Okay guys. This one is heavy. It sort of came about by accident, the song "Ashtray Heart" by Placebo came up on my iPod one day and well, this struck me. It kinda just screamed WRITE ME. So I did. So, obviously, it's titled after and inspired by Placebo song I mentioned and blocked, italicized portions of the fic are song lyrics. This also takes place pre-Dean Ambrose, so there's a lot of Moxley flying around.

No light fluffy things here, ladies and gents. If you're squeamish about language, sex, and/or violence, this isn't the fic for you. But if you do read, I hope you enjoy!

Catie and Jon were poison together. They were destruction. They both knew exactly how bad they were for each other but neither seemed to care. The sex was too good, the pain felt too right. It was everything they both wanted. Everything they were both used to out of life. It was their normal.

Jon was sore, crashing on the couch after a rough night. He didn't remotely have the strength or energy to make the extra twenty steps to his bedroom. He really didn't have the energy to take the extra twenty-five steps to the bathroom for the shower he desperately needed. It had been a few days since he last had one and there was still some dried blood caked on his forehead and chest from tonight's match. Catie would have a fit when she got home, seeing him sitting on the couch covered in sweat and blood that wasn't all his.

Fuck her. She was the reason he hadn't had a shower in almost a week. She forgot to pay the fucking bill again and their water got cut off. She said she was going to do it today before she went to work but he never knew if she was being honest about it or not. Jon drifted off to sleep after a few minutes of just sitting there, the hurts of the night slowly fading away.

"Jon! Jonathan!" A voice said, drifting through his sleepy haze. "Jon! Mox! Wake the fuck up!"

He knew that voice. That out of place southern drawl. Catie was home and she was pissed off. Sometimes he loved her voice, a New Orleans import breaking up the monotony of the normal Midwestern accents he heard everyday, but times like this, when she woke up him from an already shitty sleep, it pissed him off.

"Mox, get the fuck up," Catie snapped. "Get off the goddamn couch you sweaty shithead!"

"What the fuck do you want?!" Jon yelled, cracking one eye open.

"I want you to get your ass up and take a fucking shower," Catie snarled, throwing a bottle of body wash at his chest. "There, now you can stop bitching about fucking soap. You smell like someone's taint."

Jon growled, picking up the bottle and throwing it back at her. It thudded against her hip and she swore at him. "Fuck you, you fucking bitch."

"Fucking Christ, stop being such a fucking child," Catie said, walking into the kitchen. "Just get the fuck up and clean yourself up."

"Why the flying fuck should I?" Jon snapped.

"Did you miss the part where I said you smell like someone's fucking taint?" Catie yelled. "Get the fuck up or you're sleeping with your face in your own dirty sweat puddle tonight."

Jon drug himself up from the couch, snatching the bottle of body wash up off the floor. He stalked into the kitchen, grabbing Catie by the back of her neck. He shoved her face first against the refrigerator. She dropped the plate she was washing and it shattered on the ground at their feet.

"You throw something else at me and I'll rip your fucking throat out," Jon growled. "Do you fucking understand me?"

"Get the fuck off me." Catie said.

Jon squeezed the back of her neck a little tighter, pushing her face against the fridge a little harder. "Answer me you fucking bitch."

When Catie didn't answer, Jon pulled her back and thrust her against the cold metal again. She whimpered and glass crunched under her shoes. "Okay, okay! I won't! Let me go."

Jon shoved Catie away, walking out of the kitchen. She sniffled, going to grab the broom and dustpan from beside the trashcan. She swept up the pieces of the broken plate and dropped them into the trash. This was a normal day. Jon would come home after a tough match and be half passed out or half drunk and un-showered on the couch. They would fight and something would break. Catie would end up with bruises on some part of her body but eventually, Jon would do what she asked him to. The first three months of their relationship, it pissed Catie off to the point where she'd almost left him several times but Jon had her hooked. There were things about him that she hated with everything in her, but there were things about him that she absolutely loved. When he really wanted to be, Jon could be the sweetest man on the planet. Sometimes he treated her like a princess but other times he ripped her heart out and kicked it around their apartment.

Three months later, Catie was still hanging onto Jon. And there were times when he clung to her just as desperately. Jon was emotionally broken, mentally fragile with a cocky disposition that made him feel invincible. There were times when Jon shattered to pieces at her feet and she tried to piece him back together but sometimes he resisted. He pushed her away and tried to break down the progress they'd made.

A leap of faith I could not take.
A promise that I could not make.

Jon returned from the bathroom, sneaking back into the kitchen. His hair was wet and sticking to his forehead but now he smelled warm and clean. He wrapped his arms around Catie's shoulders, kissing the top of her head. That was the next part of the equation, the apology.

"I'm sorry, babe," He said. "Shouldn't have been such an asshole."

Catie pulled out of his arms, turning to face him. Dammit all to hell when he gave her those sad puppy eyes. He came to her, the little dog that had just been kicked, looking for love and affection. The little kid that got caught doing something naughty and wanted to be forgiven. Jon's most well-laid trap.

Catie sighed, crossing her arms. "This shit really has to stop, Jon. We're running out of dishes."

"I'll buy some more when I get my next payday, Cat, I promise," Jon said, holding his arms open. "C'mon, babe. I'm sorry."

She sighed, taking the few short steps to close the gap between them. She rested her head against his chest, rubbing her hands up and down his back. This felt like home, wrapped in Jon's twisted, loving embrace. He reached down, circling his arms around her waist and picked her up. The little laugh that came out of her brought a tiny smile to his face. Catie wrapped her legs around his waist and he plated a kiss on her. The kiss sucked the life out of her, just the way she loved. Jon's kisses were like heaven and hell all rolled into one. His lips were soft but demanding against hers and oftentimes he didn't let go until she couldn't breathe. He loved to bite her lips and tongue, to damn near choke her with his, jammed into her mouth, tasting very inch.

Jon's kiss made her feel frantic. Much of their relationship was built upon the positively incredible sex they had. And that was the last piece of the equation of their normal arguments. The sex. The leg-shaking, body-bruising, constantly rough sex that happened between them made everything go away. For the time that it lasted, everything was perfect. Nothing about their relationship was bad or wrong. The only thing that existed was each other and the raw pleasure that coursed between them.

Catie pulled away from his kiss, looking into those dangerous blue eyes. "Are you gonna fuck me now, Mox?"

He smirked at her, carrying her over to their little kitchen table. He knocked off whatever was left there - luckily nothing that could break - and laid Catie down, reaching up under her skirt and yanking her panties off. He let out a frustrated little growl when the tiny lace things got caught on her sneakers. Jon dropped them to the kitchen floor and unzipped her hoodie, pushing it far enough open that he could bunch up her shirt and grab her at her breasts. They were his favorite, tiny, perky little things that meant she hardly ever wore a bra. Catie moaned underneath him and he grinned at her, sliding two fingers inside her. Jon always swore it turned her on to argue with him and it was times like that, when he found her already wet and hot for him, that he felt his assumption was completely on target. Catie used her feet to start shimmying Jon's loose sweats down his hips. Jon shoved his pants down the rest of the way, and grabbed her hips again, picking her up and thrusting deep into her. Catie cried out, her head falling back as she whined out his name.

"Fuck me, Jon!" She groaned, and Jon held her close in his arms while she tightened her legs around his waist.

Catie moaned loudly when Jon thrust hard into her repeatedly, holding her up until his arms shook. He laid her back down on the table, unhooking one of her legs from around his waist and bring it up to lay over his shoulder. Jon groaned, dammit this girl felt like home. She never objected when just wanted to throw her down and fuck her until she saw lights behind her eyes. She loved it when he bit her and scratched her and pulled her hair. She didn't hesitate to give it back to him, to gouge her nails down his back or sink her teeth into his neck and shoulders. And she didn't care where they fucked. If he weren't so broken, she'd be completely perfect for him.

Catie's body arched up off the table and she clawed her nails at whatever piece of Jon she could reach. She moaned and squirmed and scratched at him as she came, her body tensing, squeezing him. Dragging him into the sweet oblivion of pleasure where all his problems went away and there was nothing but Catie and her body and the vibrations humming out of her and into him after their orgasms. Jon pulled out of her, picking her up off the table, holding her steady while she regained herself. She stood on her toes and kissed him gently on his lips.

"Looks like you need another shower." Catie said.

"Yeah, no shit," Jon said. "Come with me."

That was Jon, and that was Catie. That was the way they worked together. That was their twisted, disastrous love.

Catie wasn't much better off, emotionally, than Jon. She was a broken little thing who ran away from one abusive home to another. She'd come to Cincinnati from New Orleans seven months ago with two hundred bucks in her pocket and her life on her shoulders. Somehow she'd shown up at one of his wrestling shows and he was hooked on her from the start. Something about her dark hair, and her blue eyes, and her weird tattoos made him want her. She was vulnerable but wily, a strong Cajun beauty with a shattered heart and sense of self worth. It was like looking in an emotional mirror for Jon. They fucked the first night they met. He'd taken her back to his apartment and she rode him into the oblivion that would become natural between the two of them. Catie had lived at his apartment ever since. And for the first month, that didn't stop him from bringing home random girls to fuck at all hours of the night while she tried to sleep on his couch. Sometimes, she'd get up and pound on his bedroom door, yelling at him and whoever his latest conquest was to shut the fuck up. Then Jon would open the door, standing in front of her brazenly nude, and tell her to shut her mouth. Catie would tell him the bitch he was with wasn't nearly as good as she was, and oh, she was faking it. Jon would challenge her to come in and prove it. A few times it worked and he all but ignored the other girl in favor of Catie. Point proven.

They weren't even together when their first fight happened. Catie decided to give Jon a taste of his own medicine, something she quickly learned was a dangerous game to play. He came home one night after a show, pissed off, frustrated, and a little drunk. Catie was on the couch, some shitty looking motherfucker balls deep inside her and for the first time in a long time, Jon saw nothing but red. How dare this common piece of shit be on his couch, fucking his girl, in his own house! He'd grabbed Catie by her midsection and pulled her off him, proceeding to beat the guy stupid while she screamed at him to stop. He'd thrown the guy naked out the door, his clothes following him and finally turned anger at Catie. He never liked to hit women. If anything, that was something he prided himself on having restraint with. But Catie had pushed him so far out of himself that night he didn't even realize what he did until after it happened. It wasn't until his hand landed against her cheek and she hit the ground that the red tunnel vision he'd been seeing in became clear. Catie was naked on his living room floor, crying with a red mark the size of his hand on her face.

That was the night he saw what she really was. A broken, scared little girl who'd been abused her whole life. She didn't stop crying for what seemed like hours and all Jon could do was sit on the floor and hold her and pretend he knew how to apologize and comfort her. She cried and cried and told him she loved him. That he understood her like no one ever had. Then she raged at him, screaming and fists flying, irate that he'd hit her. And he took it without a word. She was his perfect poison match. He'd never tell her he loved her, but he knew how she felt. They were the same, two emotional disasters clinging to each other because it was familiar.

You were alone before we met,
No more forlorn than one could get,
How could we know,
We had found treasure,
How sinister and how correct.

With words alone Jon and Catie were as committed to each other as they dared to be. He called her his girlfriend, she called him her boyfriend but that didn't stop how tragically inept at relationships they both were. Sometimes, Jon still brought random ring rats him while his 'girlfriend' was away at work. Sometimes, Catie would go to his shows and fuck other wrestlers while he was in the ring, expecting her to be watching him.

Tonight was one of those nights where he expected Catie to be there and she wasn't, and Jon was angry about it. He was already irritated because the guy he wrestled tonight had stiffed him one right in the face and busted him open the hard way. He'd still won the match but when he looked for Catie in the crowd he didn't find her. And when he finally did, she was backstage, laughing and joking with a group of the guys and Jon heard the blood pounding in his ears. She smelled like sweat, and sex, and some other guy's cologne when he got close to her and Jon swore he saw the edges of his vision get a little blurred.

Catie smiled at him. Smiled at him, and put her arm around him when she finally noticed his presence. "You alright, Mox?" She said.

He stared at her, seeing blood drop down his forehead and onto his chest. He couldn't blow up at her in public. He could feel his teeth grinding but he managed to answer as civilly as possible. "I'm fine. Just a little bloody."

"Go get yourself cleaned up, baby," Catie said, still smiling. "And we'll go home."

Jon's head hurt he was so angry with her. He slouched away to wash the blood off his face, watching it swirl down the drain. The sight of his own blood didn't even make him squeamish anymore, he saw it so often. Finally clean and bandaged, Jon found Catie sitting in a chair in the empty lockeroom, her legs crossed, a little smile on her lips. The sight of her without any panties on when she uncrossed her legs only served to piss him off even more. Catie got up from her chair, swinging her hips as she walked up to him. She stood on her toes and tried to kiss him but Jon turned his face away.

"What's the matter, Jonny?"

Catie grinned at him, knowing he hated when she called him that. Why was she toying with him today? Did she want him to hurt her? Catie grabbed his wrist, pulling him closer to her and shoved his hand up her short skirt.

"I want you, Moxley." She whispered.

Jon yanked his hand away. "If you ever put my hand in some other motherfucker's cum again and I fucking swear to whatever God you believe in, I'll fucking kill you."

Catie smiled at him. That little bitch. "You can't prove I was with anyone else. And it's fucking killing you inside, isn't it? I told you I wanted to fuck you, Jon. Since when do you refuse when good pussy is thrown at you. Hell, it doesn't even have to be good, does it? Any bitch willing to spread her legs is good enough for you. And let me tell you something baby, I never once had shit to say when you stuck your dick in me after fucking some other whore."

Catie slapped him across the chest. Jon clenched his jaw so hard he was sure his teeth were going to break.

"You know you're the only boy I let cum inside me," Catie giggled at him. She had to be on something. She never challenged him this way, never willingly jabbed the hornets nest. "That's all me, baby. Come on. Take advantage of it before its gone, Mox. We're going to tear each other apart! Might as well do it the fun way."

Catie hit him again. And again. And again. Jon could feel himself trembling he was so angry. Finally, his arm shot out, his fingers wrapping around her throat. He walked her back to the nearest wall, slamming her back against it. He lowered his face to hers, breathing heavy, heart hammering.

"I am going to strangle you within an inch of your worthless fucking life if you don't shut your goddamn mouth," Jon snarled, squeezing her throat until she choked for air. "Do you fucking hear me?!"

Jon let go of her throat, only to grab both of her shoulders and shook her violently before slamming her into the wall again. Catie kept smiling at him and it was making even more angry by the second. But be could see the red outline of his hand around her throat and that was at least a little satisfying.

"What the fuck is wrong with you tonight Catie? Do you want me to hurt you?" Jon said.

"I want you to fuck me like you hate me." She said.

Jon grabbed his bag in one hand and her by her upper arm with his free one, dragging her out of the building without another word. He shoved her into the passenger seat his car, throwing his bag at her feet. Jon knew driving in the state he was in wasn't his best idea but he needed to get away from the venue before he did something to her that would land him in jail.

Catie could feel how angry he was and she reveled in it. The sex was good on a regular basis, but it was even better when he was pissed off and that's what she wanted. What she was craving. She didn't care if he hurt her in the process. She just wanted it.

"You stink like a fucking whore." Jon growled. "That's how I know you fucked someone else."

"Oh well," Catie drawled slowly. "Shouldn't you be used to that?"

'Concentrate on the road, Moxley,' He told himself. 'Don't crash this car. Don't let her drag you to hell with her.'

He didn't say another word to her until he ordered her out of the car when they got to the apartment. He gripped her arm again and felt a pang of triumph shoot through him when she winced. They climbed the stairs and once Jon unlocked the door, he shoved her through roughly. He felt manic, wild, absolutely crazed.

He grabbed Catie by her arms, squeezing tight as he marched her to the bedroom they shared. Jon shoved her face first into the mattress, pressing her face down until she struggled against him. He pulled her up by her hair and she gasped for air.

This was an evil place that this passion came from. He was so angry with her but so incredibly turned on by the way she fought with him that he couldn't tell if it was his anger or his erection that was making him dizzy.

Jon shoved her face into the bed again and with his free hand, he yanked her skirt up. He heard her groaning and gasping against the covers and he let her up just long enough to kick off his shoes and undo his pants and pull them off. Catie really was a glorious thing to see naked, but he would take no time to admire her today. She said to fuck her like he hated her and he would. He would fuck her and hurt her and make her beg for him to stop. Then he'd push a little harder until she broke underneath him.

Jon slammed himself inside her as deep as he could get in one go. Catie yelled out underneath him and he shoved her face back into the covers, muffling her. Jon thrust into her again and again before he finally let her up to breathe, pulling her by her hair. Catie seemed to love it, moaning and writhing and trying to grab for him but he swatted her arms away, pulling harder on her hair. Jon took this short nails and dug them into her back, dragging them deep all the way down to her ass. Catie screamed, her body arching back and Jon took that moment to wrap his free hand around her neck, holding her bent against him, pounding into her relentlessly.

"Is this how you wanted me to fuck you Catie?" He grunted in her ear, biting sharply on her earlobe. "Is this what you wanted?"

"Fuck yes," She groaned. "Yes!"

"You're such a fucking crazy whore," Jon said, thrusting deep and grinding his hips against her, pulling on her hair so he could see the side of her face. "You like it when I do this to you. Have you bruised and fucking sore."

Catie whimpered out something unintelligible, little air getting to her through the hand around her throat. Jon released his hand slowly and he heard her gasp, felt her body shudder. His assault on her body was nonstop, deep, hard thrusts that shook her body and his. Catie squirmed and shivered, inching closer and closer to the edge and Jon drove her there, throwing her over with all his strength. Catie screamed and moaned and clawed at the covers underneath her but Jon wasn't done with her. Not yet by far. He was still rock hard inside her and wasn't going to stop until he was the one who dragged her through oblivion this time.

"Jon, Jon please," Catie whimpered. "I can't..."

"Shut the fuck up," Jon snarled, thrusting hard into her again. He groaned, fuck she felt good even when he wanted to destroy her. "Fucking take it."

Jon could hear her crying beneath him, her body overloaded with sensation. He would fuck her until she was raw and couldn't move. Jon could feel her body tensing again, another orgasm creeping up into her. This one would take him with her. He rammed himself into her and a strangled scream tore out of her. Blissful oblivion wrapped around him. Jon came so hard he was sure he blacked out for a moment.

After a few long moments, Jon released his hand from around her hair, flexing his fingers. Catie whimpered when he drug himself out if her. Her body overwhelmed and sensitive. Catie crumpled to the floor without Jon's weight holding her against the bed. His own legs felt weak as he stepped over her, walking to open the window. He picked up his pack of cigarettes from the bedside table and leaned against the windowsill, sparking one. Nicotine flowed through him, slowly helping settle his frazzled nerves. Catie was a blubbering mess on his bedroom floor and he was hanging out the window, trying not to get caught smoking inside the apartment again.

This was their twisted love.
How sinister and how correct.

It was along few minutes before Jon looked back at Catie again, only to find that she wasn't on the floor anymore. Shrugging, he flicked his cigarette out the window and settled onto the bed. There was hardly anything on it, save for a comforter and a white sheet and Jon kicked the comforter away, still too hot to be bothered with it.

He must have slept, at least a few minutes because it was blessedly quiet for a stretch of time. The thing that woke him though, was a pinch at the top of his right thigh. A pinch followed by the most agonizing pain he'd felt in a long time. He shot up but immediately fell back, pain shooting through his leg. Catie was sitting beside him on the bed, smiling down at him. And it was a sick smile, a sick Moxley smile. When he looked down to the source of the pain he saw, to his endless surprise, a sharp steak knife sticking shallowly in his thigh. It wasn't deep enough to cause issue, but it was bleeding and hurt like hell.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" Jon screamed.

"You hurt me, I hurt you," Catie whispered. "Isn't that the way we work?"

"You crazy cunt," Jon yelled. "You just stuck a fucking knife in my leg!"

Catie nodded, smiling. "It's called stabbing, baby."

Jon glared at her, gingerly removing the knife from his skin. Blood bubbled up out of the wound and it pissed him off.

"I will carve your rotten heart out." Jon threatened lowly.

Catie laughed and the blood started pounding in Jon's ears again. "I fucking dare you."

Before he even thought it through, Jon's hand was around her throat again. He crawled up to his knees, shoving Catie down on the bed. Jon straddled her hips, gripping the handle of the knife in his fist and pressed the tip of the blade to her chest. Catie whimpered, real fear flashing through her eyes for the first time. Jon pressed the blade a little harder into her, blood welling up under the metal. She cringed as he drug it down, a jagged little line over her heart. Something inside him screaming, stop it! Stop it now! And he looked down at the girl underneath him, terrified and shaking, crying real tears. Jon's fingers loosened around the knife and he dropped it on the bed, slumping over, his forehead resting against hers.

"What the fuck am I doing?" He whispered.

Catie sobbed. "I love you. I love you." She said.

"I hate you," Jon whispered. "Look at what you've done to me."

Jon rolled away from her, picking up the knife and throwing it across the room. He stumbled off the bed, dropping to the floor, feeling suddenly sick. He'd tried, really thought about plunging that knife into her chest and pulling her heart out with his bare hands. Sick he might be, but that was too far. That was too much and he couldn't... couldn't bare that the thought crossed his mind. Jon looked up at the bed, seeing Catie there, blood dripping down the side of her neck where it pooled from the cut on her chest. Blood was still dripping from the puncture in his thigh, dripping onto the carpet. He'd have to scrub it out later. He looked at her and she'd turned her head and was smiling at him.

"You actually tried it," She whispered.

"What the fuck are you smiling at?!" Jon yelled.

"It scared me... but I liked it." Catie whispered.

I listened to your screams of pleasure,
And I watch the bed sheets turn blood red.