#quotevs

[junsau]

"Lúc đầu mình thương người ta vì cái gì, thì sau này mình khổ cũng chính vì cái đó".

[innerenigma]

•Normalize Fanart for Fanfics Again You Fools•

It's not cringe anymore (it SHOULDN'T be cringe anymore), just do it. You're doing something you enjoy, who cares what anybody else says! So spread the words my fellow internet brethren.

Spread the Word :)

[k9effect]

Reblog for a larger sample size!

No "show results", if you're not a fanfic writer just be patient.

I saw a post about an anon saying it was embarrasing to have an ao3 account in your 30s (it's absolutely not), so I want to do a poll and see what the age range actually is.

[sunnypopoki]

━ 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 : P.1

(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.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

P.2 / P.3

When you first saw him, you were left breathless.

That was years ago though, back when you were a teenager in high school who was only worried about the acne on your forehead and the 'F' you got in your math class. Now, you were preparing to head into college to become a psychiatrist.

You met Kieran as a freshman and started dating him months after. You weren't sure why you started dating him at first, you couldn't remember what he said that left your cheeks on fire, but the feeling next stopped.

Kieran grumbled curses under his breath as he heaved the last of the groceries through the door. His long black hair was messier than normal, tied into a low bun that curled strands around the nape of his neck. His tanned cheeks were red from the cold outside and a button on his shirt was popped open. Did he tousle a bear to get inside? He put the items on the counter and turned to face you.

"The groceries didn't want to come inside," he mumbled.

"You didn't give me a chance to help you carry them in."

His dark green eyes softened. He didn't look at anyone else the same way he did you. There was a time after you got married that you were afraid that he'd leave you because the two of you were yet to be intimate... but he didn't seem to care. You were glad he didn't care. His arms wrapped around your waist and he pressed a chaste kiss against your forehead.

There it was again. Breathless.

"But you've been working all day, Котик," he cooed, his Russian accent thick whenever he muttered the pet name he always used for you. "You deserve to rest."

All you wanted to do was melt into his arms. You couldn't deny that some part of you already was, sinking further into his embrace, eyes closed—but something was amiss.

Ever since high school, Kieran has been odd. He was a transfer student from London but he was born and raised in Russia, so he was always the popular kid in any class he was placed in. Even after he got in trouble multiple times for delinquent behavior. Sure, his behavior was better than what he was in high school and he was mature, but he was a lot more secretive now. So secretive that he refused to tell you where he went whenever he disappeared for "business trips" for days on end.

Now, you were a trusting wife, but you weren't naive. He worked as an editor for authors and yet he disappeared for days on end because of work? Even a baby could realize that was odd!

That wasn't the only thing though.

You've only been married to Kieran for six months but you were already starting to see signs that he wasn't entirely focused on the marriage anymore. Whenever his phone rang, he scrambled to pick it up before you had a chance to answer it for him. On the days you scheduled to go on dates together, he always arrived late with his clothes tousled about and his hair was undone. Late, late, late! He always seemed to be late for every activity the two of you scheduled together. Of course, he'd apologize over and over again, but the behavior never changed.

So maybe he did look at someone else the same way he did you. The thought left a bitter taste on your tongue.

Is he cheating on me?

It was a thought you never thought you'd have with Kieran. Whenever the two of you were dating in high school, he was loyal to a fault. You couldn't erase the memory of whenever a girl started smack-talking you and he yanked her hard so hard that a chunk of hair came from the roots. Even now, looking at him and being held by him, the thought felt distant. But it was there. That gnawing worry got worse and worse each time he got a call, text message, or left the house.

Well, who'd he be cheating on you with? He refused to have female friends in school because he always claimed that you were the only "woman" he wanted in his life. Of course, you didn't care if he had female friends or not, but you doubted it was someone the two of you knew from high school.

Your jaw clenched. Maybe he's bothered I haven't been intimate with him and he's been going to see someone?

The bitter taste worsened. Making out and slight touches wasn't the same as sex, you knew that, which is why you were so nervous to do it, even if it was with him. He never rushed you and he hadn't ever made comments about it. You listened to the thudding of his heart against his chest and pursed your lips.

You couldn't bring yourself to ask him if he was cheating on you. What if he said yes? What if he wasn't and left you because he thought you were a psycho? What if he lied and continued to cheat? Your hands scrunched up the fabric of his shirt as you hugged him tighter. You didn't want your first love to cause you heartbreak by something as revolting as cheating.

A cold hand pressed against your cheek. Kieran tilted your head back and his eyes flickered across your face. His brow creased in worry.

"Are you okay?"

No, not really. I'm worried you might be cheating on me.

But you couldn't say that.

"Yeah! I'm fine," you beamed and pulled him closer to you. "I just missed you, that's all. It was your day off but you've been out doing errands since this morning. You first went to the pharmacy to get our medicine, then the bank, then to get groceries... aren't you tired?"

He didn't look convinced. Then again, he'd known you since you were fourteen years old, so he knew how to read you like a book. His green eyes darkened momentarily and his teeth nipped at his bottom lip. His fingers traced lines above your cheekbone, jaw, and the shell of your ear.

"I'm sorry. I should have spent more time with you today."

"No, Kieran, what are you even saying? Errands need to be run so I'm appreciative that you did them," your hands fiddled at the button that came undone on his shirt. "That can't stop me from missing you though. I just feel as if you've been..."

His fingers stopped. "What?"

You regretted saying anything at all. You should have just said you missed him after a long day and went on with it, dragged him to the couch, and asked him to watch a movie with you. Your hands pulled away from his shirt and you saw the way his body tensed up like a spring. It wasn't too late to change the conversation. Maybe lie to him and say it was just a joke, that you weren't really worried. No, no, that'd be an asshole thing to do to your spouse, to make them worry you for nothing.

"(Y/N)?"

He never says your name unless he's serious or mad. Your eyes dragged back up to meet his and his jaw was clenched. He didn't look mad, he looked worried. Almost like you just punched him in the gut and he was doing his best to stay upright.

Why did he look like that? Based on all your rushing thoughts, worried about the possibility of him cheating on you, you were the one who was struggling.

"...I just feel as if you have been distant lately," you confessed with a tight smile, "but it's okay. I know you've been busy with work and I've been busy with getting ready for my upcoming lectures next week. I'm probably just being clingy again."

He didn't say anything. You weren't sure if you were supposed to feel hurt that he said nothing or relieved, but you knew that he didn't buy a single thing you just said by the way he was looking at you. He wasn't moving from the position he had on you; hand on your cheek, tense jaw, stiff muscles, darkened gaze. He breathed slowly out through his nose and opened his mouth to say something, but then shut it.

You saw a flicker of something else in his eyes whenever he closed his mouth. Guilt.

Why does he feel guilty? you thought, dread creeping up your spine. Am I right? Is he cheating on me?

You blinked in surprise whenever he pulled you into him again. His nose nuzzled into your neck and you almost suffocated with how tight his arms wrapped around you. His lips pressed little kisses against your neck and he breathed in deeply. For a split second, you almost forgot what you were so nervous about, you almost let the worry of him cheating on you slip from your mind.

"Котик, I'm sorry you've felt so lonely. I'll be able to spend more time with you soon. It's just... work, it gets in the way of so much. But I swear, I'll be able to hang out with you tomorrow without doing anything. I promise, okay?" he let go and cupped your cheeks, "me and you can do whatever you want to do for tonight. A date? I'll do it. Go to bed early? As long as you're in my arms. Anything."

Lies were best told with a sweet tongue. You weren't even sure if he meant well by telling you that, not whenever this wasn't the first time he'd promised something like this. In the end, he always got a call which caused him to leave the house for a couple hours (or sometimes a couple of days). You were used to it by now, so you only forced a smile and nodded. His face lit up.

"We can go ahead and watch a movie now if you want?"

You blinked. Now? He usually put things off whenever it came down to sitting down and watching something. You refrained from glancing at the clock. You wanted to spend time with him but you were already fearful of how much time you could before he was called away or got distracted with something. You couldn't remember the last time you sat down and watched something with him. Though, you supposed it was better than him not being there.

"And what movie do you want to watch?"

He grinned. "I believe I said whatever you want. Maybe we can watch a horror movie? So I can..." he twirled you around and hugged you from behind, "wrap my arms around you like this and protect you from evil. Hm?"

You felt your cheeks warm. "That sounds just like an excuse to hold me."

"I'm your husband, I don't need an excuse for something like that," he kissed your cheek. "truthfully, I adore it whenever you depend on me. That includes each time there's a jumpscare and you almost shit your pants each time."

"Ha. Ha. Very funny. I don't get that scared."

"You cried when we watched The Haunting of Hill House together."

"Okay, there's a difference between a demon that you can't fight and some serial killer breaking into your house! I'd rather take the serial killer. Plus, that was years ago when it first came out and it was a sad show."

You didn't miss the way his jaw clenched ever so slightly. Maybe the term 'odd' wasn't the best way to describe him with the way he has been acting recently. After the two of you graduated high school, he started to get touchy about certain topics about crime. He always had a fascination with crime back when he was a teenager in high school, but the topic suddenly became grim for him whenever he got older.

You weren't sure why. Honestly, you've never asked. The topic wasn't something you'd be able to bring up with ease, especially when he tried to change the topic each time someone wanted to talk about true crime or the news with him. You remembered that he was worried when he found out you were going to school to become a therapist... worried that you'd get stuck with a patient who did bad things.

You didn't even want to get into how paranoid he was about the police. That was a different topic entirely.

"I find something real to be much more terrifying than a fictional ghost," he murmured.

"But demons could be real!"

There was a long pause. You felt his muscles churn around you, squeezing you tighter, refusing to let you go and he mumbled seriously. "Promise me that if anyone broke into our house and you had to pick between going with them or a demon, you'd go with the demon."

"What are you on about?" you deadpanned, "I thought were talking about movies, and Kieran, I doubt a scenario like that would ever happen."

"Promise me, (Y/N). Demon or not,  you won't go with anyone who breaks into our house."

Your eyes narrowed. "Keiran, I don't have to promise you something that is common sense. I obviously won't be going with anyone who breaks into our house. You act like you think someone will."

He huffed and let go. The warmth of his embrace leaving left goosebumps all over your body. You didn't get a chance to say anything before he flashed a blinding smile, chuckling.

"I was just making sure. You've always been a daredevil, so I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't try and challenge anyone who barged into our house. I doubt anyone would break in anyway."

It was only natural that you didn't believe him. There were a lot of stories where people said that their partners changed after marriage, sometimes for the better or the worse, and you weren't sure if Kieran's change was good or bad. His paranoid nature only made it hard to believe that he wasn't cheating on you. He was clingy before he married you, but he was overly clingy and sweet now. Which was odd because he was often out of the house or on phone calls...

It was just, well, odd.

"Oh... okay then. Do you need help putting up the groceries before we watch a movie?"

"No need, Котик. You can prepare the movie for us to watch. Choose anything you want."

There was a game you played. Each time you noticed Kieran avoid looking you in the eye, you took three gulps of breath. It was mostly a game you played to calm yourself down from the rush of anxiety you felt each time he did. It left you wondering if you did something wrong, if you made him pissed and he didn't want to look at you anymore. Your lips curled into a frown.

He could just be watching a movie so I wouldn't complain about missing him.

You nodded silently and turned on your heel. It would be best to ignore that entire conversation happened. Worrying over his suspicious and paranoid behavior wouldn't change the fact that he was acting that way. You glanced at him one more time as he placed the milk into the fridge. Yeah. Don't worry about it. Just don't worry.

The living room was down the hallway to the left. The floorboards squealed at the weight and you sighed whenever you walked to the couch, picking up the remote and turning it on.  The two of you didn't have a lot of streaming services so almost everything you watched was on Netflix. Your fingers tapped around and you absentmindedly scrolled through the list of movies.

You were tempted to throw on a movie that you already watched. However, it was supposed to be time spent together and you knew he'd get bored if you clicked something that he had already watched. You clicked a random scary movie. The name was confusing and it looked like a found-footage aesthetic, something about the catacombs under Paris and the philosopher's stone.

"I'm sure he hasn't watched this..."

"Watched what?"

You jumped whenever he clamped a hand on your shoulder. Whipping around on the sofa, Kieran was leaning over the back with a sly smirk on his face.

"Already scared?" he chuckled, "I have a gut feeling you're going to be clinging to me throughout this entire movie."

You pursed your lips. He already got all the groceries done that fast? You knew that he didn't like to waste time but he was insanely fast doing that. He massaged your shoulders whenever he noticed the frown you had, his smile growing wider by the second. He jumped over the back of the couch effortlessly and plopped down right beside you.

"Why are you frowning, my sweet Котик?"

"You got done way too fast with putting the groceries away" you squinted. "It's not normal."

He inhaled. There was a rasp in the back of his throat whenever he leaned forward, his breath tickling your skin. The air was knocked from your lungs whenever his gaze flickered to your lips and back up to yours. "Would you believe me if I told you that I have been craving to be close to you? Especially to kiss you..."

Heat crept up the back of your neck. All the worries you had melted away whenever he pulled you closer to him and wrapped his arm around your shoulders. He wasn't avoiding your eyes, now he was staring so intently that you were afraid that you were going to become a puddle of goo in his arms. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip.

"Mm, can I kiss you?"

"...do you have to ask?"

He chuckled breathlessly, "Yes. It's polite."

"But you're my husband."

"Yes, I am."

His lips smashed against yours. Anything you wanted to say was thrown out the window whenever his hands gripped your waist and yanked your body against his. His hand brushed up your spine, up your neck, brushing over your hair and going to cup your face. His lips were cold and his nose was too, breath smelling like the mint gum he always seemed to chew. The hint of his cologne tickled your nose.

Your hands ran up his arms and you tugged at the collar of his shirt. He was still a ruffled mess from when he came in from outside. His hair was a knotted mess that needed to be brushed out, but that didn't stop your hands from tangling in the strands and tugging at them. A groan tore through his lips.

"God, you're so fucking perfect," he whispered against your lips. "I don't want to stop kissing you now. Mmm, do we have to watch the movie? I want to give you more kisses."

You almost agreed. "...But the movie is already waiting to be played."

He licked his teeth and his hands ran up and down your back. He swallowed and you noticed the dip of his adam's apple, his eyes staring at your lips again. "Of course, we should watch the movie, but..."

"But what?"

"Can I kiss you even more after the movie?"

The fire in your cheeks felt like your skin was melting off. There were times when it felt like you were in high school again, getting all flustered because of his needy nature. Ever since you have known him he has always been the type to enjoy kisses. Even something as chaste as a peck on the forehead, he was a sucker for it. Whenever the two of you first started dating, he'd get so red each time you kissed his cheek, stammering over nothing and quickly kissing your cheek back and scurrying away.

Now look at him. He was pulling you in, begging for more, kissing you like you were his only source of oxygen. He even kissed you like that on your wedding day. His entire family was whooping and cheering after that, and your few family members who attended frowned. You remembered being embarrassed at the time... but you were glad that something like that didn't change.

"Very well. You can kiss me all you want after the movie. Don't try and sneak some in while we are watching, because then you won't focus on the movie at all," you mumbled.

"You're flustered so easily, Котик," he grinned. He leaned into the couch and placed his arm around the back, fiddling with your sleeve as he rested his cheek against your head. "But fineeee. I guess I'll obey your orders for now."

You chuckled and rolled your eyes. It only took you a couple of seconds for you to get comfortable and curl into his side, shuffling to find the remote as he tugged a blanket over you both. You never got an answer on if he watched it before or not but by the way his eyes were glued to the screen whenever you clicked play, you assumed not.

Time became a blur. Now and again he'd comment on the movie or just something toward you, but his arm never moved from its spot behind you. He curled his legs up on the couch and mumbled complaints under his breath whenever he saw the characters do something stupid.

You started to forget your anxieties. Even just for a short while, it was nice to relax with him and to feel him close without having to worry about him leaving to go on some 'business trip'. You were focusing on him too much to even care about the movie. The way his lips formed a thin line whenever he was annoyed, his rapid blinking each time something shocking happened, bouncing his leg up and down.

It was impossible to not love him.

He noticed you staring. His cheeks turned a little pink. "What?"

"Nothing."

His ego would explode if you told him you were staring at him just because he was fun to watch. Hearing his endless teasing wasn't something you were in the mood to hear, so you just feigned looking back at the movie to watch it. His eyes burned into the side of your head for a second long before he looked back to the screen.

You glanced back at him. He was sucked into the TV again. He chewed on the edge of his knuckle and you let your eyes wander. You stared at the tattoos that peeked out from under his collar and sleeve. All those colorful tattoos were hidden away. He had some of them before you met him, which you always found surprising that he had tattoos at such a young age, but he just said "It ran in the family".

It was addicting to trace your fingers over them. Kieran liked laying around shirtless whenever it was summer. You always used to visit his old apartment to sit with him and let him read his books while you doodled on his arms and called them 'new tattoos' while you colored in his blank tattoos. Butterflies fluttered whenever you remembered the way he smiled at you each time you drew on him.

He had so many tattoos that you weren't sure how many he had. Some were in Russian, but a lot of them were creatures from folklore and mythology. Like Baba Yaga, who came from Slavic Folklore, which was tattooed on his right hip. You always used to doodle accessories onto her face.

"Котик, are you going to continue staring at me or are you going to watch the movie?"

You quickly avoided his gaze and looked at the TV. "I am watching the movie."

"Surreee."

Everything was fine for a while. A while, you said, because it didn't take long for all that built-up hope and affection to come back down from its high. Soon enough you'd be feeling the withdrawal. You were in the middle of watching the characters climb through a tunnel of bones whenever a phone started to ring loudly. It bounced off the walls and jarred Kieran out of his trance.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Your smile fell. Kieran cursed.

The arm slung around your shoulder tensed, his hand curling into a fist that turned his knuckles white. His jaw flexed, and the phone rang for a couple more seconds before he moved from the couch and grabbed his phone from the cushion.

It was bad luck. You were convinced that you were cursed with bad luck. A sour taste bubbled in your chest and coated your tongue. Biting at the inside of your cheek, you shut the TV off completely as that swell of expectation came back. The remote was tossed to the side and the blanket slipped to the floor.

You caught a glimpse of the phone screen before he answered it. UNKNOWN. Of course, it was another random number that he didn't have saved to his contacts. You clutched the blanket in your lap and a lump formed in your throat. Seriously? Why were you going to cry? You knew that he wouldn't be focused on you forever. It also wasn't like you knew he was cheating on you, you had no proof, it was just a suspicion. But that didn't stop the familiar sting of tears welling up behind your eyes.

You knew it was a lie whenever he promised to spend the rest of the day with you, you weren't sure why you let your hopes get up. But it still hurt.

He pressed the device to his ear and snapped.

"What?"

Just who was it that made him sound like that? You've never heard him sound so hateful, so nasty, to just some random caller on the phone. That meant he knew who was calling him even when the number popped up. The random person he didn't have saved in his phone. Someone he possibly didn't want to be linked to.

Thousands of questions tumbled through your mind. Kieran wasn't interested in men, so if he was cheating, it wasn't a man... unless he was interested in men and hasn't told you? He has a lot of male friends. No, no, having friends of any gender doesn't just mean that you'll sleep with them or have a second life with them behind your partner. So if it was a woman... where would he have met her? Maybe it was a client and he was editing her book?

He did read a lot of articles. There was always the possibility that it was a writer of those, right? Wait—

I'm not being a good wife right now, you thought. Your nails picked at your cuticles. I'm just assuming things without any proof. Am I being like one of those psychotic, obsessive wives? Is there something wrong with me? What if I'm the issue?

Your bottom lip wobbled. You clamped your teeth on it to keep Kieran from noticing.

He started to pace and ramble around the room in Russian. He didn't seem to be talking to anyone, mostly to himself in frustration, as his hand was placed on his hip and he cursed under his breath. There were many times in your life when you wished you knew Russian; when you first met him, to impress him, to have conversations with him, to learn his culture and language... now you were more concerned if he was frustrated about a girl or not.

The only Russian word you knew that he actively said around you was 'Котик', a Russian term of endearment meant for a lover which meant "kitten" or "kitty". You didn't need to jump leaps to guess what it meant even if it was a somewhat cheesy term to use (at least in your opinion), but you never argued, since he has called you it since the two of you were teenagers.

"I thought I told you to—"

Kieran cut himself off quickly whenever he realized you were still in the room with him. He dragged the phone away from his ear and his eyes snapped to you, his face falling into despair whenever he noticed the TV was off and you were staring up at him. Another broken promise. Another lie. Another phone call he just had to pick up, that he couldn't ignore for one night. Just how many more broken promises were you going to take before you finally asked him why he couldn't keep them?

Damn it. You really wanted to cry.

Even if it wasn't him cheating on you, even if it was work, some part of you wished that he included you in it as well. You were aware that you weren't supposed to be in every single part of his life. The two of you were supposed to be comfortable in the relationship, not joined at the hip breathing down each other's necks.

You just didn't get it. It wasn't like 'work' was going to straight up kill him if he didn't answer the phone for one night!

Kieran didn't know what to do. He stopped dead in his tracks and stared at you with so many open emotions on his face that you couldn't read all of them. But he knew what he had done. He picked up the phone and that alone was enough to break a promise, even if he hadn't left the house. Yet. You knew how it worked—he always left the house after late phone calls like this. You were slowly starting to get used to the feeling of falling asleep without him there. And some mornings, he wasn't in bed either, only a note left on the counter with breakfast he made.

His shoulders sank. "Котик, I... uhm, I need to take this phone call real quick so I'm going to step into the other room, okay? I'll be right back though and me and you can finish the movie—"

Liar.

"Uhm... I think I'm just going to go to bed. I'm starting to feel tired anyway. Uh, make sure to lock the door behind you whenever you go out."

He always did. You weren't sure why you were reminding him.

Deep down, some part of you wanted him to feel guilty. It was that small whisper of hope that if he felt guilty then maybe he'd start changing things for the better, to start telling you why he was so secretive, and to start sleeping in your bed again. You missed the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. Sure, some nights he did fall asleep in your bed. But some nights weren't most nights, and most nights weren't every night.

I miss a man who's right in front of me.

His entire expression crumpled. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, watching as you got up and threw the blanket the two of you were sharing back on the couch. Oh how badly he looked like he wanted to say something. And how badly you felt about yourself whenever you saw his expression, because seeing him feel guilty didn't bring satisfaction, it only made your heart hurt more.

"(Y/N), I—"

"It's okay," you flashed a smile, "I'll talk to you tomorrow morning."

If he'd be there tomorrow morning.

You didn't give him a chance to respond before you turned on your heel and scurried to the bedroom. The house which you picked with him seven months ago now felt cold and lonely compared to the warm idea you had when you first saw it. Tears sprung forth whenever you closed the door behind you, choking into your elbow as you did your best to muffle the small sobs that let your lips. You couldn't hear him anymore or the muffled rambling over the phone.

The room was dark. The floorboards were ice cold and you didn't bother to brush your teeth, wash your face, or change into pajamas before you crawled under the covers and hid.

Emotions were a complicated thing. You hated how they felt and how it was so hard to understand them. All you wanted was for Kieran to come to you and have a conversation about what was going on, but now you were dreading that he would because you didn't want him to see that you were crying. He always got so panicked whenever you cried. Always brushing away your tears, cooing sweet things in your ear, kissing your face and neck anywhere he could.

Which made you wish he did see you cry.

See? Emotions were complicated.

You don't know how long you laid in bed. You only heard the whir and popping of heat rushing through the vents, warming up the room until you were toasty under the thick blankets. There were times when you swore you heard a shout from the other room, muffled and something you couldn't understand, but then it was gone. Possibly a figment of your imagination, maybe it was Kieran shouting over the phone.

Your day started with a good start. Then everything deescalated in a whirlwind of emotions that you didn't know how to control. All the suspicions you had about Kieran were becoming worse and worse.

If he is cheating on me, you thought. What would I do?

The idea of divorcing him left your heart aching. Ever since you started dating him, you've never wanted to leave him, but cheating would mean you'd have to. While you loved him, you didn't love him enough to stay if he was living some second life with another woman. You gnawed on the edge of your thumb and curled your legs up to your chest.

If you divorced him, you'd have to find somewhere cheap to stay where you could still go to college and not sleep in the streets. No way your parents would let you stay with them until you got back onto your feet, they didn't like you marrying Kieran in the first place because of his delinquent behavior in school and the fact he wasn't going to college. They'd probably tell you 'I told you so' and let you rot.

The part-time job you had now wasn't enough to live in a decent apartment. The two of you lived on the outskirts of the city,  you wouldn't be able to afford a good apartment in the city closest to campus so you would have to settle in one of the apartment complexes near the beat-down part of the city, where a lot of reports of trafficking and crime were made.

A shiver shot down your spine. While the apartments there weren't the cleanest or nicest, the issue of rampant crime was the most concerning. You'd have to buy a taser or pepper spray, something like that. Or learn martial arts? You'd have to find a teacher that wasn't expensive.

Why am I even thinking about this?

Guilt crashed into you like a barreling stampede of horses. Tears blurred your vision as you nuzzled into the pillow and whimpered, muttering soft apologies under your breath. You hated how your mind worked. One thought and you'd take it and run, not giving the chance for hope and optimism to spark. You had to remind yourself for the umpteenth time that you didn't have any proof that Kieran was cheating.

You were the bad one for treating him like he was whenever you didn't know. At least, that was what you believed. Other wives acted better than you. They trusted their partners, but here you were, already daydreaming about your life if Kieran was cheating on you. Just a was.

Soft footsteps broke you from your thoughts.

The door creaked open and light poured into the dark. You stayed still under the blankets, face hidden away in the pillows to keep the sight of your tear-streaked face away from him. The floorboards creaked a little bit the bed shifted whenever you felt him sit down and lean across. His familiar touch grazed your cheek and traced the contours of your face. He sighed.

"Котик, are you awake?"

You didn't respond. Not this time.

He tugged the blankets down and there was another sigh. His fingers trailed farther downward and rubbed circles on your back and patterns that only he understood. He mumbled under his breath to himself. "She didn't change into something comfortable... not even the belt."

It took everything in your power to not move whenever his fingers fiddled with the metal clasp of your belt and he slipped them from the loops. He put the belt on the other side of the bed and the mattress shifted whenever he got closed, strands of his hair tickling your cheek whenever he leaned over. He pressed a kiss on your jaw.

"Ah fuck," he grumbled.

What is that supposed to mean?

Then there were more kisses; jaw, cheek, forehead, lips. He attacked you in kisses and every now and again he'd sigh and stop to trail his hands across your head or over your back. You could tell he refreshed his cologne. It was subtle but it was there, tickling your nose each time he moved to kiss another part of your face.

"Котик, if you're awake, I'll be back tomorrow evening and we can watch all the movies you want. I'm sorry I'm heading out again, but some people at work are being really stupid right now," he whispered against your ear. He kissed it tenderly. "I'll buy you your favorite ice cream on the way back home too. I know you'll be happy with that..."

There was a long pause. He didn't move.

"I love you."

Maybe he waited for you to respond, to say 'I love you' back, but you didn't. It wasn't that you didn't love him... god, the one reason why everything hurt so much was that you did, but you didn't dare to confess that you were pretending to sleep just to avoid talking to him. You didn't want Kieran to hear your voice cracking from crying. Especially since now, you knew he was leaving the house again.

You didn't believe him when he said it was work and you felt guilty that you didn't. He was an editor, he worked from home or his rented-out office, and it wasn't like he had people who worked underneath him.

"Котик, I'll make it up to you, I promise," he whispered.

He didn't say anything else except for a lingering kiss on your temple before he got off the bed. The weight of his body leaving felt more familiar than him being there. Kieran blew a breath and muttered something in Russian before he left the room. The door clicked shut behind him and you were left in the dark alone once more.

The emotions you felt earlier surged back up to the surface. Your nails bit into your palms and tears trickled down your cheeks and dropped onto the pillow. All you wanted was for him to get in bed with you, hold you, fall asleep, and still be there whenever you woke up the next morning.

So instead of facing them and bawling, you swallowed the lump in your throat and closed your eyes. Sleeping it off was better than facing it. Soon enough, you'd find out what he was hiding and what this "work" meant. Your small cries were muffled as you did your best to fall asleep before you got too heavy into your thoughts and cried even harder.

Luckily for you, sadness was exhausting, and you crashed before the clock hit midnight.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

A/N ;

So you might have noticed the reader isn’t a Mary Sue or know it all. I tried to make her realistic, someone who’s insecure in her relationship, etc. So I hope that came across well. If you don’t like her, remember she’s human, she can change and develop in the story. She isn’t going to be perfect.

But anyway, did you enjoy this first chapter? You can also find it on my Wattpad and Quotev, which is listed on the top of my account. My discord server is also listed there! Remember to comment and heart if you enjoyed it.

[ Read P.2 ]

[fleshyfeast]

Me remembering that one fic that I liked so much but now I can’t reread it anymore for shits and giggles because it got deleted/the author deleted it.

[kikyoupdates]

Otherworldly Attraction ⭑˚🔮⭑ 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑢𝑒

yandere!jjk x f!reader

yandere, reverse harem, isekai, jujutsu kaisen x fem!reader, slowburn, slowburn yandere

You don't know how or why, but you've been isekai'd into the world of Jujutsu Kaisen. Although your first instinct is to stay away from the plot, you've been blessed with an abnormal amount of cursed energy, and for better or worse, you find yourself sucked into the storyline. You decide that you may as well use your newfound powers for the greater good, and if you're lucky, you might succeed in rewriting some of the characters' fates. But it turns out that your presence in this world is an even bigger deal than you first thought, and soon, everyone wants to make you theirs.

story masterlist | next

What the actual fuck.

You blink, absolutely dumbfounded. There’s some kind of grotesque, insect-like creature in front of you, buzzing obnoxiously as it flaps its wings. It bears the appearance of a fly, at least somewhat, but it’s much bigger than a normal fly, and its face looks like it came straight out of a low-budget horror movie. 

The point is, it’s not normal. It's not the kind of thing you’ve ever seen before. At the very least, not in real life. 

And yet, you’re the only one who seems to notice it.

“...I keep telling you, it’s weird,” a girl mumbles, scratching her neck impatiently. “I can’t get rid of it. There’s this chill that follows me around no matter where I go, and my shoulders feel weirdly heavy lately. I even went to a chiropractor to see if it would help. I feel so gross these days.” 

The fly-like creature is hovering closely above the girl, a disturbing smile plastered across its already unattractive face. It’s literally right next to her, and not only her, but the other girls that are gathered around. They’re all just talking like nothing’s even going on. Completely blind to the abnormal presence that lurks nearby. 

You’re the only one who can see that yucky-looking thing. How does that make any sense? How is it even possible for something like that to exist in real life? 

Actually… where are you right now? 

Once again, you blink. Something utterly strange is happening. The last thing you remember is going to bed, in your perfectly ordinary bedroom, so how in the world did you wake up in the middle of what appears to be a field? 

You’re at a school, by the looks of things. But certainly not the school you’re used to attending. It seems like you’re even wearing some unfamiliar uniform, and it would make sense for this to be a dream, but by all accounts, it’s way too realistic. 

Pinching your cheek doesn’t help. The scenery refuses to change, and sure enough, the creature is still hanging above that girl. It even lets out a shrill, high-pitched laugh (which she of course doesn’t hear), almost as if it’s taunting her.

You’re not sure what you should be doing right now. This is all one hell of a mindfuck, if you’re being honest. But that creature can’t be good news, and even though you’re admittedly pretty scared, it seems like you’re the only one who can see it. You’re the only one who even realizes it’s here. 

Swallowing your apprehension, you take a deep breath and approach. 

“Excuse me…?”

You call out to the group of girls. There’s no easy way to break this to them. How do you bring up the fact that there’s some weird creature in the vicinity? If they can’t see it, there’s no reason they’ll even believe you. They’ll probably just think you’re crazy or something. 

As it so happens, though, you aren’t required to recount some absurd, seemingly nonsensical tale. 

You’ve barely taken two steps forward when all of a sudden, the creature sharply turns its head in your direction. 

And then it screams. 

Just like its laugh, the sound is high-pitched and wholly unpleasant. You’re not even sure what prompted that kind of reaction, since it seemed pretty chill up until this point, but now, it’s trembling like a leaf in the wind. 

You’re worried that you might have triggered it somehow, and that it’s going to attack you, but that doesn’t happen either. It turns out that the scream it just let out wasn’t one of aggression, but rather, fear. 

So, it flies off before you can get any closer, and the girl who was complaining until just a few moments ago suddenly blinks, expression brightening.

“Whoa, wait,” she mumbles in disbelief. “It’s… it’s gone. I think I feel better now. No way. It’s actually gone! I thought it would never end!”

“Are you sure it wasn’t just all in your head?” one of the other girls frowns, visibly unconvinced. She then turns towards you. “Oh. Sorry, were you talking to us just now? I didn’t really hear what you said.” 

“Uh.” 

You’re not sure what to say. The whole reason you came over was so you could warn them about that weird creature, but it disappeared in the blink of an eye. It screamed right as it saw your face—which is kind of offensive, honestly—and then it flew off like no one’s business. 

A bit hesitant, you try asking, “Sorry if this sounds weird, but where are we right now?” 

Now it’s their turn to look dumbfounded. You can only imagine how visceral their reaction would have been if you’d actually brought up the weird fly creature. 

“What do you mean where are we? We’re… at school, where else?” 

The girl gestures all around her, as if it should be obvious. Granted, you deduced as much, but that wasn’t really what you were asking. All of this is just so ridiculous. How in the world does a person manage to go to sleep in their own room and wake up someplace they’ve never been before?

The group decides to walk away, probably because you weirded them out with your stupid question, and you can even hear them whispering amongst themselves. 

“Why’d she even ask that all of a sudden…?” 

“I don’t know. She transferred here just recently, right? Maybe she’s still getting used to things. It was kind of weird, though.” 

They keep talking about it as they leave, probably not realizing you can still hear them. Whatever. You’ve got bigger fish to fry right now. As things stand, you woke up god-knows-where, and you just saw some freakish creature a second ago, so you’re starting to worry that you might be going insane. 

The only explanation is that this has to be some kind of dream. A lucid dream, perhaps? That’s what they call these kinds of things, right?

This is way too freaky, though. Can I make myself wake up? I really don’t like this. It gives me the creeps. 

You desperately try to force yourself awake, but regretfully, it doesn’t work. And you’re not even given much time to speculate on the issue any further. 

A soccer ball comes flying at you and hits you right in the face.

It hurts. It hurts like fucking hell. In fact, it hurts so much that you’re knocked flat onto your back, groaning as you cradle your poor nose, which feels like it’s just been split open. 

“...holy shit, are you okay?!” 

You can hear a student running towards you, but since you’re lying on your back convinced you’re about to die, you don’t pay it much mind. The immense amount of pain you’re feeling is absurd. Even for a lucid dream, isn’t this too much?

However, things are only about to get weirder. 

Like way, way weirder. 

“I’m so sorry!” the same student apologizes. It’s a boy, by the sounds of it, and you hear him drop to his knees beside you. “I swear I wasn’t even trying to kick the ball that hard! I barely even used any force!”

From afar, another student chimes in. “Even when you hold back, you’re way too strong, Itadori! Is she dead? You killed her, didn’t you?”

Did he just say… Itadori? 

For just a moment, the pain subsides, and clarity overtakes your features. You manage to squint your eyes open and find a boy staring down at you. A boy with bright brown eyes, and spiky pink hair styled in an undercut. 

A boy that you’ve most definitely seen before. 

Your jaw drops open. There’s just no way. This is… Itadori Yuji? The protagonist of Jujutsu Kaisen? A fictional series, which, by definition, means he doesn’t actually exist? 

Yet here he is, fussing over you and looking immeasurably guilty for having just kicked a soccer ball in your face. And even though you keep trying to tell yourself that this is a dream, it’s getting harder and harder to deny. The sensations you feel—the pain, the confusion, and the excited fluttering in your chest—are impossible to ignore.

It all makes sense now. That weird creature you saw earlier was a cursed spirit. That explains why those girls didn’t even notice it. Ordinary humans normally can’t perceive curses. Most of the time, they’re completely unaware of their existence.

You realize how utterly absurd this is. People don’t just wake up and find themselves sucked into their favorite anime. No matter how badly some fans might wish for it, this kind of thing just doesn’t happen.

Or at least, it’s not supposed to.

“Wait, your—your nose is bleeding!” Itadori exclaims. “I need to get you to the infirmary! Can you walk? Or should I carry you?” 

He appears frantic, which of course he is, since he’s a good guy. He’s the kind of guy who always cares about others. A guy with a big heart, a friendly demeanor, and a penchant for justice. Truly, the perfect protagonist. 

…so, is this seriously happening right now?

“I-I’m fine,” you try to insist. “I just… need a moment. And then I’ll be okay.” 

Itadori seems entirely unconvinced, so you suspect your nose is probably bleeding even more than you fear. Right now, you honestly couldn’t care less, though. Your heart is pounding relentlessly. The excitement and awe you feel can’t even be put into words.

“I’ll take you to the infirmary,” Itadori says again. He resists the urge to outright pick you up into his arms, and after a moment’s pause, he offers you his hand instead. “Here. Try standing up. If not, I’ll carry you there, okay?” 

It’s difficult just to form a response. You’re overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of his presence. The fact that you’re face to face with someone you never thought you’d be able to see in person, let alone speak to. 

But even if it seems hard to believe, even if it makes you want to question your sanity, this is real. This is actually happening. 

And so, you take his hand—changing the course of your life as you know it. 

story masterlist | next

Enjoying the story so far? Read more on Quotev or Ao3!!

⊱.⋅follow + post notifications on for story update announcements or join the author's discord!⋅.⊰

Check out the author’s library!

[neverniko101]

GUYS

GUYS COME MAKE A SILLY PUMPKIN GUY WITH ME

And take a silly quiz!!!

Picrew

Quiz

Chat….the real Oreo McFurry was me all along……

OPEN TAGS IM JUST PINGING PEOPLE SO MORE SEE

@bunningchaos @ravioli-randomness @ph0enix-12 @thevoidfairy @miracle-negative @vantalemons @voltaicfox @songwolfwildblogs @snowdrop-wolf @soul100 @laizimoon @someverygaymoth @n3x0id @icewavex @papiliovolens @emo-axel @nghtmaredreamr @notsoterribletyrant @astray-anomaly @infinitrix @twinribbonz @granolora @arbie-right-back @corruptinmyself @sunnymainecoonx @raptornoturno @marblez-art-studio @midnightstarshadow @cas-spirit @kissimor @catt6565 @that-one-dork @joonebugg @100percentevil @dreamseersystem okay my fingers hurt now

[fanfic-gremlin-ft-trauma]

breaking my silence we as a fandom (collective) need to have a quick meeting. now look, we love praising fan artists and giving them lots of love which, hey they deserve it cuz they’re amazing and incredible and talented and should be revered but!! i think we need to give an equated amount of love to fanfic writers. these mfs are a) putting their time and effort into A NON PROFIT PIECE OF MEDIA entirely for their and our benefit just because they want to b) going through life threatening situations to get their chapters out c) using their talents to feed our delusions and desires d) making OUR LITTLE DUMB HEADCANONS COME TO LIFE!! THEY MAKE IT HAPPEN!! THEY MAKE IT REAL!! i will literally forever be indebted to fanfic writers bc no matter if their work gets 10000 hits 10 hits or stays in their notes app they STILL!! WROTE IT!! still took the time to carefully craft and mend their masterpiece!! made someone’s day even if it was their own!!! the fact that some of them come up with LITERALLY HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF WORDS OF FIC feels kinda undermined to me??? like mf they DID THAT AND NO ONE ASKED THEM TO? (mean that positively) LIKE THEY JUST DID? not to mention the research and genuine care that goes into some fics I’ve seen. and the fact that some try to make their fics accessible by writing it so anyone who isn’t even in the fandom understands the story?? anyway. fanfic writers all around not just mutuals (tho i love u guys) truly, you’re amazing. kindergarten teacher voice everyone say thank you fanfic writers. <3333333333

[the-poppy-outie-effect]

I have polls now ahaaahahhhahahaaaa

[dont-leafmealone]

Something to commemorate the downfall

[junsau]

Khi có quá nhiều lựa chọn, con người ta thường không biết mình muốn gì. Khi con người ta biết mình muốn gì thì họ đã không còn sự lựa chọn.

[crashingmoons]

you wouldnt last an hour in the asylum that they raised me

[the-kinning-hour]

I like to think about the impact that being isolated as a teen had on Shigaraki as a person.

I don’t mean angst, not understanding his own feelings or awkward social life. I mean that he definitely has gotten most of his non-hero related facts about society and people from the internet.

imagine; Shigaraki genuinely not understanding the concept of gender or sexuality because he’s only ever seen it discussed in reddit debates. He is baffled when he meets Magne but accepting. That night he searches “how to support trans employee professional easy”

Shigaraki asking Quora, “Why is my father so insistent on me making friends? It makes me uncomfortable. I don’t like people.” And having 20 moms in his replies telling him to get out of his room and join clubs

Shigaraki not knowing basic things about women (seeing as he was not raised around any) and awkwardly googling the phrase “PMS-ing” when Toga complains about cramping, expecting it to be teenage slang and instead going down the rabbit hole of the horrific experience of periods

Shigaraki not knowing why Sako is bowing his head toward Kurogiri and saying “itadakimasu” every time he eats with the League and wondering if the magician is trying to usurp his spot as Kurogiri’s favorite via boot licking

Shigaraki taking a “Do you have autism” quiz on Quotev and expressing his concerns to Kurogiri at 2 am when he scores 100% (he doesn’t know what autism even is)

Overall, I think people don’t take advantage of how funny it could be to interact with the ultimate antisocial dweeb Shigaraki who has a total of zero normal experiences

[vasoppressive]

U guys might have to bear with another wave of migrations from another social media site this time it's QUOTEV!!! And this isn't like a twitter where elon was like dumb or smthing they:

Have removed the "activity" / "feed" page where you can see all the posts that your friends make, with the latest at the top and refreshing every time someone makes a post. This is like if tumblr removed the home / search / for you / whatever and only let you view posts from someone's page like it's a blog

Are planning to REMOVE MESSAGES on July 1st WTF

Anyways this might be where i finally quit quotev for good wtf

[sunnypopoki]

— 𝐌𝐔𝐙𝐙𝐋𝐄 ; P.2

(𝘠𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘔𝘢𝘧𝘪𝘢 𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘣𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘹 𝘍𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘙𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳)

𝗦𝗬𝗡𝗢𝗣𝗦𝗜𝗦: 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘬 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘤𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴, 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘢 𝘱𝘢𝘵𝘩 𝘰𝘧 𝘣𝘢𝘥 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘬.

ᴛᴡ: ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴜʀᴇ ʀᴇᴀʟɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ꜰᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ꜰᴏᴜʟ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ᴍᴀʀʀɪᴇᴅ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱʜɪᴘ, ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴛʜᴇᴍᴇꜱ, ᴏᴠᴇʀᴛʜɪɴᴋɪɴɢ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴀꜰᴀʙ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ᴇᴛᴄ.

ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ʜᴀꜱ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴡɪʟʟ ʙᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴍᴀᴛᴜʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴛɪᴄɪᴢᴇ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱ, ꜱᴏ ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴅᴏ ꜱᴏ ᴇɪᴛʜᴇʀ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ ᴛᴏ ᴘᴏᴘᴏᴋɪ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, Qᴜᴏᴛᴇᴠ, ᴀɴᴅ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ.

Р.1 / Р.3

The bed was cold whenever you woke up. Your fingers slid across the crisp sheets, feeling for Kieran's warmth even though you already knew he wasn't there. A headache pounded against your temples. Your cheeks were stiff with dried tears. The air was cold and you already wanted to roll back over and go back to sleep, hating the chill in the room.

You didn't feel as distraught as last night. Maybe it was the solid eight hours of sleep, but your brain was fuzzy and lacking. A groan tore through your lips as you stumbled out of bed and wiped at your eyes.

The floorboards were cold and you wondered if Kieran accidentally turned off the heat. You shivered and ran your hands down your arms.

The house was still. Even the dust in the air seemed to move in slow motion, barely drifting through the rays of sunlight that poured through the open windows. You shuffled down the hallway and glanced at the living room. Undisturbed, neat, stale. You almost forgot that you sat there with Kieran last night before he got his phone call. A nasty taste formed under your tongue, lips pursing into a thin line.

If only there was a switch you were able to turn off in your brain. It was the morning and you were already regretting waking up to get breakfast. You rubbed at your eyes and paused at the kitchen doorway and the cold tiled flooring bit at your bare feet.

The clock ticked, telling you it was 4:00 PM. You woke up late again.

A single message was laid on the counter on a pink posted note. You picked it up and noticed Kieran's handwriting that was scribbled down in a rush. Next to it was a small doodle of him holding a heart. It read;

Good morning my кошечка! I'm writing this before leaving for work, but I made you some breakfast and put it in the fridge. Strawberry pancakes and the syrup, if you want any, are in the pantry on the top shelf. I will be back around 5 this evening, remember to eat lunch. I will eat dinner with you tonight. I love you.

You were grateful for any food that he made you. Hell, you were grateful that he even thought of you in the first place to make you food whenever he didn't have to... But you'd rather have his presence instead of some warmed-up pancakes. You crumpled up the posted note and tossed it away. You were hungry but you didn't want to eat, you didn't have the energy or motivation to chew and swallow, much less sit down at the table.

Leaning against the counter, you ran your hands down your face. There were so many things you didn't want to do. You didn't want to brush your teeth, take a shower, or put on a fresh pair of clothes. You didn't want to sleep and you didn't want to be awake either.

The only thing you could think of was Kieran, yet you couldn't shake him off.

The pancakes were left untouched. It was just another meal in the fridge that was waiting to go bad. You couldn't promise that you were going to eat them later whenever you didn't even want to look at them. Kieran would ask later, 'What's wrong? you didn't eat the pancakes I left for you' and you would have to say another lie. It was just your stomach, or you didn't see the note until after you ate something else, or you weren't in the mood for pancakes.

It took everything in your power just to force yourself to go to the bathroom. Even then, he stayed on your mind as you splashed your face with cold water. Staring at yourself in the mirror, you frowned at the dark circles and reluctantly brushed your teeth. A pimple was right above your right brow. God, you didn't want to catch glimpses of yourself either, much less stare into the mirror.

What can I do to make the rest of this day productive?

You hadn't a clue. This only left you waltzing around the house, dabbling in some things, but getting up again whenever you got bored. You couldn't keep still no matter what you tried to do. By six, your mood was bitter, annoyed at your lack of interest in anything and annoyed at why you were feeling so depressed.

Stopping in the middle of the hallway, your eyes snapped to the closed door on the right. That was Kieren's at-home office. He rarely ever used it and it was mostly used as a place for him to store things from his rented out big office or important documents. You were aware that all your birth certificates and SSN cards were locked up in a safe in there. But what else? The last time you went in there was like two months ago, but he usually went in there weekly, even if it was just to grab something.

What if he is hiding something?

Reaching out to the handle, you hesitated. However, that lasted only a short time because curiosity got the best of you. You turned the handle and peeked inside.

His home office was small and cramped, which was why he rented out a room in a small building in the city to have his own office for editing and focusing on work. The walls were lined with books and files, and a small desk was cluttered with papers of all kinds. He needed to clean it out. However, you felt grateful that he hadn't already.

A small look around wouldn't hurt anyone, right? Guilt was already threatening to turn you around and march you back to your room, to put yourself in time-out, but you needed to know if something was going on with him. Your hands fiddled with the handle of the door before you stepped into the room and closed it behind you. A small peak. That's all you wanted. It wasn't like you were going to turn the room upside down to look for things against him.

The inside wasn't dusty and you noticed recent documents on his desk. It was good that he didn't desert the small room entirely for his bigger office. You shuffled to sit on the chair and drummed your fingers against the wood.

Where to start?

You didn't know what you were looking for. Something to give you peace of mind that didn't include talking to Kieran about it. If he was cheating, he wasn't going to outright tell you about it. You weren't sure where he'd hide things if he didn't want them to be found. He had his phone on him and that wasn't something you felt comfortable snooping in, but his laptop had everything about his work.

You hesitantly pulled his laptop closer and opened it. A small peak. It wouldn't do anything. It wasn't like you were going to shame if you found anything raunchy. Sure... it was something he probably should talk to you about, but you didn't blame him, since you weren't exactly someone who was giving him fun nights even if the two of you were married.

Maybe he has gotten bored of me because I haven't had sex with him yet, you thought. It's not that I don't find him attractive it's just...

The idea of intimacy like that scared you. All the possibilities of what could go wrong, what would hurt, and what would be uncomfortable.

Kieran always said he understood and that it didn't bother him that the tow is you weren't intimate in bed. But maybe that was a lie. Maybe he found pleasure in stuff on the internet or some woman he kept seeing. You'd be fine living a life with him even if it meant no intimate pleasures at all, but maybe he didn't think the same way you did. He probably had a lot of pent-up stress and desires, so was it your fault for not doing it with him? Right?

Was he going to leave you for someone else because of that?

Your hands were shaking as the screen turned on. His password was his old childhood cat's name: Sonya. At least he didn't bother to change the password into something you didn't know, that was a good sign, right? You swallowed the lump in your throat and tapped at the keyboard. Ding. You were in.

There were a lot of random things on his desktop. You noticed the editor and graphic design apps, such as Microsoft and Blender, and a few games that you haven't played before in your life.  You tapped at the desk absentmindedly and debated with yourself, wondering if you should just go and watch TV, but an app caught your eye.

M?

You noticed the icon at the bottom of the screen with the letter M. It wasn't a familiar-looking app, nothing you've downloaded onto your laptop before, and it was suspicious. The design wasn't good at all. You chewed on your bottom lip and dragged the cursor over to open it. This app would be the only thing you'd look at. Not his search history or anything—no. You'd have to give him some privacy.

That didn't change the fact that it was hard giving him privacy—not whenever his privacy was the whole reason you were suspicious of him in the first place.

The one thing you wanted to know was where he was going with his business trips. As an editor, you knew that he could have a business trip. Sometimes he met up with clients, however, lately, it's been very frequent. You were jealous of it. If it was someone he was meeting, even for work, why were they more important than his wife? he didn't need to go to work that often, right?

The app opened up and you blinked at the messages that were waiting there. All empty chats with numbers as names, except one. It was named 'Sam' and you noticed a couple of messages within the chat. Maybe a client? Or was it someone he was cheating on you with? Your mouth ran dry.

Okay, maybe you shouldn't be looking at his stuff. Just because you were suspicious, shouldn't you wait until you see him in the act of cheating instead of snooping? This wasn't right. It was a shady app, but maybe this was a client that he wasn't supposed to tell you about. As an editor, he wasn't allowed to share the works he was helping writers with, which went against his agreement.

"I shouldn't be looking at this..."

Yes, you shouldn't, but you needed to know. Why was he always leaving late at night and going on long business trips? Why was he always late whenever the two of you went on dates? Why was he always getting calls? Why did he never stay long enough to sleep in your shared bed? It didn't even feel like his bed anymore...

"Just one peek and that's it," you whispered, "please, don't let me find anything."

You opened the chat and gnawed on your bottom lip. There were only a couple of messages, all of them sporadic at what time they were sent. You paused, freezing when your eyes were glued to a specific set of messages.

Sam -- 3:25 AM

Come see me.

Kieran -- 3:27 AM

Make it quick.

Your hands froze above the keyboard. If you had to be honest, you weren't sure what you were looking at. That was about two weeks ago. What was he doing two weeks ago? Your brain wracked to remember what he did that week and how many times he left the house, but it was a blur. Every week was the same in the long run. You glanced down at the most recent message. It was from Sam.

Sam -- 10:00 AM

Where the hell are you at? Respond to this when you see it. You told me you'd see me today.

Your muscles collapsed. Falling back into the seat, you stared at the screen dumbly, lungs gathering in as much air as they could before you stopped breathing entirely. Everything was cold; your bones, muscles, and blood.

Sam was a unisex name. For all you knew, this was the woman he could be cheating on you with. The messages were distrustful enough. The one from two weeks ago was at three in the morning and this Sam person was asking to meet him? He agreed, so even if you didn't remember that week perfectly, it wouldn't have surprised you to know he went somewhere at three in the morning. Just last night, he left at an odd time and has yet to come back.

Is he with her now?

The thought was crushing. You could imagine it at the forefront of your mind; you saw him panting, grinding his hips into some woman you didn't know, moaning her name like some sort of mantra. His hands would be all over her body and her palms would graze down his inked skin, tracing the very same lines that you have. He would hold her hands, he would kiss her lips, and move his hips like a starved beast.

Tears rolled down your cheeks.

No.

No, no, no.

None of this was real. You were just jumping to conclusions again, you didn't know that this person was a woman, and even if it was—him going to meet her at 3 in the morning wasn't cheating, right? That didn't guarantee that he was having sex with her, dating her, kissing her.

Your nails carved crescents into your palms.

You were angry. You didn't quite get it, but all the hurt you felt manifested like a hot steel rod through your heart. Short breaths escaped your lips and a choking sob followed. You didn't want to cry, you were tired of crying, but that didn't stop your heart from collapsing and burning all over again. So you punched, you punched at your knees and thighs until you knew bruises would form later, and you didn't stop.

"Damn it!" you wheezed, fist slamming down on his desk so hard that a pile of papers slipped to the floor. "Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!"

He didn't.

He wouldn't.

The chair tipped back whenever you got up. You were dizzy and you blamed it on how fast you were breathing, aggressively wiping at your tears until your eyes turned red and raw. The office door slammed shut behind you as you fumbled to throw on some new clothes and shoes, tossing on a hat to hide your hair. You needed out of the house. Anywhere, yes anywhere! You'd go anywhere that was better than this place.

He wouldn't have done it, right? No, he wouldn't have! You didn't know anything for certain. Yes, you just had to stop jumping to conclusions. In fact, it would be better if you just stopped thinking entirely. Shut your brain off and stop questioning your husband's loyalty, because no way he would cheat on you—

But what if he is? you thought, Sam could be better than me in everything. She could be prettier, smarter, sexier. What if she gives him what he wants with sex? What if he is happy and satisfied with her?

Wouldn't that make you selfish for wanting to keep hanging onto him?

You kicked the pot outside. It shattered when it fell off the porch and you cursed, stomping past it, and going down the street. Your eyes were puffy and red, cheeks blotchy from your stupid waterworks, and you looked messy. You didn't care. You couldn't gather the energy to care. So you walked down to the store that was a couple blocks away at the bottom of the hill, gripping your wallet tightly.

You needed a long walk to calm you down. So you did just that—you walked to the store as slowly as possible, sucking in the cold air, wishing all your foul emotions would melt away like that sloshy snow on the side of the road.

It didn't take long to reach the store. Unluckily for you, you didn't notice the slightly dimming sky. It always got dark early in winter.

The store was welcoming. There was no one inside except two workers who were minding their own business. They flashed you a smile before you scurried to the back of the store, grabbing a pack of your favorite chips and a soda from one of the fridges. You exhaled and glanced at the tempting chocolates near the front. You didn't need them, plus you had a feeling you'd eat them all in one go and make yourself sick, so you refrained from buying them.

Sighing, you walked up to the front and placed your items on the counter. An older lady walked up to the register, the pretty red ribbons styling in her hair catching your eye. They matched the red eyeshadow around her eyes and the red mascara she was wearing.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" the cashier raised a worried eyebrow when she noticed your appearance, glanced around, and then lowered her voice, "Do you need me to call someone for you? Are you in trouble?"

You managed a weak smile. "I'm good, just a rough day."

It took everything in your power to not spill your guts to this lady. Oh, how you wanted to tell someone about what you were going through, what you were thinking, but who would you tell? All your friends were in happy relationships, they wouldn't understand, and couldn't speak to the one man you usually told everything to because it was about him.

The cashier smiled softly, saying, "Oh, I apologize. I heard there have been a lot of kidnappings around here recently, so I wanted to make sure there was no bad person in the store with you. Women need to look out for other women!"

Your chest warmed up at her smile. "Yes, we do. Thank you. I love how your charms and makeup match, it's very pretty."

The cashier bashfully waved her hand and laughed. "Aww thank you! You look like you have a kind heart, so I things get better for you, sweetie. Hopefully, these snacks will make you feel better."

She handed you the bag and you nodded, muttering a 'thank you' and a simple 'I hope you have a good evening' before you turned on your heel and bolted for the exit.

The doors slid open and that warm feeling in your chest faded, pausing to stop and stare at the sky. It got dark quickly. It wasn't fully dark, the sun was just over the horizon, painting orange and pink streaks into the clouds. A bird flew down and perched on a lamppost.

If only you were a bird. They were able to fly anywhere they wanted to go, they didn't have a care in the world, and they didn't have to struggle with whatever mess you were struggling with. You didn't know how you should label what you were going through. You didn't know if your spouse was a cheater, you didn't know if you deserved to be cheated on, and you didn't know why you were dragging it with you.

Just like that, the nice interaction you had was in the back of your mind, and you felt like shit again.

Why can't I just be the type of wife who trusts him?

You always compared yourself to the images of wives you saw on TV and the internet. Smiling, happy, and who had great communication with their spouses—yet here you were, afraid to ask your husband just because you didn't want to face the fact that it might be real. To face the fact you could potentially lose him. You were angry at him too, you didn't want to hear excuses, and you didn't want to look at him.

Yeah, maybe you did deserve to get cheated on, but you were still pissed at him for discarding you if he did. For tossing you out like you were nothing as if he forgot all the years the two of you have been together.

If he cared, you were starting to no longer feel it. That gnawing thought that each time he kissed you, he imagined it was another girl. His touches felt distant at times and you wondered what else he had on his mind to make him so ghostly.

You glanced down at the chips and soda in your bag. So much for trying to eat the pancakes he made later. You didn't have the desire to eat anything he made, you'd end up crying again if you did. Your phone buzzed in your pocket and you glanced down, moving the heavy bag around as you struggled to get your phone out.

Speak of the devil, and he shall arrive.

Kieran ❤︎  -- 9:48 PM

Where are you?

Your lip twitched into a frown. From what you saw earlier, you didn't want to talk to him at all. Your mind was still reeling with what message you saw on his laptop, wondering just who Sam was, and why everything was so suspicious. Your face was stiff from the bitter cold and all the dried-up tears you sobbed earlier.

It wasn't fair. He was asking where you were but each time you asked him, he either was vague or said some sort of response that didn't make sense! Your teeth gritted together and you felt tears welling back up. Angry. You were absolutely livid at him. You were livid at yourself. Hell, you wanted to scream at something but you didn't know who deserved to be screamed at.

Was it you because you weren't a good enough wife for him to stay around? Or was it him for not staying around in the first place?

You managed to type back. Even so, no matter how angry you were, or how sad, you always found yourself responding the longer you stared at his name on the top of the screen.

You — 9:49 PM

Store. Walking home now.

You watched the bubble appear. Within seconds, before you had the chance to put your phone away and pretend you never saw his message, he replied.

Kieran ❤︎ — 9:50 PM

Stay put and don't leave the store. I'm coming to pick you up. It's not safe for you to be walking out when it is getting dark ❤

You wanted to throw your phone. You stomped your foot and shoved your phone into your pocket, glaring holes into the cement as you stood out on the sidewalk outside the story.

It wasn't terribly dark yet but it was dark enough that it wasn't safe. That was your fault, you were the idiot for giving into your compulsions and going to the store whenever you wanted to go out of the house. Yes, you should wait for Kieran, no matter how angry you were because it was the responsible thing to do.

But you didn't want to wait. The house was only two blocks away and you knew everyone in the neighborhood. It wasn't like you hadn't walked out to the store before in the dark, so what would happen this time? You had your keys and the can of soda in the bag would be a good weapon to swing at someone.

He never tells me where he's going, you cussed inwardly, so he can just suck it up and wait for me to walk home.

Yes, you were being petty.

But who wouldn't be? You just found a very suspicious message on your husband's laptop from someone named 'Sam', and now he wanted you to wait for him to come and pick you up. You were hurt. You were angry. You were confused. You didn't want to see his face but at the same time, all you wanted to do was to snap at him for him to explain everything.

It had to be your fault, right? Why else wouldn't he want to spend time with you if it wasn't your fault?

You let your emotions get the best of you, storming down the side of the street as you ventured farther and farther away from the sanctuary of the store. Street lamps flickered as you walked up the hill with your shoes clicking against the sidewalk. There was no sign of the car he was in.

The thought of sitting down on the concrete and letting your heart out was tempting. There was no one around and you were getting tired of the same bleak, lonely expanse of your home. The sidewalk looked more welcoming than the bed at home you could cry on. You stopped dead in your tracks and sighed, tears welling up. 

You didn't even realize you were sinking to your knees before you were already sitting on the sidewalk. You weren't sobbing, no wailing, but single tears that rolled quietly down.

So many people would say so many things if they saw you like this. Maybe they'd call you dramatic, maybe they were right, but everything felt so suffocating. You felt trapped. You didn't want to go home but you wanted to be home, you wanted Kieran to hold you but you also didn't want to see him. It was all so complex.

Maybe everyone would call you cowardly and pathetic. God, you already knew that. You were crying on the sidewalk instead of going up to him and asking him—but what if he said an answer you didn't want to hear? What if he admitted to cheating? What if he said he didn't love you anymore? The fear of rejection was the one reason you kept your mouth shut... the fear of losing him.

If you lost him, you didn't think you could fall in love again.

You don't think you would want to.

All you wanted was to have the love of your life back; his smiles, his hugs, him holding you to sleep. You wanted the man you saw at your wedding—when he looked at you as if you were the only person to exist. But now maybe that wasn't true. Maybe you were just a woman he didn't want to be around anymore. Maybe you were dragging him down and he was just waiting for the perfect time to tell you.

God, I'm so scared, you thought. What if I'm right? What if it isn't all in my head?

Your phone buzzed. No. You wanted to ignore him, you wanted to stay here, you wanted to cry until all that was left was a numb destroyed path.

The last time you had a good unashamed cry, you couldn't remember. It was always muffled because Kieran was around or you were in your car, but now no one was around, but now you were too tired to sob like you wanted to. Crying made you feel like a crybaby, like some bitch who couldn't keep it together, even though you had every reason to shed a couple tears.

You were angry at yourself for going behind his back to snoop through his laptop because you were too scared to have an adult conversation with him, you were angry at him for always leaving you alone and confused, and you were angry that this situation was even happening.

God, you felt so repetitive. Yeah, you were angry and sad, maybe you should just stop whining and dwelling on it. How easy everything would be if you could.

"Hey girly, you okay?"

You froze. For a split second, you thought it was Kieran, but it was two men when you looked up. Two white men, one with a buzz cut and the other had a short perm, tattoos covering their arms. Cigarettes hung from their fingertips. Maybe it was because you were used to how Kieran looked, but you didn't immediately assume they were 'bad guys' because of how they looked.

You wiped your tears away and sniffled, "Uhm, shit, yes I'm okay."

The man with the buzz cut raised an eyebrow. A shiver shot down your spine whenever he smiled. Okay, maybe he was a bad guy because something about this felt wrong.

"Why is a cute thing like you cryin' in a place like this?" he asked, then glanced at his friend, "a poor girly like this shouldn't be cryin' out on the street, don'cha agree?"

The other man nodded, "Yeah. Where are ya' going?"

Sweat trickled down your back. You stumbled up from the ground, backing away from them, gripping your bag just in case you had to swing it. You cleared your throat and did your best to sound firm, "I'm heading home, so if you'll excuse me..."

The men smiled like preying hyenas. "Oh, we can walk you home--"

"(Y/N), thank god!"

Your head snapped to the side when Kieran shouted. There he was, rushing towards you in a jog, stopping to catch his breath. Why wasn't he in the car? He looked distraught. His hair was a wild mess, sweat on his brow, panic in his eyes that fell into relief whenever he saw you. He didn't give you a chance to speak before he grabbed your shoulders, yanked you into him, and crushed you in a hug.

"Why the hell did you not answer any of my calls? You didn't text me back either, fuck, I thought something happened to you! I told you I was going to pick you up!"

You were stunned. He pulled back and cupped your face, noticing your tear-stained cheeks. He looked like he just got sucker punched in the gut.

"Why are you crying, Котик? Did something happen?"

Oh, how it looked in his eyes. He probably assumed the worst happened to you whenever you weren't at the store and all his calls and messages were ignored. You couldn't blame him for being panicked. Guilt stabbed you through the heart; you just scared him to death just because you were angry and sad over a questionable situation. It was an immature reaction based on an assumption and now he was the one dealing with the aftermath.

Suddenly, you felt like the worst piece of shit in the world.

However, anything you wanted to say was stolen from your lips whenever Kieran looked up. The two men who tried talking to you stared back with unimpressed, raised eyebrows. Kieran's eyes narrowed.

"Who are you?"

The man with the buzz cut grinned. "Oh, well we saw this girly sitting on the sidewalk so—"

"I asked who you are?" Kieran deadpanned, "that means your name."

Both the men shuffled on their feet. The man with the shaggy hair spoke, glaring, "What do you want our names for? It doesn't matter."

Kieran pursed his lips. Whatever he was thinking, you couldn't read it, and you could tell they couldn't either by the way they started to glance at each other. He sighed and his fingers fumbled with the edge of your shirt. He glanced down at you, giving you whiplash with how soft he looked at you.

"Did these men hurt you? What happened?"

"Hey! We already said--"

Kieran's voice dropped and he glanced at them, his glare cold enough to send a chill through hell, "I didn't fucking ask you, so keep your mouth shut until I tell you to open."

You didn't try to speak, you just shook your head and gripped his arm tighter. Kieran snapped his head back up to glare at them and they squirmed. He analyzed them for a bit, letting them get increasingly nervous by the second.

"Now that I look at you, you seem familiar. Elliot? Elliot Smith?"

The man with the buzz cut, Elliot, froze.

"I heard about you. I have a friend who works in the police, he told me about you. Weren't you charged with sexual harassment three months ago?" Kieran stared, his expression cold, "There have been some rumors recently that you've been trying to get into gang activity as well."

Elliot's face turned red as if all the air supply was cut off to his face. He looked like a plum when his cheeks grew from red to purple, his eyes shifting through different emotions to gauge what to say next. You blinked. He was charged with sexual harassment? How did Kieran know about something like that? When did he get a friend who was a cop?

Is the cop Sam?

Kieran wasn't a man who watched the news that often, so you doubted he was lying about where he got the information. You shuffled on your feet and his hand held you tighter. Damn it. You really threw "stranger danger" out the window just because you were pissed and wanted to spite your husband by walking home instead of waiting for him.

Elliot stumbled forward and started to stammer out his words. Kieran didn't step back, but you didn't miss the way his muscles tensed up like a wild cat about to lunge forward. He started to drum his fingers against your arm—you weren't sure if he was trying to comfort you or distract you.

"I am not in the mafia, Russian bastard!"

Kieran raised an eyebrow. He ignored the obvious attack on his ethnicity, not caring that he was called a Russian bastard. He tilted his head, "the mafia?"

"Yeah! You're accusing me of working with the mafia just because of some still rumors you heard from a cop. Those rumors aren't--"

"Ah, no," he smiled humorlessly, "I imagine they aren't interested in уличные дворняги. Plus I said gang activity, as in little boys running around with baseball bats and pockets filled with drugs."

Elliot's buddy jumped forward to save his friend's skin. His glare didn't match Kieran's, it was weak and anxious. His hand was shaking and he pointed a hand at you. You feared what bullshit he was going to come up with and you didn't get a chance to interrupt before he spouted it.

"You should give us to her, man. If you go around accusing people of crimes, you probably do shit yourself, like abusing her. I bet you're the one who made her cry. Her eyes are puffy, she looked fuckin' defeated when we saw her. So hand her over before we call the cops."

Time stopped.

Kieran sucked in a breath.

"Excuse me?"

"I'm saying that you probably abuse her or something! If you don't leave her with us, man, we will call the cops on you!"

Kieran's face shifted into something darker. Much darker. That sweet and worried expression he had for you molded into something malicious. The last time you saw a look like that was whenever some kid in your freshman year of high school insulted you. That same kid got two of his teeth knocked out that same day. Kieran never told you he did it, he acted like he didn't know, but you remembered vividly how he tried to hide the blood caked under his nails back then.

You never thought something like this would happen. Sure, they haven't harrassed you, but accusing Kieran of abuse whenever he hasn't done anything wrong made your chest bubble up. You were the one who screwed up and got all of you in this situation, not him.

"Hey, he's not—"

Kieran squeezed your shoulder. You saw the way he glanced down at you, subtly shaking his head, telling you to leave it to him. You weren't sure what he was thinking anymore or what he was doing—all you wanted was to go home. It was you who put everything in this situation because of an emotional mistake, so you should be the one to suck up your responsibility and leave the situation.

"leave her with you?"

Elliot spoke up. "The poor girly was crying and now some tattooed, large bastard like you comes up! You think the police would believe—"

"And they'll believe someone who was recently released from prison for sexual harassment?"

Elliot clamped his mouth shut. His eyes snapped to you, narrowing into daggers, and sweat built on your brow. He pointed an angry finger at you.

"Well isn't it her fucking fault for walking out whenever it's dark? She doesn't have brains if she thinks that someone looking like her would be able to go home without getting hit on! It's normal for good-looking women."

Oh, if looks could kill, you were sure that those two men would have dropped dead. Elliot paled when he noticed how Kieran was glaring at him. He was on the edge, two seconds away from grabbing that hand and seeing how many times he could bend his finger until it snapped off.

It was scary. You'd be lying if you said that you weren't scared of an expression like that, because you had a feeling that the only reason he wasn't violent was because you were there.

Just like when the two of you were younger.

"...Kieran, why—why don't we go home? Okay?" you stammered, "We don't need to waste our time here. We wanted to have dinner together, remember?"

Kieran's lip twitched and his green eyes shifted down to you. They were sharp and calculating, his arm wrapped around you like a coiled spring.

"Let's just go home," you whispered. Please.

By the look of Elliot's face, he was hoping the two of you would leave too, scurrying back closer to his friend who had been quiet throughout the entire ordeal. You didn't blame him. He looked just as grey and sickly as the cement beneath their feet.

Kieran's jaw was clenched. He stared at you as if he was debating all the options he had. You knew him, he didn't like being violent in front of you and always lied in the past about where he was. You weren't naive. You were very much aware that he was violent and you knew that he hated that you knew. To him, he just wanted you to view him as a dazzling husband.

Which he was—just dangerous too.

The two men didn't dare act cocky whenever he finally turned to leave with you. His hand grasped yours and he dragged you back down to the store, not looking back, as if he feared he might actually break their fingers off if he looked at their faces again.

You had a hard time keeping up with his long strides. His head was in the clouds so he didn't bother to slow down, gritting his teeth as he barely managed to make it to the parking lot without turning back.

Kieran sometimes had to use self-restraint when it came down to hurting others. Sometimes, you said, because it wasn't every day that he listened to it. You stumbled behind him.

"Slow down a bit! My legs—my legs aren't as long as yours!"

It was a miracle he actually heard you. Like a dog hearing a special command, he stopped dead in his tracks and you almost rammed your nose into his back. You inhaled sharply and let the burning of your legs rest a bit. He was basically jogging! You barely had enough courage to meet his eye whenever you noticed the familiar sensation of his gaze boring into your head.

His green eyes were dark.

Oh.

He was angry at you.

The silence was loud even though there was the distant sound of cars honking, the wind between houses, and some cat in an alleyway. You didn't know what to say. You wanted to apologize to him, for making him worry and putting yourself in a dangerous situation because of an emotional decision, but nothing would leave your lips. You opened your mouth, closed it, opened it again, closed it again. You must have looked like a gaping fish out of water.

He had every right to be angry at you. You were aware that you tended to blame yourself in situations where you weren't involved, but you knew that you messed up.

Guilt twisted your gut up into one big knot. You didn't know what to do or say to untangle it, much less make it to where Kieran wasn't staring at you in the way that he was. Angry, confused, questioning why the hell you didn't just wait for him—and you felt guilty because you knew you couldn't just tell him why.

"I..."

He wasn't speaking. Was he waiting for you to give him something to work with? Even if it was some shitty lie or bad excuse? Your hand let go of his and started to fuddle at the hem of your shirt.

"...I'm sorry, I know I—I messed up. I, uhm, I made a bad decision—"

Kieran took a deep breath. How odd that such a small action caused every word you planned to speak to collapse, cutting your apology short. You couldn't look him in the eye. Dangerous thoughts started to swirl around in your head like poison; was he disappointed in you? Was dumb mistakes like this the reason he never stayed around you? Maybe he viewed you as a child who couldn't make reasonable decisions? Were you being emotional? Maybe he wasn't mad at you and you were assuming things?

You wished you had the courage to ask him all those questions. You wished you had the bravery to listen to the answers without crying. But you didn't, so you kept your mouth shut.

Kieran shuffled on his feet and placed a hand under your chin, lifting your head.

"Look at me."

His green eyes weren't as dark as before. He wasn't happy, yeah, but he looked as if he was trying to be gentle and understanding. You swallowed the lump in your throat.

"Thank you for apologizing," he murmured sincerely and he took a deep breath,  hanging his head, "I'm also sorry that men like that decided to target you. You were probably so scared and me acting like... me probably wasn't helping, was it?"

"Well, you—you were with me so I wasn't scared. I was more just... nervous I guess. I don't know, I went off on my own because I was emotional, I'm sorry—"

His eyebrows creased and his hands cupped your face. He was so tender with how his thumbs brushed over your cheeks and he leaned in close, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. He melted at the touch of your skin, fluidly stepping forward and leaning in as close as possible. He drank in your presence, your warmth, the smell of your hair, and the rising and falling off your shoulders.

"Let's... let's talk about this at home, okay? I'm not mad, I just..." he trailed off and his eyes darkened, "I was scared something happened to you. When I couldn't find you at the store, when you weren't responding to my calls or texts, and when I saw those fucking свиньи with you—"

He cut himself off. He closed his eyes and took a couple of breaths.

"We're going home. Come on."

You yelped whenever his hands curved under your knees and he picked you up, carrying you like you were some damsel in distress. Any questions, excuses, or complaints you wanted to say dissipated when you saw that distant look on his face. Just like you've seen before, he looked ghostly, like he saw something you couldn't see. Just where was his head at?

You looked away. Anger buzzed in your bones, guilt was drowning your heart, and you too had a fuzzy feeling inside your head that made you feel distant.

I shouldn't have left the house.

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LINKS :

— 𝘋𝘪𝘴𝘤𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘚𝘦𝘳𝘷𝘦𝘳

— 𝘞𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘱𝘢𝘥

— 𝘘𝘶𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘷

[ P.3 ]