#hygiene maniac yandere

[yanyanyanny]

AN: I have edited the aesthetics again ♥︎

Fem hygiene darling x Male Hygiene Maniac OC Yan

TW: Sabotage/pessimism/obsessive tendencies/implied krilling.

Poor hygiene fem darling sighing as she enters her apartment feeling the empty feeling of failure as she fails once again to fit in with her girl group in a reunion because of her poor hygiene. She honestly was hygienic before but due to the constant ball of life where in she moved out and has a work from home job with a demanding schedule. poor hygiene fem darling just wanted a break from everyday.Well unfortunately the world is annoyingly expensive and doesn't give a single fuck about her feelings so she has to resort to the traditional method of getting immediate food which is going to the nearest convenience store. She sighs just getting a unwashed shirt and joggers and heads out. Honestly if she could she would have just ordered for a delivery but the universe has plans.Upon entering the convenience store with her head hung low and her unwashed clothes she hears a click of tongue. There in the aisle she meets hygiene maniac yandere.

hygiene maniac yandere despite having a disgusted and judgemental attitude his clothes we're properly ironed and washed and if anything his corporate wear would have been as good as those people that serves in planes or hotel. Its almost a surreal to the point his clothes can be a clothing for a high end model advertising for it. However darling sees the side eye of the yandere and the well "ewww" look on his face. from that alone out of spite darling gave the nastiest glare she could muster and flips him off before leaving to which the yandere scoffs at this and complained to his colleagues about said woman. unfortunately darling discovers that he works as the receptionist for the apartment and well they definitely do not get well...atleast in the beginning.

hygiene maniac yandere will always hate unhygienic people. In his mind this people held no respect to the community , environment and themselves. In short he sees them as disrespectful.

hygiene maniac yandere grew up with a janitor father and caregiver mother. often times he was left alone due to the people who made a lot of mess so with this reasoning he resents those people who makes a mess. He feels like everything was taken fron him everytime there is a mess. Well his hate escalated further when his parents both died due to the airborne diseases that they caught during the pandemic in their workplace. Since then he loathed people who were unhygienic yet capable to change.

hygiene maniac yandere despite his upbringing wasn't stupid of course..he notice the days when darling was severely drunk and limping to the elevator at a staggering 2am. as a receptionist he helps her, begrudgingly. He often hears how poorly she was trying her best and well he felt a silver of sympathy. he knows fairly well what it was like to be left alone due to work.

hygiene maniac yandere as months pass by slowly became a some sort of eye keeping to poor hygiene fem darling. he still calls her smelly and stinky ass but he adds some suggestions to it. his sympathy is in his nature he guessed. Well he didn't anticipate that out of spite darling followed his suggestions to the t.soon darling was very hygienic. she was top to bottom clean. clean clothes and shoes clean skin clean hair and nails. She looks like a picturesque pinterest worthy clean girl aesthetic. That didn't passed up the eyes of hygiene maniac darling of course. he...questioned himself at the very least. While darling improve out of spite to his judgement the yandere's feelings grew. He hated it but..dear god the way she gives a huge attention to his judgements and well suggestions well as simple and as annoying it was for him.. it was a heart stopper for him.next thing you know darling wonders wonders about her current situation.

hygiene maniac yandere ask to be in her apartment for fire control inspection. he wasn't a maintenance guy so why is he handling? but then again darling tought maybe because he can't trust the maintenance people. unbeknownst to darling this yandere was definitely in her bathroom extensively getting things, making sure to get the very least obvious things.

hygiene maniac yandere obsession didnt stop there..from set up cameras to feigned suprise packages and receptionist announcement calls. even going as far to see her apartment documents. hygiene maniac darling made sure no one soils his darling even in the slightest...not even the poor maintenance guy who mysteriously resigned.

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.2

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Brief starvation, Sexual reference, YN has an abusive bf, Unreciprocated love, Sam will get behaviorally worse as the story progresses (just like in the show but I feel the need to just put it out there)

Word Count: 5.4k (future chapters will be shorter)

Table of Contents

You sat in that stupid bed in that stupid room of imprisonment. Sam had gone to work and told you he'd be back at 5 with dinner. You didn’t eat the breakfast nor the lunch he gave you, you silently refused. It visibly upsetted him but he didn’t force you or argue with you, he couldn’t anyway since you were ignoring him as a form of protest. He kept bringing you different food though, trying to please you and get you to give in and eat. You hadn’t though.

You were not going to play along and make this easy for him. You were going to refuse his food, refuse to talk to him, and refuse to touch anything he gave you. It was safer than the other idea of retaliation you had: absolutely destroy everything you could reach in hopes he’d realize you were too much trouble and do your blindfold drop off idea. But you feared that’d might be testing his patience too much. He was a murderer after all.

As tempting as the items he gave you were, you resisted. On the table beside the bed included hygiene stuff like a toothbrush, toothpaste, hairbrush, hair ties, ibuprofen, your medication, a small dixie cup, and even menstrual pads and tampons. On the small shelf below it was little things from your house to keep you occupied like books and other things you liked to use while at home.

While Sam was away, though, you didn’t just sit there being miserable. You’d scream at the top of your lungs and pound on the walls, hoping to god someone would hear you even though Sam said you were in the middle of the woods. ‘People go for hikes’ you’d tell yourself. With the woods being dead silent, your faint noises would have to reach some volume. But if a tree falls in a forest with no one around to hear it, does it really make a sound at all?

You sulked in the corner of the bed against the pillow, your arms tightly crossed with your knees pressing on them. A grumpy glower on your face from your anger of this unfairness just because Sam was “in love with you”, which you never would have suspected and instead took him as just that kind of awkward. Eventually Sam came through the sliding door with a bag full of small boxes. You kept your glare set on the floor, not even sparing a peek at him.

“Good luck not eating this.” Sam said excitedly as he pulled out the boxed food from the bag and onto the table. “Pork buns from Qian's.” He let out an accomplished exhale and his hands rested on his knees as he looked up to you with a smile, thinking he finally got you to end your little food strike.

You didn’t react at all.

Sam frowned and straightened his back, giving you a look similar to how a mother would look at her rebelling teenage daughter. “Are you still giving me the silent treatment?”

He was met with silence and not even an acknowledgment of his presence. He sighed and looked at you in saddened disbelief, trying to think of ways he hasn’t tried yet to make you talk to him. He really wasn’t used to you ignoring him, as he’d sit and watch you work you would jovially talk away to him about anything on your mind. He wanted that back.

He looked around the room until he got an idea. Maybe you were annoyed with him because you thought he was lying! He was off into the next room and came out with a box, sitting down at the chair with the big box in his lap and his hands laying atop of it. You finally looked over your shoulder at him, glancing down at the box then eyed his face suspiciously.

He noticed your uneasiness. “Don't worry. It's not a head or anything.” He reassured with a hint of displeasure in his voice, a little offended you’d think he was that maniacal. You gave him a harsh glare. “Well, thank god.” You said with a bitterly sarcastic attitude.

Sam held back a smile over getting to hear your honey-like voice again as he took the top of the box off. “You ever heard of the John Doe Killer?” He continued after your silence and uninterested stare. “The whole idea was to make it look like robberies. So the police didn't get one of those task forces going. So, you know, I took… I took all this.” He rummaged to pull out a few wallets and pocket trinkets. “And… next thing I know, they're calling me the John Doe Killer 'cause sometimes it took 'em a few days to figure out who these people were without their IDs and stuff. And... now I'm kind of stuck with it. You believe me now?”

“You thought I didn’t believe you?” You said with a slight scoff. Sam ignored your comment. “Well, I get why you might be angry for thinking I'm not telling the truth-” You cut him off with a snappy tone of voice, “Trust me, I believed you.” You gave him a judgmental look, now that you stopped looking at him through rose colored glasses he was kind of serial killer-esque.

Sam's expression morphed into one of offense. Your stares on each other were so intense that the uneven tension grew thick. Sam gave up and defeatedly rose to his feet to put back the box until he turned back to hold the box out to you. “Would you like a watch?”

“No.” You spat as you returned to your little ball in the corner of the bed. His eyebrows curved upward in hurt. “You should keep track of time for yourself.” He encouraged. “I mean, they still work.” He glanced down into the box. “Most of 'em.” He shook the box a little in your direction with a desperate, almost begging, look. You still didn’t look over at him.

He took out a working watch and set it on the dresser beside your bed, knowing you’d want to know the time eventually. When you were at work you constantly needed to know the time, despite how many times Sam told you your shift would go faster the longer you didn’t look at the clock. He returned the box back to where he found it and went to sit back down, digging into the food he brought home.

He took a couple of bites as he watched you remain in your ball of resentment. He could tolerate your silent treatment for a while longer but he didn’t want you to starve yourself as a form of refusing cooperation. “Your food’s gonna get cold.” He said between bites. Your grip on your jaw tightened. “I won’t eat your damn food and I won’t piss or shit in a fucking bucket.” You growled through clenched teeth, fighting against the toasty smell of those buns. Who knows, he could’ve spiked your food with some sex pills to make you want to sleep with the creep!

Sam gave up with a disappointed sigh and went back to eating. “It’s technically not a bucket.” He mumbled under his breath. As he ate his half of the food, he still attempted at conversation with you and was repeatedly met with silence or quick snappy remarks. He couldn’t decide which he preferred, both leaving him equally dispirited. Once he finished eating, he gathered his scraps together and left your untouched, cold food still on the table. He stood up and looked at you with distress clear in his features.

“I hope you know that I do love you. And that I’m doing this for your greater good. Everything I do is for you. I really hope you understand that.” He said with a look of yearning, pain and passion tugging his lips down into a frown. He had to limit his words and bite his tongue to prevent himself from going on a sentimental rant of how much he truly loved and adored you. He knew that if he spilled his feelings so soon to the minefield that was your temper at the moment it would push back the date of you finally reciprocating his love. He turned to leave but froze in his tracks when he heard your voice rip through the tension-filled air.

“If you really loved me then you’d let me go.”

Sam spun on his heels to look at you looking as if someone had punched him in the face and took two automatic steps toward you. “No, that’s the point. I love you too much to let you go.” He spoke with a pained voice and a desperate expression. You still didn’t move an inch from your position, only moving your head in the slightest to give him a cold stare. “Then it’s not love.”

You turned your head back as Sam pursed his lips together, his brows furrowing at your stubbornness and feeling an itch of agitation twitch his patience. “How would you know? Your definition of love isn’t much better.” He said a little more harshly than he intended as he turned to start walking towards the stairs after he said, “If your boyfriend really loved you he wouldn’t hit you.”

That touched a nerve in you as you whipped your head back to face him again, your lips parted with your eyes mixing in anger and horror. “My boyfriend doesn’t hit me! That one time was just-” your voice weakened in volume and tone as he was already near the top of the stairs and out of your eyesight, “an accident.”

Your boyfriend didn’t hit you… commonly. The only physical aggression he’d inflict on you were flicks to the head when he claimed you were being “stupid” or grab your arms tightly to pull you somewhere, finger sized bruises fading into your skin from his iron grip. Other than that, he never got violent with you… not including verbal violence where he’d scream at you and insult your deepest insecurities… or where he’d speed past the speed limit while driving to intimidate you into admitting you were wrong in the argument.

But everything he did was always because of your own fault! You knew he didn’t have much control over his impulse and you knew he didn’t like to be talked to like he was a child. And you knew not to argue with him when he drinks. That’s why you deemed it your own fault when he accidentally punched you in the face in a completely drunkenly wasted rage because you argued with him saying he drank too much at parties.

But while up front you took accountability of your actions and mistakes, all the way in the back of your mind you knew you were not the one at fault at all.

Your mind was still stuck in these thoughts the next day, repeatedly telling yourself the punch was just an accident and Sam knew absolutely nothing about you and your boyfriend’s relationship, until Sam had walked back down. A plate of breakfast sat on top of a stack of more books from your house in which he placed down on the table beside your earlier food that still remained untouched. He set the books down on the ground next to the dresser before making his way to the sliding door.

He stopped before opening the door. “I'll be home by five.” He said to your unresponsive disposition then sliding it open then closed. He paused when outside to send you a loving smile and brief wave through the glass before leaving, despite you not even looking in his direction.

You sighed after hearing the door close and eventually the sound of his car engine. You were about to begin your scheduled screaming for help session but the rawness of your throat partnered with your dry mouth and cramping stomach that kept making long noises detained you from even attempting. You looked at the table with a full plate of a good-smelling breakfast with one full cup of ice water and a cup of coffee. The sight and smell painfully tortured your starving body and you cursed to yourself as you finally gave in and defeatedly walked over to the chair to devour that breakfast.

You scarfed down the food and chugged the water which left you easily sipping at the coffee, feeling the energy return to you after finally eating after almost two days. A part of you was mad at yourself for giving in and failing your strike of resistance, furiously knowing this was going to make Sam sooo happy.

But the other part of you was very grateful for finally getting food in your system and very thankful since if you hadn’t interacted with the food then you wouldn’t have found the plastic fork you were currently using to try and pick the lock around your ankle.

The seemingly genius plan failed miserably as the tine of the fork you were using snapped off and got stuck in the lock. You almost barely managed to shake it out then hide it behind your dresser. You knew you couldn’t hide the fork too since that would quickly raise suspicion in Sam, probably would think you were gonna use it as a weapon against him. So you took a breath and hid it under the napkin on the tray, hoping to god Sam wouldn’t see it when he threw the scraps away.

After the anxiety-inducing risk, you took a few breaths to calm yourself down and clear your head. Once you opened your eyes back up from your mediating inhale and exhale you sucked in a breath and returned to your regularly scheduled program of pathetically screaming for help with that tiny chance someone was near.

~

The sliding door snapped you out of your trance of staring at the wall as you hugged your knees to your chest. “Thai food tonight.” Sam announced jovially as he held up the plastic bag. You just glared at him with empty eyes. “I got us Kaeng tai pla. This place makes their own sauce using fermented fish entrails, which I know sounds gross, but it gives it a lot of flavor. And then, Khanom moa gang. They use taro and duck eggs. That's dessert. You usually can't find it this way.” He said all of this with a proud smile directed at you.

His bright smile made you turn your head to look away. Sam’s smile slowly lowered into a downcasted frown. All he wanted to do was make you happy and make you smile again. But all you did was bite at the hand that fed you. He picked up the tray of crumbs and remaining drops of both drinks and turned to- Wait. He looked down a second time to make sure he saw right. And he did. A smile perked back upon his lips as he noticed that you had finally eaten his food.

His insides felt warm with beaming happiness, thrilled over the fact that he was finally getting somewhere with you. Soon you’d start talking to him without attitude, and soon you’d both open up to one another, and soon you’d fall in love with him, and soon you’d kiss him just like how he fantasized it, and soon you’d get married- He stopped in his tracks as his pupils landed on something specific, his smile dropping almost instantly.

He picked up the fork with only three tines and the fourth snapped off. He slowly turned to you, biting the inside of his cheek with a grip on his jaw. ‘Back to square one.’ He frustratingly thought. “I don't think you can open that with a plastic fork.” Sam said with a low tone and a menacing bite. You stared at him with an equal amount of intensity. “It was worth a try.” You said dryly, matching his own tone.

He held in his huff and threw the fork back on the tray and changed his direction to the tall table against the wall opposite from you, setting the tray down and facing you. He loved you too much to be angry but his frustration of your constant stubborn resentment was cutting his patience short. He wanted you to love him already, he couldn’t stand waiting anymore nor being the object of your hate. He couldn’t even start the process of making you fall for him when you wouldn’t even give him a chance!

“I brought you here to make you understand how perfect we are for each other, to make you agree that we’re practically soulmates, to make you realize that I’m a much better lover than that shitbag.” His hands bottled up into tight, white knuckled fists from the thought of your boyfriend. “I know you hate this, but…” he paused, inhaling to keep himself calm while choosing what words to use to get you to give in, “if you're not going to cooperate with me, who do you think I’m gonna let my frustrations out on?”

Your eyebrows lifted as your snarling lips parted, your stomach starting to churn in apprehension. He was threatening to kill again if you kept your disregarded and disrespectful attitude up. He was putting the fate of people you cared about in your hands, and you knew he knew you would do anything to protect those people you valued, even if it cost you your dignity. You fleetingly glanced up at him to witness his eyes saying ‘it’s your choice’.

With lives on the line, you now realized you were basically his puppet. He had much more power over you than you’d like to admit. He could make you do anything he wanted if he threatened lives. He could tell you to strip down to your underwear in exchange for not going out and murdering someone, and you’d do it.

If you wanted to keep everyone you cared for safe, you had to play nice.

So with a deep inhale, as if you were physically swallowing your pride, you slowly rose to your feet in defeat. With your shoulders sulking, you walked over the chair closest to your bed to take a seat. All while you did this, Sam watched you in wide-eyed disbelief until happiness overtook him and a delighted, gleeful smile spread his lips.

You sat down and raised one knee to hug to your chest, looking up at Sam with a look of failure. “Well, what do you want to talk about?” You asked, your voice on the verge of trembling. Sam flinched a little before excitement sent him rushing to sit down diagonal from you, slightly shifting in his seat in eagerness as he tried to bite back his smile from widening too much. “What we’d usually talk about as you worked. You always have something to say about a movie. So, what are you thinking about?” He asked with bright, expecting eyes.

Your fingers fiddled together over your calf as you just couldn’t seem to calm your nerves, your mind sounding off alarms to get as far away from him as possible. Your natural instincts obviously weren’t aware of your restraints. “I haven’t… really been thinking about movies lately. I have bigger things on my mind.” You said as your eyes kept nervously glancing up and down from him to the carpeted floor, not being comfortable enough to look him in his intense gaze longer than 10 seconds. “And just a forewarning I don’t think it’s going to be easy for me to talk to you casually while in this… you know.”

Sam’s expression sank down, betrayal and confusion etched into his features. “You’re scared of me?” “I’m just saying that it might be a while for me to relax around you again.”

He let out a wounded exhale, almost in disbelief. “But promise me,” he looked back up at you once you spoke again and changed your choice of words, “swear to me that you will not touch me without my permission. And please keep my boundaries in mind when we are together. If you do all this, then I won’t fight against you and instead try to connect with you just like you want. And in return I ask… I beg of you to not hurt anyone anymore and never lie to me.” You said this all strictly but with an undertone clashing with anger and fear. Two overwhelming emotions you’ve grown all too familiar with in your short time here.

“So… you want me to be upfront about who I’ve killed?” Sam asked with a puzzled expression, like it was a trick question. You nodded stiffly, the thick lump in your throat keeping you from verbally answering. “Honesty.” He said to himself, nodding. “Yeah, that’s a vital thing for a relationship.” “…So can you make that promise?” You asked, desperately wanting him to make this fair trade.

Sam just stared at you. You tried to pinpoint the emotion in his eyes but was frightened to find nothing within them. Just look at you with dead eyes. And for a moment you almost thought he was going to pounce across the table and strangle you to death. That’s how daunting and haunting they were. To not know what thoughts were behind those eyes.

“You’re not a good judge of character, (Y/n).” He said with a low tone. “You don’t know what people are really like when you turn around, you don’t know what…” his fists tightened as he took a deep shaky breath, trying to keep his anger leveled, “filth runs through their heads when they look at you.” He paused, the restraint in his eyes shifting to one of adoration in just a slow second. It was a little unsettling. “But… for you. I'll do my best.”

Your inhales stuttered in tense timidity. That wasn’t the answer you were hoping for.

“Before we start to get to know each other, better than before, I want to know each person you’ve killed and who you’ve thought about killing.” You stated, not wanting that to remain a mystery to you. You knew knowing would just make you guilty and self-blaming, but you felt that you had a right to know.

Sam blinked in surprise before lightly shrugging. “Um, okay, whatever you want.” He fiddled with his fingers. “Well, um… every person I thought about killing, I followed through. Every time. I just could never hold back. The first one was the guy who followed you to your car to try and get your number even though you told him you weren’t interested.” Sam’s breathing grew erratic, unstable, as he squeezed his own hand when he recalled that night he just felt something in him snap. “And the way you physically had to pry his hands off you… I completely lost all control I had over myself when I followed him into the alleyway. After the first time I did it, it just made me realize how easy and simple it was to get rid of your embodied problems.”

He took a deep breath before continuing. “And then there was the manager of the Subway next to your work. He just… god, he would never leave you alone. And that coworker who was always disrespectful to you and made you pick up her shifts on your days off. The look in your eyes… I just couldn’t let her get away with that.” Your eyes widened and a gulp shot down your tense throat, remembering both times when you learned of their disappearances. An ominous guilt gripped around you now knowing that their deaths were because of small inconveniences involving you.

“And there was that one guy who was rude to you as you were closing and the guy who-” He went on to list a few more people, some you knew but most you barely even remembered, and the reasons behind their undeserved deaths. The reasons became jaw-droppingly ridiculous, varying between them flirting with you to simply waving at you to staring at you to just talking to you, some rude and some a little “too friendly” in Sam’s words. It was all insane. The way he talked about how they deserved death because of some tiny interaction with you. It was insane.

Sam seemed to recognize the sense of discomfort on your face. “I don’t take pleasure in… what I do. Most of the time I just black out and next thing I know their blood is on my hands. But I just feel so protective over you and believe me I know I get jealous too easily and I know it’s not right to get violent with people over you… but my dad just fucked me up too much. So, I wanna break the cycle but there's this one guy, and I can't stop thinking about him.”

Your heart rate picked up again, dreadfully fearing who he was referring to. Multiple guys who were dear to you crossed your mind. “About who?” You asked just above a whisper.

It went quiet as Sam shifted in his seat and bit the inside of his cheek, wringing his hands together. “When I sat at the smoothie bar as you worked and then you went over to hand this guy his smoothie because he didn’t hear you call his name to come and get it himself. You walked over and put it on his table and-and he said something to you that made you laugh. Like, a real, genuine laugh. And you put a hand on his shoulder and said something back then he put his hand on your arm as you talked…” A huffing began through his nose and he clenched his jaw to prevent himself from cracking his teeth from pressure. You nervously glanced down at his hands squeezing each other, the veins under his skin bulging from the grip.

“But he was just pretending to be some nice guy. Because as you walked back… he was looking at your ass. He was looking at you like he had some authority over you which gave him the right to look. And when people look at you like that…” He paused, his eyes going dark as he slightly shook his head with a bitter smirk teasing against his lips. It scared you. You could see that his depravity, albeit terrifying and channeled with great fault, was motivated by his love for you; his unwavering devotion and protectiveness. And it scared you.

Sam shrugged. “Anyway, that’s why I just got up and left without saying anything to you, which is what I do in those situations when I want to remain calm in front of you. But then a couple weeks later… he was at my work. I guess he was friends with my supervisor, Kyle, and I hear him telling him about your work. He was recommending it to him and saying it was a fun environment and a friendly atmosphere and everything on the menu was good. But then he said that he recommended it because the server was sweet… and sexy.” You could see his eye faintly twitch before he stared at the wall behind you, trying to put out the growing fire of his rage as he thought back to that day and the way that word left the guy’s mouth.

There were plenty of times where Sam had left your work without saying goodbye, leaving you to believe that he just lost track of time and needed to get back to work, but this specific interaction that he was so obsessed with didn’t ring any bells. “I don’t really remember this.” You said to him, your eyebrows softly pinching together.

Sam smacked his lips. “It was just a little over two months ago. And I haven't stopped…” he slapped his hands together and he tightly closed his eyes, “thinking about him.” He opened his eyes to reveal his pupils directed right towards you, empty exhaustion rotting within them. “Every single day. I'm trying not to… I-I usually can't stop, but… I’m really trying to get better for you.” His eyebrows curved up as a pleading look of nurturing love sunk its way into his face.

For a moment, you were touched, but by some means agonized. He was fighting his murderous desire because he loved you. He loved you so much that he killed for you. What you did to him and his poor little heart was strong enough to make him commit illegal acts just because of how someone treated you. You really did appreciate that he was fighting his urges but on the other hand… you just wished he would go to anger management or therapy like a normal adult instead of laying all of this on you.

“I followed him home… the same night, and I parked across the street.” A sense of foreboding thickened the air into a thick feeling of fog, making your thrumming heart pound your ears as he paused. “I've never done anything that they could trace back to me, but that night, I… I was like…” He paused again to bite his lip and the fear for the worse was suffocating you. “I didn't do it.”

You quietly let out a breath of relief and he bit back a proud smile at that, grabbing his Dunkin coffee cup from the table to occupy his hands. “I’m glad you didn’t hurt him.” You praised, trying to make him happy enough to encourage him to never try it again.

“But I want to.” He almost immediately said, shattering your hope. “I want to right now. I know I made you a promise but being with you right here and now and thinking back to his vulgar stare…” He leaned forward to knock his cup back on the table, “I think it’s just making me more angry.”

You felt a palpitation in your chest from the anxiousness you felt from his words and deadpan tone. Once he stood up from his chair you tried to steer the conversation away to distract him from his homicidal urge driven by anger. “You said… you brought me here so I could fall for you back. But it’s more than that isn’t it?” You asked carefully.

Sam halted his walk to the side door, slowly turning back to you but not exactly making eye contact. “...I guess I also brought you here so it would be easier to protect you. Keep you somewhere where I can always keep an eye on you. Keep you somewhere where no one can bother you or harass you or touch you or look at you-” He took a sharp inhale to prevent his anger from amplifying any more.

The room went painfully quiet as he closed his eyes to slow his breathing back down. He opened his eyes to look down at the ground. “And I think I also brought you here to keep myself from getting too jealous.” He looked back up to you. “Because now I’m the only one you talk to and the center of your attention.” He turned for the door again but your voice stopped him once again.

“So doesn’t all that make you feel better? Doesn’t knowing that I’m in your basement ease your anger against others?” You asked him with a sentimental expression, trying to convince him that he shouldn’t be jealous of anyone anymore. He didn’t say anything. Just stared into his empty coffee cup as he fiddled with the lid. He seemed to be lost in thought as he kept licking his lips and pressing them together, a pink glow rendering his cheeks warm.

He finally looked up at you in a nervous, sweaty fashion, his eyebrows curving upwards. “Can I kiss you?”

You rapidly blinked as a caught off guard flinch. What the hell did he just ask you? Your emotions flipped a switch on your composure as offended anger zapped through you like lightning. “If you want a bleeding lip then yeah, go for it, I’m begging you.” You snapped with a harsh glare.

He sighed, expecting that. “A simple no would have been sufficed.” He said before leaving the room, leaving you still glaring about his audacity.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon