Corey Cunningham ❪ Oneshots ❫

if i can't have you... ( 🖇️ )

Summary: Corey confesses all of his secrets to you. You both get into a heated argument that ends with a strict ultimatum.

Content warning: discussion of murder and an argument/screaming. depictions of a possessive, increasingly unhealthy and controlling relationship that both parties are okay with.

( Friendly reminder that Corey's character is a murderer and this is technically what you signed up for. I also don't condone his actions, this is simply for the sake of the oneshot. )

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This wasn't the first time that Corey had come home with blood stained clothes and all sorts of injuries scattering his body, and to my knowledge, it wouldn't be the last.

Corey never had a viable excuse for this, and to his credit, I never truly fought for any. But tonight, my overthinking and intrusive thoughts have gotten the best of me. If he comes through my front door with a drop of blood anywhere in sight, I'm going to demand the answers that I deserve.

The door flung open and smacked against the wall, making a deeper indentation on the drywall that appeared just as soon as the blood soaked clothes did.

I sat on the staircase with my head exhaustedly resting on my forearm. I jolted upwards at the commotion.

Of course, his clothes were stained with a variety of things that I couldn't ever imagine. Corey's eyes were dark and foreign, something that I hadn't ever seen before.

"Where the fuck have you been?" I demand, standing up.

Corey dismisses me by hanging his coat up on the rack and making his way into the kitchen. His dinner plate that I cooked for him laid on the countertop, undoubtedly cold after hours of sitting there.

"You see that? You see what the fuck I do for you?" I exclaim, following him into the kitchen to stand in front of him. "Everything I do is for you, Corey! Work, bills, cleaning, dinner, sex, everything! And what do I get for it, hmm?"

Corey head was tilted down, yet his eyes still remained still and locked onto me.

"What the fuck do I get for it?" I repeat myself, slamming my hand down onto the counter. "No response, right? Yeah. No fucking response. That's all I've gotten from you for the past few weeks. No. Fucking. Response."

"It's for your own good," Corey finally speaks, though his voice is low and uncertain.

"For my— For my own good?" I laugh at the irony. "For fuck's sake, Corey, tell me where you go at night! The reason you always come with blood on your clothes and bruises all over you! You don't even look like yourself!"

"Well I am myself, Y/n," he spoke. "This is who I am."

"Really? Because this wasn't who you were when I met you," I shake my head in exhaustion. "Cut the fucking lies or I swear to God, Corey, I'm going to walk out of those doors and never come back."

"You don't mean that," he dismisses me once more.

"Oh, I promise you, I do."

By the way Corey looks at me, I know that my point had gotten across. He nods, pulling up his sleeves and revealing numerous hidden scratches and bruises trailing up his arms.

"I killed them," he murmurs lowly. "I killed them all for us."

I blink, evidently taken aback by his words. "Killed who— What— what are you talking about?"

"The old sleaze who's always bothering you. Your creepy boss. The girl who took your promotion. The teenagers who slashed the tires on your van," Corey began to confess, his voice growing louder and louder as he did. "Haven't you stopped to wonder where they went? Why they've disappeared?"

A horrified tear falls from one of my eyes. "Corey, what the fuck have you done?"

"Nothing that I didn't need to do. Everything I do, I do it for us," Corey reiterates his reasoning.

"Fuck, Corey, I never— I never asked for any of this," I speak, backing up into the countertop. He steps forward, his body keeping me in place against the contact.

"You didn't have to, baby," Corey smiles and brings his hand to my cheek to wipe away one of my tears.

"Corey, I can't do this. I'm sorry," I shake my head frantically as I approach the front door. I take my coat off of the rack and throw it over my shoulders, grabbing my purse and my keys.

"Don't go, Y/n," Corey calls from behind me. "I—I gave you the answers you wanted, right? Please don't go"

I turn around to face him. "I need to think. I can't— I can't be here with you."

I insert the key into the front door, milliseconds away from turning it.

Corey's voice perks up from behind me, a darkness link wrong within it.

"If I can't have you, no one will."

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