#kidnapper!dex

dex had his issues and you were aware of that. there was many of nights where he would sob into your chest, begging you never to leave him and you held him through it all.

when you found out he was the masked assassin known as 'bullseye' you thought nothing of it. sure, killing is wrong, but you didn't have any plans on leaving him ever. you loved him for who he is and if that includes 'bullseye', you were ready to adapt.

however, he did not hold the same sentiment that you did.

"you were not supposed to find out about this," he's pacing and fiddling with his fingers, shirt wrinkled and sweat beading on his forehead. there's a vein popping in his neck, the familiar visual cue of his anxiety. "dex, i don't care about it, i just want you to know i'm here for you." you try to explain yourself for what seems to be the hundredth time, to no avail he continues not to listen to you. he is thoroughly convinced you are going to leave him.

"you're just saying that, i know you are." his footsteps have stopped and he's now facing you, eyes glossy and voice wobbly. you can't help the pang in your heart when he says that because you know he means what he's saying. he's spiraling for no reason, and slowly your attempts to aid him are making him lose it more. you are powerless in this situation.

***

"that's really the last thing you can remember?" he knows the answer yet continues to ask. he's looming over you, your hands bound behind your back rendering you completely helpless. "you should know i'm not going to hurt you and i don't plan on it. i just needed to sedate you, i was scared you were going to run from me." he sounds like his throat has wires around it. choking out every little word like he's going to cry at his next breath.

it's suffocating him to do this to you, or at least that's what he's trying to sell to you.

that's when the anger set in. your eyebrows furrowed and your survival instincts went out the window. "excuse me? you aren't gonna hurt me? oh, isn't it my lucky fucking day." you spat, shaking your head in disapproval at him as you try to wriggle your way out of the tight restraints around your wrists. he watched intently, lips pursed as if he was thinking of what to say or do next.

"baby please, i would never hurt you, don't be mean" he pleads as he kneels to your level, had reaching to card through your hair. you try to pull away at the attention but all he does is hold you in place. "you know i can't lose you, please don't take this personally" every word he says is making your heart drop into your stomach, tears welling up in your eyes and your mouth unable to open and form words.

on one hand he was right, he would never hurt you and a part of you, even in this situation, knew he wouldn't hurt you physically. it conflicted with any reasonable thought, because on another hand he is capable of this, so he is capable of killing you and getting away with it. the thought of that alone made adrenaline shoot through you like heroine in your veins and a sob choke through your mouth.

he was quick to wipe your rapidly streaming tears, shushing you as you sobbed and coughed. "shh, 's gonna be okay, i got'ya. not ever gonna let you leave my side." the words are meant to soothe, but they cut through your skin and only make the sobs worse. the man who was meant to protect you from all evil, the man who was meant to stay by your side and hold you through it all, the man you loved with no conviction was the same man to tie you up inside of your shared apartment off of the sole fear of you leaving him. the same man who was holding you while you sobbed, unable to move on your own.

a sick part of you felt cared for and it made you disgusted. you pushed the feeling away with your body and soul, sobbing into him as he held you like nothing has changed.

except everything has changed and you seemed to be the only one out of you two to understand that.

you were a normal person who lived a normal life with who you thought was a normal boyfriend. now, not only is he now known as an assassin named bullseye, but he's holding you in contempt based off of a feeling. no matter how many times you replay that fact in your brain it's never something you get used to. as you sit with yourself, the man before you seeming to be busy as his head is in the crook of your neck, strong arms holding you close to him while he rocks you back and forth. its uncomfortable and strange and you're cold. you want him to stop, you want it to go back to the way it was before all of this.

"i need... i need a sweater, dex." you speak for the first time in what seems to be hours for dex but only minutes in reality. your voice is broken from all the crying and it comes out mumbled but dex understands you regardless of it all. he nods as he gets you his black fbi quarter zip, bringing it above your head and taking your hair out of the fabric as to not have it get stuck or feel uncomfortable on your skin.