Summary : Dex finds a getaway bag under your side of the bed and assumes the worst.
Pairing : Benjamin Poindexter x reader (she/her)
Warnings/tags : Hurt/comfort, angst, miscommunication, abandonment issues, obsessive attachment, codependency, established relationship, obsessive devotion, implied suicidal ideation, protective!reader, clingy!Dex, anxious attachment, happy ending. (let me know if I missed anything!)
Word Count : 3.3k
Requested By : Anon
Notes : First Dex fic with a taglist! Please let me know if you would like to be added, but remember, the taglist only applies to fics over 2k words! My 1000-something word short stories won't have the taglist on them. This fic title is inspired by a Hozier song of the same title. Enjoy!
Dex accidentally found your getaway bag hidden under your side of the bed on a random Tuesday.
He wasn’t snooping. He was looking for the knife he knew had slipped under there this morning when you clumsily knocked it out of the dresser in your hurry to go to work. He was reaching blindly beneath the bedframe with one hand, already annoyed because it was out of place, because he hated when things were out of place, because every missing thing became a hook in his brain until he found it and put it back where it belonged.
And then his fingers brushed canvas.
Huh. What’s that?
Because Dex didn’t believe in minding his business if his business was you, he dragged out the duffel bag from under the bed.
The second he unzipped it, he was frozen in horror.
There was cash inside, and not a cute little emergency envelope. Not “oh, I have some spare money in case someone hacks into my bank account.” It was some serious running money in bundled notes, probably half your life savings if he remembered correctly. It was enough to disappear for a while if you needed to.
And because Dex’s brain was not a calm place, because Dex’s brain was basically a locked room full of alarms and broken glass and every person who had ever left him whispering see? see? see?, he did not think: oh, that’s a lot of cash. I'm gonna ask her later what it’s for.
He thought: She has an exit plan. She’s going to leave me.
He tried to shake the thought off his head, because it could be anything, right?
Nope, didn’t work.
Of course. Of course. Of course she was going to leave. Look at you. Look at what you are. Did you really think she would stay?
Fuck.
He stood up and left the duffel bag there. He didn’t tear it apart. In fact, it stayed mostly intact, sitting open on the floor like a confession. He was careful with it, because some awful part of him needed the evidence preserved. Needed to look at it and hate himself.
But he destroyed the room though.
He didn’t do it violently, but instead he did it frantically. Drawers were yanked open. Your nightstand emptied. His hands were under the mattress before flipping it, shoved them into the insides pillowcases, behind books, between folded clothes. He was looking for more proof. Looking for the backup bag, a hidden note, a passport he knew had to exist, something to confirm that he wasn’t going insane and you were actually going to leave him.
But the more he searched, the worse it got.
Every drawer he opened made another mess. Every shirt he threw aside landed in a place clothes shouldn’t be. The lamp was crooked. The blanket was hung by the door. The floor was covered. His breathing got too loud. The room started closing in around him, cluttered and wrong and bad, bad, bad!
And then that became his next spiral.
Great.
Fucking great, he thought as he looked around.
Now the outside matched the inside of his head.
A ruined room for a ruined man. A mess for a mess.
Dex stood in the middle of it, shaking, staring at all of it like he had done it from outside his own body.
This!!!! This is why she’s going to leave you!!!!!
He pressed the heel of his hand hard against his eye, breathing through his teeth, but it was too late. The mess was everywhere. The thought of you leaving was everywhere. He couldn’t put it back from wherever the hell it came from. He couldn’t make the bed right. He couldn’t get the image of you walking out of his life with that stupid fucking bag to stop replaying behind his eyes.
By the time you came home, he was a shell of himself.
Your keys were still in your hand when you stepped in and stopped cold.
The room was destroyed, but not smashed walls and broken glass and violence for the sake of violence. It was searched, gutted, turned inside out.
And in the middle of it was Dex, on the floor, his back against the bed.
The duffel was halfway open near his knee, untouched compared to the rest of the room… and he had a gun.
He had a gun in his hand, pointed at himself, on the underside of his head.
And he hated that too. He hated the neediness. He hated that even now, even like this, some starving part of him hoped you would come home and stop him. Which was pathetic. Which was manipulative. Which was exactly the kind of thing someone should leave him for.
Your blood went cold.
“Dex,” you said, trying to sound harmless; it almost sounded like a coo.
His eyes snapped to you, and it was red and wet with tears.
It was difficult to imagine him as Bullseye like this, because Dex had always been frightening to most people who knew. You had seen him after bad nights, after adrenaline.
But you had never seen this before. That was different.
Dex didn’t wreck rooms. Dex didn’t leave chaos behind him like some sloppy, careless animal. Even at his worst, he was controlled. So seeing your bedroom torn apart was not just frightening.
It just meant something was very, very wrong.
“You’re home,” he said, and his voice sounded scraped raw, like he had been arguing with invisible people for hours.
You didn’t move too fast even though you wanted to. Your heart was throwing itself against your ribs so hard it hurt. But you looked at him, at the arguably most dangerous man in New York sitting in the wreckage of your bedroom with a weapon turned inward, and all you could think was:
Sweetheart
Your sweetheart of a murderous boyfriend, terrified out of his mind.
“I’m home,” you whispered.
His eyes flicked to the duffel, then back to you, and whatever fragile little thread had been holding him together snapped. “You were going to leave.”
The words came out so broken they barely sounded like an accusation.
Your gaze dropped to the bag and saw the cash peeking out.
Oh.
Oh, Benjamin.
“Dex—”
“You were going to leave me,” he said again, louder this time, but it cracked halfway through. “You had money. You had a bag. You had—” He sucked in a breath that sounded like it hurt. “You had a life under there.”
You took one slow step forward. He flinched.
“You weren’t supposed to find it like this,” you said softly.
His face fell. “So it’s true.”
“No.”
“You just said—”
“No, baby.” Your voice shook, but you kept it gentle. “No. Not like that.”
He gave this horrible little laugh.
“Don’t. Please don’t.” His hand tightened around the gun, not threatening you, but himself. “You can’t make it sound sweet. Please don’t stand there and make it sound sweet when you’re planning to run.”
“I wasn’t planning to run from you.”
“You had a plan.”
“Yes.”
His eyes squeezed shut. “Fuck.”
“Yes,” you said again, stepping closer, careful, so fucking careful. “I had a plan. But not that one.”
He shook his head hard, like your words had reached a convinced resistance in his brain.
You looked around the room again, really looked this time, and understood.
He hadn’t destroyed it because he was angry. He had looked for evidence until the room became evidence of him.
It was a ruin made wrong by his own hands. An excuse to hate himself because the alternative was hating you. And Dex could never stomach that.
Dex followed your gaze and his face collapsed into shame.
“I fucked it up,” he said, barely audible. “I fucked everything up. It’s everywhere. It’s all wrong. I can’t—” His breathing hitched. “I can’t fix it. I made it worse. I always make it worse.”
“Oh, Dex.”
“Don’t,” he snapped, then immediately looked wrecked by his own voice. “You were going to leave me.”
The gun shook.
“I wasn’t.”
“Stop lying to me.”
“I’m not lying.”
“You had a plan.”
“Yes,” you said, frustrated now because he didn’t leave you space to get your point across. “I had a plan. So for once in your life, sweetheart, please listen to me!”
And that shut him up.
Horrible choice of words? Maybe. But you needed him to listen.
You lowered yourself slowly to the floor, not too close yet, keeping your hands visible.
“Dex,” you said. “Have you even looked in the bag?”
“I did.”
“No,” you whispered. “Really.”
He didn’t move.
So you reached for the duffel yourself and pulled out the first burner phone.
“One,” you said. Then the second. “Two.”
What?
You pulled out your fake passport. “Mine.” Then… a second one. “Yours.”
Dex’s face changed in stages.
Confusion first. Then disbelief.
Then a feeling of devastation made him want to crawl across the floor and cover you with his whole body.
You kept going, because he needed facts. He needed as much proof as you can give.
“Two sets of clothes. Two toothbrushes. Cash for both of us. Medical kit.” Your voice went small, almost sheepish. “I… fuck, Dex, forgot to tell you. You know how I am when I get distracted.”
He blinked. He knew— he knew more than more people what you were like when one too many things were in your mind. Sometimes the details just slipped, and he would never use it against you.
“I made it a week ago when you were out,” you explained. “I made it because one day you might come home and say you have to run. And I know myself, Dex. I wouldn't ask questions while you bleed on the carpet. I’m grabbing the bag and going wherever you need to go.”
He stared at the ID that you opened. It had his face on it.
You looked up at him from the floor, surrounded by all the proof he had misunderstood.
“I wasn’t planning to run from you, Dex.” You reassured. “I was planning to run with you.”
Dex stared at you. And his whole body just… gave up, like whatever rage had been keeping him upright finally dissolved and left nothing underneath but panic and shame and love so whole it made him sick.
The gun dipped, his wrist going slack like all the strength had drained out of him at once.
You put your open palm gently on his lap. “Let me have it, baby.”
Dex stared at your hand. You were asking for his gun as if it wasn’t a weapon turned inward, as if it wasn’t the shape every horrible thought currently chewing through his skull made real.
His fingers tightened once, and not because he wanted to keep it. It was because letting go meant trusting you with the part of him that was still trying to punish himself.
You kept your voice soft.
“Please, baby,” you whispered. “I’m going to put it on the table. That’s all.”
His eyes flicked to yours then, wet and ruined.“ You shouldn’t come closer.”
“I know.”
“I’m not—” His lips trembled. “I’m not right.”
“I know.”
Fuck.
You weren’t arguing. You weren’t denying that this behaviour wasn’t normal. You knew he was dangerous. And still, your hand stayed open.
“Give it to me, Dex.”
His breath hitched.
The room was still a mess around you. Dex’s eyes kept catching on it, dragging over every displaced object like each one was proof of his failure to be a good boyfriend.
You saw the thought move through him and softened your voice even more.
“Don’t look at the room right now,” you murmured. “Look at me.”
He tried. Eventually, his gaze dragged back to you like it physically hurt.
“That’s it,” you whispered. “Good. That’s good.”
Dex made a sound so small it almost disappeared in his throat.
You put your hand closer, not snatching, not treating him like a threat, even though your heart was hammering so hard you could feel it in your teeth.
“Let me put it down,” you said. “Then we can sit. Okay?”
He stared at you for another breath. Then, finally, his fingers loosened.
You took the gun from his hand with the gentlest touch you had ever used on anything in your life. You turned and placed it on the table behind you.
It was far enough away now
Then you came straight back to him.
The second your hands were empty again, Dex collapsed forward like the weapon had been the last thing holding his body upright.
You caught his face in both hands. “Oh, baby.”
His eyes squeezed shut.
“I’m sorry,” he choked. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“I know.”
“I thought you were leaving.”
“I know.”
“I thought so little of you.”
His voice barely sounded like his own anymore. It was scraped thin and torn open.
“Baby,” you whispered. “Breathe.”
“But I did.” His hands caught you frantically, gripping your waist, your hips, the fabric of your shirt like if he let go, you would disappear right there in front of him. “I did. I saw it and I thought… I thought you were like everyone else. I thought you were going to get tired of me. I thought you finally realised.”
Your throat tightened. “Realised what?”
His eyes “What’s wrong with me.”
Oh, fuck.
You took his face in your hands, like you could hold the thought inside him still enough to kill it. “Nothing is wrong with you that makes me want to leave.”
Dex flinched.
His eyes squeezed shut, and the first real sob shook out of him, helpless and so human it made your heart ache. Because Dex could handle cruelty. Dex could handle being hated. Dex could handle people looking at him like he was a monster.
But this, he never knew how to handle.
“I love you,” he said, breathless now, panicked by his own need. “I love you. I love you. I love you so much. Please don’t leave me. Please. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
“Shut up,” you whispered, and it came out a little mean because you were crying too now. Because how dare he? How dare he look at you like leaving him was something you could physically do? “Please don’t say things like that.”
You kissed his forehead first.
“I’d never leave you.”
Then his temple.
“Never.”
His cheek, still wet with tears.
“Never, Dex.”
You gave more fluttery kisses to the bridge of his nose. The corner of his mouth. His other cheek, peppering small kisses one after another, until his breathing caught and his face tipped helplessly into your hands. Even now, even wrecked and ashamed and shaking, some part of him still wanted more.
He needed more.
So when you kissed the damp track beneath his eye, he grabbed you.
His hands caught your waist and dragged you closer, desperate and clumsy with it, and then his mouth was on yours.
It wasn’t a pretty kiss. It was too broken. Dex kissed you like he was trying to crawl inside you. Like your mouth was the only thing keeping him from slipping back into the horrible void his mind had made for him. His breath stuttered against your lips, his hands gripping your shirt, your side, your hip, anything he could touch.
And you let him.
You kissed him back with both hands in his hair, holding him there while he made that ruined little sound into your mouth.
His hand tightened at your waist.
“Ow, Dex,” you breathed, but it came out with a tiny chuckle against his mouth. Of course this man was having one of the worst breakdowns of his life and still holding you like a claw machine.
He froze for half a second, lips still parted against yours.
“Sorry,” he whispered immediately, voice rough.
But he did not pull away. He just loosened his grip, palm spreading wide and careful over the spot instead, like he could smooth the hurt away.
“Too hard?” he asked.
“A little.”
His forehead dropped against yours. He breathed out shakily, almost laughing, still crying.
“There,” you murmured, kissing him again. “Gentler.”
He tried. Fuck, he tried so hard it almost broke your heart. His palm opened against your side, broad and shaking, still possessive and needy, still Dex, but careful now.
Then he folded into you.
He put his face against your chest like he was trying to disappear there. As if he pressed close enough, he wouldn’t have to see the room behind you. Wouldn’t have to see the drawers, the clothes, the crooked bed, the evidence of everything he had done while his head was eating itself alive.
Fuck.
This man could kill half the city if you asked him sweetly enough. He could put a fork through a random person on the street if you only pointed. He could turn anything into a weapon.
But with you, he was on the floor, hiding his face in your chest because he couldn’t look at the mess he made.
Because you were so, so special to him, that the idea of losing you had gutted him thoroughly.
“I’ll fix it,” he whispered into your shirt.
You stroked his hair. “Baby.”
“I’ll fix it.” His voice caught. “I’ll put it back. I’ll clean it. I’ll do it right. I’ll fix it.”
“I know you will.” You kissed the top of his head. “But not tonight.”
He went tense immediately, panic sparking under your hands.
“I can. I can do it.”
You shook your head gently before he could spiral again.
“Listen to me. We’re going to get a hotel tonight, yeah?”
Dex blinked at you, breath hitching like the idea of stepping out of the ruined room had not occurred to him.
“And tomorrow,” you continued, keeping your hands on his face, “I’ll get a cleaner in here.”
His eyes flicked past you to the room, panic flashing. “No—”
“Baby,” you said softly. “Listen. I’ll get a cleaner in here tomorrow. They’ll do the big stuff.”
His throat worked.
“And then,” you said, kissing his cheek again, “after they’re gone, you can make a second pass at everything.”
Dex went still.
You saw the compromise land in his brain.
“You can put things back how you like them,” you whispered. “You can check the drawers. You can fix the bed. You can make it feel right again. But tonight, we have to leave the room alone.”
That… was a good idea.
“Okay,” Dex said finally.
It came out muffled against your chest, hoarse and exhausted. He nodded once, like he was trying to make his body accept it too.
You stroked his hair back from his damp forehead.
“There he is,” you whispered.
His eyes fluttered shut.
His arms tightened around your waist, but only for half a second before he remembered himself and loosened his grip. He looked up at you, eyes red, cheeks wet, mouth swollen from kissing you. Still wrecked. Still ashamed. But quieter now. Softer around the panic.
“You’ll be with me in the hotel?” he asked.
You cupped his cheek. “Of course.”
His breath left him shakily. “Okay.”
You kissed his forehead one more time. “Come on.”
You helped him stand, reaching out. The room was still messy around you, but he didn’t look at it this time. He kept his eyes on you at the door, his hand hovered near yours.
“Is this okay?” he asked, poking at your fingers while the duffel bag sat on his shoulder. Tonight was gonna barely make a dent on your stash, so there’s no reason to worry about anything, really.
You smiled and opened your hand. “Of course.”
He slid his fingers through yours carefully, like he was afraid of holding too tight again. Then he lifted your hand to his mouth and kissed your knuckles.
a/n: was going to post this with a request but it disappeared after i accidentally clicked save draft bruh, so sorry to that person lol, but anyways, here’s something i’ve already been SLOWLY working on. again like i have to say to all my requests now lol, im so so so sorry it took so long 😞been busy and fixated on other things so it was difficult to get myself back on these things that i’ve had in my drafts for months now, slowly trying to get them out, if you’ve ever sent me a request, i have not forgotten about it, it’ll just take a while to get them done.
He’s got it in his head that he HAS to be the ideal boyfriend, and he’ll do anything to be that for you, so if he has to be and do the tooth rottingly sweet thing then he will.
Peppering kisses all over your face when you’d wake up in the morning next to him, making you giggle as he lazily mumbles “you’re so pretty” into your skin.
Hugging you from behind whenever he walks up to you, laughing whenever you jump from the sudden touch.
Giving you gentle nibbles here and there, playfully biting at the air after your hands or nothing at all, acting like a puppy, he’d actually bark at you if he felt like it.
Before you moved in together he’d sneak in to your bedroom almost every night, would just watch you in your sleep before sliding into bed with you, cuddling you, tracing shapes over your skin with his fingers as he listened to your heartbeat.
Loves spoiling you, giving you all kinds of gifts, but the thing is, he broke as fuck, and because he struggles with keeping a proper job… not a single thing he’s ever given you is bought, that’s all i’ll say.
Likes to watch you get ready for the day, watching you pick out your clothes, fixing your hair, putting on makeup if you use make up, he’s got it in his head that you’re only ever prettying yourself up for him, even if it’s the most casual thing, it’s all for him.
He prefers to be the one to make you breakfast in the morning, he knows how sweet you think it is of him, so he’d do it every morning if he could just to get that happy response from you.
Likes to just sit with you and watch tv together, his hand planted on your thigh as your leaned into his chest, listening to the buzzing sounds from the tv as he watched the glow reflecting in your eyes.
Talking about your wedding and future home together almost every night as you’re cuddled up in his arms, having already thought up how it’d be the first time he saw you at that bar, you were his long before you knew him, and he’d do anything to keep you his.
a/n: don’t know how to feel about this one, if i ever make a part 2 of this it’ll be posted only on my ao3 (but i’ll let you know if it’s posted there on here, if it ever happens), wrote most of this while half asleep so i’m sorry if it’s shit.
word count: 3.7k
cw: 18+ MDNI, Eddie Gluskin, Soft!Eddie Gluskin (kinda), afab reader, reader described as androgynous in their clothes and looks so they could be confused as a guy, angst, violence and gore, horror, suggestive, groping, partial nudity, kissing, fawning (reader plays into what he wants to survive), forced marriage, talks of pregnancy.
It was supposed to be a quick thing, that’s what Miles had told you, just film the evidence and you’d leave, but then the horrors of the asylum separated you, this enormous man beast had taken him as you made your way through a narrow gap, throwing him through the glass as if he was nothing.
There was no time for you to make sure Miles was okay as the man had turned his attention to you, stumbling over yourself, you pushed through and bolted down the corridor, “the fuck—!“ you cried out, panic boiling in your throat, your camera locked tight on your hand as you ran as fast as you could, cursing yourself that you’ve basically never exercised a day in your life, it would’ve been really helpful by now; cause then you wouldn’t have already been out of breath so much that you felt like throwing up your guts. You force yourself to keep going through the burn in your lungs, turning down the corner when light caught your eye, seeing an open window leading to some old scaffolding, you took the chance and booked it, the sounds of chains rattling echoed off the walls, his heavy stomps shaking the floorboards so hard it made the ground feel unstable beneath your feet, hearing him grow closer by the second, you reached your hand out for the stool of the window and a waft of air hit the back of your head as he tried to grab at you just as you leapt out, barely having been able to grab ahold of the metal rails of the scaffolding, you let out a strangled sound of panic as you struggled to pull yourself up onto the planks.
Having just barely escaped, you finally felt safe enough to just sit there for a second and catch your breath, your situation finally hitting you like a bag of rocks, you wouldn’t be able to just walk out of this one, you could actually die here and you’d never see your loved ones again, they wouldn’t even know where to look for you as you had no time to tell anyone when you got that call from Miles.
Your chest tightened more and more by every thought that fell into your mind, the despair growing in your throat, choking you as you let out a sob, tears streaming down your cheeks, “no no no…” you whimpered “this can’t be happening—.. this isn’t real” you gasped for air, tugging the hood of your parka tightly over your eyes, the world around you buzzing loudly in your ears as you grasped at your chest hyperventilating, feeling all tingly and numb as you got lightheaded, begging the world to just wake you up from this nightmare.
It felt like every second went on forever, like you were stuck in limbo, sat in your partially safe bubble in the depths of hell. your breathing had slightly calmed as you just leaned against the metal railing, head resting against one of the bars as you stared numbly out at the night sky, sniffing quietly as you wiped the dried tears off your face, you just had to accept it, this was your life now and you wouldn’t know how long it’d last, you could be dead 5 minutes from now and you wouldn’t be able to stop it even if you tried.
In the distance something flickered at the corner of your eye, catching your attention, a tall figure stood swallowed up by the light, watching you from a window in the second building, they brought their hand up to the glass once they noticed you looking back at them before darting away, “Miles-?” your eyes widened as you shot up, hurrying towards it, careful not to slip off the wet planks, but turns out slipping was the least of your concerns as the scaffolding started to break beneath your feet as you reached the building.
Picking up the pace you got onto the side of the building, clinging to to the ledge of the exterior wall, watching over your shoulder as the rusty metal rods crumble onto the ground bellow, you let out a shallow sigh before looking for a way in, reaching or a ladder around the corner of the building, getting a tight grip on it before pushing yourself onto it with a little shiver.
The climb was slow, feeling how fragile the ladder was with every movement, but you eventually got to the top where you found a hatch in the wall, you pulled it open then climbed through to what looked like a loft, wooden panels and boxes all over the place, it was so dark you could barely see anything without the night vision on your camcorder.
Taking small steps the floorboards creaked under your feet as you made your way to the paneling, pointing the camera through the gaps to look for a way out, only to be met with a pair of eyes staring right at you, you stumbled back, “lookie here! let’s give them to the groom!” he whispered loudly to someone else while poking his fingertips through the gaps, gripping at the thin planks as he started yanking at them, dread filled you as you hurried off down between the shelves, why why why, “d-don’t go! we need you” groveled one of them as they all tried to get you through the walls, “don’t let the lamb go!” a demanding voice yelled at the others; scurrying sounds bouncing off the walls, your mind was racing, panic choking you as you pushed your way through the narrow spaces, this didn’t even feel real, you could barely see anything while these disembodied voices tormented you, “get them!” the skittish man shouted and a hand suddenly grabbed your leg.
You let out a panicked cry as he pulled you down, “c’mere boy!” he dragged you down through the broken paneling, revealing three men, two of which looked terrified as they grabbed your arms to keep you from fighting back, “let go!” you tried to kick as they pulled you up to your feet, manhandling you as they dragged you deeper into the attic towards a staircase, you kept on struggling as your chest ached in fear, one of them tried apologizing to you for what they’re doing, while the others just rambled on about how your lucky that you’re a ‘pretty boy’ and that maybe it’ll satisfy the groom enough just having a pretty face to look at, you had no clue what they were going on about but that didn’t still the fear even a bit, what was going to happen to you once you met this figure that brought these grown men so much terror, “a perfect bride for the groom” one whispered into your ear, tightening their grip on your arms, dragging you towards the stairs as you struggled, “no!” you begged, and then they threw you down the steps, sending you tumbling down, spraining your ankle.
Landing with a loud crash, you cried out in pain as you reached for your leg brows tightly knit together in agony as you heard the men hastily shutting the hatch of the attic, heaving at the feeling as you tried to pull yourself together cause you knew there was a glaring threat somewhere here not too far away from you.
Grabbing ahold of the leg of one of the tables nearby, you pulled yourself up onto your knees, staring down at your feet to ground yourself as you put your palms on top of the table and continued on, a shooting pain went up your leg as you whimpered, groaning as you struggled to get up on your feet.
Just as you got your feet stable enough to fully stand, you were startled with a “darling!” being excitedly called out, you flinched back as your head shot up to see a tall muscular man stood a few tables away; making his way toward you, “oh i’m so terribly sorry i startled you, my love” he spoke properly, as if he was in an old black and white movie, growing closer, you stepped back in fear, noticing your limp he frowned, “oh no, you’ve gotten yourself hurt” he coos, moving to shove the table out of the way just as you rushed away into the dark, tripping over yourself, you crawl low to the ground not wanting to be found, “why are you running?” he moved after you, looking for you in the dark, “there’s no need to hide from me, i only mean to help” he tried to coax you out from hiding but you stayed put, hidden under one of the sewing stations behind some boxes whilst he carefully walked around the room.
“You don’t have to be alone anymore” he hummed soothingly, walking lightly down the aisle of tables while scanning the room with glaring eyes. Carefully you crawled to a different table, slowly making your way closer to the door leading to the hallway as terror spiked in your chest at the sight of blood and gore that dripped off one of the tables. The situation you’ve gotten yourself into was a lot more dire than you first thought, he was gonna kill you, maybe torture you before he finally let you rest, whether it be mental or physical, it didnt matter, you had to get out, now.
When he was far enough away you took that as it being safe enough to keep going, you got under the next table over, it was safe, you’re safe, then crawling to the next one and suddenly he was right in front of your face; walking past, “darling, where are you..”, you quickly hid under it covering your mouth, muffling your whimpers, feeling your heart jump to your throat, pounding in your ears, as you heard him singing in the distance. Once he was far enough away you crawled out from under the table and quickly darted out to the hall, searching for a way out, "there's my darling— wait!” he called out after you, "don't run from me!” the man hurried after you, pushing past whatever’s in his way, you could hear him huffing behind you, struggling to keep his breath as he tried to catch up to you, running down the halls.
Your boots hitting the floor, sending echoes down the hallway as you ran the best you could, bearing through the limp, forcing your feet to keep going despite the shooting pain each step took, the terror in your heart only growing at each turn as more gore and bodies revealed themselves, laid gutted, headless, and mutilated, oh you were so fucked.
Seeing an exit, you go as fast as you could, small yelps and pants of pain slipping from your lungs as you quickly limped down the corridor, dizzy with pain and fear, your tunnel vision blurring as something caught your leg, you gasped as you harshly tripped onto the ground, feeling dazed as you try to get back up, but a large hand held you down, “oh darling, no need to be afraid” he hummed as he turned you onto your back, your eyes frightfully looking up at his smiling face, “i just need to fix you up before our wedding..” he spoke softly as he ran his hand up your thigh “make you all perfect—..” he halted as he felt the soft mound through your baggy pants, smooth and warm…
You shivered at the touch as his other hand ripped open your jacket and pulled up your sweater to see two lush breasts, so soft to the touch, he let out a gasp of arousal as his hands trembled over them, making your heart pound panicked in your chest, “oh yess-… oh my sweet mmh.. my perfect wife..” he panted softly as his eyes slowly moved up to your terrified ones, he immediately snapped back his hands as if he hadn’t realized until now how inappropriate his touches were, “i’m so sorry my dear—! i shouldn’t have” he apologized as he carefully covered you back up, “you must be freezing, oh dear” he mumbled to himself as he helped you up, pulling you close to his chest, “don’t you worry darling, i’ll take such care of you.”
You stood there frozen in fear, he’s fucking mad, what’s going on?! you couldn’t help but shake as he held you, your back to his chest, he grabbed you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at his pleased smile, “you’ll look so beautiful in your wedding dress, my sweet bride”, your vision became blurry as you felt his hand wrap around your neck and everything went dark.
When you came to, you found yourself drowsy, stood up at an altar in a white dress, big callused hands holding yours. Struggling to keep your feeting, feeling as if on a boat rocking on the waves, your vision still blurred, you tried to focus them on the pleased man before you, a pit forming in your stomach as it all came back to you, your breath stuttered as your eyes looked into his, “there you are my love” he soothes, caressing your knuckles with his thumb, “did you sleep well?” he asked so softly as if this was the most normal thing, you glanced away for a second, not being able to find your words, you just blinked at him, your eyelids still a little heavy from whatever he must’ve given you to keep you unconscious while he dressed you.
He let out a soft chuckle at your response, “it’s okay, you don’t need to say anything” he whispered, brushing a stray hair from your face, “all i’ll need you to say is ‘i do’ with your beautiful cords” his tone felt more sinister as he went on, his words sending a pang through your skull as the realization hit you and tears came pouring down your cheeks, your lip trembling as you held in a pained whimper, brows twitching as you fought them to stay neutral, he cooed at you softly while wiping your tears away with a smile on his face, “oh my sweet, you’re so happy its brought you to tears” he hummed pleased before starting the ceremonial speech, going on and on about love and family, how he’ll provide for you and protect you, that you’ll be devoted to him and bare him all the children he wanted, he kept eye contact through it all, taking a pause just to take in your beauty, holding your chin between his thumb and pointer, you pressed your lips together tightly, letting out a whimper as he leaned in, “so beautiful, my bride, my wife..” his eyes glanced to your lips, pulling the bottom lip down with his thumb, dragging the pad of his thumb across the bitten sore lip, brushing against your teeth a bit before he moved it back, “..i shall love you and our children, till death do us part..” he leaned down, cupping your cheek as he kissed you deeply, his nose brushing against yours while his freehand wrapped around your waist, pulling you close, making you squirm, your hands placed on his chest, pushing back but he did not budge, his frame too strong for any of it to matter.
He slid his fingers into your hair, tugging lightly at your roots; groaning needily into your mouth, twisting his tongue past your teeth, letting out a light gasp at the sudden intrusion of your mouth, your hands went up to his biceps, nails clawing at his shirt as your eyes rolled back, feeling your body tremble in his arms he pulled slightly back in concern, seeing blood running down your nose, dripping down and staining your wedding dress, “oh my dear, i’m so sorry, i was too rough with you” he lessened the grip on your waist, and almost immediately your legs gave out under you, falling into his arms, cradling you as he got down and sat you on his lap, caressing your face while soothingly shushing your whimpers, “so fragile, i mustn’t forget” he hums, kissing your temple as he wiped your bloody nose with his handkerchief.
Gently dabbing the cloth against your skin, soaking up the blood, his eyes fixed on the blood on your dress, his gaze glazing over, “my sweet wife.. mother of my future children..” he whispered quietly to himself, zoned out like he’s gone in his imagination, his eyes focused back on you as he felt your fingers twitching against his chest, “i believe it is time for our… consummation, my love” he breathed, picking you up into his arms, bridal style, as you froze, your heart pitter pattering in your rib cage, “wha— what..?” you choked on your words, feeling tears burning in your eyes, darting from his face to his hands who held you so firmly while walking you down the aisle, he just smiled, ignoring your clear discomfort, humming the same song he sang before.
The hallway was eerily quiet as he made his way to the bedroom, seeing your ‘marital bed’ dread finally sank fully to your gut, making you feel nauseous, he carefully placed you down on your feet, his hands holding you by your elbows as he just looked at you, eyes wandering to your biological curvature, you were able to hear how turned on he was by his breath as he manhandled you, his strength overwhelming you as his fingers slid under your arms, loosening the laces of your corset.
The cold air biting your bare skin, and suddenly all of it got too real for you, “w-wait wait—“ his hands slid up your spine as you stuttered, “i don’t— i mean..” you gasp, the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed as his broad form pinning you down, hovering over you, being more than ready to go further, “can this wait-!” you blurt out, panicking digging into your shoulders as you avoid his glance, terrified of whatever reaction he might have, “please… i’m not” he grabbed your chin making you whimper, tears picking up in your eyes, you swallow trying to keep it together, “i’m not ready, i mean.. can’t we get to know each other first— w-wouldn’t that make it feel more.. special?” you’re basically begging him, trying to convince him that this was not the right moment for it, just to push it off, his firm look softened a bit as he brought his thumb up to wipe away a terrified tear, looking as if in deep thought.
You glance down to his chest, conjuring the courage to get him on your side, “wouldn’t you want our first to be as special as it could possibly be..?” you force your voice to be as soft as possible; to not offend him in any way, try and make it sound like it was his idea instead of something you were insisting on to override his plans, you looked back up at him and shakily put your hand over his as he cupped your face, leaning into his palm, your glossy eyes searching his for any sign of anger or disappointment, but there were none, his thumb caressed your face as he gave you a soft smile, “it would be nice, wouldn’t it darling..” he hummed lowly as he fixed your hair, brushing a stray hair behind your ear, “i know.. i’ve been a little vulgar, and i want to say.. i’m sorry” he sighed straightening up a bit, thumb brushing over your cheekbone, “i just— you know how a man gets when he finds a honest woman.. to love” he spoke as if contemplating something then coming to a calm conclusion, he leaned down, picking you up as he got onto the bed, placing you on his lap, breathing softly, kissing your temple as he cradled you to his chest, resting his chin upon your head. He grabbed your hand, pushing down his thumb against your knuckles, making you stretch out your fingers to show your wedding ring, “you’re mine now.. and it is my job and mine alone to care for you, make sure your well and healthy to carry my children..” he whispered into your ear, “and so, i will try make this as painless as possible for you my love” he kissed your hair, “if waiting a little helps lessen the discomfort of your first time, then i will endure it, for the sake of our family.”
You only nodded as you let him hold you close, needing to play into his delusions, it was the only way you knew you’d survive, maybe if you gained enough of his trust then you could convince him to let you out long enough to escape, but that was wishful thinking.
You felt his hand cup your cheek again, making you look at him, “lest it be too long, we can still..” he whispered as he kissed your lips, slowly placing you down on your back, pinning you down, hands grazing over your body, slow kisses moved up your nose, he breathed heavily, having to hold himself back from his lust, stopping at your forehead just resting his lips against your skin, breathing in the scent of your hair, finding the smell of your shampoo mixed with grime and sweat strangely intoxicating, lost in the moment, you had to pull him back from his mind, “husband..?” you whispered, eyes looking up at him, you didn’t even know his name, he never told you, but you needed to make that connection, “my wife..” he smiled, looking down at you, “my Mrs. Gluskin” he licked his lips, breathing out, his eyes moving all over your face; taking you in, seeing your heavy look, soft droopy eyes, “you must be exhausted after such an exciting day” he observed, sighing.
He leaned down beside you, “this should help you relax darling..” kissing your shoulder, pulling you close, his arms around you, caging you in against his chest, warmth radiating off of him, swallowing you whole as he buried his face into your neck, the tension in your body dissipating into his touch, his warmth cradling you as your eyelids got heavier by the second, his breaths lulling you to your sleep, “sweet dreams, my perfect wife.”
You guys might get annoyed with me for this but i literally dgaf. Im living my controversial truth thinking about older bf!Jack Abbot buying you backstage passes to WWE so you can meet Cm Punk omfggg i need them bof so badddd.
Jack finds humor in the whole thing — you having a crush on a WWE star and all — cos he remembers watching those first few showings with all the greats. 'Heartbreak kid' Shawn Michaels, The Undertaker, hell, even Batista and the Rock. He even tells you he remembers when Punk made his debut when he comes home one morning after a shift to see you watching clips of Punk's early matches on YouTube.
Jack starts teasing you a little bit about it cos its so obvious you have a crush and he thinks its cute. Totally you to be crushing on some other guy younger than him but still old enough to enter the taboo 'is that her boyfriend or her dad' territory.
You dont admit to anything but you get more comfortable putting your hyperfixation on display. Opting to play the short clipped matches and kafabe on the TV in the den rather than your phone which you'd gotten into the habit of quickly shutting off as soon as Jack entered the room.
He doesnt really understand why you get so shy and flustered about it but he doesnt press to make you watch your little WWE champ with him around, just makes quirked comments here and there. One time he caught you mid-shoving your phone under the pillows and said "y'watchin' your boyfriend again?"
You get a little bit more comfortable after that. He thinks you just might need the reassurance that you're not in trouble for having some cute schoolgirl crush on some wrestling star.
That is, until he makes some off hand comment about you leaving him for Punk while you're watching one of his matches on the TV and you tease back a little, saying "I'll marry that man one of these days."
"Yeah," Jack scoffs, "over my dead body."
He doesn't even remember how he ends up buying tickets for the next available showing for WWE in Pittsburgh but he makes damn sure you've got backstage passes and front row seats. You will be seeing your fake boyfriend one way or another.
Its so cute how excited you are when he surprises you with the tickets. Nearly bouncing off the walls and already planning your outfit for the show.
And God you're so fucking sweet when you guys go to the show. He's taking picture of you the whole time while you're sitting there just completely immersed in the show and the theater of it all. He's never seen you so enthralled and it makes his heart swell.
When Punk comes out, you're smiling ear to ear, giggling along with the theatrics and covering your face, tucking yourself into Jack's hold whenever Punk gets close to your spot outside of the ring. He's still set in character but makes a point to engage with the audience here and there when he knows the cameras aren't on him. He happens to smile down at you when hes making his way back towards the ramp to backstage, passing by you at the corner of the barricade.
Once the show ends and youre both brought backstage, Punk's there dressed down a bit from his match, face flushed and dark short hairs stick to his forehead in little curls.
"So you a fan or what?" he teases as soon as youre in view, wrapping a big arm around you and tucking you into the warmth of him.
The whole thing is overwhelming.
Punk's skin warm against yours, the weight of his arm over your shoulder, bulging tattooed muscle pressed up against the back of your neck, the way he tucks himself down a bit to reach your shy eyes.
You hum a sheepish yes.
Punk giggles when you shy yourself away, covering your face with your hand, "That right, sweetheart?"
You nod against him again and Punk says something to Jack.
"She's a big fan," you hear Jack tease and pinch your arm teasingly, making you pull away from Punk.
"Oh, yeah? How big we talkin' here?"
Jack says something you dont quite catch but Punk squeezes your shoulder comfortingly and you can feel the vibrations of his laugh rumble into you.
Punk jostles you a bit, trying to encourage you to break out of where you've hidden yourself away in his hold.
When you do, you break away to see Jack holding your camera and smiling warmly at you, "c'mon— there she is, smile, baby."
You wipe away at your eyes with your sleeve, standing a bit straighter as Punk tucks you closer to him, dropping his arm from your shoulders to the dip of your back, making soft comforting circles as you smile at the camera.
You pull away from Punk after Jack puts your phone away, thanking him and telling him how talented he is.
Punk watches you, nodding and humming 'thank you's back, his smile soft and warm as he nods down at you. He gives you one last hug as he tells you its time for him to head off but as you give your last 'thank you' he nods and leans down to press a peck to your temple, saying "you're so welcome, sweetheart," before he heads off with the rest of his team.
As soon as they're out of ear shot, you practically throw yourself into Jack's arms, chanting "thank you, thank you, thank you," all the while Jack's laughing and rocking you from side to side in his hold.
"Course, baby," he smoothes a hand over your hair, tucking loose pieces behind your ears, "you have fun? Everything you'd hoped and dreamed?"
You nod, "and more."
Jack chuckles amusedly and weaves your hand with his, leading the two of you towards the exit.
"Maybe we can come back again?"
Jack scoffs and holds the door open for you, "yeah dont get any ideas."
a/n: guys… why do u keep asking for more parts for this?? y’know i can’t say no but i also had no fucking idea of what to write 🥲, but it was surprisingly quick to finish, but it’s also a lot shorter than the other ones, still this has to be the last one bro 😭. (hope u enjoy my pain lol @dixxsout )
cw: 18+ MDNI, ooc Coyle, violence and blood, toxic behavior, sadism and masochism (not too much), he’s pathetic, fingers in mouth, enemies to lovers (?), oral (reader receiving), wholesome ending.
Avoiding him like the plague, you stayed back from assignments with him, keeping with the others just so you wouldn’t have to see him after what he did, what you did. It was actually revolting, or at least you tried to convince yourself that it was.
He became antsy, more aggressive and fowl-mounted towards the regents and doctors, placing the blame on them as to why you weren’t around anymore, they were taking up the space and time you could’ve had with him, but he was sent the trash from the bottom of the barrel to distract him, to take his anger out on, when all he wanted was to see you again and feel what you made him feel again.
Then finally came the time where you’re eventually forced to see him again, nerves choked you as the adrenaline grew up your spine, “so fucking humiliating..” you mumbled to yourself once you stepped foot into his domain once again, and already, like a fucking sniffer dog he came running knowing his favorite treat was right around the corner, “look who came crawling back” he grinned, slowly waking toward you, says you, you fucking bastard, you glared at him with as much disgust you could muster, “don’t fucking talk to me..” your voice cold as you just push past, “oh no, you don’t get to do this again sweetness..” he said as he gripped your wrist, sounding surprisingly hurt under that strict tone he always used, pulling you close, face inches from yours.
“Don’t.” you speak firmly, looking at him as if he was nothing but a piece of filth at the bottom of your shoe, keeping eye contact, seeing the slight hesitation in his eyes through his aviators, but his grip tightened, holding your wrist to his chest, “don’t what? make you feel good..” he breaths, “make you open your damn eyes to the truth.. the whole truth” he leaned closer, his cigarette dipping from his lips, ash falling between you.
You could see it in him that he wanted to taste you, to just lean in and grab you by your hair, pulling u as close as possible to shove his tongue down your throat, a part of you wanted it too, but you wouldn’t let yourself indulge in his way. So, you punched him, hard, as hard as you fucking could, breaking his nose and cracking his aviators, he stumbled back grabbing his face, letting out a low groan, “fucking bitch.. you just won’t obey will you..” he grumbled to himself, cracking his nose back into place as he straightened up, blood pouring down all the way to his neck, “won’t fucking listen— not even to yourself” he huffed, licking the blood off his lips as he watched you just lean against a wall, glaring at him.
Keeping a slight distance for a moment, he just watched your face, trying to look beyond, your act not fooling him but his crackling mind not letting him delve too deep into it before being set off, frustrated that you wouldn’t just obey, “you don’t know me, and you never will know me” you speak firmly, “i’d rather die than be with you” your words hit harder even to yourself as they came out, cause you knew it wasn’t true, at least not anymore. Coyle was quiet, your hurtful words getting to him, taunting him over and over in his mind, until it just cracked, he crumbled onto the ground, grabbing you by your legs, burying his face into them, muttered something against your thighs, “Coyle— what is wrong with you..” you strain against his grip, “get the fuck off—!” you push at his shoulders but he didn’t budge, his muttered grew louder and you finally could hear his pathetic voice begging at your feet, “pleasepleaseplease… i want yo—…” his breaths stuttering as his arms wrapped tighter around your knees, “god— you’re so pathetic, just— stop” your tone wavered, your fingers digging into his jacket as you kept trying to push him off.
Your breathing got heavier at the sight of him on his knees in front of you, you enjoyed how weak he made himself look for you, desperate like a dog, his voice stuttering and worn, mumbling incoherent begs, so weak, so pathetic, don’t indulge… DO NOT INDULGE HIM… Then he let out that whimper and you just grabbed him roughly by his jaw, forcing his face out of its hiding place, you look down at him with hooded eyes, his sunglasses crooked on his damp face, lips parted as he panted in need, brushing your thumb over his bottom lip, you’re just as pathetic as him, you push your thumb into his mouth and immediately felt him suck on it, his teeth grazing against your knuckle as you pushed deeper, grabbing him, thumb pressed against his tongue as you force open his mouth more, “what do you want” you try to sound annoyed but it came out softer than u wanted, dragging your thumb up his tongue as it slid out, tugging at his lip before letting go of him, his hands slid up to your hips; tugging at your belt loops, you scoff a bit, he really wasn’t that tough guy he paraded himself around to be, he crumbled just as easily as any other man would, so predictable, you couldn’t say no to that.
Small gasps and moans came from your mouth as Coyle tongued your most sensitive parts, having hiked your leg over his shoulder as he pressed against your boot, your hands gripping the edge of a desk as he pleasured you, “damnit— fuck Coyle..” you whine, eyes rolling back as your body pulsed in raw euphoria, “c-careful with the teeth you— ah mmh fuck!” your pleasant gasps sending shooks of pleasure to his cock as he grinded against your boot, “y’taste s’good..”
Somehow you ended up moaning on the floor, pinned down by your hips as he slobbered all over you, his head between your thighs, groaning pathetically as he came in his pants for the third time, pushing you through peak after peak until you were a shaking mess, thighs almost crushing his skull as they twitched.
You whimpered as you struggled to keep your breath, finally having been able to push him away from your aching treat. he crawled up to you, taking your shivering body into his arms, cuddling you close as you panted quietly, he held onto you tightly, as if you’d disappear if he let go, murmuring against your hair as his heart pounded away, “i’m yours.”
