#into the dark hulu | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janicekao · 4 months ago

Text

No, Fuck You!

Pairing: Richie Jerimovich x Black oc (dark smut) Summary: Based off of season one of the series "The Bear." Carmen Berzatto, a culinary expert has to put his career on hold after his brother Michael's su1c1de being that Michael left the family's restaurant in Carmy's name. The restaurant is busted, in debt, and the staff is hardheaded. Carmy's "cousin" Richie is especially hardheaded. He's 45, doesn't like change in the restaurant, dabbles in illegal side hustles, thinks he's Italian, acts ghetto af, his attitude sucks, he's always cussing, and he is just a lot to deal with it. My addition to the story is an OC young lady who is hired at the restaurant to help with the finances and how badly her And Richie bump heads... until of course, they don't! Warnings: age gap, profanity, vi0lence, smut, fan fiction, public s3x,cr3am pi3, office siren aesthetic, submissive male, toxic, bwwm, fanfic, the bear, quickie, etc. 4038 words I also recommend viewing the story in Wattpad where I was able to use 20 photos in the story instead of tumblr's 10. Wattpad link:

Enjoy my babies <3 ------------------------------

It's a chilly winter morning in Chicago, and instead of sleeping in snuggly in his warm bed, Richie Jerimovich pulls into his job smoking an early morning ciggie with his suspended license in the pocket of his jeans.

Having trouble sleeping at night pure usual, Richie decides to pop into his job at a restaurant called The Beef two hours early before opening... Before there is even daylight. Although he yawns, he'd rather work instead of staring up at his bedroom ceiling thinking about how his wife is divorcing him, his daughter is growing up without her dad, and how he hardly has enough money to make his own rent next week... Richie enters through the back door of the restaurant and takes off his favorite leather jacket as he places it in his locker.

He grabs his uniform, a white apron and his favorite Tshirt with "The Beef" plastered across the right corner of the fabric.

Staring into the tiny and incredibly dirty locker sized mirror, he takes his gold chain from the inside of his shirt and dangles it on the outside of it. He smooths down his uncombed hair and prickly beard as he begins to chuckle cockily at his reflection. "You suave motherfucker you."

As Richie closes the door of his locker, he nearly jumps out of his skin... Spooked suddenly by the new girl who quietly stands behind his locker.

"Fucking hell!" He complains. "Lexie? Do I need to put a fucking bell on you or something? Don't ever sneak up on me! Make yourself known when you walk into a building!"

"Or what?" She instigates. "You'll pop me with that stupid fucking gun you lug around the restaurant with?"

"Yeah, maybe!" He scoffs. "Maybe I fucking will! And before you start, don't give me shit about the fact that I carry heat on me! If you were smart, you'd care a little pussy-pink magnum in your purse... walking around Chicago like you're untouchable, are you fucking insane?"

Lexie rolls her eyes.

"All I'm saying is make yourself known when you walk in here." He continues. "You got me?"

Lexie widens her stance as if Richie who is nearly a foot taller than her couldn't bench press her weight if he felt like it. "No, fuck you! You are the one who should make yourself known... I've been here long before you have."

He becomes even more short-tempered... "Sweetie, I've been here before you were even born!"

"I am speaking of this morning!" Lexie continues. "I thought you were some hobo breaking in through the back... But, it seems that I wasn't too far off."

"Fuck you. Why are you even here?" Richie wouldn't be Richie without furthering an argument. "You can't count the receipts up during your shift?! O-Or complete the payroll from your own fucking house!?"

Lexie's fists tighten. "If it were up to me, your greasy ass wouldn't even be on the payroll."

Richie chuckles... a laugh that fills Lexie with rage. "Well good thing it isn't up to you!"

"Now sign my check and hand it here." He grabs at her arm full of paperwork.

"Not until Friday!" Gritting her teeth, Lexie snatches away with all of her might. "If you're so broke, try being more charming to the customers and maybe you could take home some nice tips at night!"

She continues. "—BUT! Welcoming a customer inside by calling him 'the man with the golden dick' will get you nothing! I mean, seriously Richie?!

Richie had no idea Lexie pays so much attention to how he speaks to his regulars everyday... He feels that the people of Chicago love his charm and personality... Hell!— Arrogantly, he even believes that they come to The Beef just to see him!

Richie becomes offended. "Okay, first off— fuck you, and secondly— that's the best compliment a man could ever get!"

Lexie rolls her eyes once more before she turns to leave him.

—But, Richie just doesn't know how to quit. "Listen princess you're not here to teach us etiquette okay!? I seriously don't get why they hired you, Carmy's sister Sugar does all the paperwork here anyways!"

Lexie turns around, coming back to the argument as she reddens and continues to shout. "Because Sugar has a full time job and a husband, Richie! She can't spend all her time in this dump going through paperwork full of dust mites!"

"Fine, then why are you here at 4am?" Richie folds his arms, leaning against the lockers to stop Lexie from walking away. "I can't believe they gave you a fucking key."

"The feeling's mutual." Lexie nudges his forehead with her fingertips. "Giving you a key is as responsible as handing it to a bum on the metro. Now get out of my way!"

"You don't need to get nasty young lady." Richie's jaw clenches. He becomes terribly annoyed that the new girl can actually keep up with his banter— and the fact that she might just be better at it. "Take it back."

Lexie grins sarcastically. "Fuck you."

He flips her off. Using his fingertips under his chin, his favorite gesture when he's already said 'fuck you' enough.

She rolls her eyes. "As if I don't see you do that a thousand times a day. Grow up Richie! You're such a fucking child."

Wanting to leave the locker room, Lexie can't help but become curious as well.

"My turn." She insists, placing her items in an opened locker. "Now, why are you here?"

...

Richie gulps... He rather not talk about the stress of his life with a girl he swears is the worst investment the restaurant has ever made...

He came to work to clear his head, not to express to some chick that he feels like a forty-five year old deadbeat with no purpose in life.

"I dunno— checking... supplies and shit." He lies.

"No..." Lexie doesn't buy it. "I am here checking supplies for a list of our expenses and doing some budgeting—"

"BUDGETING!?" Richie explodes on his last straw. "Okay fuck this, you twenty-something-year olds have already changed the budget ten times!!! How much more money do we need to save!? The restaurant has already cut out so many classic dishes from the menu and now you're gonna cut back more!?"

"Yes! And if you're so concerned about how much money we bring in, try selling more sandwiches instead of eating them all fucking day!" Lexie blinks her long lashes sarcastically, making Richie fume even more and lose all of his patience.

"Damn it! I've had it with you!" Standing over Lexie, Richie begins to threaten her with a strong finger point into her face. "I have tried to be a gentleman, but you've taken me up to here!" He hovers his hand high above his head, expressing that her attitude has got him through the fucking roof.

"First of all..." Richie continues as he immaturely picks at her looks. "—You look fucking ridiculous! Coming into The Beef looking like a fucking principal in a tight fucking pencil skirt! Put on a Tshirt, and get elbow deep in some fucking grease! That's what we need! Not some Mary Poppins-fucking-secretary!"

"It's called business casual." She chuckles. "And as if we need some forty-five year old washup who leaves cigarettes everywhere, and smokes a pack a day!"

"You can't cook, you can't clean, and money comes up short every time you work the registers!"

"Fuck you, liar!" Becoming so unbelievably heated, strained veins of tension stands out of his neck each time he shouts. "I'd never mooch from this place! This place is my home, my family!"

"No?" She tilts her head in curiosity. "Well, what about you selling coke out of the back alley too! What would you call that!?"

"LABOR AND INVESTMENT." He shouts. "I'm making ends meet for this shit-hole because someone has to do it when the money gets fucking low! Tell me sweetheart, how the fuck do you think this place survived during Covid??? ME!"

...

Richie begins to insult her under his breath. "Maybe if your brains were half as big as your fat ass you'd understand better."

"EXCUSE ME!?" Lexie loses her calm.

For a moment there, she was able to keep up with Richie's attitude in a professional manner... However now, her fist down his throat would look pretty good to her.

Richie doesn't repeat himself...

"No! Fucking go ahead!" Lexie argues and begins to push against him, antagonizing a coming fight and nudging him for more. "You want to talk shit, then let's talk shit!"

"What are you doing? Now you wanna fucking fight me tough guy?" Richie rolls his eyes. "Listen, you're pressing your tits on me, you need to back off before we have a problem"

"YOU ARE THE FUCKING PROBLEM!!" Lexie lets out her true feelings of hatred towards him. "Do you know how smoothly this restaurant could run without you constantly aggravating someone!? You stress Carmy out every fucking day! I don't understand why he doesn't just fucking fire you already!"

She continues. "Name one day Richie, ONE DAY that you haven't aggravated someone over their limits with your constant bullshit?"

He scoffs. "It's because you fucking Chicago-gentrifying-fucking-millennials are pussies!!! No backbone!! Upset over everything. You, Carmy, and Sydney!"

"For someone who isn't good at shit, you sure are good at pissing people off!" Lexie continues to bark. "For Christ sake! Sydney stabbed you the other day in your ass for being such a prick!"

Embarrassed with his known behavior, Richie refuses to meet Lexie in her dagger like dark brown eyes.

"Syd said it was an accident..."His voice becomes meek like a baby.

"I wouldn't blame her if it wasn't!" Lexie shouts.

So used to being the one who annoys everyone else, Richie gets a taste of his own medicine as he continues to be annoyed by Lexie's presence. "Why the fuck were you even hired Lexie!? To keep up with the books and money because you're in Chicago's fucking community college taking up a finance class?"

He laughs. "We don't need you here! You're probably just fucking Carmy, aren't you!?"

...

The insult goes too far... Lexie winds her hand back and slaps Richie clean across the face.

His cheek heats red, yet he was raised to never lay a finger back on a woman. "Fine." He gulps. "I probably deserved that."

Her large brown eyes eat away at his heart as Richie notices the comment humiliated her into making tears form and glass over at the surface of her eyes.

"God damn right you deserved it." Lexie holds back her tears and ill intentions to cause Richie serious bodily harm.

Little does she know, in Richie's own sick and twisted way, he only brought it up because he's curious if she's already been snatched up by some other guy on the staff. Because if he had the chance, maybe he'd even be interested in her himself...

But he's sure no uppity bitch like Lexie would even look in his direction.

"This is what I mean." She scoffs. "You're disrespectful, and you're a piece of shit who just causes arguments."

Richie rolls his eyes. "And I always finish them too! So what the fuck do you want to do about it?"

...

The wrong thing to say to a woman who is suddenly about to lose herself. Lexie instantly shoves him against the locker... causing the metal material to ring and bang out loudly.

He gulps, fearing that the young cutie has been pushed far past her limits and that he's about to get his ass kicked.

"Okay, that was all you that time. I didn't say shit to you to deserve that!" Richie argues, attempting to strike fear in her heart. "But you listen... If you put your fucking hands on me again, I swear to god—"

"That you'll do what?!" Lexie entices.

Although comically smaller than the large man, she yanks him down to the wooden locker bench before them. "Sit down!"

He surrenders with his hands held high. "Okay baby chill, you're losing your shit right now, you need to take a chill—"

She grips his face as she stands over him. "DO YOU EVER JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!?"

A question that Richie knows not to answer...

Lexie finds herself staring at the pink puckered lips within her grasp and her thoughts become insane.

A glimmer in both of their eyes immediately changes the tension in the room into something far more worth the adrenaline.

Lexie slips out of the panties beneath her short pencil skirt...

"What— what are you doing?" Richie mumbles as his middle-aged heart beats harder than it ever has.

"Occupying your mouth to keep it from running so fucking much." Her panties slip down off of her heels and into Richie's lap as she tugs a brutal grip onto his short strands of hair... With her grip, Lexie forces Richie's head back and his mouth open as she places her cunt across his tongue.

Shocked and confused, Richie puts in work anyway. His tongue glides through her folds that surprisingly have slicked during their entire morning spent arguing and he begins to devour her pussy... A cunt so fresh, fat, warm, and half of his age.

The baritoned groans of his voice heat her core like nothing she has ever felt before. Lexie instantly grabs hold onto Richie's shoulders before her weakening knees begin to fail her.

Her eyebrows furrow as she begins to sweetly complain. "Oh fuck Richie..."

Glad to see that Richie's mouth has a better use than just arguing, Lexies squeals lightly as her eyes roll backwards in pleasure. She continues to fuck his face and be teased sweetly by his prominent nose, prickly unshaven face, and wildly fat tongue.

Richie becomes painfully aroused within his jeans. He moans into her cunt as his strong fingers grip at her waist tightly, bringing her closer across his face so his tongue can explore the depths of her flesh even further.

Blessed, yet confused, he begins to pause during his every word from suckling and gently kissing on her tasty mound. "What—the fuck—" He continues. "Are we—doing?"

Lexie squeezes her eyes tightly shut, almost orgasming each time she notices his sky-blue eyes staring up at her.

She bites her lip. "Just don't stop."

Richie hums through her pussy. "Mmm, Okay baby, I won't not til you tell me too."

Hands beginning to reach up her hips to cup at her waist, Lexie's mouth hangs open ajar... infatuated with how his strong fingers nearly double over the tiny measurements of her waist. Richie's grip on her is so powerful, forcing her not to run from his probing tongue and the lewd suckling and squelching that sound sloppily between her thighs.

Her legs begin to shake... Richie feasts on her as if his job depends on it.

She drags her full bottom lip between her teeth, begging for mercy as her core tightens with butterflies. "Mmmm'oh my god!" She whines.

Looking towards the dusty clock in the kitchen that hasn't been cleaned in years, Lexie realizes how close it is to the beginning of everyone's shift... morning prep.

Although time is almost out, she refuses to finish without having Richie put in more work and hammer her with cock.

"Get up. She demands. "Fuck me."

Lexie watches as Richie stands and tears off his apron to get to his pants.

Inside his trousers, Richie reveals a handsome ten inch cock. Veins protruding and swollen hard as it stands erect towards his belly button, Lexie can't wait to have the peach toned dagger deep into her guts. She begins to grin, glad to have trusted her instincts about skinny, tall men, who aren't worth shit. Although maybe not material for a husband, always trust that they'll have a cock big and gorgeous enough that it makes it worth the price of dealing with the constant bullshit that comes along with it.

Lexie wraps her legs around Richie's waist as he unbuttons her top and kisses at her neck and the fullness of her breasts that bulge from out of the top of her bra.

He lifts her against the lockers with clear impatience as he reaches beneath her to direct his cockhead into her flesh.

She coos sweetly. The tip of his erection, bulbous and hot as it lubes itself through the lips of her cunt, sliding backwards until it meets her tight, however inviting opening. She hisses as Richie slowly bucks forward, sheathing himself into her body.

"Jesus, Lexie."He groans out. His member being choked perfectly by her tight pussy.

Richie's many inches continue to dig forward until his hips are flushed against hers. She winces in pain as she tucks her forehead into the crook of his neck.

Richie softly hushes her stress, kissing sweetly at the parts available on her pretty little face. "Just hold onto my neck, okay?"

Lexie agrees through a quickened nod. She wraps her arms around his neck, wincing as the strokes begin.

Richie pulls out half way and slowly returns back fully into her core for his first impale. The two synchronize in a lewd and guilty first moan.

Richie picks up his speed, hips beginning to snap against her spread opened thighs as her pussy sops sticky and wet for him.

Lexie weeps soft tears as she gets railed by someone that she loathes with her entire being.

As her breasts bounce and spill from out of her dress shirt, hair tangling from what was a perfect blowout this morning, she soon realizes that nothing could be more delicious than early morning hate sex.

Richie watches beneath them at how well the little minx can take his cock, her sweet begging and the banging of the old lockers up against them encouraging him to go stronger and make her take his cream.

He stares at her lips, trying his best not to kiss them being that he still is so confused on where they stand... not even fifteen minutes ago, he was a second away from getting his ass kicked by her, and now suddenly... he finds himself balls deep between her legs.

He gulps. "Tell me what you want."

"For you to shut the fuck up." Panting for air, Lexie's brain becomes mush and only wanting to think about their sex.

He chuckles softly, complimenting her under his breath. "You're so fucking beautiful..."

"Yes mama, I'll shut the fuck up." He obeys. "Now what else do you want?"

"Drill me." Her eyes become low and sinister like a siren, full of sinful desire and without any shame. "Fuck me harder."

He nods. "Whatever you want."

Lexie clenches tightly around his shaft as Richie suddenly picks up a dangerous speed, spasming and slapping into her cunt as if she needed to be disciplined.

Now fucked out of her heels, her toes curl within her stockings. She begins to push on his slim and toned stomach for space between them.

—but Richie won't allow it. "Move your fucking hands." He shoves them away.

Her cunt pulses around him. Brain circuit-shorting as she gets embarrassingly used like a cock sleeve by one of the most unrespectable men of this job.

Yet, she wouldn't have it any other way.

Her whimpers become strangled, lips wet with drool.

"Look at you." Richie teases as the corners of his mouth begin to quirk. "Talk so much shit all morning long, but get real quiet with a cock in you."

"Mmm." He continues, skin hot and flushed as he tries to talk himself away from cumming. "You like this shit baby?"

A sudden slow pace blows Lexie's mind as Richie's lower abdomen knocks into her sensitive pearl. The feeling sends her to the moon.

Her nails dig into Richie's forearms as her walls contract around him, pulling his cock deeper inside awaiting to drain him of all his cum.

Richie's jaw goes slack, hips locking in place as he lunges further into Lexie's pussy until their bodies are flushed together.

A choked groan exits the depths of his throat. "Oh my fucking—"

Lexie covers Richie'a mouth as she hears keys and morning conversation outside of the restaurant near the front entrance.

Richie's cock twitches as it sputters out with hot cum. Filling Lexie's cunt with his spend until it begins to web around him.

His pleads and moans are terribly loud as she uses a second hand over the first to silence him.

Lexie's eyes roll backwards as she bites her lip, enjoying the thrill of being stuffed with cum as he throbs and becomes limp inside of her.

"Richie..." she gulps, whispering tiredly. "You'll have to keep quiet."

...

Eyebrows furrowed as he becomes hooked on the sound of her soft and tired after-sex voice, he'll do whatever she asks him to.

He nods, obeying as a good boy does however nearly biting his tongue off to silence himself as she takes her hands away. "Fucking hell Lexie... Goddamn baby."

He finally calms from his explosive climax, helping Lexie to her feet as they quickly begin to redress.

Stunned, Richie can't help but to watch her (mostly in love) as she places the heels back onto her feet to continue about her day.

Still alone near the lockers, they hurry to prep themselves before the crew comes inside in a few seconds.

"Jesus!" Richie laughs in excitement. "That was the best fuck I've had in—in, well fuck! In my whole fucking life."

Lexie rolls her eyes as he becomes giddy like a schoolboy.

With romance on his mind, Richie nearly begins to plan a day for her to meet his mother, hell— a day for them to marry! "Listen, babygirl, there's this incredible Italian spot on West Avenue, let me take you out—"

"Richie, please. Just shut up." Lexie ignores him as she quickly rebuttons her top and grabs her belongings from the locker.

...

He frowns, suddenly becoming furious.

"Alright wait a minute!" Richie refuses. "I just gave you a raw fuck in the back of the locker room and now I'm getting the cold shoulder? Are you my girl or what?"

Lexie scoffs.

"Fucking old guys..."She sighs in a quiet whisper, speaking mostly to herself. "Give em pussy once and they get all clingy."

Their arguing comes back at full speed. "It's not old guys you little fucking slut! It's called class, and respect! I wanted to take you out. Lexie, what the fuck do you even want with me?"

"Exactly what we had." She shrugs.

"What?" He lashes back. "I piss you off and then you go all horny she-devil on me and fuck my brains out?"

Lexie freezes in thought. "...yes"

Richie can't believe what he's hearing.

He scoffs, beginning to laugh in disbelief. "You're bugging. You're fucking insane, you know that?"

Lexie sighs as she continues to hurry from what they just committed. "I like things to be simple, okay? Did you enjoy it or not?"

Richie rolls his eyes. Pissed as if he's been used like a two cent whore. "Of course I did, fuck you Lexie.Don't ask me no stupid shit like that, you know I did."

Out of breath as the door chimes begin to ring up front, Lexie smiles softly. "Good! So you just be Richie, I'll be Lexie, and maybe we'll do it again sometime."

"Understand?" She questions, setting boundaries with Richie who is clearly a romantic.

...

He pauses.

Lexie sighs. "Do I need to ask again?"

"No." He pouts, spoiled from a taste of good pussy.

"Good." Lexie nods and grins tightly as if they just shook hands over a business deal before she begins to walk away.

"Hey." Richie grabs her. "Wait. —Kiss me."

"I'm not going to kiss you." Lexie tugs at his grasp, yet she isn't able to get out of it.

He bears over her... forcing her eyes upon him as he demands for what he wants. "Damn it Lexie, I'm not asking. Kiss me before I start making a fucking scene in here."

...

Lexie rolls her eyes, knowing that denying him of this isn't worth outing what they've done together.

"Fine." She gives in.

Placing his hands at her waist, Richie pulls her against him. His right hand reaches towards her face where he watches her closely... sweetly brushing her baby hairs out of his view. The hand softly cups the side of her face... wide enough to caress her jaw and neck as he forces her unto her toes to meet his lips.

Their lips finally meet... And the kiss is unbelievably tender... Quickly expanding into something more as their mouths open and tongues tangle.

Richie presses her tighter towards him, hand now trailing from her waist to a smack and grip onto her ass. The other hand leaves her cheek to his digits pulling tightly at her long black tresses.

Their eyes continue to stay closed as their moans heat each other's mouths. Tongue fucking each other with more heat than their actual sex...

Lexie finds herself breath taken and begging for more as Richie pulls away with an intoxicating sexy bite and pull to her bottom lip.

Her eyes soon flutter open.. She gulps, unsure to why it was the most romantic kiss that she has ever had.

Richie grins as he notices the stunning blush that begins to heat her face.

"Now..." Richie bites his lip as he continues to stare at her beauty, smoothing her hair and tucking it behind her ears. "Now you can go."

Unsure of the butterflies in her stomach, she stares into Richie's eyes and slowly nods.

Slightly mad at herself for feeling a growing crush, she can't believe that it is what she's thinking it is... Hell!— She'd even have to beat her own ass if she were to begin falling for Richie Jerimovich...

"I-I have to go now." Lexie gulps.

"Mhm." He nods. "Have an excellent day, sweetie."

She stumbles lightly over her feet, still high off of Richie's kiss and he quietly begins to chuckle.

He's got her right where he wants her. Although Lexie claims to not want anything serious, he's determined to convince her otherwise.

The crew finally begins to pour inside and Richie wishes everyone a good morning.

He loves his job... He loves his family here.

A team of hard working Chicago locals, just trying to make it through day by day. Real people working real jobs.

The Beef is Richie's home. And if things go right... One day, Lexie could be that too.

As Carmy readies himself for the day and prepares himself to run a business he never expected to own... He shouts, wanting a minute alone with his cousin Richie as they dap each other up while they greet.

"Aye good morning, talk to me for a sec Cousin..." Carmy begins. "Listen Richie, when you and Michael began hiring for the restaurant, you hired people who quickly became like family. You have a knack for this Richie, and I trust your judgement."

Carmy continues. "I wanted to ask you, what do you think about this new girl on the books? Yeah, she's saved us a lot of money and things are running smooth as shit... but is she one of us? Can she keep up with the crew?"

Richie shrugs.

Reaching into the pockets of his jeans, his fingers rustle the lace fabric of Lexie's thong that he kept as a souvenir from their early morning quickie before the break of dawn.

The thought of their morning together alone suddenly makes Richie's heart flutter and eats wildly at his soul...

"Yeah." He gulps. "She's a fucking bitch... but yeah, she's one of us. She's part of the family."

"So fuck it... she stays?" Carmy asks.

Richie chuckles. "Yeah.. if we're lucky."

A delivery man pops inside the restaurant as they continue to chat and Carmy signs a form on the man's clipboard before the man leaves again.

"What was that for?" Richie yawns. "Ordered more napkin supply or some shit."

"Nope! All good on supplies." Carmy pats Richie on the back. "Just signing the invoice on the security cameras we had installed last week."

...

A chill suddenly falls down Richie's spine.

He looks up at the ceiling, noticing the new cameras installed in every corner of the restaurant. The entrance, the counter, the kitchen, and the fucking locker room.

Richie freezes in absolute horror. "Oh fuck."

47 notes · View notes

indifferent-depravity · 4 months ago

Text

Minors DNI 18+

Warnings: abusive relationship, age gap, pregnancy, vague mention of child birth

A/N: Oh hey look I’m back with an almost 4k fic! Kudos to my very good friend @noellawrites for helping me get this story done and beta'd!!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

buy me a coffee!

help me escape abuse

my Etsy shop

Gripping Richie’s arm, you slowly lead him into the house, murmuring soft encouragements as he sways unsteadily. “Just a little more, baby, let’s get you on the couch,” you murmur, letting him hold onto your arm for support as you lower him onto the couch. Richie lets out a shaky breath, letting his body relax into the cushions. You watch him catch his breath, your heart breaking at how the simple action of walking into the house took all his energy. It’s almost a miracle that he only needed a few days of observation in the hospital after everything Carmy did.

“Get me a glass of water and some tylenol, baby.” Richie says, letting out a pained hiss as he shifts on the couch. You nod, watching him for a moment before moving to the kitchen. You’re back quickly, reaching out to help him as he raises the glass to his mouth with a shaky hand.

“I want you to quit working at that fucking restaurant, you understand? All they want is to break our family apart.”

Your stomach drops at his words, “but Carmy and Nat, they’re my family! I can’t just cut them out of my life like that!” you say with a shaky breath. He fixes you with a stern look and you curl into yourself, arms moving almost protectively over your stomach.

“I don’t want to hear it! You saw what Carmy is capable of, what he did to me!” he says angrily, “You have to do what’s best for your family now. Eva, this baby, me, that’s the family that matters now. How could you be so heartless?”

Tears prick your eyes as you sit down next to Richie, “I-I’m sorry, you’re right, I wasn’t thinking.” You run your hand over your bump before looking back at Richie, “I’ll quit, it’s almost time for this little one to come out anyway, I shouldn’t be working in this condition.”

“That’s right, you just gotta focus on being my beautiful, pregnant wife right now,” Richie says with a smile, reaching out to cover your hand over your stomach.

~~~

Michael Jr. comes into the world screaming his lungs out a week later. “It’s a boy!” The doctor exclaims, turning to Richie to show him how to clamp and cut the cord. Richie is in awe, staring at his new son as he’s taken to the other side of the room for a quick clean and wrapped in a blanket.

The doctor turns with the bundle in his arms, “alright who wants the first cuddle, Mommy? Daddy?”

“I’ll take hi-” you start, reaching out for your son but Richie beats you to it, carefully taking the bundle into his arms.

“Hey there, Mikey, it’s your daddy.” He coos, gently running a finger over his cheek. You sit there quietly, keeping your tears at bay as the doctors move around the room, finishing up their tasks.

You wait until the last doctor leaves before asking quietly, “Richie, can I hold him now?” You reach toward Richie and he shrugs you off, turning away from you.

“You got to hold him for 9 fuckin’ months, you can wait.” He says with a sneer and you nod, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. This wasn’t the way you imagined giving birth at all. Sugar should’ve been here, holding your hand. Carmy should’ve been in the waiting room, ready to come see his first nephew. A sob slips from your lips before you could help it, tears finally falling.

Richie turns to you annoyed, “For fucks sake, what’s your problem? You’ll get him after I’m done.”

You nod in agreement at his words but another sob slips out, “Sugar should’ve been here… Carmy too. You’ve taken everything away from me.”

“All I’ve done is give you a home and purpose. I’ve given you Mikey, is that not enough? You’re so ungrateful.” He spits at you, “Pull yourself together, you’re a fucking adult.”

At his father’s raised voice, Michael whines, face screwing up in a cry. Richie lets out a rough sigh, shaking his head as he tries to get Michael to calm down. “See this is what I’m talking about, you’re too emotional right now and it’s making Mikey upset. You gotta get over yourself if you want to be a good mom.”

Michael refuses to settle, his cries growing louder as Richie rocks him. “Let-let me take him, Richie, maybe he’s hungry,” you say tentatively and Richie sighs, dumping him into your arms.

“Whatever, just get him to stop. I’m going for a smoke.”

You nod, watching him leave before turning your attention to the crying baby in your arms. You reposition him gently, cuddling him close to your chest. His cries slowly abate, and you smile, gently stroking his cheek as he nestles closer to you. “Your daddy gets angry sometimes,” you whisper to Michael, gently stroking his cheek, “but momma will alway protect you, okay? Nothing bad is ever going to happen to you.”

~~~

“I heard from Richie that baby and mamá are healthy. A little boy, Michael.”

Carmy’s knife clatters out of his hand as Tina’s words register in his ears. You’re okay. He has a nephew. You have a child. What the fuck were you doing having a child?

“A boy! Richie must be happy.” Ebra replies, “Will he bring little Michael around?”

Carmy grabs his knife, trying to act normal as he strains his ears to hear Tina’s reply, heart beating madly at the opportunity to see his new nephew. “No, he doesn’t want to be anywhere near here if Carm- uh no but I’m going to see them tomorrow, I’ll bring some pictures in.”

Carmy’s breath leaves him in a rush that leaves him light-headed and his knife slips, slicing across his knuckles. He shouts in pain and stumbles away from the counter, nearly running into Sydney as he stumbles toward the bathroom.

“Watch it, Carmy! What’s wrong with you?”

~~~

“Looks like everything is healing well,” The doctor says brightly as she pulls off her gloves, “still, no intercourse for the next couple weeks but I would say you get a clean bill of health!”

“So no more visits to prod at me anymore?” You ask with a joking tone, sparing her a smile as you collect your things. You check the time on your phone as you exit the doctor’s office, cursing when you see it’s later than you thought.

You can hear Mikey’s wails from the driveway and you rush in, almost missing Richie waiting next to the door. He grabs your arm, pulling you to look at him, “what no hello? You’re late.” He states, voice low.

“Hello, Richie. The doctor took a while to see me.” You say before adding desperately, “Let me go see what Mikey needs and then we can talk all you want.”

Richie growls, tightening his grip on your arm, “Tell me what the fuckin’ doctor said first.”

You wince at his grip and speak quickly, “Clean bill. No sex for a few weeks. Now can I go?”

“You need more visits?”

“No. Now let go so I can see to our son!”

Richie shakes his head with a small chuckle, bringing his free hand back to smack you across the face. He pulls you closer to him and sneers, “lose the sass, if you hadn’t been late he wouldn’t be crying now. Don’t act like it’s my fault you’re a bad mother.”

He throws you away from him and you stumble, reaching out toward the wall to steady yourself. With a quiet sigh you compose yourself, walking into Mikey’s room with a smile.

“What’s wrong little man, it can’t be as bad as all that,” you coo, gently lifting him from his crib.

~~~

“Baby, get in here!”

You sigh at the sound of Richie’s voice ringing through the house, pressing a gentle kiss to Mikey’s forehead. “Alright, little man, let’s get you into bed,” you whisper and smile as he gurgles in response.

“Now!”

You press your lips together tightly, pointedly ignoring Richie as you lay Mikey in his crib, stroking his cheek. He’s nearly asleep when Richie barges into the room, the door slamming against the wall causing Mikey to startle awake. “I know you could hear me,” he seethes, reaching out to grab your arm, “so would you like to tell me why you didn’t answer?”

You glare at him, stepping out of his reach, “because, asshole, I was trying to get Mikey down and you just ruined it. Now you’ll have to wait even longer." You reply shortly, turning to soothe Mikey’s cries.

Richie seizes his chance and tangles his fingers in your hair, forcing your head back as he steps closer and whispers, “you’re going to come with me now or it’ll get a lot worse for you, do you understand me?” Tears spring to your eyes as pain prickles over your scalp from his hold and you nod as best you can. A feral smile crosses his features, as he forces you to walk out of the nursery, leaving Mikey crying in his crib.

He throws you to the floor, hands swiftly unbuckling his belt, “I’ve been very patient, waiting for you to give birth, through all those fucking doctor’s appointments, but I’m done waiting now.” Richie says and pauses as he slowly pulls his belt through the loops, “It’s your fault Carmen beat me. Your fault I lost everything I had at The Beef, what I could've had at The Bear. I’ve tried teaching you how to be a good wife, but it seems you need a harder hand than I thought. Take your shirt off.”

You shake your head, pleading with him, “Richie, please you don’t have to do this. We-we can just talk, okay?”

Richie growls and grabs a fistful of your shirt, tearing it at the seams. “Take. It. Off!” He shouts, Smacking you across the face. You cry out, tears welling in your eyes as you shakily pull it off, hands moving to retain some modesty.

Richie swings, barely giving you time to react before his belt comes down across your shoulders. Your breath leaves you in a wheeze and you gasp for air as each lash leaves you breathless, unable to even scream. But you can hear Mikey in the background, his desperate cries for you brings tears to your eyes. A fire spreads beneath your skin, deepening the pain of repeated lashes in the same place.

You’re sobbing when Richie finally drops the belt, breathless from the force of his swings. He crouches to grab your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Do you understand why I did this?” He asks and you nod in response. Fingers dig into your raw shoulder, “Say. It! Why did I do this?”

You let out a sob, squeezing your eyes shut, “it’s my fault, I did this! It’s all my fault!”

Richie nods, letting you slump back on the floor as he stands, “you toe the line again and I’ll make you go away. Understand? No more Mikey, No more anything. I’m tired of this.” He doesn’t wait for a response, throwing “get the brat to stop crying” over his shoulder as he heads for the bedroom.

~~~

“Tina! It’s so good to see you! Please, come in!” You give her a smile as you side step, letting her into the house. “Richie didn’t tell me you were coming, I would’ve cleaned up.” You say apologetically but she shakes her head, drawing you into a tight hug. Your back throbs at the touch of her arms and you grit your teeth, hiding the pain with an uneasy smile as she pulls away.

“Nonsense, you just had a baby, you should be resting!” Tina exclaims and gives you a once over, eyes hesitating at the bruise Richie’s buckle left at the base of your neck. She reaches up and gently tugs your collar up to cover the bruise. “Now, where do you need me, and no lying now, got it?” She says, fixing you with a stern look.

“Dishes, laundry, maybe? Richie’s been so busy at work and barely helps when he is here, I’ve been trying to do everything and take care of Mikey.” Your facade breaks as you let out a weary sigh before quickly plastering a smile on your face.

Tina fixes you with another look, eyebrows tight with concern, “Go sit down, mami. You look dead on your feet!” She ushers you toward the couch, eyes trained on you until you get settled against the cushions.

“Mikey needs a bottle every 3 hours but he sleeps like a champ once I get him down, guess that’s all I can ask for with a newborn.” You sigh, wincing as the cushions press against your back. You watch Tina walk into the kitchen, waiting until she starts doing the dishes with her back to you before shifting to sit up straight, relieving the pressure against your back.

No dish defeats Tina and in a matter of thirty minutes all the dishes line the counters, drying as she sets her sights on the heaped laundry baskets. She switches the loads, starting a new one before bringing a basket of clean clothes to fold in the living room.

You’re folding clothes with Tina when Mikey’s fussing filters through the baby monitor. You smile and set the towel in your hands down, “There’s the man of the hour,” you joke with a laugh, gripping the armrest of the couch as you get up, “let me grab him, I’m sure you’re excited to see him!”

You head into Mikey’s bedroom, softly cooing at him as you ease him from the crib. Your face pinches in pain as your shoulders throb from the strain of holding him but you shake it off, giving Mikey a small smile, “hi sweetheart, did you have a good nap, hm?” You ask softly, gently running your knuckle against his cheek as you head back down the hall to the living room.

Tina softly exclaims, hands coming to cover her mouth as you step in front of her. “Oh. Oh, Can I hold him?” She asks softly, gently cupping his head. You nod with a smile, gently shifting him from your arms to hers. “Oh, bebito, you’re so small.” She says quietly, letting him hold her finger.

“I know, it took some getting used to, I kept thinking I was going to crush him.” You reply, stroking his head, “still can’t wrap my head around the fact he came out of me.”

Tina laughs, “Mine are fully grown and I still can’t wrap my head around it.” She says with a sigh, tearing her eyes away from Mikey to give you a smile, “You’re doing good, mami.”

A lump forms in your throat and you give her an uneasy smile, looking down at your hands, “I could be doing better. But thank you.”

“Look at him.” Tina says, gently pushing him back into your arms and he cuddles closer to you, fingers curling tightly around your shirt, “You’re all he knows, just being in your arms makes him happy.” You swallow back the tears stinging your eyes giving her a small nod. She cups your face for a moment, giving you a smile before pulling away. “Now, how about a picture? Ebra and Sydney have been dying to see our little bebito.” She asks as she pulls out her phone.

You let out a quiet laugh before holding Mikey up and smiling as Tina holds her phone up for the photo.

~~~

It’s Sydney squeal that pulls Carmy’s focus away from his work. “Oh my god, he’s adorable!” Sydney gushes, a smile forming on her lips as Tina hands her phone to her, the picture she took of Mikey open on the screen.

Carmy turns to see Ebra leaning over the two women to take a look at the picture. Ebra lets out a hum of approval, “He will be strong like his father I think.” He says before resuming his work. Carmy twists a towel in his hands nervously as he watches Tina show Sydney more pictures, chattering about how you and Mikey are doing.

He waits until Sydney leaves before approaching Tina, his shoulders drawn in and eyes downcast. “Tina… Can I- can I see them?” He asks quietly, squeezing the towel in his hands as he waits for her answer.

Tina sighed, “You know Richie doesn’t want you to see them,” She starts but her eyes soften at the scene in front of her, Carmy, a shell of the once hot-headed chef she knew.

“She’s my sister, Tina.”

Tina watched him for a moment before nodding, opening her phone to the picture of you holding Mikey in your arms. Carmy’s breath catches as he looks at you in the picture, how small and tired you seem, holding your own child. He runs a shaky hand over his mouth, whispering, “they’re so tiny.”

Tina’s eyes widen at the utterance and she looks down at the picture, unable to take her eyes off the way you curl in on yourself, almost like you’re trying to protect Mikey.

“Can you tell her I love her and I’m-I’m never going to stop being there for her?” Carmy’s request pulls her out of her reverie and she looks up at him, giving him a small nod in agreement. Carmy sighs, taking a final look at your picture before giving Tina a smile, “thank you, Tina.”

~~~

“Why the fuck isn’t this done!”

Richie shouting from the living room startles Tina as she tidies the nursery and steps to the doorway, peering out at the scene.

“I-I told you, you came home early so I didn’t have enough ti-time,” you explain, holding Mikey closer to your chest.

Richie shakes his head and chuckles, “all I ask for is a clean house and an obedient wife. I don’t see either!” He raises his hand and you flinch, curling around the child in your arms. He laughs at your fear and his hand shoots out, tangling in your hair and forcing your head back as he steps closer. “I’m going out. If this isn’t done by the time I’m home you know what happens, yeah?” You nod against his grip the best you can and he smiles, letting go of your hair with a small pat to your cheek.

Richie slams the door and you sink to your knees, body racking with sobs. Tina rushes over and wraps her arms around you, gently shushing you. “Mami, how long has this been going on?” She asks quietly after you calm down.

You clear your throat and pull away from her embrace. standing up from the floor. You gently place Mikey in his play cot with a sigh, “It’s not always this bad. He just- he just wants to teach me how to be a good wife, a good mother, but I keep screwing it up.” You say as you smooth Mikey’s onesie.

“Honey, what the fuck are you talking about? He shouldn’t be hitting you, yelling at you like that with Mikey around!” Tina exclaims, “This is wrong, mami, how can you not see that?”

Tears fill your eyes and you tip your head up to keep the tears from falling, “he’s all I know, Tina, he’s all I had after… after Mikey… we only had each other, how do I leave him after that?” You respond, voice thick with tears.

Tina sighs and wraps her arm around you, rubbing your shoulder comfortingly. She watches Mikey wriggle in his play cot, lifting his head to try and look at you. “Look at this baby, look at your baby. He doesn’t deserve to live like this.”

You let out a sob, wiping away the tears that escape, “who’s going to help me? R-Richie’s burned all my relationships outside of him. W-where am I supposed to take Mikey if I leave?”

Tina grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at her, “Carmy will. Nat, Sydney, Ebra, all of us, we never stopped loving you, chica. You will always have us.” She says firmly, keeping eye contact until you give a little nod of acknowledgement before she sighs, pulling you into a tight hug.

“I’ll do it,” You murmur against her shoulder, “I’ll…I’ll leave.”

~~~

Barely thirty minutes after Richie left for work you hear a knock on the door. The scene you find as you open the door brings you to tears. Everyone from The Bear was there, and most importantly, taking point in the group was Carmy and Nat. You throw yourself at your siblings, a sob ripping through your chest as you pull them close to you. “I’m so sorry,” You say as you pull away and wipe the tears from your face.

Carmy shakes his head, “We’re the ones that should be saying that. We were so self absorbed we didn’t notice what was happening until it was too late.” He takes a shaky breath before continuing, grabbing your hand, “I’m so sorry, Baby Bear.”

You shake your head, squeezing his hand tightly, “It’s okay, Bear, you’re here now.” The sound of Mikey fussing in his cot draws your attention and you offer Carmy and Nat a watery smile, “There’s someone you should meet.”

You let the group into the house, cooing softly as you pick up the fussing baby, “Hey, baby, look who’s here.” You settle him into your arms before presenting him to the group. You point at each of them and say their name, attaching aunt or uncle to their names before finishing on Carmy and Nat. Carmy reaches forward hesitantly, hand hovering over Mikey’s head like he was afraid to touch him. You laugh, “You can touch him, Carm, he’s not going to break. Here, let me show you.”

He takes a shaky breath, letting you place Mikey into his arms and gently strokes Mikey’s hair, “He’s so small.” He says with a small laugh, looking at the baby in his arms with wonder.

Tina claps to get everyone’s attention, “if we’re done with theatrics, we got a lot of work to do if we’re gonna be gone before Richie comes back.”

With everyone working together to gather anything that belonged to you or Mikey, efficiently packing them into boxes and hauling them out to the moving van, you were finished in under three hours.

You stand in the doorway holding Mikey and look over the place you lived for so long, blinking rapidly to hold back the tears at the thought of leaving Richie and this place behind. Nat touches your shoulder and you turn to her with a small laugh, “Is it wrong to say I’ll miss this place?”

Nat shakes her head, “I think whatever you’re feeling is okay, just know you’re going to a better place now, okay?”

You nod, smiling at her as you grab the doorknob, taking a deep breath before pulling it closed behind you.

#richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich #richie the bear #richie jerimovich the bear #the bear #writing #abuse #abuse tw #the bear hulu #the bear fx #dark fic #dead dove do not eat

38 notes · View notes

sarahowritesostucky · 9 months ago

Note

Ignore it if you're uncomfortable💕

Reader catching Steve eating um... "meat" or put suspicion on foods he cook cuz it's a little different from usual meat😔

Idk choose one or maybe both or maybe none

ANYTHING FOR STEVE KAMP I'M EVAPORATING RN

This will be a story told in infrequent, anachronistic snippets, as I love the story idea but don't really want to commit to another WIP. I hope you enjoy!

📖"Amuse Bouche"

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Steve Kemp x Reader

Tags: cannibalism, held hostage, basement wife, captor/captive, dark Steve

Summary: Amuse-Bouche (/əˌmuːzˈbuːʃ/; French; N.) : to delight the mouth.

You feel your ears buzzing as you sit across the island, frozen in place. The soft sounds of Steve's knife against the cutting board drumming in your ears inordinately loud, warring with the drum of your own thundering pulse. You lick your lips nervously, biting your tongue to keep from saying anything.

"Everything okay, Hon?"

You blink, startled out of your thoughts and surprised to find Steve staring at you from where he's working, his eyes boring into you, rather than the raw meat under his hand, the chef's knife in the other. Your heart pounds hard in your chest, and you're sure he can hear it, can tell exactly what you're thinking.

What are you thinking?

"Y-yeah," you stammer, forcing a smile. Oh god, he can tell. He knows what you're -

"Good." His smile is sweet and honest, unsuspecting, and he goes back to his work on the cutting board. You swallow, your mouth horribly dry. "Just hungry, huh?" Steve smirks down at his bloodied hands. "Really worked up an appetite this afternoon."

You chuckle nervously, shifting in place on the barstool. "Haha, yep. Yeah."

"Mm. Well I know how to fix that," he says. Eyes still on the meat.

You look down nervously to it again, and away again before he can catch you looking and see the thoughts going through your head. You avert your gaze around the kitchen. - the beautiful kitchen.

It'd seemed like such an easy mark. Middle of nowhere, no visible security. Single occupant who went away for hours at a time. It'd been easy to case. You'd thought you'd make out good on this one. Just one more job. A little more money to get you in a good spot. Then you'd go straight.

It hadn't worked out that way.

The links on your cuff make a quiet sound as you shift. You reach for your wine glass and take a big sip. It slides over your tongue in a burst of flavors: fruity and lush, decadent yet light. It's red wine, a Beaujolais, your favorite. Steve always pours it for you before dinner, and you always drink it as you watch him cook.

Lately you've been drinking it faster.

Your eyes are back on the bloody cutting board when Steve's amused voice jars you back to attention,

"Need another pour already?"

Your eyes jerk up to him in fright, and it must show on your face, because he sobers. "Hon? What is it?"

You fake another smile - something you've gotten quite good at, ever since you woke up one day in a carpeted cell. "Nothing," you assure him, batting your eyelashes and drinking the last few sips from your glass. You set it back down on the counter. "I think I would like some more, please."

Steve squints at you briefly, concerned, or maybe suspicious, but your smile seems to do the trick and he sighs good naturedly. "Okay, why not?" He sets the knife down on the cutting board and turns his back to you, going to the sink to rinse his hands. "I'm chilling a white for the main, and I thought we could have that honey wine with dessert."

"Oh." You can't keep your eyes off the cutting board - on the carefully trimmed hunks of meat that don't taste like anything you've ever had before ... and on the knife. "That sounds nice."

Steve chuckles. "My little woman loves her dessert wines."

You could reach it. It's within reach. If you just leant across the counter, you'd be able to -

Steve 's hand appears in your field of vision and you flinch. He's reaching to take your empty glass. He eyes you knowingly as he pours from the bottle of Beaujolais. You expect him to say something, but he just finishes pouring and slides the glass back across the countertop to you. "There you go," he says, staring at you.

You lick your lips and swallow heavily, feeling caught. He knows. "Thank you, Steve," you whisper.

The edge of his mouth twitches up. "You're welcome, Little thief."

Your guts churn at the words he's somehow turned into a term of endearment. Steve's no fool. He knew you'd look. He put the knife within reach to test you, and you've failed the test. Internally you sigh, and you meekly sip your wine. You've got a long time to go before you'll be able to get the better of him.

"What's for dinner?" you ask, resigned, eyes back on the mystery meat.

"Rosemary."

"What?" You look up at him, catching the tail end of something indecipherable in his eyes. "Rosemary?" you ask, heart beating faster.

"Mm." He nods and goes to pull something out of the fridge. He returns with a bundle of green herbs. Your shoulders slump. Oh. rosemary. Right. "I'm cooking it sous vide with herbs," he says, and starts plucking the needles off the stalk. "Rosemary, Thyme, bit of sage."

You nod vacantly, thinking of the Francisco Goya that Steve has hanging in the hallway: Saturn Devouring His Son. You used to appreciate his quirky taste in art, had planned to get rich off it. But now you're starting to suspect there's something else to it.

Still, you know it'll infuriate Steve if you refuse to eat the food he's prepared for you, so you focus on sipping your wine steadily, hoping to maybe get another pour in before the meal.

You don't ask what it is that he's cooking sous vide. But deep down, you think you know.

This has been a fill for: @badthingshappenbingo

Card: sarah-writes-stucky / sarahyellow

Square O4: Kidnapping

Masterlist

#bad things happen bingo #steve kemp #steve kemp x ofc #steve kemp x y/n #steve kemp x reader #steve kemp x you #fresh hulu #fresh 2022 #fresh movie #sebastain stan #bingos n bangs #my asks #basement wife #held hostage #held captive #yandere #dark fanfic

63 notes · View notes

angelofthenight · 11 months ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.12

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, YN has a fear that Sam will assault her, YN talks about her emotionally abusive dad, YN was awful to her mom, Toxic exes, Toxic bf, Fear of stockholm syndrome, Self blame, Memory of dad leaving

Word Count: 4.4k

Table of Contents

( POOKIES SO SORRY THIS TOOK LIKE TWO YRS BUT THINGS WILL SOON PICK UP IN THE BOOK IN THE NEXT CHAPTER OR TWO )

You stirred awake in the warm cocoon of the blankets, rubbing your face into the pillow. The fresh November coldness hovered against the walls which did nothing but make you lazier while wrapped in cotton. But the heavy weight of the realization of waking up was enough motivation to push yourself up. You wanted to stay awake longer last night to keep listening to Sam and Alan’s conversation but you couldn’t fight off sleep for very much longer. You tried to pinpoint what was the last few things you heard before drifting off but your memories of real life and your memories of your dreams were blending together, making it unclear.

You lifted yourself up enough so that your back was pressed against the wall, rubbing your eyes to rid your fuzzy vision as you tried to focus on Alan who sat cross legged on a mattress in the far left corner. You focused on the chain still trapping his ankle but his seemed to be even shorter than yours, not close to being long enough to open the sliding door.

You shifted your attention to the center table that held a plate of the dinner you didn’t touch last night that Sam said was going to be your lunch. Have you really been asleep till lunchtime? It wouldn’t surprise you though. Your sleeping schedule has been very sloppy and inconsistent lately. The colder the weather got, the more you layered on blankets. And the comfier you were the heavier and deeper you slept. You hated that. You wanted to know exactly when Sam would momentarily leave his room during the night, still vigilant over the reminding thought that he has watched you sleep before.

But you would feel safer if Alan stayed in the same room as you, just in case Sam tried anything and Alan would be there to verbally protect you. …Unless he was just like Sam’s mom and believed everything would be easier if they just let Sam do whatever he wanted with you; believing everyone would be safe if you just surrendered yourself over to his love.

But you knew that was not true. At first, you felt selfish for refusing to give yourself to him, knowingly endangering lives. But you knew that kind of thinking Sam has. Being guilted into a relationship does not fix the man.

You’ve never been in that kind of relationship, but one your friends from highschool has. A boy in her class had a huge crush on her and made it everyone’s problem. He would follow her around the school despite her protests and would mouth off anyone who tried to defend her. He was a short, little nightmare. That same boys’ friends privately begged talked to your friend and told her he would stop being crazy and be normal if she just dated him. She was guilted into dating him. And he did not change. He acted the same exact way except this time he got way worse and even tried to gain control over her whole life, both social and personal and trying to rearrange exactly who she could hang out with.

Thank god your friend reached her breaking point and cursed him out in a humiliating way in the hallways in front of everyone. The boy was so mortified and humiliated that he avoided her the rest of highschool. You wished you could do that. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to Sam, what insults and names you’d call him. But that wouldn’t embarrass him, it would infuriate him.

Your mind returned to you from the memory as your eyes refocused on an eyes-closed Alan still cross legged on the mattress. “What are you doing?” You spoke up softly, a slight scratch to your tired voice.

Alan took an inhale, not yet opening his eyes. “Meditating.”

You scooted upwards to create a more comfortable sitting position on the bed. “Why?” You asked neutrally and a look of downcast. Alan spoke slowly and softly. “My wife would always tell me that it helped clear the mind and reset your state of stress levels.”

You watched him for a bit, observing his form and breathing pattern. You wondered if it helped. You were never one for meditation or yoga or any self care in general. However, you couldn’t remember a time when your stress levels were down. You always had a different weight on your shoulders throughout all the stages in your life, and ever since you’d been kidnapped you couldn’t even remember what it felt like to be calm.

“Does it work?” You questioned quietly, almost shy in a sense. Alan opened his eyes, his posture slumping and he stared at the carpet with mental exhaustion practically writing his features. “I don’t know. I can never do it right. This was always more of my wife’s thing than mine.”

You sadly stared at the man’s obvious downgrade in overall attitude at the mention of his partner. I guess that made two of you with a lover left alone at home. “I bet your wife is missing you terribly.”

“It’s the opposite. She’s passed.” He stated hesitantly, causing your expression to stiffen and your fingers found themselves trying to knot together. “…Oh. I’m sorry.”

He didn’t respond.

You chomped down on your bottom lip with agonizing awkwardness. Your eyes scanned the room for anything to occupy yourself with and you walked to the table in annoyed defeat to eat the leftover food from last night. You hovered your fingertips over the food only to sigh at its low temperature. Your empty stomach growled at you prompting your hand to force the cold food down your own throat.

“Sam’s at work right?” You asked after the first miserable bite. Alan answered simply. “Yes.” He raised his head to face you and spoke carefully with the scratch till present in his voice. “He told me all about the man at your work that you talked with and how he looked at you in an inappropriate way. And how that same man is friends with his supervisor and talked about you in another-”

You cut him off after noting he clearly didn’t want to use more specific words in order to spare your comfort. “I know. He told me that story. Crazy thing is I barely remember that guy. I meet, like, a hundred faces and names a day and I’m used to some of them being creeps. It’s just the female experience.” You noticed the discomfort you spread to Alan and directed the conversation back towards Sam. “What else did he say about that? Does he still want to kill him?”

Alan deeply sighed, vaguely nodding as he still stared at the carpet. “…Yes. He didn’t sound so calm when he talked about it. He’s still very angry. I tried to make him focus on the positive side that he’s been holding back this long. But I don’t think he sees that as a notable accomplishment.” After you ate a few more bites he added, “When he comes back, I’m going to try and convince him to unchain me.”

You scoffed at his naivety, already knowing exactly all the plans conducting in his brain because you thought of them first. They’ve never worked and the others take too much time. “Don’t bother. He’d probably say something douchey like… ‘The chain's on your leg, not on your mouth’.”

Alan looked at you in deep thought as you continued eating with a slight cringe. It was weird to him, he knew a lot about you (minus the lies Sam admitted to making about yours and his relationship) yet he didn’t actually know you. Sam kidnapped him and brought him here for you.

In hindsight, he didn’t truly know anything about you. At least from your own mouth. And despite the main reason that Sam just wanted him to basically convince you to fall for Sam, Alan hated that he believed that there was something actually going on with you. Something you didn’t think you needed help with, something you didn’t consider wrong, something you kept buried within you. Something you really did need help with, not for Sam’s sake but for your own sake.

“(Y/n).” You looked up to catch his focused gaze. “For us to work together against him, I need to know the truth from you.” He paused for a beat. “How bad was your relationship with your father? Was he physical like Sam’s?”

You physically tensed up from the mention of your dad, your jaw tightening that Alan even brought him up in the first place. Your eyes hastily thrashed down to your food as you began to play with it a bit with a physically irked expression. “My dad was an asshole who didn’t care about me. That’s all there is to it and that’s all you need to know.” You spat. You didn’t want to come across as that foul, especially towards your fellow prisoner who’s obviously not doing great mentally, but you just got very worked up with the subject.

“You have to give me more to work with, (Y/n). Have you ever done therapy?” Alan asked before you shook your head, still keeping your eyes glued below you. “No, not unless rehab counts.” “Well, in effective and healthy therapy the patient-” You instantly cut him off with a harsh bite, your eyes finally looking up to throw a glare his way. “I’m not your patient though. Even though Sam brought you here for me, don’t ever turn our conversations into sessions. I already have one man on my back trying to fix what’s not broken, and I don’t need another.”

Alan cleared his throat and straightened his back. “I understand. Don’t look at me like your therapist then. Look at me as someone you can vent to without having to worry about any manipulation or consequences. Whatever is spoken between us will never be known to Sam. Unless of your consent.” He stated clearly and calmly.

You sighed and your eyebrows began to curve upwards. You let the fork slip out of your fingers before leaning back into your chair. “At five years old my dad basically declared me the biggest failure of a human being. He was a man impossible to satisfy and treated me more like an annoying dog in his house rather than a daughter.” Your lips puckered to prevent them from quivering. “He hated me. And still to this day, I have no idea why.”

Alan’s frown sincerely deepened. “What about your mother?”

“I was an asshole to her. Before and after my dad left. Before, I was trying to get my dad to like me by joining him in berating her and mocking her. I would even verbally take his side on arguments that didn’t even involve me. And after, I just needed someone to blame for my dad leaving.” You felt your eyes begin to scarcely burn, your mind going back to all the times you yelled at that poor woman. “She deserved a better daughter than me. I think when I moved out it was the next best thing that happened to her next to my dad leaving.”

“You shouldn’t think like that.” Alan comforted you but you refused it. “Well you weren’t there to see how I treated her.”

“And what’s your dating history like?” Alan continued, wanting to know the full layout of the people who played significant roles in your life. Especially the ones that could’ve led Sam to believe in your unhealthy relationship with men who resemble your father. You crossed your arms to let your elbows rest on top of your knees, a shrug pulling your shoulders. “Just a lot of bad guys. They all specialized in their own form of assholery. And I was always the one being broken up with. Never the other way around.” Your eyes frowned with your lips.

Alan slowly nodded. “I see… And what’s your current boyfriend like?”

Your frown twitched but eventually went upturned. “He’s a good, sweet person. More of a man than all my exes combined. He helps make me a better person.” Even a colorblind newborn could see the red flag waving through those words. Alan shifted in his seat, wanting to put all the pieces together but almost scared to. Because then that would make Sam right. “How so?”

“He lets me know when I’ve done something wrong and how I can correct my behavior.” You narrowed your eyes on the older man. “Alan, no matter what Sam tells you, my boyfriend is a good person.” He ignored your last statement, much too focused on what your explanation could mean. “(Y/n)... how often does your boyfriend criticize you?”

“When it’s due.”

“But how often?”

You rolled your eyes. “Look, I make a lot of mistakes and questionable decisions, alright? Thank god I had him with me to stop me from embarrassing myself.” You defended brashly.

“But what exactly-” Alan’s nearly fearful tone was snapped off by the skyrocket pace of your heart as you quickly shushed him, your eyes blown open by a foreboding sound of a truck. “He’s back.” You squeaked before practically throwing yourself off the chair and back into the bed, not wanting to be in a space that was welcoming a conversation.

However, you didn’t plop your head onto the pillow immediately as a certain train of thoughts began chugging around your mind. Your bottom lip felt heavy and cold as you spoke up. “Alan?” Said man looked up at you with concern and curiosity. “Yes?”

You straightened up your form to say what you wanted to get off your chest in front of a trained professional for that exact sort of thing. “As much as I hate what he’s doing to me, it’s really hard for me to accept Sam’s a murderer.” You said, quietly yet shakingly, with your eyes locked on the sheets. “I can’t even picture him doing… that. I’m still clinging to that soft spot I have for that sweet and bashful Sam that became a regular customer then a friend to me.”

You finally lifted your blurry, glossy gaze to set onto Alan. “This isn’t the beginning of Stockholm Syndrome, right?” You asked with a fear weighing down your voice. Alan frowned deeply at your question and expression. “It doesn’t appear that way to me. You’re just suffering a very cruel and traumatic betrayal. And I’m sorry you have to go through all this.”

Your lips began to quiver as you slowly looked toward the ground, the weight of everything gradually closing in on you. Little voices that sounded like your own crawled around your head, whispers that overlapped with each other that this was all your fault. Everything that has happened was because of your decisions. You were the one to blame. “No. I’m sorry.” You said with a hushed tone. “It’s my fault you’re even here in the first place.”

You couldn’t tell if Alan was speaking or not, you couldn’t hear over the haunting and self-blaming thoughts that chewed away at your brain like nasty little woodworms. They were so intense and painful, triggering hefty tears to swarm your eyes and slip over your bottom lashes, that you didn’t even hear or register Sam walking in through the sliding screen door and holding up two bags.

“Hope you guys like Pierogies.” Sam announced with a smile of self-approval. However it was very short lived when his attention instantly locked onto you, seeing your quivering sobbing lips and tears before his very own eyes. His heart broke and dropped down to the pit of his stomach. He practically threw himself across the room, dropping the dinner on the table once he passed it, to fall to his knees by your side.

“Woah, woah, why are you crying?” He asked as gently as he could as his hands hovered over your arm and shoulder, not knowing if you would either be okay with him touching you or would bite his head off. His heartbroken worry, though, was quickly replaced with an overprotective anger. He whipped his head over his shoulder to send Alan a nasty glaring snarl. “What the fuck did you say to her!?” He barked out loudly over your tearful whimpers.

“Sam.” Your meek voice perked up the said man’s ears, that anger vanishing like a spec of sand by the power of that voice of yours. The voice of the thing that mattered most to him in the entire world. He looked back up to you to meet your weeping eyes. “You have to let Alan go.” You told him in between your sniffles and shaky breaths from your sobs. “It was a mistake bringing him here. You should’ve kept this between us.”

Sam’s brows curved upward as he finally placed his hands softly on your knees. He appeared so submissive and lovesick by the way he looked up at you on his knees. “I’m sorry but you know I can’t do that. He knows too much now, too much stuff leads back to this location.” He said as he rubbed small circles on your knees. “And you need help. He’s gonna help me help you.”

You sniffled one more time before your quaking lips shifted into a harsh frown, eyebrows sharpening into a V shape as well with your gaze growing fiery with hate. “Don’t you get it?! I don’t want your help! And please back up!” You wailed as you thrashed your legs away from his unwanted massage.

Sam extended his arms in an attempt to reach you with the intent of making you calm down despite your clear objecting distaste, but Alan’s voice wrung out quickly before anything could have happened. “Sam, when she’s like this you have to know boundaries and give her space.”

The brunet stalker took a second to ponder before sighing, “You’re right.”, rising to his feet and turning his back to you to walk back to the bagged food. “You know last time she threw a big crying fit, she used it as a ploy to escape.” He told Alan with a bitter scoff while he pulled out one of the white boxes from the bag.

He walked back up to you, keeping a certain distance, and lightly tossed the box with food in it to the space next to you. “Here. You can eat in your bed. Away from me.” He said with a bitter smile aimed at your back. “We’re having a session after dinner though.” He added over his shoulder at you as he sat down to eat with Alan.

You released a few more breathy whimpers before rubbing your palms across your cheeks, trying to pull yourself together so that you could eat. You kept your back turned to the men as you ate the dinner in the corner of your bed like you were in time out. You listened to their conversation when Alan began with, “(Y/n) told me you live with your mother”.

Sam shot your back an irked look, not appreciating that you felt it was your place to spill that secret. “Is this the house you grew up in?” Alan continued. Sam snatched his food so that he could lean back in his chair, releasing a gruff sigh. “Yup.”

Alan prompted Sam to tell him more about his comforting relationship with his mother and his abusive, power imbalanced one with his father. Sam even briefly told a quick version of when his father left him. This triggered your own overview.

You remember your dad leaving in vivid detail, as if you just experienced it merely a few hours ago. And sometimes you still felt those emotions as vividly as you felt them in that moment. And sometimes you felt as if you were still in that moment, as if you never left it in the first place, as if you were stuck in a never ending time loop with the outcome being the same each and every time.

You remember how the sky looked with light gray clouds passing by and allowing the blue sky to peek through. You remember what you were wearing, from your hairstyle down to your socks. You remember what your dad was wearing and the exact shades of color his packed bags were and how many there were. You remember how he moved every muscle of his stoic yet aggravated expression.

You remember every single word from both of your mouths. You remember your words of questioning why he was leaving and your words of begging him to stay. You remember his apathetic words of briefly explaining to you how he met a superior woman and he was divorcing your “troublesome” mom. You remember asking him about the custody of you and you remember his dry response about how a custody battle was never an issue and that your mom had full ownership of you.

But the strongest thing you remember, the thing that affected the rest of your life and mentality, was how your sixteen year old self ran to your daddy and threw your arms around his torso as burning tears streamed down rapidly from your pink, stinging eyes. You choked on your sobs and hyperventilated around your mewls. Your dad didn’t hug you back. Instead he patted you on your head.

Then he moved his hand to your shoulder and softly pushed you away. You sniffled through your runny, pink nose as your dad placed his knuckle underneath your chin where your tears kept slipping off and lifted your chin so that you could make eye contact with him. It was hard though, your eyes were burning as if someone was cutting onions or squirted lemon juice in them, making you keep squeezing them shut to rid of that pain, and globs of hot tears blurred your vision. But despite not seeing him clearly, you heard him as clear as day.

“Best of luck, you’ll need it.”

Those words always lived in the back of your mind like an unwanted guest that was long overstaying their welcome. You were so bipolar with those last words of his. Sometimes, when you’re reflecting about how much your dad sucked, you loathed those words. What a dick thing to say to the child you were abandoning. But the other times when you felt yourself subconsciously miss him, you defended all his wrongdoings with that last spoken sentence toward you. He could’ve said something nasty to you, could’ve yelled at you, could’ve belittled you or said exactly what you did wrong that made him snap and leave. But he didn’t. He found the last remaining compassion in his heart for you to wish you the best of luck.

You just wished you weren’t crying so hard in that exact little moment so that you could’ve seen what expression he was wearing. It would’ve answered so much and revealed his intentions. Was he giving you a stern, cold look? Did his eyes soften with those last words? If you knew, it would have answered the question that tormented you for years: Did he even care about leaving you forever?

But now you’d never know. And you would never, ever, go to him to ask him.

Your far off mind returned to you when Alan cleared his throat and began saying something that caught your attention. “You know, your mother is an impressive woman, and she would clearly do anything to help you feel better, help you live the life that you want to live, and I think that she can help us now. We are all part of family systems. You, me, everyone. Changes to those systems can have a profound effect on us, even at your age. And I was thinking that it might be beneficial if we were to do some family therapy work with you and your mother.”

Sam started with a subtle shake of his head then the shakes grew more obvious in feeling. “She's been through enough. She doesn't need to be dragged into what we're doing here.” He spoke stiffly and gave him a look that told Alan it was a terrible idea.

“I think that's kind of you, and I can see why you'd want to protect her. But I don't think you need to worry about her feeling dragged into this. I think she might find it helpful, too.” Alan said as Sam kneaded the skin between his thumb and index finger, his leg beginning to bounce in an anxious manner as his eyes threatened to water with that same nervousness as in his leg. “Sam. You don't have to take this next step alone. There is someone who wants to be there with you. She doesn't want you struggling with this by yourself.”

Alan saw he wasn’t convincing his patient with his stare not expressing any kind of agreement or openness to the idea. So he decided to hit his Achilles heel despite really not wanting it to come to that, and knowing that you would get the wrong idea on where his allegiances resided. “And I really believe this could be beneficial for (Y/n) as well. I think she would be more open to therapy if you use yourself as an example for how helpful it truly is.”

Sam’s eyes vaguely lit up, glancing at you for a mere second. Bingo. Alan knew he had him now.

Sam’s mouth moved around as he struggled to find words, his glossy eyes continuously returning to you. Alan could practically see the thoughts through his forehead like closing credits. Sam glanced at your back one last time before looking back to his therapist. “We’ll make this quick.” He said quickly before pushing off his chair and moving to and up the stairs with a jittery twitch to his movements.

One beat then another had passed before your harsh glare peeked over your shoulder. “What are you doing?” You questioned with distrust and attitude evident in your quiet voice. Alan held his hand up to try and signal you not to worry. “Just trust me. I think I can get through to him using his mother.”

You shifted on your butt a little to look at him more clearly, you gaze sharp. “I told you we couldn’t trust her. She’s basically on his side.”

“Exactly.”

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes @queen-of-elves @pearlstiare

#reader insert #yandere #yandere x reader #dark fic #domhnall gleeson x reader #domhnall gleeson #the patient fx #the patient #the patient Hulu #sam fortner x reader #sam fortner #Sam fortner imagine #yandere sam fortner #yandere sam fortner x Reader

82 notes · View notes