#THRILLER

[otherworld-series]

Episode 1 - Prologue

After a car crash, Cassandra finds herself trapped in a world unlike her own. It doesn’t take her long to lose her way. Living among so many beasts, men, and monsters, she finds herself settling in to survive. All hope seems lost until she hears a rumor about a Guide who claims to know the way home. But when she finally meets him, he's only a shell of a man, clearly haunted by his own past. Can Cassandra trust him? Or will she have to overcome his nightmares before she can conquer her own?

[elryuse]

Obliviation Pt. 4

Wonyoung X Male Reader X Winter

Tags : Yandere, Obsessive Love, Posessive, Dangerous Romance, Dark Romance, Sex, Lots of Crazy Thriller

Words : 4,984 Words

A Lovely Commison From My Friend @Pizza_anon From Ko-fi. A Continuation of Obliviation Pt.3 I Hope You Guys Enjoyed it.

The door crashed open with a force that made you stumble back, and there she was—Wonyoung, her usually pristine appearance disheveled, her eyes wild with a mix of rage and desperation. Her chest heaved as she scanned the room, her gaze landing on you, then Winter, who stood protectively in front of you.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing here?” Wonyoung’s voice was a venomous hiss, her lips curling into a snarl. She stepped forward, her heels clicking ominously against the floor. “With her?”

Winter didn’t flinch. She squared her shoulders, her silver hair catching the light as she took a defiant step forward. “You’ve done enough damage, Wonyoung. He deserves to know the truth.”

Wonyoung let out a bitter laugh, her manicured nails curling into fists. “The truth? I am his truth. I am his life. You’re nothing but a ghost from a past he doesn’t remember.”

You felt a sudden pang of guilt and confusion, your mind racing. But before you could speak, Wonyoung lunged forward, her hand grabbing Winter’s arm and yanking her aside. Winter stumbled but quickly recovered, her eyes flashing with defiance.

“Let him go,” Winter said, her voice low and steady. “You don’t own him.”

Wonyoung ignored her, her focus entirely on you. In one swift motion, she closed the distance between you, her lips crashing onto yours with a ferocity that left you breathless. Her tongue forced its way into your mouth, her kiss demanding, possessive, and suffocating. You tried to push her away, but her grip was like iron, her manicured nails digging into your skin.

“You’re mine,” she whispered against your lips, her breath hot and erratic. “And I’ll kill anyone who tries to take you from me.”

Her words sent a chill down your spine, but before you could react, she shoved you back, your hips hitting the edge of the desk. She climbed onto you, her hands tearing at your clothes with a frantic urgency. Her lips traced a path down your neck, her teeth grazing your skin as she whispered, “You belong to me. Only me.”

Winter moved forward, her voice sharp. “Stop this, Wonyoung! You’re out of control!”

Wonyoung turned her head, her eyes blazing. “Stay out of this, or I’ll make sure you regret it.”

You struggled under Wonyoung’s weight, your mind a whirlwind of emotions. Her words echoed in your ears, manipulative and desperate. She kissed you again, her lips soft and pleading this time, her voice trembling. “Please, just come back to me. I’ll give you everything. You don’t need her. You don’t need anyone but me.”

Her words were like a siren’s call, pulling at the fragile threads of your memory. You could feel her desperation, her fear of losing you, and for a moment, it almost worked.

But then your eyes met Winter’s, and something inside you shifted. Her gaze was steady, filled with a love that felt more genuine, more real than anything Wonyoung had ever offered you.

“Don’t listen to her,” Winter said, her voice soft but firm. “Remember who you are. Remember us.”

Wonyoung’s grip tightened, her nails digging deeper into your skin. “Shut up!” she screamed, her voice breaking. “You’re just trying to take him from me! You’ve always wanted him for yourself!”

Winter stepped closer, her eyes never leaving yours. “He was never yours to take.”

Wonyoung let out a strangled cry, her hands moving to cradle your face. Her lips brushed yours again, her voice trembling with emotion. “Please, just stay with me. I’ll make you happy. I’ll give you everything you’ve ever wanted.”

Her words were a carefully crafted trap, designed to pull you back into her control. You could feel the weight of her desperation, the intensity of her need for you, and for a moment, you hesitated.

But then Winter spoke again, her voice cutting through the haze. “You don’t have to do this. You’re stronger than she thinks you are.”

Wonyoung’s eyes narrowed, her lips curling into a cruel smile. “You think you can take him from me? You’re nothing. You always were.”

Winter’s gaze never wavered. “He’s not a possession, Wonyoung. He’s a person. And he deserves to make his own choices.”

Wonyoung’s grip on you tightened, her nails leaving crescent-shaped marks on your skin. “He’s mine,” she hissed, her voice trembling with rage. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep him.”

You felt a surge of anger, a fire that had been smoldering deep within you finally igniting. You pushed Wonyoung back, your voice firm. “Enough. I’m not yours to control.”

Her eyes widened in shock, but before she could respond, Winter stepped forward, her voice calm but commanding. “It’s over, Wonyoung. You can’t keep lying to him—or yourself.”

Wonyoung’s hands trembled as she took a step back, her eyes darting between you and Winter. Her lips parted, but no words came out. Instead, she let out a shaky breath, her facade crumbling.

“You’ll regret this,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Both of you.”

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the room, the door slamming shut behind her. The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of her presence lingering in the air like a storm cloud.

You turned to Winter, your heart pounding in your chest. She reached for your hand, her touch warm and reassuring. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice soft.

You nodded, but the look in her eyes told you she knew better.

“What now?” you asked, your voice trembling.

Winter’s lips curved into a faint smile, her fingers intertwining with yours. “Now, we fight back.”

But before you could respond, your phone buzzed in your pocket. You pulled it out, your stomach sinking as you saw the text from Wonyoung.

“You think you’ve won? This isn’t over. I’ll make sure you both regret ever crossing me.”

The text from Wonyoung lingered in the air like a storm cloud, heavy and unnerving. Winter’s hand tightened around yours, her silver hair catching the dim light of the room as she turned to face you. Her eyes, usually soft and enigmatic, now burned with determination.

“We can’t stay here,” she said, her voice low but steady. “She’ll come back, and next time, she won’t just threaten us. We need to leave the city—somewhere she can’t find us. A place where we can think, plan, and figure out how to take her down.”

You nodded, though the idea of running felt like giving Wonyoung exactly what she wanted: control. But Winter’s grip on your hand was firm, her presence grounding you. “Where would we even go?” you asked.

A small smile tugged at her lips. “I have a cabin. It’s isolated, deep in the woods. No one knows about it except… a few close friends. We’ll be safe there.”

The drive was quiet, the tension between you both palpable. Every time you glanced at her, she seemed lost in thought, her fingers tapping rhythmically on the steering wheel. The city lights faded behind you, replaced by the dense shadows of trees and the occasional glint of moonlight on the road. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were leaving something behind—something you weren’t sure you even wanted to remember.

When you arrived, the cabin was smaller than you expected, nestled among towering pines. Winter unlocked the door, the creak of the hinges echoing in the stillness. Inside, it was cozy, with a fireplace, a worn leather couch, and a small kitchenette. She flicked on a lamp, casting a warm glow over the room.

“Make yourself at home,” she said, her voice softer now. “I’ll start a fire.”

You watched her as she knelt by the fireplace, her movements graceful as she stacked wood and lit the kindling. The flames sparked to life, their flickering light dancing across her face. She turned to you, her eyes searching yours. “Come here. Sit with me.”

You obeyed, sinking onto the floor beside her. The warmth of the fire seeped into your skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat of her presence. She reached out, her fingers brushing against yours. “We have a lot to talk about,” she murmured.

“I know,” you admitted. “But… I’m scared. What if I don’t like what I remember?”

Her gaze softened, and she leaned closer, her forehead almost touching yours. “Then we’ll face it together. But you deserve to know the truth—about us, about her, about who you really are.”

The crackling of the fire filled the silence as you both sat there, your minds racing. Slowly, Winter began to speak, her voice a gentle murmur against the backdrop of the forest night. She told you about your college days—how you’d met, how you’d fallen for each other, how you’d been inseparable. She described your wedding, the way you’d looked at her as you vowed to spend your lives together. And then, with a tremor in her voice, she told you about the accident—the one that had stolen you away from her.

“I thought I’d lost you forever,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. “But when you called me… when you remembered my name… it was like getting a piece of my soul back.”

Your chest tightened, emotions swirling in a chaotic storm. Was it really as simple as that? Could the life you’d built with Wonyoung—no matter how stifling—really have been a lie? You wanted to believe Winter, but the uncertainty gnawed at you.

Winter must have sensed your hesitation, because she leaned in closer, her breath warm against your ear. “I know this is overwhelming. But trust me, okay? We’ll figure this out together.”

Before you could respond, the sound of a car pulling up outside made you both freeze. Winter’s eyes widened, and she quickly rose to her feet, peering out the window. “It’s them,” she said, relief washing over her face. She turned to you with a small smile. “My friends are here.”

The door opened, and three women stepped inside, their presence immediately filling the room. The first had captivating eyes and an aura of confidence—Karina. The second was mesmerizing, her exotic features framed by long, dark hair—Giselle. The third was playful, her smile radiating sensual energy—Ningning.

“So, this is him,” Karina said, her gaze appraising you with a mix of curiosity and protectiveness.

Winter nodded, her hand resting on your shoulder. “Yes. This is him.”

Ningning stepped forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “It’s about time we met. Winter hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

You felt your cheeks flush, but before you could respond, Giselle, who had been quietly observing, spoke up. “We’ve all been worried about you,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “But now that we’re here, we’re going to make sure Wonyoung doesn’t get away with this.”

The air in the room shifted, the weight of their determination palpable. Karina crossed her arms, her eyes narrowing. “She thinks she can just take what she wants? Not if we have anything to say about it.”

Winter turned to you, her hand slipping into yours. “You’re not alone in this. We’re going to fight, and we’re going to win.”

As the night wore on, the five of you sat together, sharing stories and memories. They filled in the gaps that Winter hadn’t been able to, painting a picture of a life that felt both familiar and foreign. And as the fire burned low, you found yourself leaning into Winter’s side, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of your thoughts.

But just as you began to relax, your phone buzzed again. You pulled it out, your stomach sinking as you saw the text from Wonyoung.

”You can’t hide from me forever. I’ll find you. And when I do, you’ll regret ever turning your back on me.”

Winter’s eyes flicked to the screen, her jaw tightening as she read the message. She took the phone from your hand and tossed it onto the couch, her voice firm. “Ignore her. She’s trying to scare you.”

“But what if she’s right?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Winter cupped your face in her hands, her eyes locking onto yours. “She’s not. As long as we’re together, she can’t win.”

Her words were a balm to your frayed nerves, but the fear still lingered. You didn’t have time to dwell on it, though, because Ningning suddenly stood, her playful smirk replaced by a look of determination.

“We’re not just going to sit here and wait for her to make the first move,” Ningning said. “We’re going to take her down, starting tomorrow.”

Karina nodded in agreement. “She’s crossed too many lines. It’s time she faced the consequences.”

Winter squeezed your hand, her gaze never leaving yours. “Are you ready?” she asked softly.

You took a deep breath, the weight of their expectations pressing down on you. But looking into her eyes, you knew you couldn’t back down. “I’m ready.”

Karina, Giselle, and Ningning exchanged knowing glances and excused themselves from the cabin, leaving you alone with Winter. The tension in the air was palpable, the weight of everything you’d learned and the threat of Wonyoung looming over you both. Winter closed the door behind her friends, her hand lingering on the handle for a moment before she turned to face you. The soft glow of the cabin’s fireplace illuminated her delicate features, casting long shadows across the room.

Her silver hair framed her face like a halo, and her eyes, those deep, enigmatic pools, held a mixture of longing and resolve. She stepped closer, her boots softly padding against the wooden floor, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body even before she reached you.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Every day without you has felt like a lifetime.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The memories Winter had shown you—your wedding, your life together—flashed through your mind, but they still felt distant, like fragments of a dream you couldn’t quite grasp. Yet, standing here with her, something stirred deep within you, a connection you couldn’t deny.

“I… I feel like I’ve missed you too,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “But it’s like there’s a wall in my mind, blocking me from remembering. I want to, Winter. I want to remember everything.”

Winter’s lips curved into a soft, understanding smile. She reached up, her fingers brushing against your cheek, and the warmth of her touch sent shivers down your spine. “Let me remind you,” she said, her voice low and intimate. “Let me show you what we had.”

Her other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together as she leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was gentle at first, a hesitant exploration, but then she deepened it, her tongue flicking against your bottom lip, and you felt something ignite inside you. A spark of familiarity, of need. You parted your lips, letting her in, and the taste of her—sweet and intoxicating—flooded your senses.

She pulled back slightly, her breath warm against your skin as she whispered, “Do you feel it? The connection, the love we shared?”

Your heart was racing, your body responding to her touch in ways you couldn’t explain. “I do,” you breathed. “But I need more. I need to remember.”

Winter nodded, her eyes never leaving yours. Slowly, she began to undress you, her fingers trembling slightly as she unbuttoned your shirt. Each brush of her skin against yours sent electric shocks through your body, and you could feel the fire building within you. She pushed your shirt off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor, and her hands trailed down your chest, her touch feather-light yet undeniably possessive.

Your breath hitched as she undid your belt, her fingers fumbling with the buckle before she slid your pants down your legs. You stepped out of them, standing bare before her, vulnerable and exposed. Winter’s eyes roamed over your body, her lips parting slightly as she took you in.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered, her voice filled with awe and desire. “Just as I remember.”

Her hands returned to your chest, her fingers splaying against your skin as she leaned in, pressing her lips to the hollow of your throat. You tilted your head back, a groan escaping your lips as she kissed and nipped at your skin, marking you as hers. Her hands drifted lower, her nails grazing your sides, and you shivered at the sensation.

She knelt before you, her hands sliding down your thighs as she pressed open-mouthed kisses to your stomach. Her tongue traced the line of your hipbone, and your cock twitched in response, already hard and aching for her. Winter looked up at you, her eyes dark with need, and wrapped her hand around your length, giving you a slow, tantalizing stroke.

“Winter…” you moaned, your voice hoarse with desire.

She didn’t respond with words, only with actions. She leaned in, her lips closing around the head of your cock, and you gasped at the sensation. Her tongue swirled around the tip, teasing you, before she took you deeper into her mouth. Her hand continued to stroke you in time with her movements, her rhythm maddeningly slow and deliberate.

Your hands tangled in her silver hair, your hips bucking involuntarily as pleasure surged through you. “God, Winter…” you groaned, your head falling back.

She hummed around you, the vibrations sending shockwaves down your spine, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge. But before you could tip over, she pulled away, leaving you breathless and wanting.

Winter stood, her gaze locked on yours, and began to undress. Her fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse, her eyes never leaving yours as she revealed her creamy skin inch by inch. She let the blouse fall to the floor, followed by her skirt, until she stood before you in nothing but her lingerie.

She reached behind her, unhooking her bra and letting it slip from her shoulders. Her breasts spilled free, the soft curves begging to be touched. You reached for her, your hands grazing her waist, but she stepped back, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“Not yet,” she murmured, her voice dripping with promise. She hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her panties, sliding them down her legs and stepping out of them.

Now, she stood completely bare before you, her body a masterpiece of curves and softness. You couldn’t tear your eyes away, your desire for her consuming you. Winter stepped closer, her hands finding yours, and she guided them to her hips.

“Touch me,” she whispered, her breath hot against your ear. “Remember me.”

Your hands roamed over her body, tracing the familiar curves and dips as if they were etched into your memory. Her skin was warm and smooth under your touch, and you heard her breath hitch as you squeezed her hips, pulling her flush against you.

“I remember,” you murmured, your lips brushing against hers. “I remember this.”

Winter’s hands slid up your chest, her nails leaving faint trails of heat in their wake. She kissed you again, her tongue tangling with yours in a frenzied dance of need and longing. You could feel her heart racing against your chest, her body trembling with anticipation.

She broke the kiss, her hands moving to your shoulders as she guided you down onto the bed. You landed on the soft mattress, and Winter climbed on top of you, her thighs straddling your hips. Her silver hair cascaded down her back like a waterfall, her eyes dark with desire as she gazed down at you.

“I’ve waited so long for this,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “To feel you inside me again.”

Her hand reached between your bodies, her fingers wrapping around your cock as she positioned you at her entrance. You could feel the heat of her, the slickness of her desire, and your breath caught in your throat.

“Winter—” you started, but she silenced you with a kiss, her lips capturing yours as she slowly sank down onto you.

You groaned against her mouth, the sensation of her tight, wet heat enveloping you almost too much to bear. She took you in inch by agonizing inch, her body adjusting to yours with a slow, deliberate rhythm. When she was fully seated, she broke the kiss, her head falling back as she let out a low, guttural moan.

“God, you feel so good,” she gasped, her hands braced against your chest.

Your hands gripped her hips, urging her to move, and she obliged, lifting herself up before sinking back down. The pace she set was slow and sensual, each movement designed to drive you to the brink of madness. You could feel the tension building within you, your body responding to her in ways that felt both familiar and new.

“Do you remember now?” she asked, her voice breathless. Her hands moved to your face, her thumbs brushing against your cheekbones as she gazed down at you. “Do you remember me?”

“Yes,” you groaned, your hands moving to her waist. “I remember this. I remember you.”

Winter smiled, her eyes glistening with tears as she leaned down, capturing your lips in another passionate kiss. Her hips continued to move, her pace quickening as the heat between you grew. You felt the coil in your stomach tightening, the pleasure building to a crescendo.

“Winter, I’m close,” you warned, your voice strained.

“Me too,” she gasped, her body trembling with the force of her own desire. “Come with me.”

Her words were all the encouragement you needed. With a final thrust, you felt yourself unraveling, the pleasure crashing over you in waves. Winter cried out, her body convulsing around you as she reached her own climax. You held her close, your arms wrapping around her as you rode out the aftershocks together.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, Winter collapsed against your chest, her breathing ragged and uneven. You could feel her heart racing against yours, her body still trembling with the intensity of what you had shared.

“I love you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Your arms tightened around her, your lips brushing against the top of her head. “I love you too,” you murmured, the words feeling right in a way you couldn’t explain.

Winter’s breath was still heavy, her chest rising and falling as she pressed her body against yours. Her fingers traced delicate patterns along your back, sending shivers down your spine. Her lips brushed against your ear, her voice a whisper that sent a jolt of electricity through you. “I want more of you. I need more. Now.”

Her words were like a spark, igniting something primal within you. She pulled away slightly, her silver hair tousled and her eyes dark with desire. She took your hand, leading you out of the bedroom and into the dimly lit kitchen. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a soft glow on her porcelain skin. She leaned back against the counter, her legs spreading slightly, and you could already see the glistening evidence of her arousal between her thighs.

Her gaze locked onto yours, and there was something raw and unspoken in that look—a hunger that went beyond physical need. “Take me here,” she said, her voice low and urgent. Her fingers gripped the edge of the counter, her knuckles turning white as she arched her back. “I want you to claim me. Make me yours, right here, right now.”

Her words were a command, a plea, and a promise all at once. You stepped closer, your hands finding her hips as she lifted one leg, wrapping it around your waist. Her body was warm against yours, and the heat of her desire was impossible to ignore. You could feel her trembling, her breath hitching as you leaned in, your lips brushing against her collarbone.

She tilted her head back, exposing the elegant curve of her neck. “Mark me,” she whispered, her voice trembling with need. “Let everyone know I’m yours.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your lips found her skin, and you kissed her, your teeth grazing gently before you nipped at her flesh. She let out a gasp, her nails digging into your shoulders as you suckled at the spot, leaving a faint mark that would fade but never truly disappear. It wasn’t just a physical act—it was a declaration, a reminder of the bond you shared.

Winter’s hands moved down to your waist, tugging at your pants as she guided you closer. “I need you inside me,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. Her body was slick with desire, and when you pressed against her, she moaned softly, her head falling back against the cabinet behind her.

You lifted her effortlessly, her legs wrapping around your waist as you positioned yourself at her entrance. Her eyes met yours, and there was something so vulnerable in that moment—a reminder of everything you had lost and everything you were fighting to regain. You thrust into her slowly, feeling her body stretch around you, her warmth enveloping you completely.

She gasped, her nails digging into your shoulders as you moved within her. Her body was tight, her muscles clenching around you as though she never wanted to let you go. “Harder,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. “Please, I need to feel you. All of you.”

You obliged, your hips moving with a rhythm that was both punishing and tender. Her moans filled the kitchen, mixing with the sound of your ragged breaths and the soft creak of the counter beneath her weight. Her hands moved to your face, her fingers tracing your jawline as she pulled you closer, her lips finding yours in a searing kiss.

The kiss was messy and desperate, a clash of teeth and tongues as you both tried to convey everything you couldn’t say. Winter broke away first, her head falling back as she let out a cry of pleasure. “I’ve missed this,” she gasped, her voice trembling. “I’ve missed you.”

Her words echoed in your mind, a reminder of the life you had lost and the life you were slowly reclaiming. You reached down, your hands gripping her hips as you pulled her closer, your movements becoming more frantic. Winter’s body responded in kind, her legs tightening around you as she urged you on.

“I’m close,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies moving together. “I’m so close.”

Her words were all the encouragement you needed. You thrust into her one last time, your body tensing as you felt yourself unraveling. Winter cried out, her body convulsing around you as she reached her own climax. You held her close, your arms wrapping around her as you rode out the aftershocks together, your bodies still joined in a way that felt both familiar and new.

When the waves of pleasure finally subsided, Winter leaned forward, her forehead resting against yours. Her breath was ragged, her body still trembling, but there was a soft smile on her lips. “I love you,” she whispered, her voice filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

You kissed her gently, your lips brushing against hers in a way that felt like a promise. “I love you too,” you murmured, the words feeling right in a way they hadn’t in years.

Winter’s hands moved to your face, her fingers tracing the lines of your jaw as she studied you. “Do you remember?” she asked, her voice soft and tentative. “Do you remember us?”

You hesitated, your mind racing as fragments of memories flickered in and out of focus. There were glimpses of moments—shared laughter, stolen kisses, quiet mornings wrapped in each other’s arms—but they were fleeting, like trying to hold onto water.

“I’m starting to,” you admitted, your voice thick with emotion. “It’s like pieces of a puzzle that are finally coming together.”

Winter’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away, her smile trembling but genuine. “That’s all I need,” she whispered. “Just pieces. We’ll figure out the rest together.”

Her words were a balm to your soul, a reminder that you weren’t alone in this. But before you could respond, the sound of a phone buzzing on the counter shattered the moment. Winter’s eyes flicked to the phone, and her expression darkened as she saw the name on the screen.

Wonyoung.

Winter’s hands tightened on your shoulders, her body stiffening as she looked back at you. “Don’t answer it,” she said, her voice low and urgent. “Whatever she says, don’t let her get inside your head.”

You nodded, but the buzzing continued, a relentless reminder of the threat looming over you. Winter’s eyes searched yours, and there was something fierce in her gaze—a determination to protect you, no matter the cost.

“I won’t let her take you from me again,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “Not this time.”

You pulled her closer, your arms wrapping around her in a protective embrace. “She won’t,” you promised, though the words felt heavy on your tongue.

But as the phone continued to buzz, a chill ran down your spine. Wonyoung was out there somewhere, watching, waiting. And you couldn’t shake the feeling that she was closer than either of you realized.

Winter leaned in, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss that was both tender and desperate. “We’ll figure this out,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “Together.”

You nodded, but the tension in the room was palpable. The buzzing stopped, but the silence that followed was somehow worse. Winter’s eyes never left yours, and there was something unspoken in that moment—a determination to fight for the life you had lost and the love you were slowly reclaiming.

[dailyflicks]

Carrie Coon as Margo Dunne in Gone Girl (2014)

[sunnypopoki]

YANDERE STORY REC ⬇︎

Do you like yandere stories? Well I got the story for you! Check out DEAD & DONE. It’s a new YANDERE REVERSE HAREM X FEMALE READER that can be found on Wattpad and Quotev. It’s going to be updated weekly on every Friday or Saturday. If you enjoy hitmen, forbidden love, gangs, and organized crime—you’ll love this story.

SYNOPSIS: Beaten and broken, the man choked out two words that would change Y/N's world forever. Red Lions. Those two words were the explosion that set off her spur of bad luck. Because who would have thought that her victim would also be the heir of the Red Lion Gang; an organization of crime, drugs, and murder. Now with her life on the line, she knew what she had to do next... survive whatever onslaught of terror they drag into her life. It's either be killed or kill them.

TAGS: reverse harem x reader, yanderes x reader, yandere x reader, gangs, organized crime, morally grey MC, female MC, horror, thriller, foul language, sexual content, violence and gore, murder, yanderes, male yanderes, etc.

[the-blueprint]

Tiny MJ Fan 😍🖤✊🏾🕺🏾

[kamreadsandrecs]

We are mortal men. We serve an ideal; we cannot always be ideal.

from Conclave, by Robert Harris

[witchlinda]

Taisiia Onofriichuk from Ukraine performs her hoop routine to the sound of "Thriller" by Michael Jackson at the 2024 Paris Olympics Rhythmic Gymnastics Individual Qualifiers

[filmgifs]

Sergio Castellitto as Cardinal Tedesco CONCLAVE (2024), dir. Edward Berger

[earlgreylatte]

Hello, You

(Invincible Variants x Reader) Of course he would come to see you. You’re the reason he’s here, after all.

After hearing the news to stay inside as the attack of Invincible copycats decimated cities across the globe, you hid under your blanket, the light from your phone illuminating your face as you watched the broadcast for any sign of your Mark.

You could only hope that he was alright, that he wasn’t blaming himself, that he knew you were waiting for him to come back safe. He already has enough problems as is.

Your distress is momentarily tempered when you hear your window slide open and your floorboards creek. When you don’t hear Mark immediately greet you or tease you for being bundled up, any concern you felt for Mark becomes overshadowed by fear for yourself as you hear footsteps near your prone form.

You can only tremble, clutching your blanket close to your body until the room goes silent. You shakily exhale, becoming confused when another quiet beat passes. When your breath returns to normal, the blanket is ripped off of you, eliciting a scared yelp.

For a moment you only stare in confusion at the sight of your boyfriend’s estranged father before realizing it’s not Nolan Grayson that stands before you, but Mark clad in a costume similar to his father’s. His face is impassive, mouth a firm line, so unlike the expressive nature of your Mark.

He calls your name. Quietly, yet there was something heavy in his tone. Something you could almost delude yourself into thinking was longing.

His hand brushes against your cheek, moving down your face before resting on your shoulder, a finger pressed against your pulse.

“You sound healthy,” he comments, deceptively neutral in his delivery, but even behind his goggles, you could feel his gaze burning into your face, “In my world, you had cancer. By the time the Viltrumites reinforcements had arrived, it was too late. All that talk about life changing technology and medicine, but it ended up being utterly useless to me.”

Your breath hitches, but he continues, “But here there’s a me that rebelled and an you that never got sick. That got to live past high school. That’s just the way it goes, I suppose.”

His hand travels lower, brushing past your collarbone before resting on your breast, your heart hammering beneath his palm.

“Do you know why I came here?” He wonders, his free hand planting itself on your bed, as he moves his body to hover above yours until the only thing you can see is him.

“No,” you whisper, staring into black lenses.

“Because even after all these years, the only heart I wish to know, to hold, and to cherish is yours. I was willing to play human for you, to tolerate the presence of the idiots that breathed the same air as us, but then they all had the audacity to outlive you. And I can’t move on. So the selfish man that I am, I’m here to take you. To have you by my side again, no matter how much blood I have to spill,” He declares before pressing his lips against yours, muffling your gasp and cries, gripping your wrist when you try to shove at him.

He only pulls away when you start to feel lighthearted, looking down at you as you struggle to catch your breath.

“You can cry and protest all you want. You loved me once, you can do it again,” he asserts, bring your wrist to his mouth, leaving a kiss against your pulse point. “This world was doomed the moment your Mark decided to rebel. I won’t let you die because of his delusions.”

“…I’m not her,” you speak up. “I don’t know you, not really.”

“I know,” he responds, “but every inch of my body is crying out to you, and I’d rather kill everyone on this planet before I let you go again.”

He releases your wrist, instead sliding both hands under your shirt, gloved hands savouring the feel of your skin, your warmth seeping through the fabric.

“…you’re shaking,” he notes, throwing a glance at your discarded blanket on the ground, “I’m sorry, I’ll warm you up. I promise.”

“Mark,” you say, out of instinct more than anything else, your mind coming to a blank.

“Shh,” he hushes you, voice gentle but firm, “Let me take care of you. Like I always do.”

A part of you is relieved that he hasn’t taken off his cowl because you knew you’d crumble under the emotion that would undoubtedly be in his eyes. The same eyes that always held so much love and adoration towards you.

His lips press against yours again, more demanding and heated, as hands travel higher and higher until—

“Looks like I wasn’t the only one that thought to come here,” an amused but familiar voice drawls out, the Mark on top of you pulling away, body covering yours protectively.

Another Invincible sat at your window ledge, black and yellow costume starkly contrasting the rest of your room. He smiles at you when you peak around Mark’s arm.

“Honestly, you were acting so high and mighty earlier, but you’re pretty desperate, huh?” He mocks as the other Mark’s face becomes stonier. “But, really, you should fuck off somewhere else because that’s my girl you’re feeling up right now.”

Before he can respond, another voice interrupts him as you notice yet another Mark, floating behind the one at your window.

“Fucking seriously? How did you even get here before me? I bet you halfassed your locations,” The Mark with a mohawk that has you raising your eyebrow complains, “I literally called dibs on this one! Find someone else!”

Feeling the tension build up, you only hope that Mark checks in and saves you from the bullshit you’re witnessing as they begin to snarl and yap at each other like feral dogs.

Why me, you lament.

Shiesty Mark: hey, babe, it’s Big Dick Friday—why the fuck are you all here??

Why is there no Omni Mark content, he and that shiesty mark were my favourite…

I feel like omni mark is the definition of ‘quite literally hates everyone but you’

Masterlist

[sunnypopoki]

— MUZZLE : P.7

(Yandere Mafia Husband x Female Reader)

SYNOPSIS: Your husband has been suspicious lately. Going out for days on end, answering suspicious phone calls, being extra clingy when he can... is he cheating on you? Little do you know, it's nothing like that. The world of the mafia is unforgiving.

TW: INSECURE REALISTIC FEMALE READER, FOUL LANGUAGE, MARRIED RELATIONSHIP, YANDERE CONTENT, MATURE THEMES, OVERTHINKING READER, AFAB READER, ETC.

THIS STORY HAS YANDERE CONTENT. THAT MEANS THERE WILL BE MORE MATURE CONTENT. THIS IS IN NO WAY A STORY MEANT TO ROMANTICIZE YANDERES, SO PLEASE DO NOT DO SO EITHER. PLEASE DO NOT COPY THIS STORY. ALL RIGHTS ARE RESERVED TO POPOKI ON WATTPAD, QUOTEV, AND TUMBLR.

P.6 / P.8

Promises were said to be sacred, but after the following days, you gave up on thinking on such a childish claim. You were walking on a tightrope and before you knew it, you finally started to hear it withering below.

Kieran did his best to stay true to his word but in the end, it was nothing more than a fruitless dream said in the heat of the moment. He ended up picking up his phone calls and you ended up sleeping alone. You were losing the energy to care even if your heart throbbed at the thought.

Stepping off the bus, you pulled your bag up your shoulder and sighed. Kieran took the car that morning to work and so you were forced to take the bus to get to college. If he knew, he'd most likely apologize over and over again, and then never let you ride the bus again. He was always finicky about public transport.

You hopped around the puddles left from the early morning rain.

Ever since the breakdown in the car with Kieran, even to go as far as snapping at Danny, you've done a lot of self-reflection. And you mean a lot. While you were going to school for psychiatry to become a therapist, you weren't the best at regulating your own emotions. It was easier to point out other people's issues rather than pointing out your own.

Maybe I do need to look into seeing a therapist, you thought. It would be better than snapping at people.

Because in truth, you felt guilty. Very guilty. Not about everything else that's going on—but because of how you treated Danny. Everyone knows that it's easier to look back on your mistakes after they pass, and now that you were looking back on that lunch, you saw a lot of things that you could have done differently.

Like the fact he actually did care. Sure, you didn't realize it then, but now you could. How he tried to comfort you when you were spacing out, how he asked how you were doing, telling you that he trusted you enough to want you to work with him.

"He probably wouldn't have told me about my dad if he was working for him," you mumbled under your breath. "He wouldn't have even brought him up. If he wanted to manipulate me, there was no reason to bring up my father."

You assumed the worst. You assumed Danny was just like your dad, just because he happened to be a businessman too. How sad, right? You were so stuck in the past that it was hard to appreciate the love you had now.

Danny wasn't a bad man but you were so quick to assume he was even though you hadn't seen him in half a year. You acted just like how your father treated you; cruel, judgmental, selfish. You didn't take into account what Danny felt. Maybe he was just as anxious as you, he always did have social anxiety in school, even with his good grades.

For someone who wants to become a therapist, you were pretty quick to judge an old friend just because they talked about a topic that made you uncomfortable. How would Danny know it made you uncomfortable? It wasn't like he could read your mind. He hadn't seen you in six months and you expected him to still know everything about you?

You bit your lip. Damn it. Why did a throw a tantrum like that? I even yelled at Kieran.

Guilt was like a sword doused with poison. The moment you realized what you did after some self reflection, there was a sharp pain in your chest like a blade plunging into your heart. Then there was the creeping sensation of nausea each time you thought about what you did, getting worse and worse with each day that passed.

You hopped over a pothole on the sidewalk, narrowly avoiding pedestrians walking down the street. "...Should I message Danny and apologize? What if he doesn't want to hear it though?"

It was hard not to run away. It would be easier to pretend it never happened, to act like he was in the wrong, but in truth—both of you said things that weren't nice. Both of you hurt each other. It wasn't black and white and you realized that, but in that moment, you were selfish enough to think that you were the good guy and he was the bad guy.

"If I don't apologize, I'll continue to feel bad... but he might hate me now. What if he hates me? What if he'll hate me either way?"

Oh yeah. You needed a therapist.

Sorting out your brain was like an impossible puzzle. It was hard to see all the pieces when you didn't have a full view of the table, but with a therapist, they could help sort it out. And maybe they could help sort your thoughts about Kieran too. You slowly wrapped your arms around yourself and frowned.

Each time you had a bad thought and you tried to push it away, it came back ten times more forceful. It was hard to stop thinking. Maybe you had OCD... or just extreme anxiety... or some other undiagnosed mental illness?

I don't want to think about this.

But here you were, continuing to think about it.

You looked over when a dog caught your eye. It rolled over in a patch of grass on the side of the road in front of a storefront. Its hair was soaked with damp grass and dirt, speckled with crunched leaves and twigs. It was having the time of its life. Tailing wagging and panting loudly, you smiled softly when it started rolling over again.

You know what? Maybe a pet would help you sort out some of your issues. Going to bed in a cold bed would be impossible with a puppy cuddled up next to you. Taking care of something would help you distract yourself from all your thoughts too. Like an emotional support animal.

What type of dog would Kieran like?

Your jaw clenched up. Danny made you feel bad, but how you acted with Kieran made you feel sick to your stomach. You yelled at him. You yelled at him like your dad used to yell at your mom. Did he get scared? Is he hurt? You didn't know, since you avoided him ever since then.

You weren't a good friend and you weren't a good wife either. You yelled at him just because you were emotional, fuck, there was no reason to raise your voice but you did. So what if Kieran was distracted at that moment? That didn't give you the right to scream at him.

Maybe I'm turning into my dad? The thought made your blood turn cold. What if I picked up some of his traits with how he treated Mom?

Your father was an abuser. Not only towards you, but his wife as well. You were a child she didn't want, but he forced her to have one nonetheless; being a child of rape didn't help the family bond at all. The moment you were born was the moment everything went downhill. Your father wanted a boy but you weren't one, so he blamed and hit your mother for it, taking his frustrations and cruelty on you when he wanted to.

Your mom didn't love you. Over time, even if it was hard, you realized that you didn't blame her.

Imagine how hard it would be to bond with someone knowing that they shared the same blood as the man who abused you.

You stomped down the streets. The world was spinning, your throat closed up. What if you were abusing Kieran and didn't realize it? What if you were neglecting him? There was the possibility you weren't doing everything subconsciously, right? You yelled at him. You doubt him. You sneaked to look at his computer when he wasn't home.

You were the walking, breathing, sighing incarnation of your father.

No, no, no. Don't spiral, (Y/N). You know that you're spiraling so stop it! You mentally scolded yourself, clutching your bag tighter to you. I need to find a therapist, someone who can help me.

The city was blaring and it was hard to hear your own thoughts. Therapists were always hard to find; either it's because they were too expensive, or too booked, or too far away. You personally weren't a big fan of doing therapy through video. You were more of an "in-person" type of person, if that made sense.

Maybe if you were lucky, you'll find—

"Shit!"

You had only a split second to look up and realize someone turned around the corner you were walking past. Only a split second to dodge. But that was impossible, you weren't Superman. Your nose slammed into his chest and your feet stumbled back, barely managing to catch yourself so you didn't fall to the ground.

The man's hands were full and he struggled to balance himself. Your arm shot out to catch him, or maybe just grab something out of instinct, but it was too late—he crashed. His coffee splattered all over and his sunglasses skidded across the cement.

Realization hit you like a truck.

"Fuck! I'm so sorry!" you fretted, quickly helping the man up from the sidewalk. Cold sweat made your palms damp and your cheeks were burning hot. "I wasn't looking where I was going, I'm so sorry. Are you okay?"

Just as quickly as he fell, the man hopped back up with ease. He grumbled curses under his breath in another language, fixing his orange and red sweater, while he put his sunglasses back on. Luckily those weren't cracked, they looked expensive. No way would you have been able to pay those off.

You bent down to grab the empty coffee off the ground. Talk about guilt, you felt extremely guilty now. How did you not see him?! You should have been paying attention, not absentmindedly walking down the streets like a doofus! Now look at what you did; knocked down an innocent bystander because of your stupidity!

"I'm so sorry! Uhm, I can—I can buy you a new coffee," you stammered.

He whipped back around. You could barely see the heated glare behind the tinted lenses, his Italian accent harsh. "Bitch, fucking watch—"

He froze when he saw your face. For whatever reason, he looked like he had a scary realization of impending doom right when he saw you. Like the music for Jaws just started playing and he was looking down the mouth of a great white shark. The blood on his face drained to his feet and he licked his chapped lips.

You, on the other hand, took his expression as unbridled anger. He had every right to be angry. You'd also be pissed if someone knocked into you and made you spill your coffee and all your belongings. Especially since he looked all out together nicely, you probably just ruined his cool 'vibes'.

His dreadlocks were pulled into a pretty bun. You noticed the silver charms in his hair, matching the designer watch on his wrist. Even his orange-tinted sunglasses matched his orange and red sweater. He looked like he took an hour to organize his outfit for the day. Thank god the coffee didn't get all over the front of him. You hadn't a clue how much his sweater and pants cost, but based on that watch, you didn't want to look at the price tag.

If only you had a hole that you could jump and hide in forever. "I'm so sorry! Wait, here, let me..."

You turned out your wallet and pulled out twenty dollars. That had to be enough for coffee and a little something extra from the cafe nearby, right? You'd be fine. Ten dollars being left in your wallet was enough to buy a small sandwich on campus for lunch. It was your fault for forgetting your debit card back at home.

"Here, sir! Uhm, please take this. You can get yourself another coffee and something extra from the cafe nearby. I am so sorry."

The man rubbed the back of his neck, not reaching for the money. He didn't even glance at it. "Oh—uhm—It's okay. I don't need it."

"No, please, take it. I won't be able to forgive myself if I just ruined your morning like this," you confessed. "I wasn't watching where I was going, I'm sorry."

He was hesitant. You weren't dumb, you could tell he looked uncomfortable around you. There was the possibility that he was so angry that he was trying to hold it all back, making his movements almost robotically evasive. With muscles like his, he could easily hurt you if he wanted, but instead, he was acting like he'd get seared if he looked at you.

You prayed to god that he didn't explode and scream at you. You didn't think you'd be able to handle that this morning.

"I don't need the money. Ah... it's just—uhm, it's just a mistake. We all make mistakes."

But I'll feel like shit if you don't take it.

His complete 180° attitude was jarring. One moment he was glaring at you and calling you a bitch, now he was saying it was a mistake. Was he just trying to keep face?

You caught a glimpse of something black in the corner of your eye. Turning around, your face drained when you noticed his phone on the ground. His phone was cracked. Your mouth opened in horror and you choked, noticing that it was a newer brand.

How much were those phones? 2,000 dollars? You'd have to sell your soul to get him that type of money.

"Oh my god! I'm so fucking sorry! I didn't realize I broke your phone!"

He blinked. "Huh?"

Looking down to where you were staring, he finally noticed that his phone was on the ground, the screen destroyed. It stared back at him with cracked glass and a chipped case. It was just a small tumble! Why did it look like it went through the Himalayas?!

There was a long pause. The man cleared his throat, rubbed his face, bent down, and grabbed his phone. He tapped at the screen but it didn't come on. Again, it didn't turn on. And again, nothing. He didn't look as angry as you thought he'd be, but that didn't smooth your nerves.

"...uh, It's okay. I can—"

"It's not okay! I'll—I'll pay for it. Uhm, I don't have the money with me now, but uhhhh..." you pulled out a notebook from your bag and tore a piece of paper, "please email me here, since your phone is decimated. Fuck, I am so sorry. I'll pay you back I swear. Promise."

He didn't take the note or say anything. He stood there awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck, muttering something under his breath. He looked fed up. Oh no. You screwed up big time. You made him fall, lose his coffee, and crack his super duper expensive phone.

"...do—do you not have an email? I can uh, I can give you my phone number if you have another phone to reach me," you asked, clutching the paper tight in your hands. "I—I don't have the money now but I swear I'll get it! How much was it? 1,500? 2,000?"

The man cleared his throat. There was another long pause before he hesitantly glanced at me. "I'm not upset. I just have a question. Are you... uh, (Y/N)?"

If there was a magic word to put all your defenses up in a heartbeat, it would be your name. It wasn't like a lot of people knew it. You didn't flaunt it on social media and you weren't famous, you didn't have a lot of friends either, so it wasn't like it was normal for a random person to know your name on the street. Your muscles wound up. Maybe this man worked for your father? It wouldn't have surprised you if he sent someone to stalk you.

You glanced around. There were no suspicious fancy cars on the street, or suspicious people that looked like they were watching you.

Repaying the phone didn't seem to matter all that much anymore.

"...yes? How do you know my name?"

He bit his lip and glanced around as if he was scared some monster would come out of the shadows and attack him. He looked more paranoid than you did. "Uh... sorry for randomly asking that. However, I'm a friend of your husband, Kieran."

Your eyebrows furrowed. You've never heard of him or even seen this guy before. Maybe he was a client of Kieran's? A writer or journalist? A fellow editor? If you had to put it nicely, the man in front of you didn't look like he had the patience to sit down and edit written work. With bulky muscles like that, you'd expect him to be a wrestler or full-time bodybuilder.

The man cleared his throat and pushed back the money you gave him, along with the torn paper. "As Kieran's friend, I can't take his wife's money. I can buy some coffee and a new phone easily." 

Seriously? Easily?

"But if you don't mind, I'd like to talk to you about something," he straightened his back up and there was a spark of confidence in his eyes, along with some determination as if he made up his mind about something. "Could you sit with me at the coffee shop now? I have concerns about Kieran."

This was weird. This entire ordeal was so weird that it almost didn't feel real. Let's put it into perspective; you bump into a man and he calls you a bitch, then changes and starts saying you made a mistake, asks for your name, claims to be your husband's friend, and then asks to talk to you over coffee? So yeah, weird.

You were about to say no, but then stopped yourself when you remembered you were in his debt. You just broke his phone and made him spill his coffee, the least you could do was pay for his coffee while he talked to you about something.

Even if it was weird, it wasn't like you were going somewhere where it was just you and him alone. He couldn't possibly kidnap you inside a coffee shop next to a busy street in the city. You examined him head to toe. He didn't look like he had any weapons, and if he was a friend of Kieran's, you doubted he'd harm you.

Your college class could wait. Luckily your professor was kind enough to know you weren't the type to ditch class willy-nilly.

"Okay, but I'll pay for your coffee. It's the least I can do," you stuck your hand out for a polite shake, "what's your name?"

The man took your hand. "Mathew."

"Nice to meet you then."

It was awkward, so you didn't say a thing as he started to blabber and lead you to the coffee shop that was close by. You didn't know what to say. Should you compliment his clothes? Ask how he knew Kieran? He'd most likely elaborate over coffee.

You had so many questions you wanted to ask him. Just why was he wanting to talk to you was the big question. It wasn't like you were a super genius and you didn't know a lot about Kieran's schedule, so he could ask about that. You doubted this man knew anything at all about you except your name.

The walk to the coffee shop was a long one. Well, it was realistically only two minutes of walking, but the mental time there was forever. The man blabbered about random things to pass the awkward wall there; the time, the weather, the news. He didn't mention anything about the most recent murder case which you were grateful for. You already had so many things on your mind, you didn't want to think about that.

The door to the coffee shop chimed when the both of you walked in. A young waitress perked up from where she slumped against the counter and quickly rushed to give us a booth.

Finally, things are moving along.

Mathew slipped inside his seat. Unlike the restaurant you ate at with Danny and Kieran, this place was cozy and right up your alley. The smell of coffee beans filled the room and the rays from outside poured through the window, warming up the table. He ordered a black coffee and you ordered an iced caramel latte. You didn't even like lattes all that much, but it was the best thing on the menu.

Mathew smiled. "This coffee shop is very cozy, don't you think?"

"It is."

"It's perfect for a date. Have you taken Kieran here before?"

"No, I have not."

He didn't seem bothered by your robotic responses. It was like he already knew how you'd react to him. He didn't push for any more questions, instead, he waited for you to ask the question you've been dying to ask ever since he told you he was Kieran's friend.

"...So, Mathew, how come has Kieran never told me about you before?"

Mathew tapped his fingers against the table. He had horrible posture, leaning back with a nonchalant air surrounding him. He didn't seem angry or nervous anymore. Maybe it was just possible that he had mood swings. That made more sense than whatever weird explanation you could come up with inside your head.

"I helped raise him, I met the kid back in Russia," he stated and your eyes widened. So he's a very old friend of Kieran's.

"Wait. So you know his family? His parents as well?"

"Yes. Mr and Mrs Morosov helped me back before when I lived in Italy. I became a close friend to them and grew up with Kieran, even though me and him aren't close in age at all."

You squinted. "But you look his age?"

Mathew blinked. His lips curled into a charming smile, his eyes crinkling around the edges when he laughed. "Oh really? It's always flattering to hear a pretty woman compliment my youthful appearance. Thank you, but I'm twenty-nine."

Your cheeks warmed up. He really did look young, as if he drank from the fountain of youth itself. His face was incredibly smooth (more so than yours) and you wouldn't be surprised if he suddenly told you he was an actor forced to play younger roles in movies. It was always heartwarming to see someone smile so genuinely. It was a good thing that he took that comment as a compliment, you didn't want him calling you a bitch again.

"I think that's why he hasn't told you about me," he confessed and shrugged his shoulders. "We aren't close in age, our interests are different, and he's a married man. I'm too much of a partygoer for him to hang out with me."

That made sense. Kieran has never been a party man of any sort, especially not when he was younger. Sure, he was reckless and a troublemaker, but his trouble wasn't extroverted. He'd much rather sing to himself in the shower than go to karaoke and drink with buddies. He was a risk taker who avoided risks that meant talking to others.

"I see... and I mean this in the nicest way possible, but I'll be blunt, why do you want to talk to me?" You asked, crossing your hands on the table. For some reason, you felt anxious.

Mathew's slowly smile fell. He cleared his throat and fixed up his posture. "Well, it's about Kieran.”

"Oh."

This could be one of many things. Mathew could be here to snitch on Kieran about all the things he has been up to behind your back. He could tell you about a secret mistress, he could tell you about being in a gang, he could tell you about any secret that you didn't know of.

The dread you've felt this entire time trampled over you. Was it finally time? Were you finally going to get all the answers you wanted? Did you even want to hear it now? Bile rose in your throat.

"I need for you to talk to Kieran about something. He's been acting weird lately, and he trusts you more than me, so—" Mathew cut himself off when he saw your blanched-out expression. His lips pursed into a thin line. "Spit it out. You're thinking about something already."

Perceptive people always unnerved you. Swallowing down your thoughts, you wondered if he was trustworthy enough to share your worries with.

The waitress came back with the drinks. A mug was pushed in front of Mathew and he took a greedy gulp, while you nervously played with the rim of your cup. You watched the ice tilt in the coffee.

"Well?" he raised an eyebrow, "If you're thinking about Kieran, we might have the same concerns."

That was true. This man was a friend of Kieran's, and you trusted that without a doubt. He even knew his parents. Maybe this was the leap of faith that you were waiting for. Even if you were nervous, you had to be at least a little brave. It wasn't like you were speaking to Kieran right now.

"...you promise you won't share any of this with Kieran?" you asked.

"Swear on my heart."

"Okay, good," you ignored the trembles in your fingers and quickly took a sip of your coffee. It wasn't that good. "Uhm, well... my concerns are—uh how do I say this?"

Mathew deadpanned as he took a huge swig of his drink. "Bluntly. Always works for me."

I hesitated. "Well then, okay, uhm—I think he might be cheating on me with someone named Sam."

He coughed. "What?"

It was like magic. The moment the words left your lips, you were spilling out your guts to him. Laying out every worry, every secret, every insecurity for him to see. Screw a therapist, now a stranger could see all the puzzle pieces on the table. You couldn't stop yourself.

"I know! I saw on his computer that he was talking to someone called Sam. Like, it could be a boy, but it could also be a woman. I know, it's bad and a shitty thing to do as a wife, I feel bad for snooping but he kept being weird and so—"

Mathew raised his hand and you buffered, but before you could blabber some more, he said, "Slow down. What are you saying?"

"I—uh.. well, I think Kieran is cheating on me with someone named Sam, and I feel bad because I snooped through his laptop—"

"You don't have to feel bad. I'd do the same if my partner or spouse was acting weird and not sharing things."

Your jaw dropped. "...you would?"

Mathew wasn't as judgmental or disgusted as you thought you would. He looked normal, like you didn't do anything wrong. He shrugged.

"Yeah? It's normal. I mean, it's not like you're suspecting him without evidence," he shrugged. "Have you asked him about it? Bluntly? You know, communication is key, or whatever the fuck therapists say."

He was right. Communication was key, that was how so many healthy relationships prospered, but in this situation—communication was scary. You didn't want to think about all the times when not communicating led to toxic situations. You running from the store out of spite, you yelling at Kieran, and you avoiding him. God, there were so many things.

You swallowed the bile in the back of your throat. You felt like vomiting. Why did you have to think about this right now? All you wanted to do was go to your lecture peacefully and come home.

"I'll take your silence as a no. Why haven't you?"

His words felt like a slap. "...I mean... like, what if he... is?"

Mathew was silent for a bit. He stared at you, examining your expression, doing his best to read what you were thinking. Finally, he let out a long sigh and motioned at you. "Then he is. It's shitty, it's fucked up, and he's a douchebag."

Damn, he wasn't lying about being blunt. You held back your excuses. You weren't sure why you immediately wanted to make defenses for yourself and Kieran. If Kieran was cheating then yeah, he was a douchebag, so there was no reason to form up a defense for him. So why did you want to?

"Well..."

"Listen to me, kid. Whether you ask him or not, nothing is going to change unless you confront him about it. If he's cheating, and I'm saying if, then he's gonna cheat whether or not you ask him. That's how cheaters are. Wouldn't you want to know either way?"

"I..." you were at a loss for words.

You didn't like the fact that he was right. He was staring at the most obvious things, but they felt so new and fresh compared to what you normally thought. Like he was shoving a cold drink in front of you and forcing you to chug it down, it was numbing to the brain.

Mathew rubbed his face and waved his hand around, trying to get his point through your thick skull. "I don't think he is, if you're going to ask for my opinion on the matter. It's just, that he has had some... issues lately. To put it lightly."

You frowned. Concern shoved the negative thoughts out of the way.

"Issues? Is he in danger? Or trouble?"

He shook his head. "Family issues. Papa Morosov has been gunning for his ass."

That didn't explain the constant disappearances from the house in the middle of the night. Especially for those long multiple-day trips he always took. But maybe it explained the cuts and busted knuckles? You hadn't a clue. Mr. Morosov wasn't in the States, was he? Mrs. Morosov would most likely want to see you if he was since the two of them always traveled together no matter what.

But you were confused. Mr. Morosov was a kind man, so why was he gunning after Kieran? And what for?

You didn't know much about Kieran's family life. He didn't talk about his experiences in Russia all that much, or London, and you now had a gut feeling it was because of his parents. You just prayed they weren't using him. They didn't seem like the type, but now the thought was there, and that meant it would go away.

"I see..." you drawled, looking down at your hands. Your nails picked together. This day started weirdly and you weren't sure what to feel about it.

There was some closure knowing that Mathew didn't think Kieran was cheating on you. If it was about his father like Mathew mentioned, would that make you feel better? You wanted Kieran to feel better, to pay attention to you, and to be happy. If his father was getting in the way of that, what would you be able to do to keep him safe? What would you be able to do to keep him sheltered from all that?

You couldn't make decisions for Kieran. That was impossible.

But, but, if he was truly getting targeted by his father for things out of his control, you'd have to do something. Use your influence as his wife to help him in some way. Then there was the other option of him cheating on you... you'd rather think about the other.

"Can I give you a piece of raw unfiltered advice?" Mathew blurted.

You looked up. "Go ahead."

"Avoidance isn't a cure to hard situations. Whether or not you're there, it's happening. The world doesn't stop just because someone pretends it is," he pointed at you and you felt your body run with chills. "It's time for you to stop avoiding, (Y/N). Time doesn't stop for you and Kieran just because you want to stay in a time when things were easier."

Your body locked up. He stared deep into your eyes, harsh and unsettling, but you supposed the truth always looked like that no matter what form it took.

A small bell went off in your head. So that was what you were trying to do. You were trying to stay in the past when things were easier, when you were a kid. You did it with Danny too. You compared Danny to his past self, but how many times have you compared Kieran to his past self as well?

"You just need to realize that relationships don't stay the same. You aren't teenagers anymore, you're adults, you're married, you have your own house. Understand?"

"...yes," you nodded slowly, ignoring the burn in your eyes. "Thank you. But let's say I do confront Kieran about... everything. I don't know—where should I—well, what I'm trying to say is, how should I talk to him?"

Mathew looked at you like you had three heads. "Just talk? Don't beat around the bush for his feelings."

You scratched at your head. "Well, I know that, but I mean—how should I bring up with him? Without hurting his—"

"What did I just say?" Mathew huffed, crossing his arms over his broad chest. You flinched. "He's been neglecting your marriage, leaving at night, and you're worried about him being hurt about the consequences of his actions? If he gets his feelings hurt, then boo-hoo. He's a grown man neglecting his wife, he can fucking handle it."

Your lips zipped shut. "But—"

"Ask him, 'Are you cheating on me?' That's it. Five little words that form a little sentence."

It was easy when he put it like that, but each time you tried to say those 'five little words' in the past, you always clamped up. Every. Single. Time. You were starting to believe that you couldn't say that at all, maybe you were cursed and you weren't allowed to say that sentence at all.

Mathew watched your expression and his lips quirked into a goofy smile. "You rambled to me after you bumped into me, you can ramble to him. Just don't break his phone."

Your face turned hot. "I'm still so sorry—"

"Geez woman. It was a joke," he snorted and stretched his arms behind him on the booth, his smile growing. His orange sunglasses lowered on his nose and you watched his dark eyes spark with mischief. "I'd suggest joking with him when you confront him. He won't be able to lie when he hears how uptight you are."

You gaped. Did he just call me uptight?!

"Well excuse me! I'm just responsible."

"Oh? You are?" he grinned, "responsible enough to walk in a straight line without bumping into someone?"

He was quick-witted. He shot out comebacks without thinking, teasing you without a care in the world. He reminded you a lot of Kieran in that sense, only Kieran was a lot softer when it came down to teasing you. Mathew was a lump of coal, Kieran was a lump of charcoal; similar but not the same at all.

"Oh shush! I said I was sorry," I crossed my arms. "Plus you called me a bitch at first so I have every right to be uptight."

"Well, you are one."

"What?!"

He burst out laughing. His head flew back and he cackled like a madman, slapping his leg under the table. People in the coffee shop glanced at him, but he seemed to ignore all the attention, wheezing between words. "I'm kidding! My god kid, your face was glorious. Swore a fly almost flew into your mouth with how fast that jaw dropped."

Your face was burning. People always said that older brothers teased their sisters like this, and it honestly felt like it. It made sense. He was like an older brother to Kieran in a way, and now he was meeting someone who was technically like his sister-in-law. Your lips twitched up into a smile.

"Shut it. People are staring at you, I hope you know," you rolled your eyes.

"Let them. They all want me anyway."

You snorted. Mathew finished the rest of his coffee and glanced at his clock, smiling ear to ear. There was a sense of smugness around him.

"Ah. It seems I have to go. I don't want my boss beating the shit out of me for being late," he snorted. It looked like he actually believed his boss would beat the shit out of him. "Don't worry about the money, kid. I'll handle it. I'll pay for your coffee as well."

"Oh no, I can pay for my own stuff!"

"Nope!" he popped the 'p' and slid out of his booth, jumped on the balls of his feet, and rolled his shoulders back. "Now what do you say to people after they make you feel better after a depressive episode?"

So that was his goal for teasing you. It worked, you didn't feel as glum and beaten down as before. There was this sense of relief hanging over your head; with all your worries laid out, and some advice that helped you realize your own thought processes, and his abusive teasing, you felt a little better.

Not perfect; but lighter.

"I—thank you," you smiled softly. "Truly. You've helped a lot."

Mathew snickered. He said nothing before waving nonchalantly and skipping away as if talking to you made his day ten times better. How did we get from him calling you a bitch to him skipping away with a smile? It was like he came out of an old cartoon and he was the trouble-maker coyote.

You looked down at your cup. The ice was melted and the table was still warm. You failed to realize that Mathew never had a chance to share what he originally wanted to talk about. Your smile slowly fell and you took a deep breath, steadying your thoughts.

Maybe you'd talk to Kieran later.

Just maybe.

Check out my new story, DEAD & DONE!! It’s a yandere reverse harem x female reader. If you like this story, you might like this other one. It also has organized crime, gangs, and shady stuff.

Links: Wattpad, Quotev, Buy Me A Coffee, Discord Server.

I’ve thought about opening writing commissions; what do yall think? Tell me in the comments.

[midge-maisell]

SOPHIE THATCHER as IRIS Companion (2025) Dir. Drew Hancock

[dailyflicks]

Knives Out 2019 | dir. Rian Johnson

[calivco]

celebrating the life and work of david lynch today

simply had to sketch my favorite girlies from twin peaks <3

[daughter-horror]

Tony Todd (1954 - 2024)

Rest in Power!