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angelofthenight · 11 months ago

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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

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

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Yandere characters I write for vs cold weather

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Sam Fortner: Here take my jacket!

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Riddler: Let’s huddle together for body warmth!

(Y/n): I’m cold

Yandere!Purge Leader: And? I can't control the damn weather

💖💘Happy Valentine’s Day💘💖

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angelofthenight · 10 months ago

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Fun Fact about my fics I think you all deserve to know for this Valentine’s Day: In a majority of my fics (especially yandere ones), (Y/n)’s personality (specifically her temper and attitude) is inspired by/based off Vanderpump Rules’ Lala Kent🤭

So in honor of Valentine’s Day here’s some Sam Fortner/Ed Nashton memes based off their fics with Lala gifs under the cut💗❤️💖

(Y/n) when Ed keeps sending her riddles:

(Y/n) after Sam said he’ll stop killing yet keeps doing it:

(Y/n) arguing with Ed over how they’re not soulmates and he’s delusional:

(Y/n) when Sam brought her a therapist:

(Y/n) when Sam or Ed does literally anything:

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

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The Monster You Created Pt.11

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Sam being a typical man

Word Count: 3.7k

Table of Contents

“I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.” Sam said before walking over to the closed door with an energetic grin.

You leaned forward to try and see around him when he opened the door. Words that were too quiet and distant for you to hear were exchanged between the two of them. “Gene! I mean-Sam!” You heard a voice you didn’t recognize call out in between sounds of shuffling. Your heart began to pound in nervous avidity as you listened intently and moved your body around to try and get a glimpse into what was going on.

Sam’s back was the first thing to come out of the room, followed by him dragging somebody on a chair across the carpet. Your eyes went big at the sight of this new person he dragged out, the person in the chair being a blindfolded man and helplessly trying to reach out for something to grab ahold of to pull himself away. Your lips fell apart as Sam positioned his chair in the circle of your two chairs; between your right and Sam’s left. The gray haired and gray bearded man also had a chain locked around his ankle to which Sam quickly locked the end of it to the same panel as yours.

Sam walked back towards his chair, pulling off the older man’s blindfold as he passed him. The man made a shocked gasp through his mouth before adjusting his glasses that were hidden by the blindfold. The man looked around his surroundings quickly before settling on you, his small pupils glancing down at your matching chain. “Are… are you (S/n)?” He asked carefully through heavy breaths, his eyebrows curving upwards and his frown curving downwards. He looked utterly terrified.

You made a face at the name and turned your sharp gaze to Sam who seemed to suddenly grow a little nervous. “Yeah… I lied about that too.” The man snapped his head over to Sam as he spoke. “Her name’s actually (Y/n). Same reason why I lied about my own name. Also I told you I was a transport supervisor in a warehouse, but I lied about that too. I'm really a restaurant inspector with the Department of Public Health. I figured if I told you the truth, you'd write it down in your notes and the police would find it.” He ended his sentence with a small laugh, trying to lighten the mood yet you and the man’s uneasiness overpowered the tension.

The man looked back over to you a little twitchingly. “An-and you are his girlfriend.” Your head slightly leaned back in offense before looking back over at Sam with an irked expression. “You told him that?” You clarified angrily. Sam winced, still facing the man that still remained unnamed to you. “I lied about that too…” The man exhaled in disbelief, his mouth hung open. “Sorry…” Sam muttered.

Sam’s voice hung in the air, echoing in your ears due to how hard your heart was pounding behind your tight chest. “Sam. Why is this man here?” You asked sternly yet your voice still sounded wound up. Sam’s lips pursed quickly, as if he was getting excited almost. He extended his hand in the direction of the man as if he was presenting him. “I would like you to meet Doctor Alan Strauss. My therapist.”

Your eyes widened, lashes grazing your eyelid as shock smacked you in the face. “Your therapist? Holy shit, Sam. Why-why would bring him here? He has nothing to do with what’s going on. Are you just trying to limit how many things you do without me?” You shakingly shook your head, trying to wrap your head around his possible reasonings for doing such a thing.

“No, it’s… it’s not about me.” Sam began but you suddenly didn’t care about what he had to say, your worried attention attaching to the poor older man. “I am so sorry about all of this, Mr. Strauss. Are you okay?” You said to him with big, apologetic eyes and leaning towards his direction.

Sam chuckled. “He’s a doctor, (Y/n). He didn’t go through ten years of school to be called ‘Mr’.” Although he meant it to be a teasing joke, it translated to nothing but condescending mockery to anyone who could hear him. You forced yourself to the best of your ability to ignore his comment, knowing how deeply it would irk you and send you barreling into more flashbacks of many other men talking to you in that way. Like you were stupid and they found it amusing.

Alan paid no mind to Sam’s joke, more focused on you as he felt safer with you than Sam, his kidnapper. “I’m just…” he struggled to find the words, many emotions clawing at his senses, “very… lost and confused.”

Your sharp glare returned to the brunet across from you. “Sam, why is he here?” Sam’s chest heaved, hinting his secret inhale. “I’ve already told Dr. Strauss about my compulsions and everything going on between us.” He looked over to Alan. “And Dr. Strauss I know you constantly tell me you’re not a couples counselor but… you’re the only one I believe in.” Alan’s jaw was stuck open, his stone eyes never leaving Sam as if he was taking his time trying to grasp onto the reality of this whole situation. Sam was much more focused on you though.

“And (Y/n)... I mostly just brought him… for you.”

“…What.” The word didn’t come off as a question, just a word to spit out as you lacked the time to think of the word that described what you really felt about that statement, or what you felt about Sam at the moment. No. You knew what to call him, what you wanted to call him. A cunt.

“You can have someone to talk to, open up to, someone professional who will give you explanations to why you do certain things and help you understand why. Someone who can help you become self-aware.” He explained, restraining his smile as best he could as his excitement was getting too energetic.

“Self-aware of what?” You question a little louder than you expected, overestimating your anger towards his audacity. Your teeth threatened to grind together as your jawline was tightening.

“You know.” Sam glanced down before reconnecting eye contact, shyness suddenly prompting awkwardness. “How much your…” he stopped himself from using the term ‘daddy issues’, fearing that would make more mad than you already were, “father problems affected you mentally.”

You stood up from your chair so fast both men flinched. “I can’t believe you!” You yelled, furious over the fact that Sam has still been hung up on that theory. “I told you, I’m fine! My dad did not fuck me up! My childhood trauma is in the past and does not affect who I am today!” In the back of your mind, you feared that these two men were not taking you seriously and are only seeing you throw a tantrum. Like how they all did. But the oven of your anger was still hot and was not cooling down enough for you to gather all the thoughts running in your mind without your awareness or permission. “What? I’m Frankenstein’s monster because daddy didn’t teach me to ride a fucking bike!?”

“No! How it affects your love life! How it affects how you choose your boyfriends!” Sam yelled back up at you, trying to reach your volume.

“My exes are NOT like my dad!” You screamed manically, not knowing why you got so defensive over this; not realizing Sam was touching a nerve you didn’t know was sensitive. Tears bordered your eyes but you couldn’t tell if it was from frustration or some other emotion.

“But they are!” Sam refuted, desperation infecting his expression. He snapped his head over to Alan, whose state seemed to only worsen, and gestured toward you with a voice of whiny begging. “Dr. Strauss, tell her!”

“Sam!” Alan abruptly snapped, surprising both you and Sam to silence. He rocked his head into his hands for a few seconds before running them down his face, looking over to Sam with quivering eyes. “I… I-I can’t help her here. Keeping her here is affecting her mentally the most right now.” A softness plucked the fire from your pupils as you looked over to Alan, feeling so warmly grateful that you finally had a sane person to defend you instead of encouraging Sam. “I cannot treat her here. And, technically, I can’t be your couples counselor if you are not a couple.” Alan said with a deep frown and fearful moving shrug.

Sam huffed through his nose, biting his cheeks in small resentment. “Fine. Not a couple, but we do have a relationship with each other that needs some mending and aiding.” Alan sighed in disbelief and frustration. “Sam, you’re not… I cannot treat you both individually all for the sake of you becoming a loving couple.”

“Why not?”

Alan’s mouth was hung open but no sentences came out. “Well.. It just…”

“Yeah. ‘S what I thought.” Sam gruffly said, a sneer teasing his mouth. A heavy silence invaded the area once again, everyone stuck in their own train of thoughts. Sam stared at Alan who looked to be in misery about what he was asking him to do.

“After I do it,” Sam began, “I'm... just… I bet most people couldn't… feel like that. It's not a normal feeling. It's more like... dead. I need to get better. I want to be normal, for her.” He glanced to you who had your eyes trained to the carpeted floor. “Isn't that what you… enjoy doing? Isn't healing people…” Sam seemed to struggle getting out his points, like it was paining him. “I brought you here so we could all work together. I know you hate it, but… if you're not going to be a part of the process, where is that gonna leave us?”

Your eyes returned up. You wanted to snap at him. Tell him to not talk to him like that. But there was a certain look in Sam’s eyes that kept you grounded and silent. That look. It wasn’t as intense as he’s shown you before, that dead-eyed look, but it still ruptured a sickness to your stomach. And the way he admitted to that feeling he experiences after taking a life, you wondered in that moment if he would sometimes feel that feeling before he commits that sin, or when he’s thinking about it too clearly.

Alan stared at a wall for a few moments, his face telling you he was realizing he had to cooperate and play his role in this dark and twisted plan of Sam’s. He took a few deep breaths, each one looking like he was about to say something before biting it back down his throat. He finally spoke out with a hoarse voice. “Successful therapy requires a safe environment.” Sam straightened his back as he realized he was going to actually cooperate. Yet Alan’s voice was on the edge of complete shaking, choosing his words very, very carefully. “The patient and the therapist have to be able to dig into…” Sam nodded along as he looked to take in every little thing he was telling him, “complicated emotional territory without anything like fear hanging over every session.”

You immediately looked over to catch Sam’s reaction, not knowing how he was going to act about that. “I don't know what to do about that.” Alan added.

You caught Sam’s quick scoff and ghost smile, not being able to read if that meant he was disappointed in that fact or if he was amused. You’re getting to know a whole new Sam, the real Sam, so you’ve been trying to get better at reading him despite how many dead ends that lead you into.

“At least I want you…” Alan continued, “to make me a promise that while we are in therapy together, that you will not commit any acts of physical violence against me or (Y/n)-” “I would never hurt (Y/n), I love her. Why would you even say that?” Sam loudly interjected, brows piercing together as if someone had told him the most insensitive, offensive joke. Alan sucked in an inhale, noting that reaction in his mental notes. “I just mean… anyone, in general, unless you talk to me first.”

Sam’s face softened. “You mean you want me to talk to you before I...?”

“Yes.” Alan said quickly, not wanting him to say anything among the lines.

“So you can talk me out of it?”

“So I can try to help you… get out of it. So together, we can try to understand where this terrible need is coming from, and to address it.”

“You have no idea what it's like.”

“I understand.”

Sam chuckled with a bitter smile, glancing over at you which sent a bullet-like zap straight through your core. You’ve been beginning to hate when he looked at you. “These fucking people around (Y/n)…”

“I work with a lot of people with very serious, almost impossible-to-resist compulsions. Making this kind of commitment is key to the process.”

“I don't think it's the same.” Sam winced.

“I'm not saying it's the same.”

Sam sighed, glancing over to you one more time before finally saying, “I'll do my best.” Alan nodded as his way of thanking him. Sam sighed once again, pinpointing his gaze back to you. “Now can you tell her that having a bad relationship with your father when you’re young does affect you.” He pleaded to Alan. You darted your eyes to the man being put on the spot. “You don’t have to answer that, Dr. Strauss.”

Alan glanced between the two of you, lingering his sights a little longer on Sam. He didn’t want to anger or upset either of you, but he feared Sam more. He decided to just state the facts he knew from years of research. “Well…” he started, thinking very carefully of what words to use, “an emotionally unavailable father can leave substantial wounds.” He looked over to your cross armed form to see your eyes were fixated on the ground. “And… to fill that void, you might constantly need attention and validation from older men, or men who have the same traits as your father, to fill that father’s role. You might seek their approval, or advice, or company to make up for the lack of physical and emotional closeness you craved as a child.”

Sam looked over at you with a cocky ‘I told you so’ face, but you weren’t looking. You already knew what he was doing without even having to look up. He was waiting for you to say something, defending yourself or denying the diagnosis, but all you said was, “I don’t want to talk about this right now. I’m going to bed.” Then you stood up without giving anyone so much as a peek and walked straight over to the bed to slide yourself in, closing your eyes before your head even hit the pillow. You just wanted to escape to dreamland to get away from this conscious nightmare.

“But you haven’t finished your dinner.” Sam mentioned, looking down at your dish that you were not even halfway through. “My appetite is spoiled.” You muttered loud enough for him to hear.

Sam quietly snickered and looked at Alan with a perked smirk on his lip. “Women.” He whispered while nudging his head over to you. You heard him though. Alan blankly stared at him, his fearful eyes and frown still intact. Sam stood up with a sigh. “Well then this will be your lunch tomorrow.” He said, completely forgetting about your punishment of less food from your attempted escape. He picked up his and Alan’s plates as well as yours. “I have to go heat back up our food, Dr. Strauss. I’ll be right back.”

You remained in bed as you listened intently to Sam’s footsteps ascending up the stairs and growing distant once he was officially upstairs. And the millisecond that he was you shot back up and scrambled to the foot of the bed, startling Alan. You talked fast and quiet. “What exactly has he told you? Did he tell you that he’s fucking insane?”

Alan was startled by your sudden mood shift, seeing the riled up strictness blow your eyes wide open. “He… he told me about his compulsions. How he tries to stop but he can’t. He said that he knows that he’s… fucked up.” You didn’t allow there to be a second of silence, knowing you didn’t have much time before Sam came back down. “And he told you that I’m his girlfriend? What else has he told you about us?”

Alan sensed your hurry and immediately started talking when you finished. “He said that you haven’t been getting along lately-” “Yeah, because he fucking kidnapped me. Kidnapped me to try and get me to love him back and get over my “daddy issues”.” You stated clearly, wanting Alan to know the gist of this whole situation.

Alan inhaled, taking in the information before telling you what he had noticed in therapy with the man upstairs. “In our sessions, when he said you two were dating, I tried to suggest that you take a break because it sounded like he was overly dependent on you. I told him it sounded like he had an unhealthy addiction to you. It was… very concerning. Most of the time he would talk more about you than himself.” His frown seemed to deepen as well as his voice turning hoarse. “I’m so sorry I should’ve focused more on that than trying to get him to open up about himself. I didn’t know this was the reality of your relationship.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I didn’t know he was really like this either. He was just a regular customer at the smoothie bar I work at.” You frowned as your eyes drifted off, imagining how much of your interactions were incredibly significant to him but just casual to you. You shook yourself out of your thoughts when you heard the beeping of the microwave upstairs followed by the beeping sound of microwave buttons. You snapped your eyes back to Alan with a sense of rushed panic. “Quick, what else do you know about me?”

Alan racked his brain for something else. “He told me you were still in love with your ex-” You cut him off, sensing you were running out of time. “That’s a fucking lie. That “ex” is not my ex but my boyfriend whom I lived with.” You heard some rustling upstairs and knew he was coming back.

You leaned closer to Alan with sharp eyes and spoke in a more hushed tone and faster pace. “Okay, listen to me very carefully. I’m gonna lay down the basics of what you need to know and understand right now. I’ve been rotting in this prison cell for I don’t know how fucking long. This place is a living hell and he is sick in the head. He has these batshit mood swings and gets upset like a toddler. He is stubborn and childish and he’s as controlling as a dictator. Be careful with what you say to him and if you step out of line he will punish you.” You began to talk faster, feeling the countdown envelope the room.

“He lives with his mom and she’s a total fucking coward. She does nothing to stop him and once told me to give him a chance. So off the bat, fuck her. She is not on our side and I don’t trust her. I’ll convince Sam tomorrow to let us both sleep in the same room. I used to think I was just wasting my time on planning escapes but with two of us it might be possible. It’s one thing kidnapping me but dragging you into this and fucking up your life is too far. We’re not letting that son of a bitch get what away with this.”

Before Sam even reached the first step of the stairs you threw yourself back into bed and the same position as if you’ve been sleeping this whole time. You felt the heavy weight of Sam’s presence before hearing his voice. “Alright, hot food is back on the menu.” He joked as he set his and Alan’s warm plates down.

“I’m not very hungry right now, Sam.” Alan said with a hoarse tone of voice and exhausted expression.

Sam shot Alan a disappointed glare. “Oh, come on. Not you too. Eating is very important, y’know.” He took a bite and blew on it in his mouth in between each chew. “(Y/n) tried to throw a hunger strike on her first night or two here but she knew better and gave in.” He ate two more bites before quietly adding, leaning over to Alan, “Do you think it’s gonna be the same with me?”

Alan’s brows curved in confusion, the sickness welling in his stomach fueling his fear. “With… your compulsions?” Sam shook his head. “No. If (Y/n)’s gonna know better and give in to me.” He looked up to your body covered by the blankets before turning back to Alan. Although you pretended to be asleep, you kept your ears perked to listen in on everything.

“Everything will be fine if she just accepts my feelings and stays with me.” Sam said to his therapist in a hushed tone. “I could make her so happy. Give her anything she wants, listen to all her rants and rambles. All of that just in exchange that she gives herself over to me.” Sam’s eyes turned desperate as he asked him what he thought.

Alan timidly shrugged, really not knowing what to say. “Sam, I don’t know. It’s hard to tell. The only things I know about her are what you told me. Other than that, I have no way of telling how her mind works or what she wants.” Sam sighed, returning to his food. “You’re right.”

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

#reader insert #the patient fx #the patient #the patient hulu #sam fortner x reader #sam fortner #domhnall gleeson x reader #domhnall gleeson #yandere #yandere x reader #dark fic #sam fortner imagine

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.10

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Paranoia, Flashback to verbal abuse

Word Count: 2.6k

Table of Contents

( I’m so sorry updates r taking forever😭😭 I hate slow updates just as much anyone but writing filler scenes in between big events in the book r slowing my motivation down. This chapter was supposed to be longer but I wanted to get something out to remind everyone that I am still working on it, so it ends in an awkward place )

You were already seated in your chair in front of the coffee table as Sam came back down the stairs. You decided to be ready to have breakfast with him after witnessing the sight of a corpse rotting within the shell of a human body staring at you right between your eyes. The whole sight left you suddenly very nervous and fearful, gaining the abrupt desire to not anger him this morning thus forcing yourself to be on good behavior, starting with sitting down at the table before he even told you to.

You kept your eyes glued to the table even though Sam’s whole demeanor did a complete flip and he felt much more sanguine. However, he didn’t sit across from you as he always did and instead placed down just your single plate of breakfast. It was a little less amount of food than usual, but you’d only notice if you studied it very hard, other than that it wasn’t that big of a difference in the case of a punishment.

You looked up at him in curiosity as he held two other plates of breakfast. “I’m really sorry but I have to go talk with our guest in the other room. And I might have lunch in there too. But I promise it’s just a today thing.” Sam said with his voice orchestrated with a whimper and sad eyes. He said this like missing a couple of minutes eating two meals with you for one day was the worst thing ever. You were still subconsciously paralyzed so you remained silent even after he left for the other room, opening it and closing slickly so you couldn’t peek.

A new distrusting fear began to bubble in your stomach at a possibility that just cursed your mind. A possibility of Sam’s true motive and intentions. A possibility that Sam has done this whole routine before. That he kidnaps every girl he likes and when they don’t fall for him back within a certain timeframe he kills them and moves onto another girl. Have you bit off more than you can chew and have frustrated Sam to the point of kidnapping a new girl? Maybe all this time he was a serial femicide killer who either murders women in a fit of rage or gets sexual pleasure from killing women he’s attracted to.

That possibility was extremely realistic and common in serial killers, which just did nothing for you but make your limbs uncontrollably tremble. You didn’t even have the resilience to stomach your food out of the pure terror that was gagging and suffocating you. Your lips violently shook as your hands endlessly wrung around each other. You felt like your ribcage was shrinking and squeezing your heart.

You knew this was only a possibility yet your trembling limbs were convinced it was true. That you were going to be murdered.

Was Sam actually going to kill you? You told yourself he wouldn’t yet you remembered that you don’t know him as well as you think. Afterall, the day before you were kidnapped was when your perspective of him was as far from the truth as possible. You didn’t know he liked you, you didn’t know he was a serial killer, and you certainly didn’t know he would kidnap you.

And by the way he stared at you with those zombie eyes, you were more convinced that you truly never really knew him at all.

Your posture was still frozen in foreboding anxiety until Sam had finally exited the side door with a look of disappointment which only enhanced at the sight of your untouched food. He shut his eyes momentarily and let out a sigh before walking over to pick up your plate. With your frightening theory still tormenting your brain you gave one last try to negotiate with the possible remaining redeemability in him.

Once he was sat in the chair on the other side of the table is when you decided to speak, continuing what you were trying to get through to him before breakfast. You took a deep swallow to drain the thick heavy trembling of fear off your uvula. “My job isn’t the only thing I’m worried about.” You said with a tense voice, your eyes never once leaving the table.

Sam took a second to lean back in his chair until he gave you furrowed brows, urging you to continue. You swallowed again, your heart beating so fast that you feared he might hear it. “I-I have a younger sister who needs me. She lives in a crappy apartment, she depends on me financially and emotionally. She’s going through a lot of shit right now and she can’t go through it on her own. I cannot stay here for long.” You tried your best to force your tone to be clear to overpower the utter shaking in its undertone.

Sam didn’t say anything at first, his pointed eyes only softening. He finally spoke up with a frown. “What’s her name?”

Your heart pumped such a beat harder that you almost wheezed from the impact. Your eyes glanced up to the T.V on the far side of the room, the memory of watching the last movie coming into your mind. “Margo.” You tried to say it as soon as he asked. He looked to the carpet and nodded. “Doesn’t she have a job or friends?”

Your stare remained on the coffee table, almost forgetting the name of any job that ever existed under the pressure of waiting eyes. Your lips were closed shut so you could heavily breathe through your nose. “She goes to the community college and works part time at the grocery store.” You said quickly. “And the friends she has aren’t the right kind of crowd for her.”

“I see…” Sam softly said, nodding his head as he looked away from you like he was deep in thought. The suffocation closing in on you was suddenly lifted when you heard him say that.

Sam returned his gaze back to you, the mood in them completely switching from light to dark. “But can you at least look me in the eyes when you lie to me.” He spat.

Your eyes widened then snapped up to him in terror, that same terror stealing all words from your throat before you could even form them. Your frown was shaking as you locked your sights on his furious expression, his glare tasing you. You opened your mouth to defend yourself for your life but your words were still taken by your alarmed terror.

Sam scoffed at your reaction and rose to his feet with a sneer rubbed across his provoked face. “I can’t believe you! As if the list of your bad behaviors wasn’t long enough, now you’re a liar too!? Jesus fucking Christ.” He viciously babbled as he began to pace the floor, you holding back tears full of dread over the fact that he actually saw right through your lie as if it were glass. Again, you really didn’t know him as well as you thought since he knows you way better than you thought.

Sam tightened his hands into fists, turning to face you to yell down at you. “You’re so full of bullshit I actually can’t believe it! A sister? Really? Are you fucking kidding me?! You think I wouldn’t know you’re an only child? I literally told you there isn’t a single thing about you I don’t remember! But you never listen!”

Your lips quaked despite biting down on your bottom lip to cease it, your hand clutching onto your other one. Your burning eyes were still wide open, your lower lash lines bearing puddles of your tears that didn’t dare to leak down your cheeks. The fear of the idea that Sam had the mind to murder you still loomed right over you so his violently raised voice was just making your current emotional state even worse.

“You think I like yelling at you?!” He still continued. “Because I don’t! But apparently the only way to make you listen to me and pay attention is if I do!”

Why do you keep ending up in this situation?

“Don’t yell at me.” You meekly said but with a face of seriousness as you stood in front of your tantruming boyfriend, Brady. You made the two of you leave his friends’ party early because you had to wake up early the next morning to take your car into the repair shop. You had told him before you left and he was totally fine with it but once you reminded him at the party he seemed more than angry with you.

Despite telling him he could go back after returning you home, he instigated a one way argument with you in your shared living room, the subject of the fight becoming unclear the more he yelled.

“Why?! You only listen to me when I scream! Like you’re fucking deaf!” He walked over to your still body and positioned his mouth just inches away from your ear. “Should I stand right here when I talk to you from now on!?” You squeezed your eyes shut from the high volume straight to your eardrum. “Even if I did, you probably still wouldn’t understand what I’m saying!”

“The only way to make you listen is if I yell!” Your dad screamed down at your adolescent form as he aggressively gestured toward the dishwasher full of day-old clean dishes that he had told you to put away before he got back from work. You were constantly sniffling as tears drizzled from your wet, sad eyes.

“You’re just like your mother! Fuckin’ pissing me off all the time!” He savagely screamed at you, baring his teeth like a rabid dog. “Do you purposely try to piss me off so that I yell at you?! Do you like it when I yell at you since that’s the only way you can listen!?”

Why do you keep ending up in this situation? Over and over again? You just never seem to learn no matter how many times you circle back to this.

Sam finally seemed to tire out of his yelling, catching his breath as his back faced you still holding in tears. The terror was still washing over your senses as your body was still frozen and your lips were still fighting off the quiver. His harsh sigh made you physically flinch but woke you up enough to finally ask what has been bothering you all morning.

“If…” Your courage shrunk in size when Sam turned back around, your words cowering back down your throat but you still forced them through your overly shaky voice. “If I don’t fall for you…” you looked up at him with terribly glossy eyes and lips trembling more and more, “are you gonna kill me?” Your voice broke down into wheezes as you asked it, tears finally falling; asking it out loud was unexpectedly so much harder than thinking it, genuinely questioning your potential death being too hard to bear.

Sam’s jaw dropped and a look of horror that nearly challenged yours crossed over his features, his eyes going big in shock. “Oh my god, no. No, no, no.” He desperately said, taking small steps toward you with a vulnerable voice. “Of course not. Don’t even say that. I would never dare do anything like that to you.” He said honestly. “Is that what you’ve been thinking? Shit, (Y/n), do you actually believe I would do that to you? After all the trouble I went through just to get you here with me?”

Just the mere thought of life draining from your eyes made him manic, and the mere thought of him being the cause of it was too excruciatingly painful to even stomach.

Tears began to expand in Sam’s eyes. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that I love you?! And that I would never hurt you!” The man tumbled to his knees before your seated form, your body finally losing its stiffness once being coaxed back to the weakness of not believing Sam could or would hurt anyone.

“Did you know this whole situation hurts me more than you? Not being able to touch you is absolute torture for me! I just want you to trust me enough to let me touch you, to feel you in between my arms. I promised you I wouldn’t touch you without your permission, remember?” You pursed your lips together, almost forgetting that he did in fact promise that and has yet to ever touch you in any sensual manner.

He frantically gestured his hands towards his chest. “But I’m endlessly aching for your touch. I want to hold you so badly but I can’t. But once I do, I know I’ll never stop.” His proclamations slowed down as a sickening sense of lust painted over his green-hued gaze with flushed cheeks when thinking of the day that he’ll finally be allowed to touch you.

“But…” you spoke down at his lovesick visage, ignoring the fact that he probably didn’t want you to respond, “that doesn’t answer what you’re going to do with me if I never fall for you.” You nearly regretted asking despite knowing that Sam would lie to you about what would happen or be so delusional that he truly didn’t think it were possible.

Sam shortly shook his head, a small smile teasing his lips. “You’ll learn to love me. Just give it a little time and you will, I know you will!” His voice was filled with assurance and hope. He rubbed his palm over his eyes to wipe away his tears as he stood up. “But this is why he’s here.” He said just above a mumble as he turned back for his room, not comprehending he said that aloud and leaving you lightly flabbergasted.

Hearing the door slide open, you instantly broke your eyes away from the page of the book you were reading to distract your attention away from your predicament. With the weight of the knowledge that you would meet whoever was locked behind the other side of the door when Sam returned home, it felt like Sam was gone for much longer than usual even though in reality that wasn’t true at all. You clapped your book closed and made your way to the same chair you sit in every single day.

Sam began excitedly telling you all about the restaurant he went to for dinner and the unique way they prepare their Greek food but your mind was much too occupied with the torturing suspense of getting to finally meet your fellow captive, noting the third plate Sam had pulled out. Sam exhaled giddily with his hands on his hips, smiling down at you. “I have someone very special I’d like you to meet.” He said before walking over to the closed door with an energetic grin.

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

#the patient hulu #reader insert #the patient #the patient fx #sam fortner #sam fortner x reader #sam fortner imagine #yandere sam fortner #yandere #yandere x reader #dark fic #domhnall gleeson x reader #domhnall gleeson

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.7

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Manipulation, “I could fix her” syndrome, Daddy issues, Mental breakdown, Hurt-comfort(?), Male rage, YN kind of has ptsd, Physical aggression kinda

Word Count: 4.7k

Table of Contents

( So sorry this took so long but I did warn y’all that Game of Thrones has me locked and bound and gagged in it’s basement )

You and Sam sat while eating lunch as the T.V. played a Halloween movie. Yeah, it was already nearing Halloween. You’ve been in Sam’s basement for a little over four weeks now, although you swore it felt more like four months.

You knew you have slowly been gaining Sam’s trust more and more each day as you remained on your best behavior. Maybe suspiciously a little too good of behavior but Sam was probably too delusional and blinded by his own happiness to notice; a fool too enchanted by the possibilities your potential love provided to even see that you were manipulating him by his own unhealthy infatuation with you every time you spoke.

You sometimes feared you would get too caught up in pretending and you wouldn’t even notice the stockholm syndrome if it hit you in the face. But your stubborn willpower was still far too strong to let that happen. Especially since Sam’s occasional prying about your childhood and relationship with your dad, along with your self-destructive phase after he left, aggravated you far too much.

In fact, he was a little too curious about that part of your life. He talked about it so carefully as if he was walking on eggshells with you, as if the two of you were in a therapy session about your dad.

You glanced over to Sam who was finishing up his lunch, a suspicious glare set in your eyes. “There’s another reason why you brought me here, isn’t there?” You spoke out and by the way his eyes widened and shot to the floor you knew you were onto something. “What is it? And be honest.” You sternly said, your eyes analyzing his every move of body language.

Sam poked and mixed his food with his plastic fork as he bit his bottom lip with a tight jaw. “This…” he started then sighed, “this wasn’t just about you helping me… I want to help you too.”

Your brows pinched together. “Help me? Help me with what?” Sam sighed loudly again, like he was hoping you wouldn’t ask him that. He tossed his plate to the table before throwing his head back, taking another heavy, loud breath. All in another breath, he snapped his head back up to look straight at you. “Your boyfriend’s a shit-eating asshole. And who else was a shit-eating asshole in your life? Your dad.”

Your eyes twitched wider.

“You’re only with your boyfriend because he reminds you of your dad and-and you wanna heal your pain of not having a dad in your life for so long.” Sam said in a jittery tone as his eyes casted down to his lap, struggling to find the right words. “I… I thought if I separated you from him it would give you time to like… reflect on yourself.” A long string of silence rolled by before he nervously looked over to you to see why you weren’t responding.

He was met with your stone glare, eyebrows so furrowed they enveloped your eyelids, and parted lips. “So what?” You said loudly. “You thought you could “fix” me? You thought the only thing keeping me from falling for you was because of some bullshit “daddy issues”?” You barked out.

“I’m fine now! All that “pain” you’re talking about, it’s all in the past now. I am healed. I have done my self-reflection. You and I are not the same. My dad did not fuck me up.” You hadn’t realized the tears piling up in your eyes until you found it harder to speak through your tightening throat from just simply talking about it. You sharply inhaled and darted your pupils up to prevent those drops of salt water from pouring over your bottom lash lines. Your exhale came out shaky.

“You can cry. It’s alright.” Sam’s voice reached your ears softly. You harshly sniffled, desperately holding in your tears and the sob that you were trapping in your own throat. You didn’t want to expose yourself in such a vulnerable way in front of him. He was the last person you’d want to let your guard down around, you feared it would give him too big of an ego boost and motive to touch you.

You took a hard gulp as an attempt to swallow the heavy lump in your throat, your lips tightly shut. “I know you need to let it out.” Sam said again, his eyes on you sad and pained. “You can let it out here. You’re safe and would never be judged here.” Sam practically begged, hating to see you trying so hard to remain strong.

You abruptly stood up. “I need a nap.” You said extremely hoarsely and breathy. Your stiff body turned around and only made it two steps before your knees locked and you fell to the floor, knees first and landing on your elbows and forearms. Your sob finally spilled out of your throat and came out in an anguished rip, your red cracked eyes squeezing shut as tears gushed out like an open, fatal wound. Your face twisted in heartbreaking agony with your forehead pressed to the floor as your chest was in painful torture. You choked and wheezed on your own sobs and wails while burning fresh tear trails constantly replaced the ones before it down your red cheeks.

Sam was up on his feet the millisecond you hit the floor. He was frozen for a moment, not really knowing what to do even though he fantasized himself comforting you through crying breakdowns hundreds of times. He hesitantly took steps over to your hunched form to take a knee and steadily placed a hand on your convulsing back. You didn’t seem to physically mind or realize his touch so he began rubbing circles on your back as you finally let out years worth of pent up pain through ugly sobs.

He didn’t dare hush you in a comforting manner, instead just whispering encouragement. “Let it out. Let it all out.” He quietly said before you gasped in a breath to scream out another long wail.

Your tearful meltdown lasted two whole hours with you slowing down and your breathing returning to normal before your thoughts would rewind and flash you back to your child and teenhood memories so your bawling howls would start all over again. When you were fairly certain you had burned yourself out, you silently lifted your numb and dizzy body up to the bed to lay down.

Sam assisted you as much as you let him and once you were laid down he carefully said, “I’ll go get you some water and ibuprofen.” He turned around before he heard you weakly say, “Can you wake me up when it’s dinner.” He turned back around, lips parted and brows curving up. “Um… y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll wake you when it’s dinnertime.” He redirected himself to instead head for his room but before he pushed his door open he heard your delicate voice once again.

“Thank you, Sam.”

Sam felt himself smile and his chest warmly fluttered, softly inhaling as if in a dream. “Yeah… it’s-it’s no problem. I’d do anything for you.” He said as he stared at his door, euphoric ecstasy fogging up his mind and he knew by just your gentle voice of gratitude that he would forever be doomed as your slave. But what bliss that was.

Once you heard Sam go into his room, your numb face somehow let out a hushed scoff. Who knew that actually letting go of your dignity momentarily would get him wrapped around your finger so simply. You honestly didn’t plan on your dramatic sobbing mess, you truly did try to fight it. But after your painful cries died down you realized how much of a perfect opportunity it was to reel in Sam’s ignorant trust.

What. A. Fool.

But what man wasn’t?

It was Halloween night, four nights after your breakdown with tears of trauma and you used those four nights to pretend to slowly warm up to Sam and give him just breadcrumbs of what he wanted from you; gratitude, obedience, vulnerability, attention, and domestication. And with dangling all of that in front of him it only left him as a mess of desperation and longing; a blind fool too lovesick to even see the manipulation right in front of his eyes. Sometimes, you felt as if you were the free one and he was the one on a leash you were holding.

So with all of this on your side, you finally felt it was safe enough to get that shower privilege.

“Hey Sam?” You asked casually, trying to make yourself seem like you were getting too used to your predicament. Sam hummed as he looked up from his dinner to look up at you through starry eyes. You purposely bit your lip. “I know you’re gonna say no, and I won’t blame you if you do, but I was wondering if I could maybe get that shower I’ve been wanting for awhile now?”

Sam halted his eating, looking to the ground as he went into thought. Your heart anxiously pounded as you begged in your mind for him to approve, you’ve sacrificed too much of your self respect to be denied.

He swallowed his food and glanced over to stare at you. “I think you’ve been behaving enough to earn it.” The sight of the burst of a wide smile on your tired face brought a small one to Sam’s. It felt good to reward you.

“You could hold the chain if it makes you feel better.” You offered, trying to make it sound like you were putting him first. Sam paused to think before shaking his head and returning to his food. “No, I don’t think you need that.”

He was even stupider than you were hoping. You were honestly surprised of how perfect that went since of how hugely controlling he was.

“You can take it after dinner.” Sam added but meant it more as a question. You nodded with a lively smile. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.” Sam pressed his lips together as he felt an energized smile attack his face once again.

Dusk had crept over the sky much too delayed for your taste as you had been counting the minutes till dinnertime, eyes glued to the sliding door as you waited for Sam to return home. You scarfed down the takeout food in between buttering Sam up in the most casual ways possible. Just the little things that you knew would stand out to him like letting your gaze linger on him long enough until he looked up to catch you quickly looking away or slipping small smiles over little things he did. All just breadcrumbs of affectionate attention to leave Sam desperate for more.

You waited until Sam was finished with his scraps before you reminded him of your agreement. Sam’s cheerful demeanor seemed to slip a bit, perhaps his doubts and worries started to cling back onto him now that it started to hit him what exactly he was agreeing to. But all those feelings of distrust vanished with a ‘poof’ once he locked eyes with your hopeful and patient ones. You’ve been behaving so well lately and he knew that if he wanted that to continue he would have to reward you.

He stood up and looked down at your big eyes that you casted up at him, so full of patience and compliance; waiting for his instructions. Sam’s breath in his throat grew chopped and heavy, a warmth spreading down his insides. When you looked up at him like that he couldn’t restrain his thoughts from reimagining this scenario with a much different outcome. And a part of him couldn’t help but wonder how far your good behavior and obedience would go…

“You alright?” You asked with an eyebrow raise, an uncomfortable sting setting on your back as he looked down at you with fogged eyes and bated breath. Sam almost choked on his pant as he shook his head to rid of the realization that he was fantasizing lewd acts with you right in front of you. “Y-yeah. I-um… let’s get you that shower.” He stuttered around before quickly taking a knee in front of you to hastily unlock your chain while hiding his reddening face.

Once freed from the chain locked around your ankle, you gathered the small pile of clothes you had chosen earlier on your bed into your arms. You rose to your feet and let Sam, all but quick yet cautious, lead you to his bedroom door. He positioned himself next to you so that you couldn’t run for the door and once he opened the door to his bedroom he switched sides to almost block your view of his room, hurrying you through it to the bathroom and shutting the door with an accidental slam.

You transitioned rooms so quickly you barely had time to register it even happened. But the sight of a new surrounding brought satisfying relief to your mentality. You looked up every wall and took in every crook and cranny, no window though, basking in the joy of something new after being stuck in the same area for weeks straight. You slowly spun around to view the whole room and ended with facing Sam just silently staring at you, not a thought behind those empty eyes.

“Can you… you know.” You awkwardly said, spinning your finger to send the non-verbal message that you wanted some privacy to strip out of your clothes. Sam flinched but flusteredly stuttered nonetheless. “Y-y-yeah! No problem.” He shuffled around so that his back was now facing you.

You eyed his back as you slowly lifted your top over your head. Once it was off you tore your eyes off him and finished off your shedding of clothes to quickly slip into the shower, spreading the curtain hurriedly to hide your bare naked form just in case he wanted to try to sneak a glance.

You exhaled in pure bliss when the first couple of water splashes fell upon your body. You nearly cried tears of joy as the water soon drenched you like a warm embrace. You couldn’t stop your thrilled smile as you spread the water with your hands all over your body, rubbing and massaging the warm water into your tense muscles and dry skin. It was heaven. Even when your fingertips pruned and you began to feel light dizziness from the steam, you still happily bathed.

You honestly didn’t want to leave, you haven’t felt this happy and safe for so long. You wanted to soak it up for as long as you possibly could. But unfortunately all good things must come to an end. You knew that since now you had Sam’s delicate trust you could rejoin with the shower at any time you wished, you had to remind yourself of that.

So with a deep, defeated, sad sigh you twisted the knob until the shower rain slowed down to a stop. You peeked out the curtain to find Sam in the same place you had left him. You stepped out of the small shower to instantly begin drying your dripping body and squeezing the droplets out of your drenched hair. As you kept glancing to check on Sam, you began to tug your clothes back on and convinced yourself to not be sad that your shower ended but instead be happy it even happened in the first place.

But in that moment, you recognized a chance; an opportunity.

It was Halloween night. People were out of their houses, teenagers and college kids were replacing children on the streets, this was a lively night. A once in a lifetime opportunity.

You couldn’t stop your own scheming even when you kept telling yourself that one of the reasons you worked so hard for this was so that you could build a sturdier trust with Sam that would eventually lead to more privileges. But now that you were up and free, you didn’t want to go back to that chain. Not when freedom was so close that you could taste it!

You kept telling yourself not to, the longer you waited the better of a chance would come for your escape. But you also couldn’t bear to pass up this opportunity.

You stared at the top of the toilet tank. It had to have been heavy enough to make a good weapon. You could use it to knock out Sam who still had his loyal eyes stuck to the door and make a run for it. It was that easy. This was the perfect chance.

You carefully held your breath as you reached for the top of the toilet tank, quietly taking it in your hands and testing its weight. It was perfect. You didn’t underestimate your strength, at work you mashed fruit every single day and surprisingly gained quite a bit of muscle from it. You turned to Sam and steadied your breath, lifting the tank lid and readying your swing as you stalked towards your kidnapper.

You pulled back and swung high, aiming for the back of his head.

But your strength had failed you.

You hadn’t realized that not consistently working your arms affected your strength especially after weeks of constant tiredness and not moving around as much. Your muscles gave out as soon as you swung the lid high and your aim and lunge had weakened to only do as much as getting him to the floor with a pained groan and hands holding the back of his head.

Your steady breathing fell apart into wheezes of high adrenaline. You had done it. And if you wanted to live to be proud of it you had to leave now. While he was still hunched on the ground.

A part of you wanted to stay and use this to your advantage. To grab the tank lid and fucking smash his brains in. But you chose your freedom over revenge in that second of debating contemplation, mixed with knowing deep down you didn’t have it in you.

You dropped the lid to the ground and swung the door open, sprinting out of the bathroom, through his room you paid no attention to, and all the way to the sliding door. You threw yourself against the glass door through an unhealthily high adrenaline rush from the stressed hurry and desperation for that breath of fresh air. You tugged the handle to the side to exhale a panicked breath of failure. But as quickly as your hope had been shattered, the fragments seemed to reassemble themselves to create the broken aftermath of what was once whole. All it took was a second, more harsher, tug to slide it open.

That cold October air rushed into the room, hitting you in the face and if you weren’t in a hurry you would’ve stood there for a minute longer to embrace and enjoy that nighttime breeze to wash away that imprisoned stench of mental rot; a funk of a decaying carcass of the woman you were the first night you had been trapped. You wanted that woman back. And she was so close to being yours again. And so as soon as the door slid open you wasted no time in dashing out into the yard, your feet nearly slipping on the scattered fallen autumn leaves that coated the dead grass.

You’ve analyzed the yard weeks ago, already noting the tall fence that surrounded the open area like you were a caged zoo animal. You remember pressing your face against the glass to see further around the area to note the lock on the fence door. But that was no problem to you, you’ve done quite a bit of fence hopping in your life, especially in your rebellious youth.

As your fingers curled and gripped against the chain fence, lifting one of your feet to shove into one of the openings, a weight shoved itself against you, forcing your body to slam against the fence, painfully.

Your blood ran cold just like the night wind; turning to ice at the realization of your reality. You were too slow.

You hissed in a quick breath to blow it out as a, “HEEEEEEL-” Sam’s calloused hands wrapped over and around your body with one firmly gripping over your mouth to cut your scream short whilst the other wrapped around your waist to squeeze your hips against him. His hot breath paired with grunts fanned over your ear and you became much too focused on the painfully audible fluctuation of your heart.

And with that he pitilessly ripped you off the fence and dragged you backwards in pursuit of the open sliding door like the two of you were recreating a scene from Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Ever-so hopeful, you continued to thrash; fighting against his bludgeoning grip as you sobbed an onset of pleas through his hand for the possibility of persuasion. But the endeavor of humanistic covetousness could not be reasoned with. Especially after the betrayal of trust and heartbroken awareness of the trickery you had snuck past his attentive eyes.

‘No, no, no, no.’ You repeated in your head as the tendrils of terror squeezed and suffocated your mind, terrified of what was to come due to your failure. You were so close.

You clawed at the air and his firm hands, drumming your heels into the ground only for them to slide into the direction Sam was dragging you. Warm tears flowed down your face and neck and as the foreboding anxiety pricked at your delicate heart, you cried in anguish. Once you were halfway through the door you made one last pathetic attempt of escape or at least a delay to your demise by grabbing the frame like a child refusing to go to the doctor. But Sam had mercilessly thrashed you from your hold, his hand parting from the lower half of your face to slide it shut with a lock.

“Please.” Your voice was hoarse from the endless amounts of crying and screaming for release from his captivity but your pitiful mewls only fell deaf upon disillusioned ears. He was still huffing breaths of fury and groans of pain from your previous hit and run on him. He hauled you against the carpet as you continued to kick and resist and whimper and sob. “Sam, please!” You didn’t exactly know what you were begging for; mercy, forgiveness, another chance? Maybe all three.

Sam threw you down onto the bed, face first, and before you could push yourself up Sam forced your face back into the mattress as he placed a knee on your lower back as you still thrashed around. He roughly grabbed onto your squirming leg and relocked your chain, but not without struggle and a sharp scowl on his face. You continued to pour out sobs from your throat as shiny wet trails populated your cheeks, feeling the pain in your back from his pressured knee. “Sa-am!”

Sam roughly pushed himself off of you to stomp into his room to search for something before coming back out, transitioning into a straddle on your back. He snatched both your arms and crossed them behind your back. It wasn’t until you heard the sound of duct tape unrolling where you panicked and squirmed underneath him, howling out more pleas. “Sam, no! Please!”

“Stop complaining! You did this to yourself!” Sam savagely snapped back at you. It held such a carnivorous bite that you almost didn’t even recognize him by his voice. As he duct taped your forearms together behind your back, you still choked on your own sobs until he suddenly wrapped a dull bandana over your mouth and tied its ends into a tight knot behind your head. Your screaming sobs came out as only muffled hums now, your eyes overflowing and drowning with burning tears which made your iris’ appear as puddles.

Sam got off you once again only to unkindly jerk you around so that you were facing him and sitting up. You came face to face with Sam’s animalistic expression, his breathing drowning in malevolent growls as anger burned him from the inside. It frightened you to your paralyzed bones.

“So what?! This whole time you were just putting on a little “good girl” act?! Faking everything?! Fucking tricking me into actually trusting you only for you to try to run away?!” He lunged forward to ruthlessly grab your shoulders, shaking your trembling form as his ferocious mannerisms only made your tears worse. “Why are you trying to run away?! Run away from me, run away from my love?! All I want to do is love you and care for you and you try to fucking run away from that?! Why the fuck do you wanna leave so bad?!”

He leaned his face closer to continue to yell, his tone holding a feral, barbarous cut; a predatorial rage clawing an implode out of his composure. “I know you need time to adjust and get used to everything but jesus fucking christ how much time do you need?! I’ve been so patient with you and you would be so much happier if you just stopped FUCKING resisting me and fighting me!”

Your brows held the shape of an upside down ‘V’ as you remained bawling your wide bloodshot eyes out, feeling as if the whole world was shaking and that you would pass out from how your inhales for breath got more desperate from the hyperventilation and broke down into wheezes.

“I thought this was going so well! But was that all you could think of the whole time?! Was escaping the only thing on your mind all the time?! Why?! You’re so much safer here with me!” Sam’s own eyes filled up with hot tears as his expression shifted into one of heartbroken desperation. It gave you whiplash how quickly the switch could flip on his emotions. “You can’t leave me, (Y/n)! I don’t know what I’d do without you! If you left me now I’ll die!” His lips quivered, his hand reaching up to grip onto his chest as if he could feel his heart failing.

“I can’t survive without you. You’re the only reason worth living for, you’re my whole world! I need you more than I need air to breathe! I-I’ll do anything you ask me to!! But please don’t ever try to leave me!”

He was sick. There was something wrong with him. He needed help, professional help. You uselessly took note of all this as you grew to loathe your predicament even more, watching the image of the man you once knew crumble away like he was never there to begin with. What was wrong with him?

Your throat felt so heavy that you couldn’t even gulp yet your eyes never stopped leaking that salty substance, your lips shuddering in front of trapped sobs from the tight cloth around your face. Sam finally took notice of how many fresh tears continuously streamed down your cheeks and reached back towards your trembling shoulders. “Sh… don’t cry. I would never hurt you. You know that, right?” He softly said, giving you another mental whiplash from another significant attitude change.

When you didn’t nod to his question it instantly awoken another brutish bark. “RIGHT?!” You squeezed your eyes closed and flinched away from him, not moving far as his iron grip kept you close to him so that you could feel his huffing, foaming breaths on your wet face. “I love you so fucking much that I could never hurt you! Why don’t you understand that?!”

Sam forced himself off you and off the bed to only stand for a few seconds before leaning back down to lowly say to your face with a gripped jaw, “I don’t care how many times it takes to get through to you, I’ll make you realize how much I love you.”

Then he stomped away from your frozen-in-fear composure and into his room, loudly slamming the door and a scream ripped through the walls, “FUUUCK!!” Which was followed by a few crashing sounds and roars of violent frustration.

You huddled into the corner of your bed, pressing your knees to your chest as you instantaneously weeped away with sobs scratching your throat raw.

If you weren’t chained and duct taped and mouth bound, you’d say you’ve been in this exact situation before… with two other men in your life.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart

#the patient #the patient hulu #the patient fx #yandere sam fortner #sam fortner #yandere #yandere x reader #reader insert #sam fortner x reader #sam fortner imagine #dark fic #domhnall gleeson #Domhnall Gleeson x reader

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.9

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Brief suicide mention, Denialism, Flashback, Mention of relapsing, Brief smoking, Sam’s kinda creepy at the end

Word Count: 3.4k

Table of Contents

Although you slept very deeply, you never slept that uncomfortably; dried tears crusted around your eyes, forearms still duct taped together behind your back, your mouth still covered by the cloth which made it a little difficult to breathe along with your stuffy nose. Your limbs and head ached but that didn’t stop you from thrusting up to a seated position when the sound of faint hoarse screams invaded your ears.

A sudden burst of adrenaline killed the tiredness in your eyes as they shot open to reveal the small pupils swarmed with the hues of bloodshot pink. Your hair was in frizzy tangles due to not brushing it when it was wet. You couldn’t tell if you were going crazy or not before the muffled sound of a scream reentered your ears. You thrashed your aching head around to try and pinpoint where the supposed scream for help was coming from.

You began to pant with difficulty due to the cloth, not being able to help the terror burning in your chest with a sizzle. Was this person here with you this entire time? Was the scream coming from inside the walls? Was it not even in the house at all and instead outside? Was Sam killing someone outside?!

You forced your breathing to slow down in an attempt to make it quiet enough to try to pinpoint the exact location. You leaned your head in different directions of the room to listen better until you finally landed your sights on the door in the corner of the room, just below the staircase. You never really knew what was in that room but you assumed, due to being in the basement, that it just had to be some sort of supply closet.

With the best of your abilities, you forced your throat to release a scream in hopes to let the calling person know that they weren’t alone. Your scream couldn’t pass the thick bandana and only resembled an aggressive hum. No matter how many times you tried to loosen the fabric to break your scream through, you couldn’t make a loud enough sound for whoever was trapped in the basement with you.

You sat there for what two hours felt like two days. You hopelessly listened as the muffled screams for help weakened down to nothing, or maybe the screams did continue but too weak to pass through the door. That thought was almost too sad to bear. You sat in the bed, refusing to call it your own, with your back pressed against the brick wall and stared at the corner door with gloomy eyes.

Your ears sensitively perked up, like an electric spark when you touch someone after rubbing a balloon or carpet, from the clicking of Sam’s bedroom door handle. You didn’t even look over to Sam stepping out of his room, much too focused and concerned with what you heard in the far door.

You felt his presence move and heard his feet softly thump over to you. “Awh, sorry, I forgot you had these on all night long. I’m so sorry.” Sam said with a regretful twinge in his voice as he reached for your face to untie the tight double knot at the back of your head. You didn’t gasp in a breath once the bandana dropped from your lips, only having the energy to part them. It was only when Sam started to cut off the layers of duct tape from your forearms did you finally speak.

“Who’s in that room?” You said, the chords of your voice so hoarse that it made your voice sound deep, with a foreboding yet austere emotion vibrating through the cracks. You spoke in an unintentional hushed tone. Sam halted his cutting for a moment as he glanced up to where you kept your eyes trained upon. “You don’t need to worry about that right now.” He said with a dismissive yet nervous head shake.

Your nostrils flared with a huff, pink hues dusting the bottom of your nose and pink tears swimming on the border of your waterlines. You did not like how he phrased that. Not at all.

Your arms were finally freed from the restricted access of movement and once they were you instantly stretched them forward and rolled your tense shoulders, hearing cracks when you stretched a certain way. Sam backed away from you the second you could move freely, probably fearing you would make an immediate attempt to attack him. He moved to the middle of the room to look at you from a distance, hands placed on his hips like he was a teacher who just got a note from the substitute.

“So,” he spoke up, making you look up at him with a glare as you rubbed your stinging forearms, “in terms of, uh, punishment for your little… rebellion last night. You lost T.V privileges for awhile. And shower privileges. And…” he paused for a bit, trying to think of one more thing to take away to really teach you a lesson. “And um… and I’m cutting down your food amounts.” He said with an almost finger point at you.

If you were in your normal state of mind right now you would’ve laughed out loud at the fact he said “awhile”. He couldn’t even decide how long your punishment would be for! And “cutting down food amounts”? He wasn’t going to take away any of the three meals he gave you a day but instead just give you a smaller amount? That’s barely even a punishment. The T.V was, yeah that sucked a lot, and the shower was entirely expected. But less food? That was just another way in how Sam was pathetic.

You hadn’t realized the time passing as you stared up at Sam with a stony grim expression you didn’t even realize you were wearing until he said, “Come on, don’t give me that look.” He said this with pierced brows and a slight head tilt, like he was exhausted from your attitude.

Obeying his wishes, you simply shifted around to face a different direction, your empty look now directed at the wall. Sam huffed with his mouth hung open as he watched your silent form, looking as if you just told him something offensive. “Aren’t you gonna say something? Something snappy about how unfair I am?” He said, raising his arms before moodily letting them fall back down to his sides. “Are you even listening to me?”

“I’m not saying anything until you tell me who the fuck is in that room.” You said with a hoarse voice from the crashing emotions of frustration and panic. Feeling as if the terrifying suspense was screaming in your ears; like the whole room was dark and a spotlight was stuck on that shut door. Sam sighed and shook his head, walking around so that he was blocking your view of the door. “I already told you, you don’t need to worry about that right now. You’ll see when I get home from work so just be patient.”

You frowned deeply, almost resembling a sad clown painting. He talked as if you had all the time in the world. You refused to see your fate still in this basement. If a fortune teller closed her eyes and told you she saw this basement in your future, you would simply smash the crystal ball to the ground. The only way this basement would be the last thing you saw was if you had killed yourself in failure or Sam had killed in either a rage or mercy.

But just the thought of connecting the two things, Sam and murder, resurrected that soft spot you still had for the old Sam you shared a close bond to. Once again, the reality of Sam being a serial killer still didn’t feel… real to you. Were you really that much of a stranger to death that no matter how many times Sam discussed his killings with you it still felt so foreign to you? It almost felt like you didn’t even believe him. Like how you would be when watching a movie and knowing it’s all fake or staged, or like the concept of murder was just a make-belief thing, thus why you were closer to being desensitized than actually affected.

You almost believed that maybe you just had horrible morals you never noticed. But you knew that was not the case as when you would watch the news about murders or purposeful violence you felt the utter disgust and revulsion so deep in your gut that it made you feel sick. So is it that just because it’s someone you genuinely liked you didn’t want to believe it? Being more at peace accepting him as a kidnapper than a murderer because it was the lesser of two evils?

You wanted to believe he was just lying to perhaps scare you, but the disappearances of people after specific scenes with you just timed too perfectly.

But he was Sam. Sam who had tried every single item on your menu, Sam who would gush about country songs, Sam who would smile brightly after your praise for helping you with the garbage, Sam who would encourage your own rants just because it was about stuff you were passionate about. That was the Sam of your weakness.

You talked with that Sam when you pleased him, obeyed him, made him happy, and played along. But the second you went against him, disobeyed him, pissed him off, or crushed his fantasies a switch was flipped and that Sam was gone. That Sam was sucked into his shadow and a stranger stood where he stood. Bright eyes gone dead, timid voice gone vicious, awkward composure gone amok. It was like Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

When that imposter zombie troubled or tormented you, you desperately searched for the fidgety Sam to come back out and save you from the monster. But they were one and the same. Jekyll was Hyde and Hyde was Jekyll. He couldn’t save you from himself. He couldn’t be the one to tie you to the railroad tracks while twirling a mustache and the knight in shining armor to rescue you.

You stared up at Sam through moistening orbs, looking back and forth between his two eyes as if his redeemable thoughts would spell themselves out in his corneas. You began to harbor hopes as you searched for the possibility, the chance, that he would actually stop or genuinely give up. Maybe you two would be able to forget this whole mess had ever happened and go back to how everything was before.

You spoke with vulnerable disbelief, “Sam. Hasn’t this gone on long enough? Please. I have a life I need to stay active in. I have a job, a good job that I’d like to keep.”

While looking down at you with an anguished contrast, Sam shook his head hurriedly and mumbled a string of upset ‘no’s. “You don’t need a job. I’ll take care of you an-and provide for you. I swear it. All the stress from your job is gone now. You don’t have to stay on your feet for 9 hours straight four days a week now, you don’t have to…” he waved his hand in the air to try and form more reasons, “train lazy and incompetent teenagers now, you don’t have to listen to any more customer complaints now. You don’t need to work anymore.” He ended his mawkish voiced declaration with a small twitching up, like he was telling you the best news ever.

Your mouth was hung open, your throat feeling inflamed yet dry. “But it’s the job that I chose. I chose to stay there for three years, I chose to work full time. It was all my decision.” You said this all while your brows slowly moved together. “Yes it was stressful at times and yes I loathed waking up at 7AM every morning but the thought of quitting or changing jobs never crossed my mind. I made good money and I was being considered for a manager position.” Your lips were left quivering in between every syllable. “It was the only job that would take me in despite my record of drugs and trouble with the law.”

“I loved my managers, they were like the family I never had and they were so reasonable and generous when it came to my needs. I loved my regular customers,” your voice broke in a falter at your second word, “they were kind to me and always brightened my day. I loved my coworkers, they respected me and we made our shifts fun together.”

A realization came crashing down onto you as your features softened and drooped, a realization that made you realize you took it all for granted, a realization you never realized until you reflected on how much you missed it. “I loved my job.”

In your mentality, you just had a breakthrough. Who knows who you would even be right now if you didn’t see their “Help Wanted” ads on that lamppost.

You messily wiped the thick tears off your cheeks as you walked the concrete sidewalk through the pouring rain. It was like you and Mother Nature were connected emotionally which made the weather materialize what you were feeling with its falling teardrops and gray clouds blocking the sun and blue sky.

The forecast had said it would just be cloudy all day with only a twenty percent chance of rain. But your drenched form had proven them as either idiots or liars. You tucked your hands deep in your sweatshirt pockets after tugging your hood harder so that the rain would stop hitting your forehead and spilling down your face, the cold rain combining with your salty tears. You had been rejected by another job opening with their reasoning the same as the rest, distrust with you due to your past and no prior job experience.

You clutched onto your phone as it sat in your pocket, debating if you wanted to make a call to someone as a last resort. You slipped under some shade, to take a breath from the rain, next to a man who was having a smoke break. You pulled out your phone, practically feeling your self-hatred scratch at your bones as you dialed the number to your dad’s cell phone. You finally found it a couple of months ago and swore to only call if it was an emergency or could act as a last resource or fallback.

You knew he worked at a maintenance shop and their employees were always coming and going, perhaps he would lend you a job for the time being until you found your own way. You lifted the phone to your ear as you held your breath in your heavy throat. It rang once before going straight to voicemail.

Your eyes stung like a reaction from lemon juice as your clenching lips trembled and quivered, the corners lowering. You slowly let your arm fall to your side as you focused on the sidewalk across the street to distract yourself from thinking too much about it. The smell of tobacco tickled your nose like an old friend as you followed the long puff of smoke to its owner. You quit with a lot of struggle just sixteen months ago yet the feeling of fuzzy senses still felt so recent. “Can I have one, please?” You asked the gray bearded man with a croaky voice on the verge of amplifying into the call of a sob.

The wrinkled man looked over to you without much care but still dug into a freshly new box of cigarettes and handed you one. You took the rolled stick into your fingers and began your walk back to your house again. You pulled out your lighter from your pants pocket and flicked your thumb over the top repeatedly, a moaning whine invading your tight throat as the rain hit your lighter from any angle you tried. You were too far to walk back to the shade but this was just the final push as you finally opened to release the sob that has been begging to come out.

You stopped in your tracks as you pathetically kept flicking your lighter, sobs weakening to whimpers. The rain dropping on your hand caused the lighter to slip out of your fingers. You squeezed your soaked eyes shut momentarily before taking a sniffle then squatting to pick up the fallen lighter. Once you arose, your eyes landed on the lamented piece of paper taped to the lamp post beside. Your sore eyes scanned over the ‘HIRING FULL & PART TIME HOURS’.

You took another sniffle as you looked down at the damp cigarette in your hand. This will not be the day you relapse. You tossed it in the garbage can beside the post. You squared your shoulders toward the sheet and memorized the simple email before continuing on your way.

You would email them when you got home.

You had such a sentimental attachment to your job as it quite literally saved you and played a big part in your recovery as a person. You wanted to return to it, return to your motherly managers, return to your teenage coworkers that looked up to you, return to your regular customers that wanted to hear your life updates.

But Sam didn’t seem to grasp those facts and was only set on it being your bane. “The only reason you like all your coworkers and regulars now is because I got rid of the ones you hated.” He snapped down at your shell-shocked being. “You’re there all the time and yet you still always picked up shifts for that woman who would never pick up any of yours. And the guy who was a sexist piece of shit and always got into arguments with you. And all those customers who were fucking nasty to you or tried to touch your waist or would look at you with such-”

His face scrunched in exasperated anger as he ran a clutching hand through his hair to blow out a hot huff through his mouth to calm himself down. He hated when you brought up all those people. He expected he would hear the last of them when he killed them but even in death they tried to ruin everything.

He talked about his killings so openly and casually, the truth spilling out easily off his tongue. So why were you so incapable of picturing him hurting anyone despite witnessing his hefty rage first hand? Or are you still just thinking about the Sam you once knew.

Sam slid his hands down his tired face before his ghostly green hues trained on your form. The room was too quiet. “You have… no idea how far I’m willing to go for you. I did promise to protect you, remember?” He said slowly, sounding as if he was sleep-talking.

You hid your breath behind your lips as you felt goosebumps trickle your skin despite the sweat at the back of your neck. He was just staring at you now. Breathing through his mouth that was left open as his chest heaved and eyes never leaving you. He was a breathing gargoyle.

You clutched the sheets next to your hips as your eyes parted from his still body, suddenly not having the courage to maintain eye contact anymore. Your eyes moved to the ceiling so your still-present tears could drain back under your eyeballs, sensing the possibility that even if a drop escaped that he would eat you alive. Your eyes settled on the carpet, never on one spot for too long, and randomly wished you could hide under the covers from this creature of the undead that wore Sam’s body and face as a mask and suit.

“I gotta get us breakfast.” He finally said, breaking his own spell, as he turned on his heels and ascended up the stairs like he was dragging his own body step by step. Like a member of the living dead.

Once his dark presence had seeped out of the room you were left alone with your chilled skin that threatened to shiver if you let out too heavy of an exhale; left alone with the negative thrilling thought of ‘What the fuck was that?’.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart @girl-next-door-writes

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

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angelofthenight · 2 years ago

Text

The Monster You Created Pt.8

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Love at first sight, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Brief sexual references, Jealousy, Stalking, Spying, Trespassing, Verbal/emotionally abusive bf, Daddy issues, Maybe very brief incel thoughts??, A brief ounce of misogyny if you squint, Swearing, Sam’s delusional, Mentions of murder, Invasion of privacy, Kidnapping, Unreciprocated love, Manipulation (from YN)

This is all a flashback from Sam’s POV

Word Count: 2.5k

Table of Contents

( Sorry this is so short, it was originally gonna be longer but my motivation was taking too long so I just decided to get something out )

Sam’s entire existence had been the heart of misery, a messy aftermath of early trauma. Eternally suffering the effects of the ever-lasting pain he felt in his childhood. He felt like an empty shell of a human being, the emotions that made humans human being foreign to his hollow body. The only emotion that would visit his empty cave was rage. Other than that, a perpetual sense of incompletion; cold emptiness; exhausted loneliness. He just couldn’t… feel.

He’s tried multiple things that would for sure erupt strong emotions in anyone normal, but never him. He couldn’t even feel the despair of bad actions or the satisfaction of good ones, not even empathy or delight for other human beings. But he could pretend. He walked through his everyday life with a mask of a painted smile and an audiobox of forced laughter, shielding his insincerity. Play along with everyone around him as if he were playing a character. Someone likable and friendly.

He walked his numb zombie body through the streets feeling inhuman, either not even feeling his own weight or feeling as if he was being weighed down to the concrete. He walked through his black and white world all the way to a smoothie bar.

And then he met you.

That moment he first clapped eyes on you, he finally felt… something. He felt a new temperature rise to his skin and finally felt something in his chest… move. From the first clicking of eyes, he felt a small spark in his core. He was wonderstruck. And throughout the day, the more you two conversed, the more those sparks evolved into fireworks and his black and white world slowly brightened to colors like Dorothy walking into Oz.

You woke Sam up. You lit his candle. You flipped his switch. You were a light at the end of his dark tunnel. You made him feel not just something but everything. You enchanted him.

He had fallen in love with you.

He fell for that sparse care you offered him in just a single day. Maybe it was just in your nature to be kind and to wrap people in the comfort of your warm and friendly presence while momentarily allaying their anxieties that day. Sam wasn’t one to trust easily due to the severe and cruel pains of betrayal he had had in his life as a result of the violence he had endured from his father as a child, but you earned his trust with just a single genuine smile and intense attention you willingly gave him.

And in a once barren garden of love, a rose had bloomed as an embodiment of that first spark. As more sparks rapidly popped, more roses had littered the hollow dirt of that garden. But each of those roses had thorns, poisonous ones. And to your blind misfortune, you had obliviously pricked your delicate finger on one of those thorns. Poisoning you and your poor soul and making you the victim of his infatuation.

Sam’s desolated heart, devoid of lively adoration for far too long, throbbed with the desire to have what he witnessed his parents never had; true love. He tasted the beginnings of a chance. A chance to be permanently happy and finally be what he always wanted to be, normal. You opened his eyes and he never wanted to shut them ever again as long as you were always in his eyesight. And he hoped that just like you gave him the sense of being complete, that he would be able to make you eternally happy.

He wanted to see your smile and hear your laugh every second of every day. He wanted to listen to your voice speak for hours and hours. He wanted to always be near you, to always be inhaling the air of your intoxicating aura. He wanted to take care of you, to have you live in the comfort of his unbreakable protection. He wanted to touch you, to feel every grain of your skin. He wanted to taste you, to know how you’d taste between his teeth and tongue. He wanted to do whatever he wanted with you and to you.

He wanted you to be his.

But his dreams were shattered with a hammer and crumbled into a sharp mess of idiocy. Because as he escorted you out the door at the end of your shift, it was thrown straight at his face that you were dating someone else. Someone whiny, snotty, and arrogant. Someone controlling, judgemental, and aggressive. Someone overconfident, ambitious and prideful. Someone who reminded him a little too much of his father: hyper-masculine, domineering. Destructive. What was a girl like you doing with a guy like that?

Sam watched as you got into your boyfriend’s hoodless car and before he did anything else, your boyfriend pulled your head closer to him and slammed his lips onto yours. He didn’t close his scowling eyes as he kept them aimed at Sam, who returned the look. It was like he was trying to make it clear to Sam that he had some claim on you. That you were his territory, his property, his squeeze, just his.

It made Sam go absolutely rabid.

From that briefest of meetings, Sam knew right away there was something wrong with your relationship. So, using concern for your safety as a justification, he followed you home one night to get a glimpse into your homelife with your boyfriend. But one night wasn’t enough, he found himself spending any time outside of his work outside a window watching the two of you for hours until late. He’s seen your good days and your bad days. But he’s noticed that when your days were good, they were amazing and straight out of a rom-com, and when your days were bad, they were horrible and straight out of a horror-thriller.

Sam described your boyfriend, Brady, as nothing but insidious, wicked, and vile. But you were so sweet, albeit a people pleaser that extended from work to your romantic relationship. You’d empty your cup to fill Brady’s. But Brady wouldn’t do the same for you. It infuriated Sam, how Brady would treat your worth as if it were something he could replace whenever he wanted. He was not your match. And Sam was convinced about that the more he got to know you and witnessing you and Brady interact.

Brady didn’t get your humor like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your passions like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your taste like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your emotions like Sam did. Brady didn’t get your past like Sam did. Brady didn’t get you like Sam did.

Sam would have given you his jacket when you were cold while Brady mocked you for not being prepared for the weather. Sam would get you on his back when your feet were tired while Brady made you walk through it. Sam would claim you were always right while Brady argued with you in public. Sam would pay for your phone bill while Brady wouldn’t lend you his charger.

Of course though, Sam knew that himself compared to Brady exterior-wise was an unfair fight. Sam wasn’t stupid, he knew your boyfriend was more visibly appealing and had a more interesting, impressive life than him. Brady wore tight tank tops to display his thickly toned arms; Sam wore button ups and lazy shirts. Brady worked at a gym and did fight competitions broadcasted on t.v.; Sam was a health inspector. Brady drove a subaru; Sam drove a pickup truck. Brady was a popular jock in school; Sam was the quiet loner. The two of them couldn’t be any more different in Sam’s mind… other than their taste in women.

Now Sam was not an expert in the emotional part of women, other than that they were emotional, but he had heard quite a bit of how abandoning fathers affected the female brain, how differently daddy issues affected them compared to men. That because of the lack of a father figure in their life they seek out older men or, in your case, men that resemble their father to fill the void that their father's weren't able to fill. They will cling to their attention and sacrifice their comfort for their pleasure to make sure they don't abandon them like their fathers did. And Sam realized that was exactly your problem, the problem you were blind to that he wanted to help you see. He wanted to help you.

It was sad to him though. You were so delusional and so far deep in denial that you were convinced your father leaving didn’t fuck you up at all. You poor thing.

Sam knew he was nothing like your dad, so if the two of you became a couple then he would break your cycle and heal the daddy issues with the love you’ve always deserved! But there was one issue, Sam could never find the right time to admit his feelings for you. And on top of that, he wasn’t sure yet if you felt the same. He constantly dropped hints and signals but you just never caught on, too distracted with everything else in your stressful life. He wanted to free you from that, he wanted your undivided attention without any customer nagging your ear off and without a boisterous boyfriend draining you to practical exhaustion.

But Sam came to a thought that if he wanted to fix you he needed to get fixed himself. After the first incident of murder committed against the man who followed you to your car and repeatedly pressed for your phone number after your repeated words of declining, he hoped it was just a small slip that would only happen once. But it became a constantly continuous slip. It became a problem, he just couldn’t stop. His attempts to suppress the temptations grew weaker as he always gave in despite his ongoing opposition to these instincts. The harder he tried to stop it was as if he became more aware of people who disturbed your peace or threatened the future of you and him when making moves.

He tried so hard to become normal, now that he could actually feel emotions thanks to you, but the straw that broke the camel's back was when that man touched your arm and basically sexualized you to his boss. That’s when Sam started therapy with the best therapist he could find. But he was there to fix himself and his murderous drive, not once did he think his infatuation with you should’ve been brought to light.

Of course he knew just as well as anyone that stalking and spying was wrong, that stealing and taking secret photographs was wrong. Both morally and legally. But he was just looking out for you! To do some good you have to do some wrong. At least that’s just what he told himself.

He was almost never home anymore, when he wasn’t at work or therapy or in your work during his lunchtime he became your shadow at a distance. After work he’d park his truck near the far end of the parking lot, positioned perfectly that he could see straight into the window to watch you work, and wait till your shift ended. He’s done this enough times to know your exact schedule. He’d watch you leave and lock up and walk to your car before driving off home, Sam following after waiting till another car would be in between the two of you.

He’d follow you home and park a couple driveways down before sneaking through the dark to watch the rest of your day through your windows. And sometimes on the days you had off, Sam would get to your house early to follow you everywhere you went. If only he knew that all that hyper-fixated stalking only made him spiral further into a dangerous swirl of unhealthy obsession. And his lovesick swooning mind finally made the decision that would fix everything. His jealousy, his protectiveness, his hedonism, his need to confess his love, and his desire to help you heal all had a hand on his back that pushed him to his last resort.

Too far gone within his ambitions, his fixation-filled delusion led his mind astray and perhaps that’s why he found himself sneaking around your driveway late at night, wincing every time your neighbor's dog barked straight at him.

Selfishness was in the fundamental nature of humans. They crave for things they can't have and shouldn't have; bitter selfishness; the desire to take until they have nothing left. This was all human instinct. And Sam was human. And with being human entails an uncontainable urge to take, take, take. And that’s what he did. He took you.

Of course he knew it sucked to you but he saw it as all worth it in the end if it meant healing your trauma and falling in love. But that process seemed to take longer than his childishly selfish mind was expecting, and the more you resented him the more painful it was to debate the potential truth; “if you love something, let it go”. Would it have been real love to have left you alone all this time? To spare you from his fucked up mental state? Would it be love if he just opened the door and let you go? But unfortunately his questioning of his own choices lasted shorter than a snap.

Sam didn’t see himself as a psycho nor a creep. He saw himself as a good person who had fallen in love hard and committed intrusive actions. He was incapable of seriously considering letting you go. Because if he did, he would be forced to acknowledge his own lack of accountability that he was not as good of a person as he viewed himself. His mad love for you clouded any morals that could separate the two of you.

And just like he planned, you began to warm back up to him! And he’d even say that he’s been catching you giving him bedroom, dreamy eyed looks. He hoped it wasn’t Stockholm Syndrome, he wanted you to genuinely fall for him and not because of some physiological negative effect.

But just when he trusted you enough, you tried to escape.

It was all a lie, an act, a trick. And he blindly fell for it because he was too blinded by his hopeless happiness. Sam felt something in him snap. Escaping was all you could think about, wasn’t it? Always thinking about it, always dreaming about it. You were trying to run away from the confrontation of your pain and problems! You were trying to run away from his love and help!

He had to take matters into his own hands… or rather put them in someone else’s.

You needed help, help that his consoling love wasn’t qualified to give. You needed professional help. And luckily for you, Sam knew the perfect guy for you.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina @kaitcreatesart

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

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