CAN WE GET MORE GLUSKIN PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS BEG BEG HUMPS
I.. I was thinking.. Right after getting married.. Eddie is rushing through a 'reception' which is just him having his first dance with scared Reader and like making her toss the bouquet even if there is literally no one to catch it- toss it a patient idk..
BUT there's this wedding game where the newly wed husband is blindfolded (although eddie wouldnt do that) and the bride sits down and the husband has to get under the dress and find her garter belt and take it off with his teeth... Reader probably being tied down to the chair bUT.. Er.. Eating out and hot sex ensues 👀👀👀👀👀
tags & content: NSFW, rape/non-con, sexual content, forced marriage, forced proximity, restraints, oral sex (reader receiving), cunnilingus, penis in vagina, breeding kink, unprotected sex, manhandling, size difference, reader doesn’t get to cum twice lol, female reader
The dress is itchy, and uncomfortable. The fabric doesn’t sit right on your body, scantily put together and even more scantily tailored to fit your shape. But Eddie’s hand rests firmly against your lower back, enough that you’re pressed so tightly against him that the fabric doesn’t shift.
His movements are slow, swaying you to imaginary music, instead filling the eerie space with his delighted humming.
“C’mon, darling,” he urges, his voice a quiet whisper by your ear. “Smile. It’s our day.”
Every time you try to shift, every time your wrist tenses in his grip to try and pull away, he crushes you even closer to him. His fingers close hard, grinding bones, but you know better than to let a noise of discomfort slip out of your lips. You nuzzle into his chest to muffle it, earning you a sudden twirl that has your feet sweeping off the ground. You squeal as you clumsily land, feeling Eddie’s head bump against yours, slotting himself into the space between your neck and shoulders.
He’s so broad that your spine arches slightly from his height, your eyes forced up at the dishevelled ceiling. Even when you try to squeeze them shut, to block him out, his presence is so glaringly invasive that nothing works. He compensates for your unnatural steps, guiding you through the shoddy choreography. Shifting his grip, nudging, adjusting, forcing your clumsy steps into line with his own.
“Darling,” he purrs again, his voice shaking with such delight it makes you shudder visibly. You suddenly stiffen, his hand roaming from the small of your back to cup your bum, fingers digging into the flesh there. He jerks you even closer to him, so close that the hard press of his erection is impossible to ignore. “Oh, darling. My darling wife.”
“You’re hurting me—” You try to say, your lungs compressed against the solid feel of him, but Eddie merely coos, and spins the two of you slowly.
“I know, I know,” he soothes, breathing in the scent of you for a moment. His lips ghost over your throat, and you can feel the barely contained tremble in his limbs. His hand, still gripping your flesh, eases for a fraction of a second to massage the muscle, like he’s soothing your discomfort. “But it has to be perfect. We’ll both have to suffer just a little a bit longer.”
He finally looks at you, then, in a way that makes your gaze snap to him instinctively. You regret it as soon as it happens, your breath hitching in a barely concealed gasp before you’re forcing yourself to look at his chest. Eddie’s grip tightens a fraction.
“You should be happy,” he says after a moment, his voice dipping into a low, calm octave. It’s suffocating in its intensity, and your blood curdles. “This is…this is what you wanted, right?”
The question hangs in the air. The pressure of choosing the right, and only, answer pricks at your stomach, coiling into a knot of tension. Eddie’s smile doesn’t disappear, but it has strained in an attempt to conceal bubbling emotions you know you don’t want to be on the receiving end of. You’ve witnessed his treatment of previous brides, those he deemed had given up on love.
Your tongue is so dry that you can’t even find the strength to speak, instead feebly nodding your head once. The answer is enough; just like that, the tension in Eddie’s posture melts, and his once strained smile morphs into something bright and boyish.
A trembling sigh escapes him, like he doesn’t know what to do with himself. His hand slides to your shoulder blades, forcing your head on his shoulder. You turn away from him, your eyes focused longingly on the windows, the doors, anything, but either he doesn’t notice, or he simply cares more about finishing the dance.
“I understand, darling. It’s just nerves,” he coos, nuzzling against the side of your head. His statement is final, though it sounds like he’s reassuring himself more than he is you. “I’ll take good care of you now, like any husband should. Oh, but I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
He pulls you with more force necessary over to one of the arranged chairs, your feet tripping over the grimy hem of the wedding dress. He easily manoeuvres you with two large, firm hands on your waist, pushing you down onto one of the lined up chairs. The wood scrapes precariously, a loud screech that makes you flinch. The impact is jarring, but you don’t have enough time to focus on the flare of pain up your tailbone before Eddie is dropping down to his knees in front of you.
He easily catches a flailing ankle, giving him easy access to push the hem of your dress up your thighs. You squeal, more violently than you intended, fingers scrambling for his broad shoulders before he can dip under the rest of your dress. It’s hard to find any purchase against the rickety wooden chair, panic clouding your chest.
“Wait, wait—” You gasp, pushing so hard against his immovable form that the chair rocks and almost sends you tumbling backwards. Eddie is strong enough to still the moving chair with a firm hand, abandoning his pursuit under your dress in favour of making sure that you don’t fall. One of his hands cups yours, your other jerking back to your chest. He lifts it to his lips, kissing over your knuckles tenderly.
“Oh, dear, I know. I am eager to finally consummate our marriage, too,” he hums gently, mistaking your resistance for apparent excitement. “But this is just a game. Something for the bride and groom.”
He slowly rises to his feet, and you shrink back into the chair, pressing your legs close together. He’s more terrifying like this, looming over you, his form blocking the cascading rays of flickering light. Your heart pounds against your chest as the word consummate settles into your bones. Eddie has talked about it enough, but it never gets any easier to hear.
“Here, let me find something to keep you still,” he decides, moving behind you and into the shadows of the wedding room. “I wouldn’t want you to fall and hit your head in the excitement, darling.”
You curl in on yourself, fingers twisting into the front of your gown. Your lungs have tightened until they’re burning, your mouth gaping as you try to swallow air.
Even like this, you force yourself to your feet.
Your legs feel weak, crumbling slightly under your weight, but you force yourself up the aisle to search for some vague exit. Your feet snag against the hem of the dress, huffing as your knees hit the ground. Your hands fly out to catch yourself, suppressing a moan of pain, trying to clumsily pick yourself back up.
Just as you do, you feel an arm clamp around your waist, pulling you back against his side. You can feel the strength in his arm, the band of muscle easily tugging you with him. Your feet skim across the floor, desperately trying to toe at the ground for some leverage.
“I’ll make this quick, I promise,” he whispers, making your blood run cold.
He deposits you back into the chair, and a wave of despair so violent crashes over you. You try to wrench your arm away, but he catches it too easily, wrestling it against the arm of the rickety chair. His grip is tighter than before now, and you can feel your bones grinding together between him and the wood. You suck in a sharp, whimpery breath, your body stiffening and going still.
Eddie begins to coil thick rope around your forearm, the rough material scratching uncomfortably against your skin. It’s not so tight that it’s painful, but a quick, useless tug and you know you’re not going anywhere. Your gaze snaps to your lap, watching the ragged movement of your chest like it could somehow ground you.
His movements are slightly erratic now, the knot on your other arm sloppy and less uncomfortable.
You chin tucks further when he leans in to kiss your cheek, murmuring soft assurances under his breath that you don’t catch. You can barely watch as he slides back down to his knees, his hands working under the tattered dress to pry your legs apart. Your balance falters slightly, the front legs of the chair lifting from the ground for a fraction of a second before steadying again.
Eddie’s head disappears under the dress once more. His hands, despite everything, are warm, leaving traces of heat along your bare skin. It’s an uncomfortable sensation, and you can’t help but squirm as his lips trail from your knee, his breath ghosting over flesh.
Vaguely, you think you know the purpose of this game.
“I—I don’t—” Your voice comes out strangled, desperate. “I’m not wearing a garter.”
Eddie’s lips trail higher up your thigh, his hand slipping under your knee to lift it up over his shoulder. You hear him hum, the sound vibrating against your flesh, enough to make your toes curl.
“That’s alright, darling,” he murmurs, his voice slightly muffled but still clear from under the dress. His teeth scrape over your skin, making you jolt. “Oh, it would have been so perfect. Right—here.”
He bites harder then, the sharp sting enough to make you gasp. He smooths over the reddening skin with his tongue, his moan muffled against your flesh. You’re vaguely aware of how close he is to you, how he keeps spreading you wide enough to nudge his head between your legs.
You feel his breath against your cunt first, before his tongue works its way into your flesh. You squeal, the chair scraping precariously across the ground, but Eddie’s grip is firm, almost to the point of pain, his fingers digging deep into the meat of your thighs.
He gasps raggedly against you, his tongue rough and frantic. It drags up your folds with little precision, his mouth pressing around anything he can find like he’s trying to take in and explore every little crevice. Your eyes scrunch for a moment, squirming uncomfortably whenever his tongue probes your hole too roughly.
“Oh, darling,” he moans against your flesh, his tongue just teasing the hood of your clit before it’s dragged back through your folds. The fleeting contact makes your whole body seize, breath catching in your throat. Even in his haze, Eddie instinctively closes his mouth around that spot, suckling at it until you’re wriggling more frantically now.
Pleasure winds through your belly, knotting into something too big to ignore.
Your arousal makes white hot shame flush your cheeks. Your hips jerked automatically into his mouth, only encouraging him further.
“Perfect,” he trembles, lapping at your leaking slick before you can even register it yourself. He moans raggedly against you, his ministrations nearing you to a faster peak than you would have liked. “You taste divine. So good, darling. So good.”
Your eyelids flutter, biting your lips to muffle your whine. You buck more insistently into his warm mouth now, your pulse and breathing rapidly building up in tandem.
“I’m…” You squeak, feeling his tongue pushing into you harder, his hand shifting your leg a fraction higher to make more room. Your head tilts back, his tongue working just right over your clit, warm and wet, stroking it until you’re just about to—
The chair groans and tips backwards. Your stomach drops for a fleeting second in realisation, the front two legs lifting precariously before it sends you both crashing backwards. The floor slams into your back, a yelp of surprise tearing from your lips before you can stop yourself. Eddie lands half on top of you, the dress flipped up over your stomach and one of your arms hanging in a loose tangle of rope.
Your cheeks are flushed, both with a prick of frustration from losing your orgasm and embarrassment.
Eddie hardly looks affected by the tumble, more concerned with any potential damage done to his bride. When he assesses you briefly, his eyes soften in relief.
“Oh, my dear, I’m awfully sorry,” he murmurs, nosing your temple with a deep sigh that stirs the little hairs there. “It seems we got a little carried away. That’s okay, that’s okay. Did you have fun?”
You weakly worm your left arm out of the loose rope, the weight of his body making it hard to catch your breath. The chair is uncomfortable, digging into your spine, having knocked some of the wind from your lungs when he’d landed on top of you.
Eddie relieves the pressure by finally sitting up, working his strong fingers through the rope of your other arm until that’s falling away too. Panic claws its way back up your throat as you roll onto your stomach, trying to dislodge your legs from the tipped over chair by crawling away from him.
Eddie simply wraps his hands around your hips, tugging you the few inches you’d dragged yourself. He moves you so easily that the fight seems to instantly drain out of you, the cast of his shadow engulfing you. Your fingers tremble against the ground as you hear the clanking of his belt buckle, reminding you of what you’d been fighting to prevent ever since he’d laid eyes on you.
You don’t find yourself at the mercy of his bad mood. You’re unsure if he’s ignoring your misbehaviour on purpose, or if he’s so taken by his own delusions that he cannot comprehend your fear and unwillingness.
It doesn’t matter.
You feel his fingers wind through the wedding dress, tearing through the fabric with a loud rip. You flinch, swallow down your frightened whimper, but it tears from your throat regardless when he presses his cock against you. A shudder dances down the length of your spine, pressing your forehead into the ground like it’s a last resort to save as much of your dignity as possible.
Eddie’s hips rock with trembling restraint, just enough that you feel the tip breach. You sense him shudder, like he’s grappling with his own self restraint, and vehemently losing. The stretch burns as he feeds himself into your heat, keeping you thoroughly pinned with a firm hand at the small of your back.
It’s overwhelming, uncomfortable fullness that makes your stomach knot with nausea. You fight the pained moan threatening to spill from your lips, trying to suck in a fleeting lick of air when his hips press flush against your ass. He stills.
“So perfect,” he groans against the back of your neck, having leaned forward enough to trap you thoroughly against the ground. He presses a few shakey kisses to your hairline before he rocks into your glistening cunt, drawing the entirety of his cock out of you just for his hips to hit your ass on the way back in. “My darling, my love, my wife, mother of my children…”
You gasp, rocking himself deep enough inside of you that it keeps spearing that spot that makes your vision flash white. The sound is ragged and choked, but it encourages Eddie to wrap a thick arm around your chest, his hand making a home for itself around your breast. He squeezes hard, enough to make you jolt in pain, your pussy instinctively clamping down on him.
He groans at that, and punctuates his delight with a hard thrust.
“Oh, I know, darlin’,” he mutters beside your ear, his ragged pants constantly blowing against a spot that makes you shiver. Mistaking your reaction for eagerness, he crushes your back to his chest, his other hand pressing up against your stomach. The sensation is immediate and overwhelming, like he’s pressing down right where the tip of his cock reaches inside of you.
“Fuck…” You slur, feeling that knot of nausea make its transition into pitiful arousal. The position is uncomfortable and claustrophobic, but it keeps Eddie grinding against that soft spot inside of you, melting the strength from your limbs with little effort. Your gummy walls clench until his thrusts become erratic and sloppy, driving into you again and again and again.
“I’ll fill you up—right here,” he groans, his fingers tightening against your belly, right over where your womb is. You claw for breath, each slam of his hips knocking the air from your begging lungs. Heat flushes your cheeks, the back of your neck, and you know that this time, it’s not just shame. “Fill this emptiness with my seed. Our children will grow, and I will protect you from those wicked harlots, darling. Don’t you want that?”
His voice is shaking now, bordering on breaking. His cock grinds deeper inside of you, listening to his desperate pants next to your burning ear.
“Don’t you, darling?”
His voice is sharp, his fingers digging uncomfortably into your breast, and you’re so close so quickly since your last orgasm was denied that you find yourself frantically agreeing without even meaning to.
“Yes, yes!” You cry, squeezing your eyes shut just as Eddie’s hips stutter and press flush against your ass. You feel his cock twitch before a flood of warmth is released, spreading through your lower stomach where you’re sure his hand is still pressing against. You grit your teeth and let out a miserable, desperate grunt.
Your neglected clit throbs, the second peak teetering for only a moment before you feel it slowly rescind. Your skin is hot and clammy, tears of frustration welling in your eyes before the tension in your limbs slowly fades. Eddie doesn’t seem to have any intention of getting up, remaining snug and warm inside your fluttering walls.
“Oh, my love,” he shudders, kissing away the fleeting tear at the corner of your eye. He smiles against your skin, his thumb rubbing your abdomen almost tenderly. “Let’s make sure my seed takes…”
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non canon event for my fic on Ao3 Here Comes the Bride.
reader is mentally unwell.
a/n i do not want to talk about how many different times i typed this up omfg... thanks for liking it here i 'preciate that muchly xx
“Don’t touch me!’
You jerked back, not from fear, but confusion. The scream had echoed through the recreational building, an unholy thing filled with terror. Had it been anyone else you’d have been able to ignore it, to wave it off as just part of the ambiance. But it had only taken a moment for it to filter through that you knew the voice, which had sent you running blindly in what you hoped was the right direction.
Doubt your ability to find the love of your life? Never again, your navigation had been flawless. But outside of his hair slightly mussed, and that he was breathing too hard, he didn’t seem hurt. Pacing a hole in the floor, but not injured, and you’d only reached out to touch him because he hadn’t acknowledged you saying his name three times. Gaze shifting to the mannekins laying strewn about the floor, you began to straighten them, unsure how to rescue the fabric.
It hurt that he kept the distance between you, moving as you did, his gaze a heavy thing you felt like the heel of a hand pressing against your chest. Outside a bit of blood on the dresses you didn’t see a body, and it wasn’t like he was afraid of vermin. Far too strapping for that sort of foolishness he’d assured you when you’d apologized for jumping when a mouse had scuttled over your foot. So what had happened?
“Where were you?’
Well that was easy, making sure that the records hadn’t gotten stuck again. Eddie worked hard on those displays, and the music was important, each one had a specific mood that needed catering to. He didn’t seem to like that answer, and you hesitated in righting a mannekin to watch him. There was a tightness to his face, your chin resting on the neck as you tried to puzzle it out. But he definitely didn’t like that either, crossing his arms over his chest as if daring you to say something.
By the time you realized you’d been quiet too long, his lips had pressed together, biceps stretching the shirt as his hands curled into fists. You didn’t move as he stalked towards you, reaching out for your chin which you offered out of habit. It did hurt a little, but that was okay, he was upset, something had upset your beloved Eddie.
“Where. Were. Y-’
“Did you have a nightmare?’
Though your voice was low, he reacted as if you’d shouted at him, briefly looking panicked before the expression was quickly hidden away. But you could see the shadow of it in his eyes, though it got a bit harder when your own blurred from the punishing grip. If he needed you to cry for him you could do that, hands settling on his forearm gently to silently tell him it was okay. Or would be, taking a step closer, your toes brushing the tops of his shoes.
“Let’s go to bed, it’s been a long day.’
Not that you actually had days anymore, but you could feel the tremor in his forearm now. Whatever had happened had shaken him badly, so much so he didn’t just not want to talk about it, he was willfully ignoring it had happened at all. Well then it was time for a restart, gently pulling at his wrist until he lowered it. Good, good, slowly guiding him into the starting position he’d shown you, you smiled up at him as his hand settled on your waist.
A proper gentleman your Eddie, giving his lifted hand a squeeze and feeling the hand at your waist slowly shift to your lower back. Even better, you hadn’t like that distance you could still feel though his every inhale pressed you back slightly. Humming as he slowly waltzed you to your room, you refused to let go to crawl into bed. A brief flash of irritation was better than the hollow look that you kept catching in his eyes when he forgot he was supposed to be hiding
“Let go of me.’ He finally managed, giving his hand a tug despite the fact it hadn’t worked the last few times.
“I'll never let you go.’
Leaning backwards, you felt like you were practically horizontal by the time he followed you the rest of the way into the room. Another brief battle of wills as you awkwardly crawled into bed and kept hold of his hand, but you managed. When he realized leaving was not going to be an option he sighed, motioning at his clothing clearly unwilling to climb into bed fully dressed. Tough. Stubbornly keeping hold, he eventually tugged the bow tie loose and tossed it aside before sitting on the bed with one knee crooked to stare at you.
It was a small victory, but you were greedy, tugging until he shifted, moving to rest his head on your stomach. That could not be comfortable, looking at the way the rest of his body hung over the side of the metal frame. Baby steps then, fingertips tracing the line between scalp and hair as he faced away from you. Not ideal, but he was letting you touch him, more now actually that you were thinking about it. Humming softly, you lightly scratched his scalp with each note, playing with the melody even as you tried to puzzle out what had happened.
“That’s nice.’
Oh a compliment? Much better, growing brazen as you threaded your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging at it in a silent offer to please get further on the bed even if it meant squishing you. Your pleasure that he did was not quantifiable, feeling him resettle with his head over your heart and a hand smoothing from waist to hip and back again. It would be nice if he also decided to tell you what had happened, what memory had made him scream like that. But that might be a bit far a reach even for you.
Happily sinking into the coziness of his using you like a very willing teddy bear, you missed what he said and kicked yourself. It wasn’t as if you had the option to ask him to repeat himself. It had probably been hard enough admitting it the first time, straining your brain to try and force yourself to remember.
“I would never hurt our children that way, you must know that.’
“I do.’
Like what? Had his father beat him? What an ass. … Or had he-
“Good, good, I’ll make sure they’re safe. … Even from you.’ That… was a threat, so why did it give you butterflies in your stomach and make you want to kiss the top of his head? “My children will be safe.’
“Yes they will.’
A little disheartening that he’d put so much emphasis on the word my, but you could work on that problem later, trailing your fingers along his upper back as he pulled your body closer and seemed to believe it was possible to force his face through your sternum in order to see your heart properly. He already had it, but if he’d prefer stitching his name into it that was just fine.
Yeah i don’t know either. If you’re unfamiliar with the outlast series, and especially Eddie Gluskin’s character, I would highly recc checking the warnings before reading, as that dude is fucked up in every form of the word and therefore this fic also contains fucked up shit by proxy.
Warnings: misogynistic language, mutilation (not of reader), murder, extreme depictions of violence and gore, Eddie Gluskin (a warning in and of itself), mentions of genital disfigurement (not of reader), fake-pregnancy, reader is pregnant but not really? read outlast lore you’ll get it, dub-con moments, reader has female body parts and is referred to as a woman by Gluskin but as we well know that doesn’t have to mean shit.
How long had you been asleep?
When you’d opened your eyes, the first thing you’d noticed had been the dilapidated ceiling, rot eating away at the cheap materials. A single lightbulb illuminated some of the room, but you were pretty sure it hadn’t been this dark when you’d fallen asleep, though you could remember barely anything.
But you remembered this room looking pristine and clean, not barely lit and covered with- oh god what was that? As you sat up, you furrowed your brows as you tried to see what the sludge on the walls was. When you sat fully upright, you immediately squealed as a dead body came into view, positioned right underneath the sludge.
Ah. So that’s what it was.
This situation was worthy of panic, but first you needed to find out what the fuck was going on. You faintly remembered going to work, reading some files, checking your e-mail, before getting dragged off and tied to a bed. If you were currently under the influence of the Engine, as you suspected, things were much worse than you could’ve ever anticipated.
There was little known on the effect of the Engine on the female body, but there was one phenomena even a desk-sitter like you knew all about. Female bodies that were exposed to the radiation or whatever it was, got weird psychosomatic pregnancies, fake pregnancies that would suddenly pop-up even though there was no actual baby. You weren’t sure how long it would take before your body would do the same, but you were rather certain you didn’t want it to happen.
So escape needed to happen quickly.
The lay-out of the building was a mess, and you weren’t exactly sure where you were. You knew the way out from your desk, but you’d been dragged away, meaning you could be anywhere in the building, and you’d have no idea where to go. It was also way too dark, the hall outside the room you woke up in pitch-black, something you’d figured out by slowly opening the door and peeking around the corner.
You didn’t see anyone else, just corpses and proof that people had been here.
Squatting out and crawling over the floor to be as quiet as possible, you tried to find a place to locate yourself. If you knew where you were, you could bee-line to the exit, or at least have a vague notion of how to get out. You had no way of lighting the place up, so most of your journey to find a way out was in pitch black darkness, a few rogue lightbulbs that still functioned your only relief.
After about ten minutes of crawling, you saw a lone desk with an open file atop. Maybe if you could sneak a peak at the department, you’d know where you were, so you picked it up and hid behind the desk. So far you hadn’t encountered anyone yet, except one male patient screaming his head off about ‘how he didn’t want to be eaten’.
The file you picked up turned out to not exactly be a file, but a notebook filled with observations. After a few pages, you realized the worth of what you were carrying. Someone (a man named Waylon Park, you realized after reading for a bit) had written down whatever he encountered going through the building. If you were gonna escape, it was priceless to already be able to tell which routes were no-go.
A few patient names sprung out, the cannibal who’d followed Waylon around, Chris Walker who was roaming the upstairs level, Dennis who’d occupied the way to the lower levels and finally, Eddie Gluskin, the Man Downstairs.
Everyone and their mother at Murkoff knew who Eddie Gluskin was, but the stories Waylon wrote down on what Gluskin had been up to were horrifying. So far, it seemed that every nook and cranny of the building had been occupied by psychopaths, and it was just a matter of picking your poison. A small bit of you hoped to be in Walker’s territory, since you knew a short-cut not few knew about that lead outside there.
The notebook ended rather abruptly, a sentence not ended properly, and you were loathe to imagine what happened to Waylon.
Putting the notebook back on the desk, you crawled forward again, freezing up and staying low whenever you heard screaming or rummaging. Eventually you found a room you recognized. A co-worker of yours had been conducting meetings here whenever there wasn’t enough room upstairs.
You were in the vocational block.
Eddie Gluskin’s territory.
You hadn’t seen him yet, but as you were softly hyperventilating, you were sure you’d drawn the worst lot of the bunch. The rest would kill you just the same, but Eddie had a penchant for doing awful, awful things to women, so now survival wasn’t your only hope, dying peacefully was one as well.
You felt nauseous, and proceeded to dry-heave for several minutes after your discovery, only catching yourself and moving forward when you heard another noise behind you. Going forward and forward and forward for ages as slowly and silently as possible, you eventually came across a large door. You knew there was a large hall behind this door, just beside the male ward, where you might be able to climb out of a window.
The few variants you’d encountered all seemed to have the exact opposite in mind, moving away as far as possible from the hall, and while you knew what that probably meant, you also knew you were on a timer, and you needed to get out as soon as possible before your body would start hallucinating pregnancies.
Standing up, you felt sick to your stomach again, but instead of heaving, you clutched the door handle and opened the door slowly, cursing as the iron creaked awfully. The sight beyond the door you’d expected, of corpses and debris and blood turned out to be partially correct, if a gross understatement.
You gasped out as you saw mutilated corpses strung up for as far as the eye could see, hanging off the ceiling like they were dripping from above. You didn’t want to look too long, instead quickly searching for the window you’d promised yourself, but the human eye couldn’t possibly be torn away from the display of cruelty for long.
“Oh no, darling, did you get lost again?” When you’d thought of this exact thing happening, you’d wondered if you were more the type to fight, or rather the type to flee. Now, faced with the voice of the one you’d needed to avoid the most, you found out you were neither. Instead of fighting or fleeing, your body froze up and you could barely do anything as you felt him walk behind you. “You know you’re not supposed to be here. This is... not for you.”
You didn’t reply, waiting for him to circle around you.
When you finally caught eye of the groom, you winced, realizing exactly how fucked you were. Eddie was a broad and muscular man with a undercut combed back hairstyle. The right side of his face was completely scarred and red, his blue eyes blood-shot and his entire body covered in gore. Underneath the filth, he’d dressed up like the groom he portrayed himself to be, wearing gentleman-like clothes with a waist-coat and a bow tie.
He didn’t close in yet, the knife in his hand basically begging for you to make a run for it. After a few seconds of quiet contemplation, on his side as well as yours, his eyes ran down your body and he stifled a gasp.
“Darling... your stomach...” You blinked and looked down, a high-pitched panicked noise leaving your throat as you saw your stomach had swollen significantly. Your time was running low, and the effect of the engine on your body had begun. “You look... beautiful.”
You were running out of time.
He sounded breathless as he spoke and took another step towards you. You took a step back out of instinct and covered your stomach with your hands, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. If this came down to a chase, he’d be able to catch you, and you were pretty sure you’d end up like those corpses strung to the ceiling if you angered him in any way.
“Darling, don’t be rude. Stand still for me.” Were you dead if you stood still? Were you dead if you ran? What was the correct option here? At least with the cannibal you knew what to do, but with Eddie Gluskin you had no idea what would help you stay alive. Your indecision led you to freeze up again, anxiously standing still as the groom etched closer. When he was mere inches away from you, your eyes were fixed on his wide chest, his broad body looming over you. A gloved hand found your stomach, and you felt a shiver strike through your heart as he softly stroked your swollen stomach. “You’re pregnant-! I can’t believe it. How can such a miracle have taken-”
His hand froze.
“Oh, you whore.” His hand left your stomach and found your neck, lifting you up and slamming you against the nearby wall with enough power to make little stars appear in your vision. “You fucked some other man, didn’t you?! While I was away, looking for you, you went out and got yourself pregnant like a bitch in heat. You probably don’t even know who the father is, right? Right?! WHO?! WHO IS THE FATHER?!”
His breathless adoration had switched to violent accusations with the drop of a pin, and you clawed at his hands to try and get a chance to breathe. He eventually dropped you and looked disappointedly down at your crumpled, heaving form. His tone was ice cold when he spoke. “You don’t even know. I’ll hang you up with the other sluts and see if you remember then.”
“I DO know.” You were bluffing, your voice raspy from the abuse to your throat, but you knew you needed to say something fast, or he’d hang you up. The other variants had been terrified of him, and when psychopathic killers were afraid of someone, you’d be willing to bet they were right to. “I know who the father is. Of course I do. I’ve known all along.”
The confidence you spoke with was feigned, but gave pause to the groom who’d been collecting rope off the floor, intending to string you up by your neck and drag you over the fallen glass and debris to the pulley with all the other whores, where he could string you up and kill you like the rest.
You remembered reading his file, what his delusion probably looked like. He wanted this to be a sitcom, a happy 60′s family off in the suburbs? You could act well enough to fool a delusional man who convinced himself he could impregnate men by cutting off their dicks. You just needed to fool him for now, and you’d get some more time, more time to figure out what the fuck was going on with you.
The tears you shed were genuine when you looked up at Eddie, though their origin was the physical pain he’d enacted on you. “How can you have forgotten our love? I would never sully myself with some other, filthy man. I searched for you all over, and now that I’ve finally found you, you don’t even remember me, even though I’m carrying your child!”
He dropped the rope he’d been holding. “My child?”
You nodded wildly. “Of course!”
“It’s mine?” He suddenly grew a wild grin, crouching down before you with an expression that made you slightly regret lying to him, only because you realized how violent your end would be if he sobered up and saw through your ruse. This was incredibly dangerous. “Ah yes, of course it is, darling, how could I have forgotten! My memory has been a bit flaky, as you know, with everything happening. You understand, don’t you?”
“It’s alright.” You answered meekly, beyond relieved he wasn’t trying to kill you anymore, though you now knew that could change back any second. Eddie Gluskin was, among a lot of other things, very volatile. “I’m sorry for not explaining sooner.”
“No,” He sighed, as if clearing up a foolish argument instead of one that had your life on the line. “It is partially my fault as well. I shouldn’t have been so rough with you, you’re pregnant after all! The only thing you should be doing is taking it easy and letting me handle the rest.”
With that he whisked you up into his arms, carrying you bridal style through the Mount Massive asylum until you arrived at a place you recognized from Waylon’s notes. His workplace.
Self-made machines and devices intended for surgical purposes, the mutilated corpses surrounding them, the smell of blood that permeated the entire room. Half-dead variants scuttled around the floor, bleeding out while Eddie just walked over them. For a second you worried he would put you down in one of this machines, but instead he moved to a side-room, where you were lovingly and softly put down inside a, what you assumed to be, large dog crate.
After pushing inside a surgical sheet as a blanket, kissing the crown of your head and urging you to sleep and relax while he made ‘preparations’, he grabbed a container of gas and strutted back to your cage. A toothy and loving grin gracing his face as he sprayed the off-coloured gas into your small enclosure, the large man probably holding his breath while you felt it take effect.
And then he left.
The dog crate was surprisingly tightly closed, and you were hyperventilating in the badly lit room as your head started to get dizzy. Your eyes wondered down to your stomach, the sudden swelling catching you off-guard once again. When had that happened?!
This was an absolute nightmare, one you wanted to wake up from as soon as possible. You wanted to wake up in your own bed, take a nice bath, eat some breakfast and be anywhere else but here. But first, sleep sounded nice.
Sleep sounded very nice.
When you awoke, it was to the sound of a buzzsaw and a man screaming, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out what was going on. You winced and covered your ears, but were forced to listen as Eddie found victim after victim to kill.
It took a long time.
When the groom decided it was time to check up on you, he was frustrated,
He slammed the door shut, breathing heavily. You’d heard him storm after some escaped variant, so it made sense he was out of breath. You knew it was him because of the singing and the misogynistic language that followed. For someone who was so obsessed with women, he sure hated them a lot. You crawled deeper in the corner of the cage, the metal bars prying in your back while your palms comfortingly stroked your stomach.
It was hard just worrying about what was happening with your body, and the non-existent baby residing within, when you had to deal with Gluskin.
“All failures.” His shoulders rose rapidly and you could see the rage burning within him. “Ugly, useless, failures. I offered them my love and they spat on it like a bunch of sluts. None of them even tried to bear the pain, just giving up after the first incision!”
It came as no surprise Gluskin continued with the male variants while he’d ‘technically’ already gotten you pregnant. The diary you’d found stated as much: Gluskin made women to kill them, not to bear his children, as much as he liked to believe otherwise himself. It also meant your safety was not for long, he just hadn’t found a reason to kill you that correlated well with his delusion.
The broad man turned to you, tugging his vest down and fixing his hair as he smiled in what was supposed to be a dashing manner.
“But you... You are perfect.” He crawled into the dog cage, leaving you no space to retreat. His expression freaked you the fuck out, bordering between lustful and absolutely insane. “You didn’t need any alterations. You were perfect from the start, and look at you now! Glowing! Carrying my child.”
He grabbed your leg and pulled harshly, till you were fully underneath him, the thin surgical sheet he’d provided as cushion dragging down as well. The dog cage was, remarkably, large enough to fit you both, though at that conclusion you wondered whether this cage had been actually meant for dogs, or if you were using it exactly as intended.
“Darling, you don’t mind me working off some frustration for a bit, right?” He pulled down your pants, a wide grin still etched on his face. You froze up, like you usually did, and just sat wide-eyed while he removed all your clothing. “I know you’re already pregnant, but a wife needs to look after her husband, don’t you think, and you know what a husband needs after a hard day of work.”
He was waiting till you said something, till you agreed, and so, in a panicked act of pure survival, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. You wouldn’t be able to bear saying it, so you hoped this would be suffice.
Eddie’s kisses were unpleasant, selfish and way too deep. His tongue protruded every single inch of your mouth and even liked sticking itself in your throat at times. He eventually pulled away, after you’d started slapping his chest, begging for air, trailing a line of spit with him. In the dim light of the room, he looked absolutely lecherous as he visibly processed what you’d done.
How you’d kissed him.
“Oh darling, you’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” His laugh sounded borderline maniacal, but the sentences following it were normal again, his studied ‘charming’ voice as trained as any you’d ever hear. He only broke it whenever he got angry, which to be fair, happened quite a bit. “Ever since you got pregnant I might’ve gotten a bit negligent. Women are so needy after all, and it must’ve slipped my mind to care for you in this way. I’ll change for you, my dear, I promise. I’ll be a different man from now on.”
He seemed to be in a good mood, which you were glad for. You couldn’t imagine what he’d do to you if he was horny and in a bad mood, but you could just imagine the left-overs. Still, to have to offer your body in this way just to spend another moment alive in this hell was a form of hell itself, and you couldn’t unfreeze your arms and legs, though he didn’t seem to mind as he pushed down his pants and let his cock spring free against his stomach.
You didn’t want to look down, because you knew exactly what you’d see, and what the sight would invoke in you. Eddie looked disgusting, even after admitting he was handsome underneath all that gore. He was a big man, covered in guts and blood, who’d probably sticked his dick in all sorts of nasty places before finally getting to you. The overall scent of Mount Massive was already something to gag at, but the close proximity to a man covered in the iron scent of blood and perspiration didn’t help you feel more at ease.
“Oh, darling. Our children will be beautiful.” He kissed the stomach with the non-existent baby, dragging his tongue over the skin up and up until he reached your two breasts, who’d gotten heavier than ever before, filled to the brim with milk for a child that wasn’t real. You had to keep reminding yourself that, reminding yourself of the clock that was ticking. You’d give birth to nothing soon, and you didn’t want to be around Eddie when that happened. You needed to get out of here at the earliest convenience, though you weren’t sure when such an opportunity would arise. “You’re everything I could’ve ever hoped for~”
He suddenly sighed and kissed your neck before moving up and reaching for something outside the cage, something he’d put there before moving in here with you. You sat still, in wait, as he turned his attention back on you with a dreamy expression and lifted your head to attach the collar to yout neck.
It was a medical collar, one probably taken straight out of the nurses station, for patients who were put in solitary and needed to be chained to their beds. You knew Gluskin was familiar with the apparatus, as he put the collar on with a care you weren’t expecting, even checking if it wasn’t too tight around your neck.
“A wife should stay put.” He patted your cheek as you looked horrified. “This’ll help you remember.”
He attached an iron chain to one of the clasps on the collar, and with a victorious chuckle, tugged harshly to check its strength. Eddie couldn’t break it, and he found that enough proof that you, with your weakening strength, wouldn’t be able to either. Satisfied, he started undressing himself further.
As you heard the iron chain clink against the crate, you were pretty sure your opportunity of escape would never come, the odds stacked too high against you now.
Eddie seemed to have reached the same conclusion, and was ecstatic.
non canon event for my fic on Ao3 Here Comes the Bride.
reader is mentally unwell, and if you know the lore you know what's prolly up
Your dress didn’t fit.
At first you thought it was because you’d been too hasty in pulling it on, after all Eddie said you could go for a walk and while he loved you dearly sometimes his patience wore very thin. But after smoothing the fabric, twice, thrice, frice? No that wasn’t right, but unimportant in the scope of somehow shrinking the pretty thing that he’d made you.
He had recently gone through your wardrobe to add little accents here and there, you’d spent an entire day standing on a chair, or table, while he worked. This one hadn’t been worked on though, it hadn’t been clean and he couldn’t sully himself with your dirty things. Tears pricking your eyes, you yanked the it over your head, glaring down at the dress and felt your forearms shake as you pulled.
Wait, no stop, hold on, moving the dress away you stared downwards. …. No… Yes? Rule one barely a gossamer thought as you rushed out of the room looking to the kitchen. Outside of his workshop it had the best lighting, and that mirror by the tub. The slap of your bare feet was loud, counting the doors and shouldering through the one that led to the kitchen to turn on the lamp.
Okay, taking a deep breath you held it for a moment, hands held out low with your fingers spread as you took another. Correcting your posture, you took one more breath before turning your head to look at your reflection in the mirror.
It could be just a bit of bloating, tucking the arm closest to the mirror behind you as you stared. Your woman’s woe was due any day now surely. The last one was… You blinked owlishly at your reflection’s confused expression, then looked back down to the curve that you did not recognize. It’s not like that could happen overnight, how had you not noticed.
Well it wasn’t a soccer ball or anything, you argued back just as fiercely as you chided yourself, twisting a bit, fingers lightly prodding. Was this why he’d been so eager to made changes to your dresses? Had he noticed even if you hadn’t? Did that make you a bad mother, oh he’d be so disappointed if you were. Pouting, your fingers traced the curve trying to figure out if it was low enough to be what you thought or… Were they low? Maybe it was meant to be higher?
“Darling?’
Oh! Eddie, a smile curled your cheeks, spinning away from the mirror. He sounded close, hovering on waiting for him to find you, he really liked that game, or running to him. He did like how eager you were to see him, called it puppy love and just as adorable. How had you managed to find such a devoted and loving husband.
“Why aren’t you dressed?’
His tone startled you out of the warm thoughts you’d been lost in, not angry, though it simmered beneath the confusion. You couldn’t tell him, but sometimes you liked the nip of his temper, the way it made him just a little too rough. It was exhilarating. Now was not the time, your hands dropping to your stomach as you remembered why you’d run mad dash through the halls.
Oh no, what if he’d heard the slap of your feet and thought you were in danger? You really needed to be more mindful, it was poor taste to make him worried, closing the distance in a rush and wrapping your arms around his waist.
“I’m okay, the dress didn’t fit.’
Well that was a very short hand version, mushing two thoughts together as the third swelled like a hot air balloon taking up far too much space. What if? A hand settled low on your back, the other on the back of your head as he stayed silent. To be fair that didn’t really answer the question, there were other dresses you could have put on.
Tilting your head back, his expression was blank, as if still trying to figure out if he wanted to be concerned, or upset, or furious, or… Eddie had a lot emotions, obviously you liked happy the best, but he was a very complex creature. Like a switch had been flicked the lines of his face shifted, the hand cradling your head moved to cup your cheek.
“Tell me? What is it, darling?’
“I don’t know for sure,’ you started slowly, nuzzling against his palm, something slicking your cheek as you did. “But I think we did it.’
“Did what?’
Why wasn’t he getting excited? What did he mean by what? Your fingers briefly dug in before you forced yourself to relax. It wasn’t his fault, you weren’t explaining things properly, taking a step backwards. You waited til he mirrored it before taking another, pulling him towards the mirror as a puzzled smile curled his lips.
“Look.’
Wiggling out of his hold, you turned and tucked your arm behind you again, staring at the curve that had not gone anywhere. You could see his confusion only getting worse, so you trailed your fingers over it again, before letting out a huff and taking hold of his wrist to place his hand there. Men were such silly things, they needed guidance and that’s what good wives were for.
Absolutely worth it watching the confusion shift, several emotions playing across his face as you watched his thought process play out like a silent film. A couple weren’t what you were expecting, but even as you attempted to understand he spun you around and knelt down. Awe, joy, yes good, those were acceptable. You liked those, carefully petting his hair as he kissed the little bump.
All warm and happy, you couldn’t help the feeling of something cold, like it was tapping on your shoulder, glancing over your shoulder and finding nothing behind you. Maybe it would be real this time, Eddie would love that. When he beamed up at you it shoved the past further into the back of your mind, where it belonged, closing a door on the screaming that had been softly ringing in your ears like tinnitus.
The past had no place here when you were building a future with the best husband.
a/n: in the game while you're collecting files you obtain the information that there had been female doctors at Mt. Massive but they had suffered psychosomatic pregnancies, as well as the loss of aforementioned non pregnancies that drove them mad due to some side effect of the Wall Rider project. and as reader was previously a patient of Mt. Massive I will leave it to you whether or not that occurred in this non canon event.
At first you’d just chalked it up to nerves, you absolutely had not meant to be out this late. But you’d been set up on a blind date, that had, surprisingly, not immediately gone terribly. He might have used a bit more gel in his hair than you thought was necessary, but you had to admit he gave off an old fashioned vibe. One that immediately had begun a prickling concern. A lot of men who revered that era were absolutely exhausting.
Yes they paid for dinner, but they expected so many things. And loudly complained about others, about how people just didn’t respect times gone past that were easier. Thought the terrible things could just be swept under rug and ignored. But he was genuinely interested in your job, if you were happy there. Said a happy woman made a happy home, even if she wasn’t always in it. Odd wording, again a little concerning, but that smile was so bright and charming.
And he didn’t laugh, he chuckled, as if the laughter were something he hid away. That should have been a flag there, waving in your face. You were already making excuses for the odd things he did, but then he asked you to dance. To what? A song he was humming, and maybe it was the wine, but it felt kind of romantic. Like no one else mattered but you two, not the other patrons, not the staff, just you two tucked into the corner having a little dance as the hummed song rumbled out of his chest.
But then food was done, dessert was consumed between the two of you. That had been another conflicting flag, though it was hard to put into words. He hadn’t tried to eat more than his half of it, and when you showed a preference for a certain part he let you have it. But the way he watched you, it was another flash of the distance that had peeked through his eyes all evening. As if he were studying you and didn’t quite like what he saw.
“I can walk you to your car if you’d like.’
The words sounded like they’d been pulled right from some old timey movie that was still in black and white. A little cheeky, a little sweet, and easy to refuse in case it wasn’t your preference. He even kept his hands in his pockets, didn’t try to take your arm, or touch your lower back. His elbow bumping yours was the worst, but it was like a teasing glance, the way couples jostled each other being playful. He even opened the door once you unlocked it and stepped back to let you in.
Even the small talk wasn’t terrible, apparently he hadn’t wanted the evening to end any more than you did. You felt your heart flutter as he stacked his arms on your car door and set his chin on them, tilting his head to the side and grinning after your joke. If you were that person, you’d invite him home and damn the consequences. But he was almost too good to be true, tugging at the door jokingly and watching his fingers flex before catching his balance and standing.
A whole evening being a perfect gentleman, faith in man restored. At least until you had time to sit down and properly pick it apart. It was just nice to have an actual conversation, be listened to, and not just for him to pick it apart. But then your car wasn’t starting, at all. No click, no shudder, not a peep which you assumed meant a dead battery. A quick check of your screen showed ten percent, on a phone that you should have replaced ages ago. Even as you struggled to calm down you watched it skip right over nine and drop to seven. Shit.
The restaurant had closed half an hour ago, but surely there was a bar or something nearby that would let you use an outlet. But a look either way down the street showed no neon, which was unfortunate, trying to compartmentalize. This wasn’t Eddie’s fault, pulling out your phone and praying to whoever would listen for it to last long enough to order a ride. The light going out above you made you jump, the pop and fizz rattling your nerves even more.
But you made it home fine, outside of feeling frazzled, your nerves jangling from the ten minute wait in near dark waiting for your ride. And if you dreamed about the charming guy your friend set you up with well that was between you and the pillow you’d drooled on. Your phone buzzing interrupted your dreaming, buzzing like a wasp nest. Oh, shit you probably should have called to let them know how it had went, you’d made some vague promise to do so.
Sobbing, at any point of the day, is hard to translate. But first waking up after burning your social battery to embers made it damned near impossible. It was only after sitting up and managing to assure them you were alive and fine that the sobs kicked up to near hysterics. You felt bad, you did, because you were only catching a word or two.
“Wait,’ viciously rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you forced yourself to sit up. As if that could correct your hearing, get your brain working. “Who the hell is Brian? …. No, the guy’s name was Eddie, you set me up with Eddie.’
They hadn’t, they didn’t know Eddie, and had been worried since the cops had woken them up to identify Brian’s body. Especially since your phone had gone unanswered all night. Putting in an order for coffee, you were going to need it, and a couple of croissants, you dragged yourself to the bathroom as your friend continued berating and sobbing in turns. By the time the food was delivered you had managed to wake up finally, making your way to the door and pulling it open.
A part of someone else’s order sat on the welcome mat next to your food, a partner trying to suck up by the looks of it. Picking up the stuffed bunny, you twisted it this way and that to flop its ears about. You hadn’t seen the folded piece of paper which fell to land on your coffee lid. When you opened it, nosy, unable to resist, you almost let it fall.
non canon event for my fic on Ao3 Here Comes the Bride.
reader is mentally unwell.
Cool water poured over your head, eyes clenched shut, nose wrinkling as you held your breath. The stickiness on the dress had soaked right through, staining your skin and made a whole process you hadn’t wanted to deal with. You’d promised to clean the dress, had managed to get that done, but then he’d grabbed your wrist when you tried to walk past him.
Ah yes, the punishment, the one that you’d known was coming. But he hadn't taken off the belt, and he was still staring at you as though trying to read a book that wasn’t in the right language. Pictures helped, but there was only so much context could do. It had surprised you when he turned the faucet for the basin back on and said Stay in such a way the collapse of the floor beneath you would have meant nothing. You’d have learned to float to stay right where he put you.
“Now, darling…’ Oh a lecture, that was worse. “Where did you find this fabulous fabric that you used to make my present?’
Impatiently swiping at the water on your face, you blinked a few times to clear your vision. The fabric? Where had you gotten the fabric? Mouth opening to answer the words stalled, brow furrowing briefly in confusion. Well there’d been the pieces in the room…
“I used the fabric in the room.’ Pleased to have an answer for him, you sputtered as more water was poured over your head. “I didn’t cut up any of the dresses you made me!’
Feeling very much half drowned, you let him guide you into the bath and sat down, maybe that was the punishment. Didn’t the government use water torture? Though you were pretty sure that was meant to involve a towel, or shirt, some sort of fabric over the mouth to make it hard to breathe. Following the press of Eddie’s fingers, you turned your head back towards him, seeing a cloth dipped into the water out of the corner of your eye.
Ah, there it was. Not a punishment you thought you’d enjoy, but you weren’t supposed to enjoy them. They were meant to be lessons, they were supposed to be terrible. Still, you took in a deep breath, Eddie’s hand pausing in its movement to your face. That wasn’t fair, you should at least be able to hold in one breath before it started, letting it out slowly with a pout.
“Some of these pieces didn’t come from our room.’
Warmth blossomed in your chest at the word “our”, feeling a smile curling your lips even as he lightly pinched your chin and wiped at your cheeks. Yes it was an ours sort of thing, turning your head to press a kiss against his wrist as he moved towards your ear. Ours. You weren’t sure you could get tired of hearing that, turning your face obediently so he could clean the other side.
“And I know that you left.’ He was attempting to put something together, the press of his thumb starting to hurt. “So where did you go to find the fabric?’
This was beginning to feel like an interrogation. It was impolite to ask where a gift came from, sulkily keeping your mouth shut as you stared back at him while he cleaned your face. And he’d said he’d liked it so why did he want to return it? Water dripped as he rinsed the cloth, scrubbing against your jaw until it stung. Wincing didn’t stop him, his gaze locked on that patch of skin with a mixture of curiosity and something you did understand. And liked.
“I don’t remember.’ When that warm look cooled you rushed to continue. “I really don’t, I got turned around in the dark, and you weren’t there to help.’
“And whose fault is that?’ Shrinking back slightly at the bite in his tone, you had to agree that was entirely on you.
Rule one.
Appeased by your reaction, he continued wiping at your skin, though his touch was gentler now. He must have gotten the stubborn spot to go away. Holding out your hand for the cloth when he released your chin, you were surprised when he cradled your hand in his, fingers loosely curling around it. Well he was in a very take charge kind of mood, feeling tingles across your body at the thought of where that could be going.
“You got turned around in the halls…’
Oh, back to the interrogation. Damn. Watching the cloth glide over your skin, practically melting as the firm grip as he cleaned your forearm, elbow, upper arm. So thorough… Right, he’d wanted you to continue, nodding though he hadn't said anything else.
“Well I got turned around, and then there was…’ You trailed off, staring at his Adam’s apple set sweet and cozy above the knot of his bow tie. A kiss right there would be very pleasant. “Oh, um, I got lost and sat for a minute. Then I found the fabric and brought it back to the kitchen.’
“That’s not true.’
You wouldn’t lie to him, the shock and outrage clear on your face as you tried to tug your arm away. First of all, you were an amazing wife because you had an amazing husband. Secondly, you would never lie to him. It was your job to keep him happy and safe and… Your eyes flicked, from his hand that was holding you tightly, to his face. His expression shifted, too fast to read, but he leaned in closer and that didn’t matter anymore. A kiss was just the thing to resolve ill feelings.
“The fabric.’
Pursed lips slackened, and no amount of pleading eyes seemed to dissuade him from the topic. You were right here! What did it matter where the fabric had come from? Oh! Maybe he wanted more of it to make you another dress, the beginnings of a sulk fading as you glowed up at him. Okay, the fabric. Where had you-
“I… I think I can take you?’
A question because the whole thing was a little bit fuzzy, tugging your arm loose and submerging yourself in the water to rinse off. Clambering out of the tub you found the robe, it had started life as a couple of sheets but your husband was indeed a wonder, and shrugged it on. He hadn’t moved from where he’d been kneeling by the basin, leaning down to take hold of his wrist to pull.
“We’ll have to start at the room, but I think maybe I can find the hallway.’ Merrily making your way down the dim hallway you stopped by the door to the room, the one you shared with Eddie. Hee! “You have to be absolutely silent, I’m not supposed to be out when you’re not there.’
Starting to walk, you let go of his wrist and tried to focus on where you’d gone previously. It took you a minute, or several but that wasn’t important, to finally find the hallway. An unpleasant feeling settled in the back of your throat and you came to a dead stop, Eddie’s body slowly moving to press flush against you. This was most definitely, probably, might not be, the hallway where you’d found the fabric. His body pushed you forward even as your feet tried to plant themselves.
“Here?’
“Yes.’
The word was soft, hearing the hiss of it echo in your ear, trying to press back against him and make him stop moving. You didn’t want to go near the shadows, there was something wrong with the shadows. But he didn’t seem to even notice, you might as well have been trying to support a house wall from falling over. Your toes touched something tacky, and you startled like a cat, jumping, arms reaching to wrap around his shoulders. Up, you wanted up, right now.
“Are you frightened, darling?’
Well, not as much, the affectionate pet name almost as sweet as the first Valium once the pharmacy restocked as you shook your head. But you still didn’t want to go any further. You’d just had a bath, and there wasn’t any more fabric here anyway. Light, sudden though dim, made your eyes hurt, closing them and tucking your face into Eddie’s neck. Why wasn’t he picking you up? Your feet were going to get mucky and you’d have to clean them before going to bed.
The buzz of the lightbulb seemed so very loud, tucking closer to Eddie, to the slow rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. That was nice, even though the thump of his heart wasn’t the nice steady thing you preferred. It felt like he’d been running, or had been particularly… vigorous in showing you his affections. But neither of those things had happened, almost sagging with relief when he finally wrapped an arm around you, the other tucking behind your knees to lift you.
“You don’t ever have to be frightened, Eddie.’ A kiss to his jaw, fingers skimming over the shorter hair making a note to sit him down for a hair cut. “Not ever. I love you so.’
The Bride Maybe Murders
Eddie Gluskin x reader
wc: 1,605
non canon event for my fic on Ao3 Here Comes the Bride.
as the title suggests there's a murder, reader is mentally unwell.
You weren’t entirely sure how long you’d been married, time had been a difficult concept even before you’d lost the ability to see the sun rise and set. But you were happy, and Eddie was happy. What more could you ask for? Humming as you spun around in the room he’d tucked you away in, to keep you safe, to make sure nothing bad happened to you, an idea began to percolate.
He always made you the prettiest dresses, fingers smoothing over the fabric, the little sash he’d made to lay around your waist. It was for him, you’d figured that out relatively quickly, he liked to smooth his hands along it when he pulled you in close. Which meant you liked it too, feeling a smile curl your lips as you toyed with the fabric.
You could do that. Well not a sash, men didn’t wear sashes, but they did sometimes grow very charming moustaches. A brief chuckle escaped you as you darted to the corner of the room where he put your clothes. He sometimes left swatches of fabric there as well in case your clothing got torn. Not that you weren’t careful, you made every effort to keep yourself presentable for him. But sometimes he was very… eager to see you, and the cloth tore, or soaked up the less than dried blood on his hands.
Shaking your head to clear it, an etch a sketch quick clear that left you a little dizzy. Focus. A gift for Eddie, your perfectly charming husband. Or was he charmingly perfect? Mulling over that you gathered the material left and frowned. It wasn’t enough. Glancing at the door you weighed your options.
Breaking rule one would not go well, unless he had a very good day today. Then he might not be as angry as could be, but still upset enough to discipline you. But if you had a gift for him, and could get him to see it before he riled himself up with terrible thoughts, you might get away with a lecture. Another spin, listening to the hushed sound of fabric sliding across fabric.
Your dress was right, you should absolutely go find more material to make him a present. A new vest would make a lovely gift, practically dancing in place with the mental image of his smile. You knew where there were spare clothes, though some of them were going to be hard to clean. It would be worth it when he saw his present.
After an hour of wandering through the only semi familiar hallways, you were beginning to deeply regret your decision. Maybe it would have been better to ask Eddie for some fabric and try to avoid telling him why. No, it was against your vows. … Probably. It was hard to remember what they were exactly, but surely being honest to your loving husband had been amongst the other things he’d asked of you.
Still trying to sort through how deeply you’d dug your grave, you didn’t notice that the shadows had done something odd. They’d moved. When you did notice you stopped completely, feeling your breath catch, the stumble of your heart, a soft hiccup of sound escaping you as you forced yourself to take a breath.
“Who’s there?’
Deep breath in, deep breath out, taking a step back as the figure moved closer. And then another, Eddie’s name caught in your throat as you didn’t want to let the thing lurching towards you know exactly where you were. Fingers tightening into fists, you felt a flicker of confusion that glowed into understanding. The cloth scissors you’d grabbed from the room were tightly clenched in your fist. You weren’t supposed to be out of the room.
Rule one.
But if you made the shirt he wouldn’t be too angry at you. Who didn’t like getting a present, a surprise, and a useful one at that. He could wear it everyday if he wanted to! You’d seen enough movies to know that stabbing the scissors into his chest would be a terrible idea, you might hit the ribs or the center part that you could never remember. And was it just knives you were supposed to twist before you pulled out or any sharp object.
“I can hear you…’ The voice interrupted your thoughts, closer than it had been. “We can hide from the Groom together. I bet he has a stash around here, the good medicine.’
Why would you hide from Eddie? That was silly, he adored you to bits, told you so every single day. If there had been that many. How long had you been down here…
“With two of us we could even kill him and then we can have this whole place to ourselves!’
The whispered voice was getting louder in its excitement, but that wasn’t what made your blood run cold. Hurt Eddie? Your Eddie? No. No that couldn’t happen. That wouldn’t happen. You couldn’t let that happen. The thing in the dark seemed to confuse the hitch in your breathing as excitement, that it had managed to convince you to take its side against Eddie.
Rage coiled through you like a snake, heavy, cold, constricting. You could not let this thing try to hurt Eddie. Unacceptable. Something warm hit your face, and for a moment you didn’t understand what happened. Your left side hurt, and your shoulder ached. You also didn’t remember sitting down, slowly pushing yourself to your feet. Stumbling over something on the floor, you paused feeling your toes catch on something.
Oh! The fabric. Of course, that’s what you’d been doing. Pulling at the fabric, you scowled when you realized that it was caught on something. Using the scissors to cut along the seams, you finally managed to pull it loose and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Wash the fabric, maybe throw in some of the charcoal you’d found to darken it if the stains were too stubborn.
Time slipped like gossamer between your mind’s fingers as you worked. The fabric came out cleaner than expected, but there were some stains that stubbornly refused to be cleaned. And crushing up the charcoal had been a nightmare in itself. Even the dyeing process had been ludicrous, you’d boiled the fabric in the water and charcoal and it had only darkened it a little bit.
All in all though, you didn’t think you’d done a terrible job. Sewing was a lot harder than Eddie made it seem, the needle just seemed to fly through the fabric when Eddie did it. But you’d managed, and it didn’t look that bad. Your head lifted immediately when you heard his footsteps, hurrying the last few finishing touches just as he stormed in.
“Where were y-’
You watched the rage melt away, as you’d known it would. A present could fix anything, though he didn’t seem quite as happy as you’d been hoping. Maybe because you were still clutching the fabric to your chest, worried that you hadn’t done nearly as good as you’d hoped. What if it didn’t fit? You’d die, you’d simply die if it didn’t fit.
“You left the room.’ The words were said slowly, as though he were chasing a thought and it kept evading him. “And your dress is dirty.’
Tears welled up in your eyes, hands falling though your fingers still clutched the vest you’d worked so hard on. He didn’t want the present, because you’d broken the rules. And worst of all, you’d gotten your dress dirty that he’d worked so hard on. What kind of appreciation was that for his hard work? Sniffling, you swallowed back the sounds that tried to crawl out of your throat, broken, piteous things.
Your head slowly fell as he reached out for you, steeling yourself for the punishment you knew was coming only to feel your hands move. He was tugging at the vest in your hands, a small spark of hope in your chest as you let go. Was he going to like it? You really hoped that he liked it. After a long silence you stepped closer, practically pressing against him as you eagerly waited for his verdict.
“Do you like it? All of your vests are blue, I thought you’d like a darker one. I couldn’t quite make it black, but I tried.’
The words spilled out of you in a rush, his attention slowly shifting between the vest caught between your chests, your face, then back again.
“Ah, a vest. How very clever of you, darling girl.’
He liked it! You didn’t bother hiding your delight, arms thrown over his shoulders as you kissed the corner of his mouth, nosing at his cheek as your feet kicked one two. When you landed on your feet again, your fingers eagerly undid the buttons of his vest and tugged it off. Now he could try on yours, and if it needed adjustments he’d be able to do them. Or even better he could teach you. All worries faded away, guiding his arms in through the holes and sliding it up his arms. It even buttoned up the front, though they strained in their loopholes.
“I’m sorry I got my dress dirty, I’ll clean it right away.’ When he didn’t respond right away, you smoothed your hands over the fabric on his chest. “You didn’t say if you liked it or not.’
“I adore it, I can tell you spent a lot of time on it.’ One of the buttons snapped loose. “But perhaps next time you should add a little something special to dinner instead.’
It took you a while to think rationally, especially after being woken by a hysterical phone call. But coffee consumed, clean, in comfy clothes, you managed to filter through. There wasn’t any way he could have known who you were, or who Brian was. It’d just been luck on both your parts that he’d come to your table and not someone else’s. There was a reason the place was popular as a date spot, especially blind ones. Open late, always busy, and the food was cheap enough if things went bad you weren’t out of pocket.
You did feel a little bad for the girl he’d been looking for, going over the “date” and those flags that you’d noticed hadn’t been all that serious. Just nerves, worrying about being murdered. He’d also been really tall, and wide, you’d been caught between being anxious about his size, and knowing if some ass did something it could be handled. Well, you hoped it could, he’d been really sweet. Wouldn’t it be neat to have met a gentle gi-
You did not have his number.
Fuck.
Eyeing the rabbit and its little note, you felt that flicker of concern again. There wasn’t any way he could know where you lived, so obviously it was meant for someone else. Another someone’s run of bad luck. Actually it just meant that you were having very good luck, picking it up and lightly squeezing it all over. Nothing hard inside, so there was that at least, didn’t have to worry about sneaky recordings for Eddie. … If he had sent it at all, again, how would he know where you lived? It wasn’t as if he’d driven you ho-
Your car.
Double fuck.
Well that was just another nugget of coal to smudge up the day, bunny tucked into the crook of your arm to keep your hands free. That meant calling the restaurant to apologize for its overnight stay in hopes that they hadn’t already gotten it towed. And then sending out an SoS through the friend group in hopes one of them was good with cars. You vaguely recalled someone’s brother, or maybe cousin, who’d helped someone else for a six pack and a ten piece from somewhere.
After far too long, you were very glad for the bunny that had been left on your front step with the coffee. The restaurant had not had your car towed, and were willing to give you the day to get it out of their parking lot. Great. Someone in the group chat “knew a guy” who “owed them a favor”, it was giving Godfather vibes but you weren’t involved outside picking up your car at the restaurant after everything was sorted. But it had been a lot of back and forth, which had been exhausting in and of itself.
Still, a victory was a victory, snuggled up on your couch and eyeing your phone with the beginnings of an idea percolating in the back of your mind. Everyone had social media nowadays, especially people were super gregarious, so surely Eddie would have one. Your thumb hovered over the opening of the group chat, could sic the hounds on him. He’d be found in what? An hour? You could survive waiting an hour.
If you did it, that was a lot of interest in a blind date that hadn’t been yours to begin with. Buuuut, if you sicced the group chat on him they’d do all the footwork and you weren’t left feeling a bit obsessive over one decent date. A win win surely. But if you did that then they’d be all over you wanting to know what had been so interesting to have you so invested. Trapped in the pro con circle, your phone almost landed on your face when there was a knock at the door.
Checking your notifications for any delivery orders past pre caff you may have committed, you were pleased there wasn’t one. But that also meant someone was randomly at your door, waiting for a second knock. When there wasn’t one, you got up and crept towards the door as though it were going to explode open at any moment. Which for all you knew it might!
But a quick glimpse out of the door’s peephole showed nothing and no one, which meant a wrong home. Probably a neighbor’s friend at the wrong place, corrected by an exasperated companion. Still. Cracking the door slightly, you froze, eyeing the vase of flowers confused. It had to be coincidence that it looked like it was staring up at you, a bunch of black petaled flowers at the center surrounded by yellow light purple and white. The knocking at your door had just made your paranoia spike.
Definitely accusing the voice chat, you had at least four different people who would have sent this out of the seven you knew. A very particular sense of humor, taking a photo of them on your front step before carrying them inside. Someone had been listening to too much Magnus Archives, lips briefly twitching with amusement as you carried them inside to set them on the counter. But after receiving a lot of virtual ribbing, it was becoming very clear that none of your friends had sent the flowers.
Should you put them back? You’d already taken someone else’s bunny, looking at the toppled stuff animal who was staring at you with its cute button eyes. If you were “returning” the flowers to the rightful owner, than maybe you should do the same with the bunny. Put them both outside, and whoever was probably looking for them could pick them up without you having to explain yourself. Not that you were in the wrong, but…
Sighing, you put the bunny and flowers together, took another photo for the group chat, dramatically requesting a moment of silence for Mr. Cottontail Esquire. The spam of candle gifs made you laugh, feel better, even as you set both gifts out in clear sight for whoever was looking for them and locked your door. If they were still there tomorrow, well, you’d think about keeping them since no one else wanted them. The flowers had been weird, sure, but the bunny had fit so cozily in the crook of your arm.
Tomorrow you’s possible heartache, or joyful reunion with the stuffed animal you hadn’t realized you wanted. Until then you had to adult, which was by anyone’s estimation, a true travesty.
When you opened the door the next morning, not only were the gifts still there, but an envelope as well. One that ripped the comfort you’d managed to talk yourself into the day before away, leaving you cold as you stared at a handwritten letter. The same handwriting that had been on the note with the stuffed rabbit.
Except this time it was signed, reading it over again as if that would make the invitation any less insane. Whose wedding were you supposed to be attending with a man who you’d only met the once. That then led to the bigger concern of how the hell he’d managed to find out where you lived. You hadn’t left your ID out, or talked about it in depth enough for him to be able to find it by landmarks.
Closing the door, you backed up, only stopping when a wall forced you to. You still needed to pick up your car that was being driven back to the restaurant, but leaving the house suddenly felt like a terrible idea. Being alone was also bad, your mind offered at its very least helpful. Texting the friend that had set you up on the blind date, you asked if they wanted to come over. It would get them out of their house, and give you a buddy support system when you went to pick up your car.
A win win if you’d ever heard of one, staring down at the paper you didn’t remember shredding, tossing the bits into the trash. Could you go to the cops about this, staring down at destroyed evidence and cursing. There was still the two presents, and the name was odd enough there couldn’t be many of them out in the world. Maybe not the first, but definitely the last, you hadn’t heard of it before now.
Your heart sank seeing the banner from your friend saying thanks but no thanks, forcing yourself not to push. Maybe someone else? But it was no’s all around, and your stomach twisted as you got a reminder text that the fix had been easy. The dome light in the car had been left on, and you groaned realizing how lucky you were that someone hadn’t tried to steal it. But now you felt like an idiot for not even attempting to ask someone for a jump next day.
Not that the morning after your date hadn’t started off hectic and distracting or anything, you mused. Next time for sure, sending the cost of the repair, a six pack of Coors and a four strip from Chick Fil A, to your friend before locking your phone. Maybe you could get the car sooner rather than later. There wasn’t a reason it had to be after dark, right?
a/n the flowers in the arrangement are: aster, black widow rhododendron, agrimonia, apple blossom
