summary: what begins as a quiet night caring for Dexโs aching body turns into your relationship crossing a line neither of you want to come back from.
who: Benjamin "Dex" Poindexter/Bullseye x Female!Murdock Reader
word count: 2.7K
warnings: soulmate au, fluff, mentions of injuries, mentions of smut. If I have missed any please let me know!
divider by: @uzmacchiato
a/n: So I think I have fixed the glitch masterlist link but if not please let me know! Part 6 of this series! Like before feedback is welcome!
Glitch Series Masterlist
Next Chapter: The Other Side Of The Door
Previous Chapter: Sparks Fly
โItโs like a million little stars spelling out your nameโฆโ โ Untouchable by Taylor Swift
By the time you arrived at Dexโs apartment, your entire body ached.
The back-alley clinic had been chaos from the moment you clocked in. Knife wounds, broken ribs, a concussion, and two gunshots, and because half the people who stumbled through those doors couldnโt go to a real hospital, youโd spent nearly twelve straight hours healing until your powers left your limbs heavy and your head fuzzy.
Honestly, you shouldโve just gone straight home and slept.
Instead, you were standing outside Dexโs apartment carrying takeout and wearing one of his hoodies that smelled just like him, which you loved.
You unlocked the door with the spare key heโd given you two weeks ago and stepped inside quietly, the apartment was dim except for the glow of the television.
Dex glanced up from the couch the second you entered, and your heart fluttered. It was something that happened every single time he looked at you now.
โYouโre late,โ he said quietly, though there was no irritation in it.
โYou say that like I wasnโt wrist-deep in someoneโs abdominal wound an hour ago.โ You said closing the door.
Dex stood immediately, taking the takeout bag from your hands before you could protest.
โYou should be resting.โ He said, kissing your forehead.
โAnd yet here I am.โ
His eyes swept over your face carefully. โYouโre exhausted.โ
โEh, I can sleep when Iโm dead.โ
โThatโs not funny.โ He said sternly.ย
Your chest warmed slightly, it still affected you how protective he was.
You kicked off your shoes near the door before making your way toward the sofa. The oversized hoodie slid further down one shoulder as you collapsed dramatically against the cushions.
Dexโs eyes immediately flicked toward the exposed skin, and your stomach tingled faintly beneath his attention.
โYou stole another hoodie,โ he observed.
โYou gave me the key. That means whatโs yours is now mine.โ You teased.
A quiet huff of amusement escaped him as he sat beside you, close enough that his thigh pressed warmly against yours, and you melted into his side automatically as Dex handed you your drink before reaching for the remote.
โYou already started the movie without me?โ You playfully whined after taking a sip of your drink.
โYou were forty-three minutes late.โ He said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder.
โYou timed it?โ
โYes.โ
You laughed softly as you placed your drink on the table.
A month ago you couldnโt imagine laughing this easily around him, now you two barely spend an evening without talking.
Whether it was quick lunches between your jobs, or movie nights that led to one of you staying over, or long phone calls where you fell asleep listening to his breathing over the phone because neither of you wanted to hang up first.
And somewhere along the way, being around Dex had stopped feeling impossible and started feeling like something you never wanted to end.
Dex reached into the takeout bag and immediately handed you the container of battered chicken balls.
You paused. โI didnโt tell you what I ordered.โ
โYou always get chicken balls.โ
โThatโs not true.โ
โIt is.โ
โIt isnโt.โ
Dex looked at you. โโฆIt is.โ
โUgh, fine.โ You rolled your eyes before eating one.
A quiet smile tugged at Dexโs mouth as he adjusted the blanket over your legs.
The movement made you pause. โYou do that every time.โ
โWhat?โ
โThe blanket thing.โ
โYou get cold.โ He stated.
โYou sound ninety.โ You teased him.
โSays the girl who wore three layers in September.โ He teased back.
โIt was windy.โ You defended yourself.
โIt was sixty-eight degrees.โ
You gasped dramatically. โI canโt believe youโre attacking me in my own relationship.โ
A loud laugh escaped him.
You immediately pointed at him. โHa! I win!โ
Dex blinked. โWhat?โ
โYou laughed.โ
His expression flattened instantly. "I didn't."
โOh my God.โ You grinned and immediately reached for your phone.
Dex narrowed his eyes. โWhat are you doing?โ
โMaking a note.โ You smiled.
โNo.โ Dex said, trying to hide his smile.ย
โDear Diary.โ You spoke aloud whilst typing.
โNo.โ
โToday Dex laughed at my joke.โ
โNo.โ He said despite smiling wide.
โWitnessed by me and eleven and a half battered chicken balls.โ
Before you could continue, Dex leaned over and stole your phone from your hand as you laughed so hard you nearly spilled your food.
โStop, thief.โ
โYou started it.โ
โI was documenting a rare event.โ
โItโs not rare with you, baby.โ
You froze before your smile widened slowly. โYou laugh around me now?โ
A flicker of something warm crossed his face before he looked back at the television, and your chest tightened pleasantly.
God, you loved the simplicity of this, the normalcy of just sitting together without worrying about anything else.
At some point you ended up half-sprawled across him. Not intentionally at first, one minute you were sitting beside him, and the next your legs were draped across his lap while Dex absentmindedly traced circles against your calves.
The movie continued playing, but you werenโt paying much attention anymore and were mostly watching Dex pretend he wasnโt invested in the plot.
โHeโs the killer.โ He stated, pointing at a character youโve already forgotten the name of.
โHe isnโt.โ You replied despite having no idea whatโs happening.
โHe absolutely is.โ
โHe isnโt.โ
โYou sound very confident.โ He smirks at you while gently squeezing your calf.
โBecause Iโm right.โ You said while tapping his stomach with your foot.
Twenty minutes later, the character was revealed to not be the killer as you looked at him triumphantly, and Dex stared at the television.
โI hate this movie.โ He sighed.
A laugh burst out of you. โNo, you donโt.โ
โI do.โ
โYouโve been paying attention the whole time.โ
Silence.
โThatโs not the point.โ
Your grin widened until Dex shifted beneath you for the third time and you noticed something was wrong.
Your eyes narrowed slightly. โAre you in pain?โ
โIโm fine.โ He shrugged before subtly wincing.
โYou just moved like an eighty-year-old man.โ You said pulling your legs from his lap and ignoring his hands that were trying to pull you back.
Dex gave you a flat look as you leaned closer immediately, your hand sliding instinctively across his back.
โYouโre hurting,โ you murmured softly.
โItโs nothing.โ
โYouโre terrible at lying to me.โ You said, kissing his cheek.
His jaw tightened slightly despite leaning into your kiss but as your fingers brushed his spine, Dex tensed sharply.
Your eyebrows lifted. โDex.โ
โItโll pass.โ
โThatโs not what I asked.โ
He exhaled slowly through his nose before finally muttering, โMy back hurts.โ
You stared at him gently while running your other hand through his hair. โAlright, baby. Take your shirt off.โ
Dex blinked once. โโฆWhat?โ
โYou heard me.โ
His eyes darkened instantly as warmth crawled into your face.
โNot like that,โ you mumbled. โIโm offering to help.โ
โYou worked all day.โ
โI know.โ
โYouโre drained.โ
โAnd your back still hurts.โ
Dex watched you quietly for a moment as something soft flickered behind his eyes.
โYou always do this.โ
You frowned slightly. โDo what?โ
โTake care of me.โ His voice was quieter now.
You paused.
โYouโre my soulmate.โ You say kissing him. โItโs my job.โ
โNo.โ His hand found yours, fingers intertwining. โItโs just who you are.โ
You fell quiet as you looked down at your intertwined fingers, and for a moment, neither of you spoke.
โYou do it too.โ You whisper as your thumb stroked his knuckles.
Dexโs gaze lifted. โWhat?โ
โYou take care of me.โ
His eyebrows immediately rose. โOh, do I?โ
โYou do.โ You smile at his teasing.
โI donโt think so.โ
โYou bought me food because I forgot to eat.โ You say, pulling your hands away and wrapping your arms around his neck.
โYou forgot three meals.โ He states kissing your arm.
โYou reorganised my medicine cabinet.โ
โIt was chaos in there.โ
โYou walked across Manhattan because I said I had a bad day.โ
Dex paused before looking away, which immediately told you everything. "You needed me."
Your chest warmed. โSee?โ
His thumb brushed softly across your hand. โFine, you win.โ
You smiled as he sighed jokingly.
The teasing in his voice only made the warmth spread further through your chest.
Because despite how obsessive and possessive Dex could get over you, he loved taking care of you. His gaze lingered on you another second before he finally reached for the hem of his shirt.
Your heartbeat immediately betrayed you, which was annoying because youโd seen him shirtless before several times, and yet it still affected you every single time.
Dex pulled the fabric over his head before tossing it aside as your eyes dropped instinctively to the muscles of his back before focusing on the visible tension running through his shoulders.
โYou look tense,โ you said honestly, running your fingers over his spinal scar.
โThatโs an accurate sentence.โ
A quiet snort escaped him before he shifted forward slightly on the couch as you moved behind him carefully, your knees pressing into the cushions as your hands settled gently against his shoulders.
The second your palms touched his skin, Dexโs entire body went still beneath your hands as you swallowed softly before letting your healing powers slowly warm your palms.
A quiet breath escaped Dex immediately.
โThere you go,โ you murmured softly. โThatโs the reaction I was wanting.โ
His head dipped slightly forward as your fingers worked carefully against the tight muscles near his shoulders. The room slowly relaxed as the noise of the TV hummed quietly in the background, and Dexโs breathing gradually slowed beneath your hands.
You could feel the tension melting out of him little by little, and a soft smile grew on your face because Dex relaxed so rarely.
But the more comfortable he became beneath your touch, the more his shoulders loosened, his jaw unclenching, his breathing deepening, and the softer he got.
Until eventually he looked peaceful.
Your chest tightened pleasantly at his relaxed expression.
โYouโre falling asleep,โ you whispered softly.
โNo, Iโm not.โ He mumbled back.
โYou literally sound half dead.โ
โIโm relaxed.โ
The quiet honesty in his voice made warmth spread through you. Your fingers moved carefully lower across his back, easing the lingering pain there as the healing warmth spread beneath your palms.
Dex let out another low breath.
โYou feel good.โ He whispered.
Heat rushed instantly into your face. โYouโre impossible.โ
โIโm honest.โ
โThatโs arguably worse.โ
A faint smile tugged at his mouth, and you stared at it for a second too long.
God, you really liked him.
The realisation no longer felt sharp anymore, now it felt warm, steady, and safe. Your hands slowed slightly against his skin, and Dex noticed immediately.
Of course he did.
His hand reached back carefully, fingers wrapping gently around your wrist. The touch sent warmth spiraling up your arm instantly.
Your breath caught softly as Dex slowly turned enough to look back at you, and the air changed into something heavy and wanting. His eyes moved slowly over your face before settling on your mouth, and your heartbeat stumbled hard enough to hurt.
โTell me to stop,โ he said quietly.
The vulnerability in those words shattered something inside your chest as your fingers slowly slid to his jaw.
Then you leaned forward and kissed him softly at first, his warm lips against yours. Almost hesitant before Dex made a quiet sound against your mouth that made you tingle with want.
His hand tightened gently around your wrist before sliding carefully up your arm like he was afraid to hold you too tightly, and you kissed him again before he could overthink it. Deeper this time, more certain with what you wanted.
Dex turned fully toward you after that, one hand cupping your face carefully as though heโd been wanting to do this for weeks.
Maybe he had, and maybe you had to.
The soulmate bond burned warmly beneath your skin as your fingers slid into his hair, and Dexโs kiss turned more intense, as if he was overwhelmed by you.
When you finally pulled back slightly for air, his forehead dropped against yours, his breathing hard and his eyes shut.
โYouโre shaking,โ you whispered softly.
Dex let out a weak laugh. โYou kissed me first.โ
โAnd? I have done it before.โ
โBaby, you have no idea what that does to me.โ
Warmth spread low in your stomach.
Your fingers brushed gently across his cheek before you kissed his cheek softly. The second your lips touched his skin, Dex inhaled sharply, like the tenderness itself affected him more than anything else.
His hands slid carefully to your waist, gripping possessively but still giving you room to move away if you wanted. Instead you kissed him again before he could speak, and this time Dex responded immediately.
Needier now and less restrained, like he was finally allowing himself to want you more openly than before.
Your hands slid down his chest slowly as he pulled you into his lap with startling gentleness for someone capable of so much violence. The contrast made your heartbeat stutter because with you he was always gentle. Always.
The kiss deepened slowly until your entire body felt warm with it.
His hands traced carefully along your waist beneath the oversized hoodie, almost reverent in the way he touched you as if he still couldnโt fully believe you were real and were his.
You could feel how hard he was trying not to rush, how carefully controlled every movement of his remained.
โYou okay?โ he murmured softly against your mouth.
The concern and neediness in his voice made your chest warm.
You nodded immediately. โYes.โ
Dex searched your face for another second before kissing you again, like your answer meant everything to him.
Clothes disappeared slowly after that, with the moment not being rushed or feeling frantic.
Just shared breaths, wandering hands, and soft kisses that blurred together until you barely remembered where one touch ended and another began.
And through all of it, Dex never stopped looking at you like you were everything that he ever wanted, touching you like you were something sacred, kissing you like you would vanish, and loving you like it was the last thing he would do.
Whether it was kissing your scar, touching your skin, feeling your heartbeat. All of it felt intentional and worshipful. And when your fingers brushed the soulmate mark on his skin, Dex shuddered beneath your hands.
โCareful,โ he whispered hoarsely into the kiss, his thrusts faltering for a moment.
You smiled softly against his mouth. โSensitive?โ
โFor you? Always.โ He replies, kissing you deeper.
And the honesty in his voice was what made you finish for the second time that night.
The apartment settled into a soft quiet as the New York rain tapped gently against the windows. The television had long since become background noise with neither of you paying it attention.
You lay curled against Dexโs chest beneath the blankets, comfortable at his side, while his fingers traced lazy patterns against your bare arm.
Neither of you had spoken for several minutes, but the silence wasnโt awkward or regretful, it was just peaceful. The kind that only existed when you felt completely comfortable with someone.
Your eyes drifted half shut as his hand moved from you arm and slowly through your hair.
โTired?โ he murmured quietly.
โMhm.โ
โYou overworked yourself again.โ He said, kissing the side of your head.
โAnd you got blood on my sofa again last week.โ
โI said I was sorry.โ
โYou bled on the expensive cushion.โ
A quiet laugh rumbled beneath your cheek, and you smiled sleepily against his chest before tilting your head up slightly.
Dex looked down at you immediately.
Your fingers brushed lightly against his jaw before you leaned up enough to press another soft kiss against his lips, and his eyes fluttered shut. And there it was again, that softness, that peace you had been wanting for years.
You settled back against him slowly as warmth spread through your chest because somewhere in the past month this had become real.
Not a fantasy, not a twist of your already intertwined fate, but real.ย
And lying there tangled together in the quiet warmth of his apartment, you realised you trusted him enough to give him every vulnerable piece of yourself, and he trusted you in the same way.ย
Now something that scared you instead felt a little like home.
your morning walk gets interesting when you find a bleeding vigilante on your path.
warnings?: none.
the park was empty in the way only new york parks could be at the break of dawn.
too quiet. still a little dark. the city noise muffled by trees and distance, cold wind brushes against your cheeks while your sneakers scraped softly against the pavement. youโd taken the long way home to clear your head. you had the week off from your job and you had no life, might as well get your steps in.
then you saw him, sitting near the waterline beyond the path, half-hidden between rocks and dead grass.
black tactical suit, broad shoulders, weapons strapped everywhere from head to toe.
your stomach dropped so fast, you were hoping your eyes were deceiving you.
bullseye.
of course, youโd seen the news clips. the blurry phone videos on social media and stories whispered online about a man who could turn literally anything into a weapon.
you froze and nudged backwards. he turned his head slightly at the sound of your shoe against gravel and for a second pure panic flooded your chest.
but his mask was off and oh.
oh.
he looked nothing like you expected.
not monstrous. not crazed-looking. justโฆ a man. sharp cheekbones, messy hair pushed back from his forehead, a healed scar dragged across his face cheek, exhausted eyes stared at you like you were a threat.
he stood abruptly and you stumbled back instinctively.
his hand twitched toward one of the knives on his thigh, resting there like it was casual but he would use it if u dared to do something.
โkeep walking,โ he said flatly, undertones of tiresome beneath his rough voice.
you shouldโve listened but then you noticed the blood, dark red soaked through the side of his suit beneath his ribs, dripping slowly onto the rocks beside him.
your fear tangled awkwardly with concern.
โyouโre hurt.โ you said with furrowed eyes and wobbly lips.
his expression hardened immediately, โnot your problem.โ
every survival instinct screamed at you to run, but he lookedโฆ helpess. pale under the soft sun, swaying slightly where he stood.
โyouโre bleeding a lot,โ you said quietly.
โcongratulations. you can see.โ and you almost rolled your eyes despite being terrified.
instead you slowly crouched, setting your bag down carefully and you saw him harden, straighten his posture.
โi said leave.โ
โand i said your bleedingโ
for a second neither of you moved, then his face twisted faintly, more confused than angry. why were you still here.
you reached into your tote slowly. โi have a first aid kit.โ
his jaw flexed, โyou think this is smart?โ
โabsolutely not.โ
he scoffed as he watched every movement as you approached, shoulders tense enough to snap. up close he looked even worse, blood smeared across the textured black suit, shallow cuts littering his knuckles, bruising already blooming near his throat.
and still absolutely gorgeous
you knelt beside him carefully, โif you stab me iโm gonna be really annoyed,โ you muttered.
his eyes flicked toward you properly then.
โdo you always talk this much when youโre scared?โ
โiโm trying not to pass out actually.โ
he smiles, and its the prettiest smile you have ever seen. dangerous yet so charming.
you pressed gauze carefully against the wound and he inhaled sharply through his nose, muscles tightening beneath your hands.
โsorry.โ
โdonโt apologize.โ his voice softened weirdly on that.
you looked up, you were hoping you were coming across calm because you were freaking out internally, but a small part of you was confused too. he didnโt look dangerous or unhinged, just really fucking hot.
he was staring at you now aswell. not in a threatening way anymore just really fucking intensely like he was trying to figure you out.
โwhy are you helping me?โ he asked after a long silence.
you swallowed. โbecause youโre hurt.โ
his eyes narrowed slightly. โyou know who i am.โ
โyeah.โ
โand you still came over here.โ
โyeah.โ
silence again just the wind rustling through the trees overhead.
slowly, carefully, his hand moved away from the knife strapped to his leg, trust.
you finished wrapping the bandage around his ribs, fingers brushing the hard lines of his suit, he was huge and built. broad back and big thighs and hands.
โthere,โ you murmured. โnot perfect butโฆโ
โyouโre insane.โ
you let out a nervous laugh. โprobably.โ
his gaze dropped briefly to your shaking hands.
โyouโre still scared of me.โ
โobviously.โ you replied, standing back up.
a tiny smirk appeared on his face and neither of you could look away from one another.
โsmart girl.โ
he watched you slowly back away, the strap of the tote gripped strongly in your hand.
โshould i be worried about you? you know going to the police or something?โ he tested, a light smile on his face as he watched you go back to being fearful.
โno.โ
dex grinned, rising up to his feet mask in one hand.
โgood,โ he replied with a nod of his head โbecause you donโt want bullseye as an enemyโ
your breath hitched and you quickly turned around to walk away.
and he watched you through the empty park with an unreadable expression on his face, one gloved hand still resting lightly over the bandage youโd given him because he couldnโt remember the last time someone touched him gently.
Bridgerton/Regency AU | Dex x fem!Reader where Lord Benjamin Poindexter duels every man who flirts with you and leaves a trail of dead suitors in your wake.
TW: implied stalking, suggestive sexual themes, parental verbal abuse, duels/murder, obsessive jealousy, dark romance, but daddy, I love him! vibes
Lord Benjamin Poindexter, Duke of Arrowhead, is a violent man.ย
And somehow, somehow, you are the problem because you like it.
You are the daughter of a viscount. Unfortunately, you are also a romantic to the point of self-destruction. You want a love match, the kind poets lose sleep over. Your father, unfortunately, wants you married to Lord Daniels, a man thirty years your senior with fine manners, excellent prospects, and the emotional texture of damp bread.
Worse, Lord Daniels looks at you as though you are already his property. Not a woman with thoughts, wants, or a heart of your own, but rather just a pretty vessel meant to warm his bed, bear his heir, and behave while doing it.
And god forbid you have hobbies! He treats your love of plants like a defect, like a girlish little habit he intends to prune out of you after the wedding.
So when you try to make your father understand that you cannot marry Lord Daniels, he does not listen. He calls you a selfish bitch.
You get into a screaming match with him after that. You tell him he is selling you off. He tells you that you are ruining your own future.
By the time you start crying, youโre running out of the house.ย
You are not running forever, of course. You are not foolish enough to think you could survive alone outside your fatherโs house, let alone in the wild.
You just need space from your family.
So you run into the woods behind the estate, skirts damp, gloves dirtied, face hot with rage, needing only to be alone for a little while.
And that is where you meet Lord Poindexter.
Every woman in Mayfair knows of him but none of them truly knows him. Your mother once said he was โa fine match, of course,โ then immediately followed it with, โThough there is something rather severe about him.โ
Severe is one word. Dangerous is better.
He is hunting alone when he finds you, rifle in hand, coat across his shoulders. He frightens you, a little.
But then he lowers the rifle the moment he sees your tears. โMy lady.โ
โYour Grace.โ
His eyes move over you, like he is cataloguing every sign of distress and deciding who must be punished for it.
You should curtsy and leave. Instead, you talk.
You tell him about Lord Daniels. About your father. About marriage without love. You tell him you would rather disappear into the woods than be handed over to a man who thinks your hobby is an inconvenience.
โI think I would like to marry a man who knows the difference between a daisy and a dahlia,โ you say, bitterly.
That earns you another almost-smile. โDaisies,โ he says.
โWhat?โ
โYou like daisies?โ
You blink, thrown by the gentle edge of the question.
โYes,โ you say. โMy favourite, in fact. They are not grand, but they survive almost anywhere. People overlook them because they are common, but I think that is rather unfair.โ
Dex looks at you. He looks and looks and looks.
โMy lady,โ he says finally, โI do not think Lord Daniels deserves you.โ
Your breath catches in the cold air. โYou hardly know me, Your Grace.โ
His eyes do not move away from yours. โNot yet.โ
Hello?????
What the hell do you mean, Lord Poindexter?ย
Because what is that? Who says that in the woods to a crying viscountโs daughter he has known for less than an hour? A madman, maybe. A loaded pistol in human form.
He escorts you to the threshold of your home, kisses your gloved fingers before he leaves, and you spend the whole night staring at your ceiling and thinking about himย like an idiot.
The next morning, Lord Daniels is dead because he had been challenged to a duel.ย
Apparently, he has been shot through the heart at dawn by Lord Poindexter.
Oh, Lady Whistledown is frothing at the mouth.
The entire ton becomes rabid, because even the scribe doesnโt know why the Duke of Arrowhead challenged him to a duel. Some say Daniels owed him money. Some say Daniels insulted him at cards. Some say there was an argument over hunting rights. The men insist it must have been something respectable and masculine, because God forbid a duke shoot another lord over a girl he met weeping in the woods the day before.
But you know Dex loaded that pistol for you.
By afternoon tea, Lord Poindexter comes calling, telling your father that he would like to court his daughter.
He brought the biggest bouquet of daisies you had ever seen.
Your father grinds his teeth and hesitates, because Lord Poindexter has just killed your intended.
But alsoโฆ
He is a duke.
A rich duke.
A handsome duke.
A rich, handsome duke who has come calling with flowers for your motherโs daughter, who, as your mother very gently reminds your father, has not exactly been cooperative with any of the men your father has presented to her.
So eventually, he is allowed into the drawing room.
Your father looks like he is swallowing a knife. Your mother looks like she is watching a scandal unfold in real time.ย
And Dex looks only at you. He gives you the daisies like the dead man between you is merely an unfortunate scheduling matter.
From there, it snowballs.
Lord Benjamin Poindexter becomes devoted to you in a way that makes every ballroom feel like a crime scene waiting to happen.
He appears at social events he would once have avoided. He stands at the edge of every room in black gloves, watching you like the rest of the ton is background noise. He asks you to dance, and people are speechless, because the Duke of Arrowhead famously does not dance at balls.
Except now he does.
With you, and only you.
He is not charming with anyone else, though. Other ladies still try to speak to him (again, handsome, rich, duke). They flutter their lashes and smile and ask about his estate, his hunting, his views on town.
He gives them nothing.
Then you walk up and mention that your new fern cutting is struggling, and suddenly this man is leaning in like you have declared war on France.
โWhat kind of fern?โ
โMaidenhair.โ
โHow much light does it need?โ
And you talk and talk and talk, and the other ladies stare because this is not the Duke of Arrowhead they know. This man remembers the layout of your greenhouse, even when he claims he has never been there. He remembers the variety of your roses. He knows the shade your orchids prefer.ย
He remembers everything.
And God help every Lord who even attempts to talk to you.
A lord compliments your figure too boldly?
Duel, shot through the head.
A viscount laughs about Lord Daniels and your โunfortunate effect on menโ?
Duel, shot in the bowels and bled to death.
A gentleman grips your waist too hard at a ball, and you come crying to Dex because you feel ruined?
Duel. Shot through the liver at dawn so he feels the pain as the light drains from his eyes.ย
There are dead lords behind you now. Injured lords. Ruined lords. Men leaving London for their โhealth.โ Men avoiding your side of the ballroom as though you are cursed.
And maybe you should be horrified.
But there is a terrible and satisfying feeling curling inside you every time Dexโs eyes tunnel across a room because another man has made a pathetic attempt to court you.
You feelโฆ flattered.ย
Your mother is like, โHe cannot continue challenging every gentleman who causes you discomfort.โ
Your father is like, โHe is making you impossible to marry.โ
And you are likeโฆ
Is he?
Or is he making me impossible to marry to anyone but him?
Because Dex is not stupid.
He knows what this does. Every duel ties your name tighter to his. Society begins to understand your honour as his territory, your reputation as his concern.ย
He wants the whole ton to know that touching you, wanting you, and embarrassing you comes with consequences.
Yes, he wants you ruined if ruined means no one else can have you. And the night Dex actually ruins you, it happens at Lord Ashcombeโs ball.
Ashcombe has been secretly admiring you all season like a man too stupid to notice the bodies piling up behind him. He asks for a dance with you and says it would be rude to refuse the host.
And you know Dex is watching.
Usually, you would say no. But today, you were feeling particularly brave and you wanted to test the limits of Dexโs affections. So you say yes.
Dex becomes murderously jealous almost immediately.ย
Dex watches Ashcombeโs hand settle at your waist and crushes the wine glass in his hands. You smile and pretend not to hear the shatter.ย
The moment the dance ends, Dex pulls you out to the garden and corners you there.ย
The wisteria hangs heavy overhead, purple and soft and romantic in the most damning way. The music from the ballroom is muffled behind glass. Your heart is still racing from the dance, from the thrill of knowing you provoked him and he came exactly as you knew he would.
โWhat was that?โ He demanded.ย
And you pout, because apparently you have lost all sense of self-preservation. โPerhaps I am tired of waiting for a proposal.โ
His jaw tightens. โYou think I will not ask?โ
โYou have not even asked my father for my hand.โ
And oh.
Oh, that wounded him. โI will.โ
See, you donโt understand that yet. Dex is not delaying because he doubts his love for you. He is delaying because he is who he is. Because in his head, before he asks your father and puts the ring on your finger, he must clear the field.
He must eliminate every man who wants you and every lord who thinks he still has a chance.
And yes, that is deranged, but he enjoys hunting his romantic rivals for sport. He loves the fact that he gets to prove, again and again, that wanting you is dangerous unless you are him.
But then you ask with sad lashes, โHow do I know youโre not lying, Your Grace?โ
And Dex goes very still.
Then he kisses you.
His hands are on you at once, crushing your silk dress, dragging you closer. He kisses you like he is furious you ever doubted him. Like your mouth is the only argument he needs.ย
You should stop him.
You could.
You do not.
Instead, you kiss him back and sigh a triumphant yes, knowing no other man will have you now.ย
Eventually his hands bunches up your skirts and rips your undergarments. You gave a breathless little panic gasp, knowing no lady should let a man touch her like this before marriage.
Dex turns you carefully, presses you forward until he bends you over the garden wall, one gloved hand braced beside yours, the other holding you at the waist like he is both keeping you steady and making a claim.
โYou want to know,โ he murmurs, voice rough against your ear, โwhat husbands and wives do?โ
Your breath catches.
โI need to hear you say it, Your Grace,โ he says. Dexโs mouth brushes the shell of your ear, and you know that is not your title yet. You do not have a duchy. But it is the title you will take if he marries you.
When, you remind yourself, not if.
โY-yes, Your Grace,โ you managed.
โThatโs my good girl,โ he breathes, gloved hand tightening at your waist.
So Dex fucks you there beneath the wisteria, with the ballroom glowing behind the windows and your fingers trembling against old stone. He takes you, letting you adjust to his size as he ruins you completely and makes you understand exactly what he means to give to you once you are his wife.
He talks to you through it in that low voice, telling you this is what he will give you on your wedding night, and every night after, telling you he would not ruin you if he did not intend to keep you, telling you no other man will ever know you like this because no other man will live long enough to try.
You hate that it works.
You hate that every possessive word goes through you like fire. You hate that you believe him most when he is like this.
And when you fall apart for him, he holds you and kisses your temple through it, ever so gentle.ย
He destroys your reputation with the tenderness of a man arranging flowers.
By the time it is over, your legs are unsteady, your mouth is swollen, your skirts are a scandal, and Dex is still pressed close behind you.
Then, you turn your head and see Lord Ashcombe at the edge of the path.
He looks pale and absolutely destroyed by what he has walked in on.
You glanced at Dex in a panic, but he is just casually buckling up his trousers and smiling.ย
That's when you realised that Dex wanted you two to get caught.
He knew Ashcombe slipped into this part of the garden to smoke, thatโs why he dragged you here, of all places! This was a trap. This was the hunting for sport he loved so much.
This was Dex proving his love in the most deranged way possible: by ruining you just enough to make Ashcombe understand he had already lost.
Dex adjusts your skirts while challenging him to a duel for your honour.ย
By dawn, Ashcombe is dead.ย
Lady Whistledown is frothing at the mouth.
By noon, Dex comes calling again with more daisies.
Your mother sits down very slowly. Your father says no when Dex asks for your hand.
Dex only raised an eyebrow like it was a minor obstacle.
So he leaves and comes back with a deed. He has bought you the largest greenhouse in the country.ย
A scandalous duke with dead men in his wake gives you a kingdom of flowers and expects your father to keep saying no?
Please.
Your fatherโs protests are running thin. Your reputation is half-shredded. Your mother is exhausted. The ton already speaks of you as though you are his. Men no longer ask for your hand because they enjoy having all their organs where they are.
So finally, your father agrees.
Dex proposes in the garden with daisies everywhere, because of course he does. Because the man is unwell and romantic and terrifying and yours.
He kneels in the dirt like a duke who has never cared less about being a duke.
And you say yes with your whole stupid romantic heart.
Lady Whistledown writes of speculation like the ink has been laced with laudanum. Your mother cries. Your father looks like heโs biting through bullets. The remaining eligible men of London quietly celebrate surviving the season.
And Dex looks at you at the altar like every dead lord was simply the road he took to reach you.
You wanted a love match?ย
Congratulations.
You got a love match with a body count.
โ
note: reminder! This is a hear me out, so no taglist. Also, eventual full fic of this, yay or nay? (Might take me a year at this point lol)
btw it's so fucking stupid you can be anxious physically in your body even after you've decided mentally you don't care. I'm supposed to be in charge here
areudirty
ellievsbear
theartofmadeline
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