as he considered you with a questioning smirk. "Were you hoping I'd miss you?"
"I knew you weren't aiming for me," you replied, a subtle, deep breath leaving you as you took in your surroundings, but you didn't appear too fazed.
Dex considered this, then vaguely gestured to your fiancé's body as it laid halfway between both of you. "You knew what he was then?"
A dealer. Abuser. Scourge of society.
"Of course I knew. I was being forced to marry him against my will," Your brows raised as you gave an innocent shrug, "Now I don't have to worry about the honeymoon."
Your words seemed to unsettle Dex once he realised what you meant. He watched you for a beat, like he was trying to unpick each stitch in a tapestry without ruining it.
He didn't care for how long he was watching you. You wished you could remove that mask.
Breaking the tension - only a little - you carefully stepped down, the thick, silky fabrics of your skirts swaying with each movement. You halted your foot mid-air when you saw a body below, and stretched it out to step down over them.
Walking back down the aisle, you turned to see those fallen behind you, including the man you were forced to marry.
Sweet relief swirled within you.
Dex almost straightened when you turned back around, heading towards him as you slipped a single rose from your bouquet.
You held it out to him, and you held it like a gift.
Small drops of blood coated its stem, but your hands didn't shake. "A thank-you of sorts."
He almost snickered at it, at you - but not because it was funny, because he was perplexed.
He eyed it like it was a weapon before looking back up at you. "You mean that?"
Up close, you had a sort of quiet confidence. An unsettling elegance but genuine softness. Something lingered beneath. Something he felt he wouldn't mind digging into.
You hummed your response, 'Mhm,' and he snapped out of it.
Dex lowered his head a little as you moved past him. He caught the vague scent of your perfume. The gentle click of your heels against the marble.
But then your steps slowed. He glanced back. Gingerly, you turned a little too, looking at him in a way that was so soft and inviting. Your gaze and subtle frown almost asking, 'Shouldn't you be leaving now too?'
The police would surely be on their way.
The masked man only stared at first, but then Dex blinked, and then he began to follow behind you.
A moth lulled to a light it had never seen before.
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