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serawritesthings · 5 months ago

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WHERE THE DEERS REST, first part

Pairing | LowHonor!Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader Summary | How can we do good when all we were raised to do is bad? A cruel fate, indeed. Yet when your past, and a certain outlaw, finds a way to set its claws in you once more, perhaps you'll soon find there is a way to change fate's design. Tags | sexual content 18+ minors dni, smut, heavy description of violence and wounds, angsty Word Count | 22k A/N | Oh god, I'm so nervous about posting this. First of all, thank you SO much for the love you showed to Our Dear, Green Little Friend. It has completely warmed my heart that so many of you like it, and even though it's taken me very long to post my next fic, it was one of the key motivations for me to continue writing on it. So thank you very, very much! <3 Also, like I said earlier, I'm very nervous about posting this fic since it's very long and perhaps quite different than what I've written before, but I hope to god you like it! I haven't been in the best mindset when writing it since I've dealt with some stress both privately and at work. I will let you know that I will soon go through it once more and edit it slightly, but I felt like I had to get it out to you guys since I feel bad that I haven't posted in a while, and I'm honestly quite sick of rereading the story time and time again. Please let me know if there are any serious misspellings, and I'll fix it directly! Anyway, sorry for the long text, and I hope you like it!<3

For some, it might’ve seemed cowardly, yet you couldn’t bear to unravel some memories, for they hurt too deeply–wounded too far. However, the thought of letting them fade was somehow worse, and while you feared the pain they would surely bring when confronted, you hadn’t been forced to face them until now. So, it turned out to be quite the coincidence they would come to haunt you now that time seemed to be at a standstill; the world around you had never been this calm before.

“Miss, would you mind taking these back?” A hearty voice broke your thoughts, speaking in a mumbling fashion as the loud sound of books hit the wooden table. Wading through the dust that floated around you that stirred from Eustace’s sudden motion, you found his ageing eyes gazing at you amusedly, chuckling at the sour expression that formed on your otherwise soft features.

“I don’t mind,” you said, giving him a small smile that turned vicious once the heavy pile of books was cradled in your arms. “If you don’t mind taking a round with the whisk.” You didn’t get the chance to see the irked look on his face, disappearing quickly into the towering bookshelves.

“Don’t forget to dust the higher places as well!” Chuckling warmly at the man’s miffed mumbling, you walked on carefully, making sure not to stumble on the ratty carpet as his grumbling grew distant.

The bickering that seemed constant when you conversed with the older man was by all means with no ill intent, more so done in jest. And, while your friendship might seem rather unusual, there was no doubt that his presence brought you an undeniable comfort in a world that had done you more wrong than right. Sure, it might sound dreary, but you recently concluded that you grew more and more content with the thought of staying here.

You loved how a sense of calm always seemed to rest over the building, the smell of old books filling your senses, although an ever-so-poignant whiff of hot steel and grease found its way in from the open window as the train chugged to a stop and steam billowed through the surrounding air. Sighing, you took the liberty of closing the window, the sharp whistle making you cringe as it brought you out of your solitude.

Eustace had taken you under his wing when the bearings of your life had become too heavy, giving you a roof over your head and warm food in your stomach. It made you wonder how sparse kind souls like his were in this world, never having met one quite like him. While your compromised situation originally had been the reason for his kindness, he had found your fascination and vast knowledge of books intriguing and, therefore, refused to take no for an answer when he asked you to start helping him around his bookstore. Yet, despite how much you appreciated it, you couldn’t flee from the unease that still hooked its claws in you when you pondered the reason you had ended up here in the first place, the tendrils of it creeping into the sanctuary of the bookshop like ivy upon ancient stone. Despite your dislike of it, you bore the weight of it every second, and although well hidden, you had become tethered to the memories that followed your past.

Like shattered glass, memories pierced your heart with sharp edges at every twist and turn. Distant echoes of laughter that had long since faded into silence, the faces blurred by time yet etched into your very being passing before you as your pace slowed down, the wooden panels creaking something so terribly under your weight.

With a heavy sigh, you moved among the hundreds of books, fingers deftly tracing the spines as you sought their rightful place amongst their brethren. Arranging them on the shelves, you tried to distract yourself from your thoughts by humming quietly in the otherwise quiet room. The shop had been empty for quite some time now; the townsfolk’s interest in the subtle words on the pages dimmed in their struggle to survive their daily life—only pretentious men stepped inside at times who, by crook or hook, imagined they would leave a mark on this world with their clever words and supposed hierarchy in society. It lessened, though, as they went for bigger–more extraordinary–things than this muck of a town, wherever that might be.

Amidst the quiet rustle of pages and the soft creak of wood–and your less than favourable words, the air suddenly turned congeal, thick with a sudden tension that tickled your senses with its uncertainty. A chill coursed down your spine as you felt an ominous presence looming behind you, casting you in its shadow as the weight of something cold and unyielding pressed against the tender flesh of your temple. With a tremble, you froze, the books once held tightly against your chest cascading to the ground in a tumble.

Your heart was hammering against your chest, beating against your ribs like a caged bird as its frantic beat drowned out the world around you. You grew too fearful to move, the clicking sound of a gun daring you to resist.

“Easy there, miss,” a gravelly voice spoke, vibrating dangerously in your ear as warm breaths turned cold on the bare skin of your neck. “No sudden moves, and I won’t have to hurt you.”

You remembered that voice, feeling it dance just beyond the reaches of your consciousness, its familiarity almost touchable. How could you not voice it when the name lingered on your tongue, teasing and beckoning you? There had to be a mistake; there was no other conclusion to be made, for if it happened to be someone you had known, they might be less agreeable than the common bypasser.

“What do you want?” you managed to whisper, voice barely above a breath.

“Money, jewels. Whatever you got,” the voice replied, words heavy with a certain kind of roughness only a man holding a gun to a woman’s head could possess. “Just keep quiet and do as you’re told, and we’ll be on our way.”

Your mind raced in a jumbled mess of fear and uncertainty at the sudden intrusion you should have known was a high possibility in such a city as Blackwater. Yet, the thought only made your heart heavier against your chest, knowing all too well what kind of men hid in the darker corners of the alleyways. For one to threaten a woman in broad daylight, though, seemed very daring yet not an ounce less terrifying.

Summoning every bit of courage you possessed, you tilted your head to glimpse at the man pushing his head against the side of your face, opposite where the cold metal touched your temple dauntingly. As you did, you met the eyes of the man who held your fate in his hands–and in that fleeting moment, as your gazes met, you saw something flicker behind the hardened exterior of the outlaw.

Recognition dawned like a bolt of lightning. What stared back at you was not the face of a stranger but the familiar features of a man you had once known—a man whose presence had once held the promise of escape amidst the terrible deeds that clouded your life. Arthur Morgan, that’s who was standing behind you. His name echoed in your mind like from a long-forgotten dream, memories hidden so well you could barely remember them.

Two broken souls, trying to find what others seemed to have handed to them on a silver platter: warmth and solace, the comforting thought of finding a home–somewhere to belong. Yet, the relationship wasn’t made to be perfect, and in your despair, nothing good could’ve come from it. As many things go, it became too fragile. It couldn’t—didn’t—last, and what you once saw as a light beyond the heavy curtains of darkness was quickly swallowed up.

Instead of the kind ones you remember, dark, dangerous eyes stared into yours, the swirls of blue coated in a rich black that ran like coal through his acidic gaze. So harsh and cold were they, burning through yours as thick brows fell like a shield over the dark pools, hiding behind his squint and hostile snarl. Almost unrecognizable, he was seemingly both older and larger as the lines on his face were more defined and wrinkles on his nose nearly etched onto his face.

As your fearful eyes stared into his stoic yet calculating ones, you felt your body shiver in fright, every bell of alarm that once sounded so clearly in your mind turning quiet, now only the clock ticking discernible as blood rushed in your ears like a flood. The gun cocked dangerously, dread creeping through you at the wordless threat when you stayed quiet for longer than he had the patience for.

“You deaf?” His growling voice burned deep in his throat. A warm breath brushed against your cheek as he kept your gaze wholly, completely disregarding the unmistakable fear in your expression.

“I-”

You stumbled over your words, voice thick before a gasp left you. Between the disbelief of seeing Arthur’s face once again, although more weathered than you remember, and the thought of having a gun pressed to your temple, there was not a single word you could utter that would seem sensible.

Suddenly, you were turned around, hands pushing you against the bookshelves in a hasty motion, never minding their grip on you. Your head craned as the gun now found your neck, trying desperately to get away from it but instead having it digging harder into your skin.

“Now, are you going to do as I say?” You could feel the tendrils of disgust burn through you, face contorting as you twisted in his arms, proving futile against his leverage.

“Nah, none of that. You hear me?” His grumbling could be heard from deep within his chest while his face soured, the sharp lines of his frown growing darker under the shadow of his hat. Tightening the grip he had on you, his arms wound themselves like vices around you, daring you to make another move.

He was close now, his hot breath chilling the skin on your face as the smell of sweat and leather filled your senses–tears almost welled up in your eyes from the stinging feel of smoke emitted from his clothing. Every calm yet strained breath that left him was audible, contrasting heavily with your hectic breathing that filled the now-empty room.

It was daunting yet all too familiar as memories clouded your mind of the same man who was now threatening your life. Did he even recognize you? Or was he too far gone? Had the devil set its claws so deep inside him that he couldn’t longer differentiate friend from foe? It would seem so, you concluded, gazing again at his hardened face, which only recognized a stranger before him–a puppet to get what he desired the most.

“We ain’t got much.” Your voice strained against your throat, thick with unshed tears that lingered in the corners of your eyes. All you got in return was a faint squint of his eyes, gazing at you cautiously as he looked behind him calmly before returning his eyes to you.

“Do as I say.” Not a word left you, and whether it was from stubbornness or fear, you couldn’t be sure, but the look you were given made sure to convey that crossing him would not end well for you.

That was until it changed. Arthur’s features softened after he observed your face, running his eyes over your eyes and the slope of your nose until they reached your lips, quickly averting his gaze as he turned his head away momentarily. Did he remember you, you wondered, finding no other explanation to make sense.

It was a long time ago, too long for you to consider the shadow of a man standing before you a friend, yet you had never remembered him to be quite so harsh. So, brutal, perhaps? You had undoubtedly missed a few chapters, but the years were far apart, and time had a funny way of doing its worst to those who deserved it the least. Like wet paint, it spreads, leaching onto good people like a virus–just like bad fosters bad, and good fosters good.

“Please…” You pleaded with him, fright seeping like syrup into your shaking voice, pathetic and childish. “I-”

There was no time to finish your sentence. The loud thundering of hooves broke through the room’s tension, audible even through the closed window. Loud calls could be heard, as well as swear words further into the building that you did not recognize as Eustace. Worry filled you when you realized Arthur hadn’t come alone in his business to rob you blind, and now you were fearful that your companion might be in an even worse predicament.

The frown on his face deepened, the hold on his gun softening just enough as he pushed you hastily back towards the bookshelf, your legs weakening underneath you as you fell towards the ground. In long strides, he marched towards the window, hiding behind the wall as he peered out, almost blending into the shadows as the light from outside shone brightly. You could see people running past it, in too much of a hurry to peer inside as the shouts grew louder.

“Arthur!” A voice called out, recognizable as the rich timbre echoed through the corridor, gravelly yet smooth. “We have to leave!” As the last syllable left his mouth, you jerked as the first sound of a gun going off could be heard, hands quick to cover your ears as the noise punched a hole in your gut. “Now, Arthur!”

Everything after that became a blur, your whole body growing rigid as the world turned into chaos. Bullets could be heard going off left and right, rather like a thunderstorm than a gunfight echoing outside the room that now held you in prison. Your body stiffened, muscles tensing as you were brought back to the sounds that filled you with dread, memories flooding you, both unbidden and unwelcome.

Faces twisted in fear, the acrid smell of burning flesh, rising smoke, and gunpowder–sounds of screams echoing in your ears. You wished for it to cease, for the images to disappear, searching every corner of the room for an escape, somewhere you could go to to rid yourself of the horrid thoughts.

Momentarily, amidst your glancing around in stress, you found a pair of calculating eyes boring into yours, seemingly undecided as they stayed planted beside the window. Your breath came out in ragged gasps, the staccato rhythm of gunfire echoing through the building, mingling with shouts of panic and the sound of breaking glass.

Arthur’s gaze was fixated intensely on you, and a sense of uneasiness settled when you realized. It was heavy, and your heart raced as your eyes stayed plastered to the others–the urgent shouts from outside pierced through the silence as danger lurked outside the room’s walls. Yet, you couldn’t help but feel as if he was searching for something in the depths of your soul, piercing you with a scrutiny that left you barer than if he were to strip you of all your clothes and examine you naked. You found yourself unable to look away, moved by the indescribable way he didn’t seem to be either.

“Arthur!”

Barreling through the door in a flash of binges breaking loose and dust clouding your vision, a pair of men fell roughly onto the ground a few meters before you, blood seeping through their clothes like a rich, red paint. Splattering on the ground, it almost reached your clothes as bullets rained after them, shooting holes in the walls the few times it missed their targets.

Frantic eyes searched the now corpses in front of you, expecting to see Eustace's body among them. Yet, you found none–and hadn’t you been too preoccupied with the currants of relief coursing through you, you would have seen the young faces of the poor boys who had found their doom that day only because their perpetrators wanted to fill their pockets.

It didn’t seem that Arthur paid any mind to the mess that transpired in front of your very eyes, more so, still focusing on you like you were the only one in the room. Visibly distressed, it didn’t seem to deter him, his fingers flexing as his gaze burned dangerously under the shadow of his hat.

That was until he suddenly tore his attention from you in annoyance, seemingly finding the dead bodies in front of you a menace, a simple block in the road. That was until a faint grunt seemed to leave one of them, a grunt filled with pain as frantic eyes flickered around while the rest of his limbs appeared paralyzed, only able to stare at the roof.

Rounding him immediately, Arthur stepped around the man, walking with his dirty boots and rattling spurs into the blood that loitered the floor as the sound of the thick, wet fluid reverberated in your ears. Without a single word, he gave you one last glance. You stayed on the floor, clutching your shoulders with your hands as he bent over the man and stared him unapologetically in the eyes–the only sound after being the loud bang of his gun.

The sight was gruesome, and to think a man could do something like that without a blink of an eye, you considered even more cruel. You had seen your fair share of malice and anger, anger that turned even the kindest of men into herds of both sheep and wolves, meaning you couldn’t possibly be surprised. Yet, it reminded you too terribly of a time you thought you now would get the chance to lay behind you, never more having to stare these horrible men in the eyes any longer but instead keep them closed.

And you did keep your eyes closed this time, waiting for the moment pain would fill your chest. Yet, it didn’t come since only silence followed, and when you opened them again, the room was devoid of any life except your own; Arthur now only seemed to have been a figment of your imagination if it weren't for the poor victim, his blue eyes staring lifelessly into yous, wide open and terrified, seemingly having turned to you in the last second, hoping you would save him from his terrible fate.

—

Some would say you were of the quiet sort, choosing the words that fell from your lips carefully, both pondering and cautious. It came from a life where those assets were vital, a simple way to keep your tongue in check and do what you had to survive –which you would like to say wasn’t easy when it felt like your mind ran a thousand miles a second, never resting and finding it troublesome to make sense of the world that unveiled itself before you.

With your mother gone, you found yourself thrust into a world of uncertainty, your father's callousness only serving to worsen the fate you seemed to have been handed as he appeared indifferent to your loss, attention consumed by the demands of those around him. But alas, he was affected too, and you had come to learn that different people react differently to whatever hardships they come by–and those who don’t respond at all seem to be the ones that eventually act the harshest.

That was at least how your father had acted; you perceived his anger as something only a daughter could experience from a father. It was brutal and sudden, only appearing after a silence that rang like sirens in your ears–then grappling and choking. What could possess a man to harbor such anger, you couldn’t say, and while you knew he had it worse when he was little, you wondered if the thought of you only being a child ever crossed his mind.

You should be filled with anger and resentment, so much it could consume your life, fuel every action, and affect every choice you make. You should’ve been immersed in sadness, crying until your voice gave out and tears dried up, yet you couldn’t. They were inside of you; you could feel them leaking into your chest, and as you stared into your own dry eyes, you could only see the malice of your father reflected in them–the malice that seemed to be reflected in most eyes these days.

It didn’t matter if it was the ladies who sometimes passed by the dusty town of Blackwater or the lone man begging for coins in the corner of some run-down store. Deep-seated anger was in them all, rooted so gravely it felt like the air blackened when you stepped outside. Like a curse, it seeped into the very bones and festered there.

Why? Perhaps that’s just how humans work, always needing something to prove that the inhabited anger they felt had a cause, always searching to direct it to someone else less deserving of it. So, perhaps there wasn’t anyone to blame for the whole thing—maybe it was just the nature of humans–just like happiness or sadness is a natural way of expressing oneself. It seemed more manageable for you to grapple with it when thought of that way, for it became more of a fact than somewhere to cast your blame.

That’s why, when the bodies being dragged out the door left their track of dark, red blood, you could only gaze at Eustace, who spoke to one of the officers, refusing to look at the bloodshed around you. It turned out that your old man had been fine, answering in irritation while he told the sheriff that the outlaws probably hadn’t found him big enough of a threat as they searched every cabinet and shelf, taking no care to be careful of the things around them as it tumbled in heaps to the floor.

You couldn’t be sure if you felt relieved or not to have been further away from Eustace than you had been, wondering how your fate would have been decided if the lot of them had found you instead. Perhaps it had been your saving grace to see that the man from your past reached you first, but you couldn’t possibly say. Or maybe your saving grace was the officers who reached you just in time, for there was no telling what Arthur would have done with you had they not arrived when they did.

When you thought about it, he’d always been unpredictable. While his face was familiar to you, he was unrecognizable in many ways. His movements had been calculating and menacing, and his eyes looked right through you as if it didn’t matter who was standing before him. The only thought reflected in his eyes was the hope of shiny gold and glittering diamonds. But there was also greed–greed and hunger.

You could tell, for you had seen it before. There was a time when that was all you saw, and for a long while, you wondered how far a man could go to satiate his needs–if greed only could grow, worsen like a drug. The more you got, the more you needed, the high never enough, and the thought of gaining more pleasurable to the point of doing anything to receive it.

However, it was never a look you had seen coming from Arthur when you’d known him, as he’d been more prone to emit a childish want for justice and righteousness, pride, and a strong sense of doing what was right though the act was considered wrong. But it was a long time ago, and you realized that your vision might be clouded by a young girl's naivety that the world was a good place–that people could be wholeheartedly good.

“Dear girl.” Your thoughts were broken by Eustace’s low, seemingly now more careful voice, walking over to where you stood amidst the rushing forms of lawmen. “Are you alright?”

Were you? It was hard to tell, so you had no straight answer to give him. It was too crowded, and since you had nowhere to gather yourself, you weren’t in the right mind to devise a sensible response. So, instead, you answered in a way that would get you the least amount of questions–even though it might have been considered lying.

“Oh, I’m alright, Eustace; they never got the chance to find me.” Giving him a tight-knit smile, you touched his arm, grateful for his concern. “They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You glanced up at him, finding his sharp eyes doubtful. You should have known. He never took kindly to lying and had an incredible knack for noticing when someone did. It would indeed be your doom one day–and many others, no doubt.

“No, I suspect they didn’t find the old man much of a threat.”

“Well, I’m glad they didn’t.” His eyes softened, and he heard your words despite your mumbling. Your gaze stayed stuck on his shoulder, deep in thought.

Even though the danger had passed for some time, it still felt like your heart resided somewhere deep in your stomach. Your thoughts and the looming dread–the slightly metallic smell of blood filling your nose—were heavy. It didn’t help that Arthur’s face became more prone to showing up after that incident, his grim expression wearing a sharp nose and piercing eyes cutting through the yellowed paper plastered on the city walls, surrounded by his unlawful friends that didn’t look any less menacingly.

5000§. That was the price for a man taking what he deemed his own, countless murders and robberies on his hands, blood heavy on his mind, and dollars flooding his pockets. It didn’t help your case that the poor boy selling newspapers in the corner outside the bookstore had pipes to last for days, reminding both you and the townspeople of their latest misfortune of having a gang hiding in the shadows.

Since trouble always seemed to find you, there wasn’t much for you to chastise yourself with, all too familiar with the thought of being at the deep end of one conflict or another. It was laughable, really, that one person could be doomed with such a case of bad luck and an increasing magnetism towards people who fought with bloodied knuckles for power and status. But, in the end, maybe the weak belonged to the strong—just like flies sought feed from the skin of rotting corpses to consume the waste left by those who always strived forward, no matter their intentions or values. Perhaps it was an unspoken law of nature, an inevitable dance between vulnerability and dominance, where the fragile were snared in its horrid embrace.

What could you possibly do against nature’s firm grip on the world? It wasn’t as if it was an imagined force you could call upon when needed—it was just how it was, and no amount of will or strength could make that fact undeniable. You came to terms with that realization long ago, but the gnawing feeling in your chest was more stomach-twisting than anything you had felt before. What you were scared of, you possibly couldn’t say. Perhaps it was the leftover tremors that still coursed through you or the dampening feeling of nausea that persisted, yet somehow, it was something else, a faint sense that the danger wasn’t over yet.

Could Arthur be the one causing the cold sweat to run down your back even though the room was boiling from the heat outside, making you twist and turn in your bed as you prayed that the wind that sometimes passed through the slightly open window would carry an ounce of coldness so you could feel anything but the enclosing heat that now seemed to warm you to the bone? Your eyes closed tight as if you pressed them hard enough; you would fool your mind that you were asleep, the gnawing voices in your head ceasing so you could, perhaps, finally rest.

There was no doubt about it—you were frightened. It was unusual, this feeling, since while you’ve had many instances in your life where fear was the key factor, after some time, your body—or mind perhaps— grows familiar with it, so familiar that it washes away with the wind. Some fare well when scared, responding automatically as if their minds grow clearer when faced with the means to survive. In others, which is the category where you fit in, grow blank, like a heavy fog settles, keeping you from sensing left and right. A perfect prey, indeed.

And a perfect prey you were, the open window inviting anyone who happened to pass by, and in excellent condition for someone to climb the two stories to reach the wooden frames and then slink into the room with their grubby fingers and glinting eyes—stupid girl, to think so carelessly as if the streets were safe and people were kind.

Clothes rustling into the quiet night could be heard if you focused your ears hard enough, the floorboards creaking under the soles of muddy boots and clinking metal. Whoever could it be, one might wonder—and you grew paralyzed as the thought hit you, only able to stare at the tapestry that covered the wall in intricate patterns. The room’s darkness lets you hear every slight sound that would otherwise blend into the background, your senses heightened.

Perhaps the perpetrator thought you were asleep, your dreams already taking you to a land where you were dancing among clouds, not a single thought of the fright that would soon take over and turn the clouds so dark you couldn’t differentiate them from reality. Then, you thought, maybe you had been asleep as the sounds disappeared, all too familiar with waking up along the frantic beating of your heart, wide awake as horrible nightmares chased you till morning.

Your laboured breaths were the only thing that could be heard now, only a fool mistaking them for sleeping as you tried to steady your erratic heart. But you would soon find that the cold chill that ran up your clothed arm wasn’t the wind from the window caressing you but the hand of something more foul, riddled with scars that seemed insignificant in contrast to its owner’s sin.

Creaking under you, the bed groaned from the sudden weight, bedsheets rustling slightly as you closed your eyes tightly shut. The figure loomed over you, its large hand carefully moving further down your arm. You wondered, perhaps, if you stayed still long enough, you would be left alone or maybe dismissed as dead if you held your breath long enough. The thought seemed more appealing when you felt the cold skin burn through the garment, the smell of smoke so strong it felt as if you took a drag of the tobacco and let it scald its way to your lungs. It was vile, and in the presence of the sweat that bit its way through your nose, your eyes watered, your body begging to escape the horrid stench.

That was until the pressure lessened, and the room stayed quiet for a while, your heart beating so heavily it felt like someone held it right up to your ear, breath shaking with every small intake. But then, as the silence continued, you felt a warmth spread slowly down your arms, the substance thick like syrup as it made its way through the cotton of your shirt, spreading til the white fabric darkened to a deep, unsettling red. The scent of iron filled the air, subtle yet unmistakable as the shirt clung tighter to the skin beneath.

You shot your squinting eyes wide open just in time to feel a heavy weight falling over you, unmoving and grim as what you now saw was a man gasping for air. Your first instinct was to scream, but you didn’t get the chance as a hand roughly placed its palm against your mouth, leaving the terrified noise that escaped you muted while your eyes flickered around wildly, trying to make sense of what was going on.

“Quiet now,” a rough voice spoke, removing its hand from your mouth when you became quiet, too shocked when recognizing who it was that spoke. It only grew heavier when your eyes got more familiar with your surroundings, the heaviness that lingered over you being in the form of a man, the warmth you had felt turning out to be from the deep cut across his neck, blood seeping like a waterfall from the paling flesh.

Another scream left you as you struggled to get the limbs away, squirming and trashing as you pushed the hand off you in the process as you begged for the suffocating smell of iron and sweat to disappear. When it did, you crawled backward, body bathing in the slick, blood-soaked sheets. Pushed to the floor, the man was left in a lifeless heap, eyes staring vacantly into the distance.

Those eyes–the sharp nose and squinting eyes—seemed familiar, reminding you of someone you couldn’t quite put your finger on, not while the room remained dark. However, you didn’t have the chance to ponder any longer as more harshly than before, a hand covered your mouth as you remained pushed up against the bedframe, coddling your hands to your chest.

Wet eyes stared into a pair of dark pools, once blue eyes now appearing black in the obscurity of the night as its facial features bathed in the light from the moon. Even still, it was hard to make out who it was, but his voice alone was enough for the realization to set in, now undoubtedly aware of who held your mouth with one hand and the shining blade of a knife in the other.

“Keep screaming, and you’ll damn us both.” A familiar, grumbling voice spoke out, hushed, yet the warning of danger lay smoldering underneath the surface.

“Arthur?” Your voice was hoarse when you spoke, riddled with shock when you realized that the man you had feared was in your bedroom, unwelcomed and unwished for.

“Wh-” You didn’t get to finish your question before he ripped his hand from you, casting you a dark look as he stepped off the bed, the floorboards groaning awfully at the sudden weight.

“Quiet.” There was no need for him to say anything else as you complied, the rattling anger in his voice only fueling his hasty, rigid movements as he bent down, checking the pulse of the man bleeding out on the floor.

The sight was gruesome, blank eyes shining in the moonlight as if they were somewhere far away, lost in a dream. A dream, you pondered amidst your shock. Yes, this could all very well be a dream—a bad dream, perhaps, yet the thought of it maybe not being real brought you a sense of comfort. But how could it be? It felt too real, and you could vividly recall every moment as it played out in front of you, feel every touch, and smell every scent.

Lost in a haze, you stared down at your body, the thick, red blood more visible as your eyes got used to your surroundings. Closing your eyes, you cast away the faint memories that grew bolder as the smell of iron crawled up your nose, almost gagged by the sight and the imposing smell that grew stuffier, fuller somehow.

Your eyes shot open, watching the dead body heaved on Arthur’s shoulder being thrown over the window sill, the impact noticeable with a loud thud. You could only stare at him as he leaned over, looking around quickly before turning towards you again, nodding his head towards the window.

If you had been in the right mindset and not scared witless, you would have laughed at his blatant naivety for thinking you would dive head-first into the darkness of the night, with him no less. There might have been a time when you knew him, but that wasn’t the case anymore—the dark eyes cowering behind his hat were unrecognizable, and the unkind tone of his voice was entirely someone else’s.

“Shit,” you heard him mumble when you made no motion to move from your spot, only cradling your arms tighter around you. Rubbing his eyes in stress, he glanced at you again, almost scoffing at you when you gave him a blank stare.

“Come on then, I ain’t got all day.” As you made no further movement that would give him the impression you were complying, he sighed and, with heavy steps, stalked towards you as the bed rattled slightly from his movements. You only held out your hands when he grabbed your waist roughly, fingers betraying you as they trembled wildly against his chest.

“What are you doing, Arthur?” His movements halted, his leatherbound hands stopped around your middle, and his eyes twitched when he heard his name being spoken. Along the ridges of harshness, you could see a faint confusion lingering in his stare, blatantly staring deep into your eyes unabashedly as he lifted you from the bed.

“Wha—” You pushed against his chest, and while it didn’t succeed in making him back off, it only made his brows furrow deeper.

“Listen here,” he said darkly, grabbing your upper arms and shaking you slightly. “Do as I say—follow my every word, and you won’t die.”

You stopped for a moment, bewildered by his words. You couldn’t make sense of it—none of it. Questions were brewing in your mind, but you couldn’t find the words to speak them, couldn’t find the words to scream for help. It might seem funny to be scared of a man you once knew to have a good heart, but you have known men your whole life, and it never takes much for them to see right from wrong and still do the wrong thing.

“What’s going on, Arthur?” you breathed shakily, glancing at his hands, which gripped your arms when they tightened. It was hard to imagine that they had once been so gentle, the thought seemingly miles away as you returned your gaze to his squinting eyes, so close now that you could feel his breath against your skin. “Why are you here?”

Your voice had grown quiet as the question hung loose in the air. Shuddering, the wind flowed wildly into the room, banging the windows against the wall.

“Come on,” Arthur curtly said as he pushed you in front of him. You quickly realized you could hear footsteps from the stairs behind the shut door—Eustace, you thought, a cold chill running up your back as you gasped.

When you stopped before Arthur in protest, he only gave you a mean glance when you gazed back in concern, telling you all you needed to know. Disbelief was written on your face when you realized his cruelty, feeling it reverberating in your head a few moments before you could make sense of it.

“Don’t-”

“Then do as I say.” He whispered harshly, pushing you forward to make you move, and this time, your feet strode hastily toward the window. Two stories high, the room was, and before you could glance back in protest, Arthur pushed past you quickly, landing with a heavy thud against the dusty ground, clouds of it forming as it danced in the falling glow from the lamppost.

The street below was bathing in darkness, the sullied street more daunting from this high up and saddening when Eustace’s voice could be heard echoing through the hallway, his worried tone reverberating through the walls. It was hard to leave and listen to him calling out for you, yet you realized there wasn’t a choice for you now, and a big part of you refused to see him come to harm. If Arthur would’ve stayed true to his threat, that is.

You couldn’t say why you were so scared, having faced dangers more bone-chilling than this. But perhaps you feared to once more fall into the wrong arms, the arms of a man who reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you. But that might’ve always been the case for people who lived a hard life, feeling it better to put it to rest than reawaken it.

Without casting a glance behind you to see the shadow in the hallway flicker wildly as a stressed cane could be heard audibly hitting the wooden floor; you climbed over the window frame, the chipping paint sticking to your tightly gripping hands. It wasn’t until the trashing of air surrounded you that you fell into a pair of arms that immediately embraced you, hands gripping under your waist to ease your landing.

Quickly, before his hand could linger, you backed away, relieved when you no longer felt the tight hold he had managed to capture you in. His gaze remained heavy on you, and you did your utmost to avoid him, letting your eyes falter, not daring to meet him. How he could act so carelessly, you couldn’t possibly justify, yet his presence alone made you take a few steps back.

His movements were harsh as he adverted his eyes, and you could see how his body was rigid and tense, as if he’d been bathing in ice-cold water. He glanced towards the window, walking towards you as he motioned you to turn around and walk through the streets until the building disappeared behind tons of others, his grip on your arm tight like he worried you would slip out his grasp—or attempt to. Most likely, you thought, knowing exactly what he would do if you tried when considering his earlier threat.

“Where are you taking me?” You applauded yourself for dampening the tremble in your voice when you spoke, somehow finding the simple thought mildly embarrassing while aware it would be entirely valid if you did. This time, you found yourself getting an answer to your question, and although harsh and hasty, it gave you reason to question its meaning.

“Somewhere safe,” Arthur grumbled under his breath before pushing your back against the local general’s store wall, your figure hidden behind his large frame in the deserted alley. You made another attempt to question him further, only managing to open your mouth before the leather of his gloves covered it, hushing you as his eyes found yours, a threat lying deep within them.

A few moments passed in silence, the brick wall against your back cold as the small stones pressed uncomfortably against your shoulder blades. Moving slightly, you turned your head to gaze out towards the street, finding Arthur’s hand turning your face back instantly, shaking his head.

It wasn’t long before loud footsteps could be heard through the streets, metal clanking and murmurs echoing as their shadows grew taller from the orange light of the lamppost.

“Be still,” Arthur whispered under his breath, the sound of his gun cocking slowly as if to make as little noise as possible. Stepping away from you, he motioned you to step further into the alley, where the darkness would almost swallow you whole. “Stay there until l come back, and keep quiet.”

You didn’t get the chance to follow his command, though; the sharp sound of a gun went off, the noise so bone-rattling in the quiet, sleeping town it likened to the sound of thunder—a thunder turning into a full-blown storm as it didn’t even take a millisecond before bullets rained through the air, shooting holes into walls and shattering surrounding windows.

Your back found the brick wall again, Arthur’s back meeting your front as he shielded you with his body. Peeking from behind the building, the sound of his gun went off booming in your ear, his face growing even more grim, cursing under his breath as a bullet flew right past him. His weight pushed against yours when he once more took cover, taking the chance to reload as you gazed at the small cut on his neck where the bullet had grazed him—happy that it hadn’t been you.

Your hands turned pale as they gripped Arthur’s jacket, eyes screwing shut as the noise around you only grew nearer, each intake of breath shallow and rapid, as if the air in and of itself had turned hostile. Desperation clawed at your mind, begging you to slip away from the man holding you back and make a run for it, but you found that you couldn’t, damning yourself for staying still when all you wanted to do was get away.

Although warmth suddenly enveloped your hand, the rough leather and warm fingers wrapped around your sweaty ones. You opened your eyes, breathing erratically as you were once more met with the familiarity of Arthur’s jacket. As you glanced down, you caught a glimpse of his hand encasing you before the sight disappeared just as the feeling passed. You wondered if the hard, cold man in front of you had been the one to do it or if you’d imagined it.

With no more time to ponder, Arthur hastily stepped out on the streets, wildly looking around him with his gun raised as he turned his body in all directions. All dead, you presumed, as no more shots were being fired, yet you could hear more footsteps coming your way, alarmed voices shouting as doors slammed open in the distance.

“Shit,” Arthur muttered, a loud whistle cutting through the air before he returned to you, casting a glance your way as you gazed worryingly towards the direction of the loud calls, stumbling towards Arthur, feeling like the ground was tilting beneath your feet.

“What’s happening?”

“Law,” he stated, grasping your waist and hoisting you up what you discovered was his horse. The strong muscles flexed under your weight as you sat behind the saddle, and the chestnut coat softened under your fingers as you tried to find stability.

“Hold on,” Arthur said after heaving himself onto the saddle, casting a look backward when you took too long to follow his words, only setting off when your hands crawled tentatively around his waist, gripping the material under your hands firmly.

You wanted to ask him where he was taking you, but fear choked up your words and rattled your brain as you tried to comprehend your current predicament. So, instead, you held onto his jacket til your fingers turned a paler shade, closing your eyes as you wished that with it, you could disappear—perhaps wake up in your bed once more and feel the morning sun shine brightly upon you as it had done now for quite some time, instead of the cold, harsh air blowing against you, seeping through every garment you were wearing.

You had happily laid the unknown fate behind you when you found Eustace, not knowing the past from the present—not knowing what lay before you. As a child, it had been everything you’d known. And, being brought up always moving, you’d grown used to a stable home, a far-off dream, if even that, since you had never known that stability existed. Food on the table, clean clothes that didn’t reek of sweat and were stained with dirt, and clean water that would surely do you better than the burning alcohol you often got as a substitute for liquid.

All in all, finding a home with Eustace had been a blessing, no matter how absurd your situation may have looked to others. Therefore, suddenly, having to leave made everything ten times worse—you didn’t want to go, and you cursed the man in front of you, cursing him for disrupting your peace, for taking you away for—well, you weren’t quite so sure yet.

Although it itched inside you to ask him, you hadn’t missed the part where Arthur seemingly wasn’t the man you had once known. Therefore, you kept your mouth shut, not daring to speak a word while you gazed behind you as the city lights dimmed with time, buildings replaced with trees, and people with animals that scourged away into the woods surrounding the path when the clacking of hooves grew near.

You rode for a long while in silence, and with every chance you got, you glanced behind you, expecting to see the sheriff’s men closing in on you despite Arthur’s brutal pace—to see the pistols aimed at you in a way you’d thought you’d laid behind you after all those years on the run. But no, no galloping horses followed you, only darkness engulfing your sight as you looked back, the only noise the huffing of the horse beneath you.

Night turned to day, and you never stopped to regain your breath, to make sense of your surroundings. It was consuming, yet you took the chance to feel the now brisk air of the morning caress your cheeks softly, smell the bracing dew and the carrying of fresh air before the heat would set in a few hours. For a long while, you’d forgotten how good it felt to be outside of the city map with no walls confining you, no bustling crowds jostling for space. Nature’s gentle, soothing sounds replaced the constant hum of urban life—machinery and voices. The rustling leaves, the chirping of birds, and the distant call of wildlife may have once done their best to soothe your rattled nerves, yet it didn’t ease now, and you found yourself only growing more nervous.

—

“We ain’t got no other choice but to stay here tonight,” Arthur said as the horse slowed to a trot, examining the area as he squinted against the sharp evening sun. “Reckon, we’ll be safe enough out here. If they ain’t following us, of course.”

A small sigh left you, almost letting a groan escape you as you moved slightly behind the saddle. Feeling the muscles ache deep within, you were unwilling to face a second longer seated atop the horse. You didn’t even register his last words and their hidden threat, trying to remind you what heap of danger you were in—as if you weren’t aware, as if he didn’t already make you more at edge.

As the horse finally stopped at a place Arthur found agreeable, you didn’t wait a second to glide down towards the ground, feeling your feet planted on firm ground, the grass underneath them heavenly as you stretched with your newly-found freedom.

“Don’t run away,” Arthur muttered as his gaze stayed on you, warning laying deep in his voice.

“And where would I go?” Raising your arms, you gave him a frustrated look, not understanding how he would even make the assumption that you could, the landscape stretching on for miles with only vegetation and no roads as far as the eye could see, only lurking animals awaiting you with open mouths and greedy arms.

“I don’t know, just don’t do it,” he grumbled, sliding off the saddle before throwing you a blanket. As he crouched down, making you believe he was setting up a fire, you walked closer to him, carefully watching the guns on his back, like devil horns sprouting like bone from his shoulders.

“Arthur,” you began, hugging the blanket to your chest. “Will you tell me who those men were?” His mood was terrible, yet somehow, the words left you before you could stop them. There was, of course, still lingering anger at him inside of you, the underlying tones of sorrow that stung its way through you. Yet, you had to know—had to understand why he had turned his visit into a raging bloodbath and who that man was whose blood had dried up your clothes as the fabric had now grown thick and pasty.

“The law, I already told ya,”

“I know that,” you sighed, trying again, finding it easier to look at him when his back was turned. “But the men before that, and the man in my bedroom….” you trailed off, recalling the horrid moment and the consuming smell of blood, the lifeless eyes once again staring straight through you, brows still furrowed while the eyes stayed wide open.

He halted slightly in his motions, casting a glance sideways yet not entirely looking at you as he rubbed his eyes. Sweat ran down his face as he lowered his hat to rid himself of the still-blazing sun, cursing under his breath at the damned warmth that almost felt torturous when the wind laid to rest.

“Jesse’s men,” he said, continuing his earlier action. Your stomach plunged, shock traveling through your body as you froze, wishing sincerely he’d said any name but that.

“And the man in my be-”

“Jesse.”

“Oh.”

Backing slightly, you could feel your throat constricting when the familiar name left Arthur’s mouth. It had been a long time ago, yet now it seemed so near, almost too near, being able to grasp the memories that made your heart lurch and stomach turn, something waxy and cold lining your insides at the thought.

Although, with it being given more thought, wasn’t this just your luck? Had it not always been your luck? To find yourself amid everything terrible, of all that was rancid and chaotic—entangled in the embrace of men who, above all else, desired more, strove towards gaining what they deemed necessary. Because of this, there had been many instances where you had felt greed, the familiarity with currents so strong there was no other explanation than rendering yourself no better than others when it came to it. And, unfortunately, it was consistent, for it appeared in everyone—everywhere—whether consciously or not, there had been no way for you to unsee it.

“But I don’t understand,” you said, your voice quiet as you spoke to yourself, gaze far off as you absentmindedly stared into thin air. “Jesse already killed Charlie. Why would he go after me, and now of all times? He couldn’t possibly be that greedy?” Silence followed, Arthur’s eyes finally meeting yours with reluctance, as if your question bothered him more than he wanted to let on. “Could he?”

“It ain’t—” he trailed off, eyes flickering as if pondering how best to form the words soon to be said. “Well,” he said more directly this time. “Death ain’t enough for some, I guess.”

As his words sunk in, Arthur avoided your gaze, the silence from you enough to tell him that he’d struck a chord in you with his admittance. Horrifying, yet how could it surprise you when you had faced the inner turmoil of men many times, knowing the ways of honor and respect they so desperately clung to? Although there was an underlying dread to his words—like someone had wrapped a bag over your lungs when you thought of what could’ve been—where you could’ve been if Arthur hadn’t been there that night.

When you were both smaller and much more naive than today, you’d seen the bullet that flew right through your father’s skull with both eyes by the hand of Jesse, wide open and undoubtedly too young to stand witness to such a thing—no less it being a parent. You’d been too little; you simply didn’t understand it, and while you can honestly say it didn’t impact you then, being too used to seeing things like that firsthand and not particularly close to your father, it plastered itself onto you like a stamp whether you liked it or not.

Charlie, your father, had grown too careless and brave to think himself above others, particularly Jesse. All in all, that didn’t sit right with him, and as your father went through the grief of losing your mother, growing both colder and meaner with time—an image of his former self—he didn’t have much to care for except the gluttony that grew more consistent as the years passed. Sometimes, you’d ponder if any man could be blamed for it, for it seemingly was engraved in our bones, perhaps a fundamental part of the human mind.

You’d concluded you couldn’t cast that blame at your father when he tried to usurp Jesse, for then greed battled greed, and you had to choose which one was more deserving of understanding. Yet, you soon came to realize it didn’t matter who was more deserving, for power played a bigger part, and it didn’t care for either justice or discernment—only in which hands it could grow stronger, in which mind it could spread its dark tendrils until it grew satisfied. The only problem was that it never did, and you deemed it the downfall of many, both great and horrible men, those who deserved it and those who didn’t.

After that, you didn’t have much more to say, continuing the late evening in silence as your mind raced terribly after your conversation. You couldn’t help but stay unsurprised by Arthur’s theory, somewhere deep down knowing they probably did have much more in the plan for their leader’s revenge. Death, all in all, might not be so horrible after all when you’d imagine all the other vile and stomach-wrenching things one could do to deem their revenge agreeable—righteous.

It was impossible to imagine yourself being the one to endure it. You almost felt lighthearted at the thought of men’s grabby hands and hungry eyes, conjuring up bone-chilling scenarios that would make any sane person’s face pale and skin gray. The slap of a harsh backside of someone’s palm was, of course, humiliating enough for you. Still, with time, it somehow felt less personal, as if the memory healed with the bruise, while someone infringed on the fleshier part of yourself, not quite humiliation, for it stretched farther than that—scarred deeper. Pure rot and filth would surely spread through your body and mind, growing until it became a part of you, your past, and your future.

Your fright for Arthur did lessen as you pondered, growing thankful when you deemed his company much more preferable than the men who sought after you. It reminded you of a time he’d been the safest point in your life—perhaps the first since you laid in your mother’s arms, the warmth only a child could feel from a parent. Safe and undoubtedly free, his arms around you not encasing you—caging you in—but pushing you forward so you could feel the air of the wild blow through your hair, showing you there was more to life than death and violence, that there could be more to a man than his demons.

Of course, you had known what he was capable of—the brutality he wielded with his hands, the blood that tainted them, tainted him. In some deranged way, that thought had always made him even more comforting than he would be without it. It was what you’d known your whole life, and there was no hiding it. It drew you in, but never once had he made the slightest incantation of hurting you, and that’s what made you stay.

God, you’d been so alike, you and Arthur, and your childhood likewise. It felt like he’d been explaining your life when he told you of his. It didn’t help, for it glued you together, and you wondered if it could even be undone, knowing the rip of the glue, if you ever did, would strip away both skin and bones—take so much from you you were unsure if it could ever heal again. To think it would be horrifying indeed, and in the end, it was; the bruising went so deep you’d wanted to dry-heave when you left, almost ripping your heart out with everything else as you pushed him away.

You wondered, the saddest smile almost showing on your lips, if he had realized how carefully he had handled you since you first laid eyes on him, thinking not of his threats and harsh demeanor but the thoughts behind his actions. Ever so thoughtful and very unbecoming of him, yet somehow entirely expected of his character. You lowered your head, letting your hair fall around you as you tried hiding how the corners of your lips suddenly turned into a frowning smile like you were in on a sad secret only you knew about.

As you tried forcing your lips to maintain their straight appearance, you raised your eyes carefully after some time, observing Arthur through your lashes as he gazed into the fire. Leaning against an oak, he sought shade from the sun after providing you with something to eat. He seemed deep in thought as the flames caressed his face in the darkening evening, highlighting his sharp, harsh features. A heavy shadow cast over his eyes, hiding what thoughts lay behind them.

He looked no doubt like a man to fear, with features just as deadly as he was, like the guns resting on his hips and the twitching of his fingers ready for even the slightest inclination of danger. It looked like he was sleeping, yet he was vibrating with tension, like his mind was resting without his body, as if it ran on auto, already aware of every danger that could occur upon you as if it was plastered in the back of his eyelids.

You conclude that living the life he did would surely do that to a person. You’re not sure what he’s been through since you last saw him but deem it nothing good. Your eyes wandered over his face, gazing over the slightly suntanned skin, watching how the evening breeze made his roughly cut hair tickle his face. The trail of beard started to form, littering down to his neck, where a cluster of chest hair took over, disappearing invitingly into the unbuttoned part of his shirt.

Lingering over the bare skin that glistened with an inclination of sweat from the still humid air and fading sun, they followed over the expanse of his chest that stretched the fabric of his shirt, rising steadily in harmony with his breathing. The faint feeling of his skin under your fingertips ran through your mind, the slight memory so far away that only the feeling persisted. The sharp, musky smell of smoke was almost burning under your nostrils as the feeling persisted, coupled with a smoldering scent that was hard to word; you could nearly feel the warm skin underneath you—the faint sense of hair tickling your cheek.

It calmed you to watch him, the slow breaths that left him making your eyes grow heavy as time ticked on, the chilling fog of night settling in, accompanied by the warmth of the fire you so desperately relied on. It wasn’t until you were at the brink of sleep a pair of darkened eyes met yours, bathing in the glow from the fire, that your eyes faltered, a scorching blush fighting its way up the skin of your chest till it covered your cheeks wholly—shit. It grew hotter, the air suddenly turning stuffed as embarrassment from your delirious, wandering eyes had been caught red-handed.

You could only stare at the ground in shame, the small pebbles suddenly turning interesting as your eyes stared in false interest. You blamed it on your worn-out mind, the fatigue that had overtaken your body, trying to justify it to yourself. You felt the brutality of another pair planted on you, unwavering, hoping to higher powers they would dissipate so you could pity yourself without an audience.

“Cold?” Arthur’s gruff voice broke the silence, the words still quiet, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

Did he mistake your blushing cheeks for you being cold? Or, had your distracted mind kept you from realizing that the cold air had done so when the darkening sky fell upon you, too? Crossing your arms over your chest, you felt a shudder run through you, hairs raising as if on cue.

“I suppose so,” you mumbled, inching closer to the fire that had begun to falter. The embers around it were glowing red as they crackled loudly into the night, the sudden noise making you jump slightly.

“Mmh.”

You stared into the flames as silence followed, refusing to meet his eyes. Your pulse was still pounding quickly, and your mind was caught in the horrible moment. Hell, you’d say it bordered on humiliating, throwing off your facade of irritation directed at Arthur and his actions that you were so dead-set on keeping up as well as your walls—so high he couldn’t peer over them the way you couldn’t look over his.

“Come here.”

Your eyes fitted to his, in an instance, baffled by the words that left his mouth, if even that was what he said and not something your sleep-deprived mind made up.

You could only stare at him for a while, trying to decipher the hidden meaning behind his words. Your face was straight as Arthur stared back at you with an expression that could rival yours, arms crossed over his chest, and he leaned against the tall oak. You damned his ability to keep his face so unreadable, eyes still as sharp as they always seemed. His voice was calmer, perhaps slightly warmer, heating like embers glowing in the hearth.

“What?” you mumbled tiredly, voice laced with a sleepy confusion.

“You’ll die of hypothermia before I even get the chance to get you out of here.” His tone was laced with annoyance, grumbling irritably as if the mere thought of the conversation you had bothered him immensely—as if the words leaving him were reluctant and bothersome.

He didn’t continue, staring at the flames flickering wildly when the wind suddenly picked up—if it was a means to avoid your now wakened eyes or the nonchalance in his spoken words, you couldn’t tell.

The irritation that had been simmering in your mind grew at his words. Your throat constricted with words you wanted to speak, wanting to tell him that there wasn’t a single fiber of your being wishing to be close to him, to give him such a privilege. Had the world turned his head that daft, or had he simply stopped caring what effect his words and actions had on others, no less you?

A few moments passed, and you stared at him, eyes growing hard and sharp like glass, where confusion and fear were replenished. So, to rid both of you from the onslaught of feelings coursing through you, you turned around on the hard ground, bringing your arms tighter against you for warmth as a shudder ran through you.

“When did you grow so cruel?” you asked quietly into the night, watching the warm air leaving your mouth become clouds when you breathed a shaking breath. You weren’t sure if you were speaking about his sudden audacity or the change in his character that so starkly contrasted the one you had known. Nonetheless, you didn’t expect an answer, but you did get one, and a humorless laugh accompanied it as if the truth was some masochistic joke.

“If you only knew.”

—

The night continued in silence, and you woke between the hours from the cold, staring heedlessly into the darkness, ears taut as every noise made your breath hitch, almost expecting to find prying eyes staring back at you when you got the guts to open them. But, as sunlight found its way to you behind the trees, rising warmly over the cliffs, you could finally feel yourself relaxing against the hard ground, bringing the jacket that lay over you closer as you breathed in the scent of smoke and something warmer, muskier.

Blue orbs, hidden beneath the surface of anger and hatred, gazed at you through squinted eyes as the orange tendrils hit the skin of your cheeks just above ĥis jacket. They followed along the strands of hair that ran down your face, tickling your skin slightly as you shook them away from your face in deep sleep.

For far too long, they had only seen gruesome sights—things that would make even the strongest men empty their stomachs. So they stayed a while longer, feasting their eyes on something lovelier—a forbidden fruit laid out before them. The steady breathing lulled them closer as if calling for them, begging them to stray nearer until skin touched skin.

The skin he had once known so well, so well the mere thought of it had become less of a luxury and more of a second nature, a constant need. You might’ve let time do its part in receding the memories, but not him—not when every thought of you had become his way of finding something good in this world—his world. Whatever was left of it gnawed at him, clawed at the inside of his flesh, the scars with age growing visible, larger to only himself; only the aftermath of anger and resentment was what was shown to the world.

Embedded in the darkest corners of his mind, you laid like a hidden haven, formless yet shaped by recollection. He rarely touched it, for every time he did, he found the flesh of you that was once so bright, so warm, turned colder and grayer, rot spreading its way up your delicate skin, his disease only managing to span through your body. The eyes had grown too lifeless to be associated with yours, the sunken eyes dull and almost bordering on hateful. He couldn’t stand it, so he let it be after some time, outmost refusing to taint your memory with his cruelty and violence, refusing to cover you any longer with his filthy hands.

It was a part of his life he’d had to lay behind him, a chapter that he had looked upon so fondly laid to rest, only for the next to take form. Oh, how it was riddled with filth and violence, the edge of the papers burnt and soiled. It was simply how it was, he’d concluded at the time, all too aware that it was what lay before him, what had always been destined to be his life.

What once was a heroic attempt, a means to do good, had been overtaken by gluttony, the constant want for more. A bare and raw sin was what he had turned into, a hungry wolf, led by his brutality and fear—a fear of realizing what he was, what he had always been.

So, he couldn’t help but just for once take you in now that your watchful eyes weren’t gazing at him in fright—a fright he had grown all too used to when others looked at him, whether it was by the end of his gun or in the final short few breaths of their life. You had turned in your sleep, chin resting against the hard ground, when his eyes fitted over you, resting in the soft curves of your face and lashes that lay delicately on your skin.

The gentle rise and fall of your chest was a lullaby of sorts, a contrast to the storm inside of him. He wondered what dreams might be drifting through your mind, hoping they were far removed from the darkness that often clouded his own, hoping he wasn’t turning them vile.

Arthur gazed over the plump cheeks that seemed fuller, akin to his memories, a soft glow over them as the morning sun washed over you. You had always looked prettier in the sunlight; it was something he had always thought, for it was like two twins meeting each other again, laden with the same light and warmth. The ghost of a wistful smile begged to tug at the corners of his mouth as he indulged in this rare moment of stillness—the rough edges of his hardened soul seemed to soften, if only for a heartbeat.

He wanted to reach out a hand, rough and scarred, and try to let it hesitate above your cheek as he thought it would break the spell of sleep that enveloped you. He could feel his breath caught in his throat, a mixture of awe and sorrow, for deep down, he was aware that the world he lived in had no place for such beauty and peace. He was a ghost in your serene world, an intruder with no right to stay. Still, he would linger, savoring the moment like a condemned man savoring his last meal.

A dream was all it was, to imagine a different life where you could bask in the sun’s glow without fear and violence. But, as the sun climbed higher, reality would begin to seep back in, and he would reluctantly pull his hand away, the humid air now filling the spaces between you. The weight of his choices and the path he’s walked pressed down on him, so for now, he’d indulge in the simple act of watching over you as you rested—not sure where to go where the men now seeking your death couldn’t find you yet promising to himself he would keep you far, far away from them.

—

When the sun’s warmth began to cover your skin in a faint layer of sweat, you awoke, being met with the smoking of a dying fire and a soreness in your body that only laying on hard ground could create. You had almost expected to awake in the comfort of your old bed, feeling the soft wind caress your face as it blew through the open window, curtains fluttering in the air as the far-away sound of people chattering could be heard, and the constant chugging of the train.

Homesickness, you thought. It was strange; never before had that feeling grappled you so intensely; never had the thought of being back with Eustace seemed so wishful, so desperate. It pulled something inside of you, and as you sat up, you could only find yourself wishing the feeling away, rubbing your eyes as you set your gaze forward, refusing to ponder over it any longer.

“No sight of Jesse’s men yet, so I think we’re good,” a voice called out nearby. Looking behind you, you found Arthur going through the saddlebag, his back facing you as you slowly stood up.

“Do you-” You cleared your throat, still riddled with sleep, both rough and quiet. “Do you think they’re still after us?”

“Sure,” he drawled, fastening the bag before patting his horse encouragingly. “We just killed their leader; I don’t think we’re off the hook that easily.”

“You,” you stated, dragging your fingers through your hair as you felt the various knots get stuck in your hand. You tried to sort them out but found your effort unsuccessful.

“What?” he said.

“You killed their leader, you mean.”

“Yeah, I guess, but they’re still coming for you nonetheless.”

“And the law?”

“If we keep away from Blackwater, we’ll be fine,” he said, turning towards you.

“Then where do we go now?” you asked, staring at the ground as you grieved at the thought of not being able to head back to Blackwater, back to Eustace. He only glanced at you, the slight movement of his shoulders indicating he wasn’t so sure either.

You walked tentatively towards him, meeting his gaze as he leaned towards the tree where his horse was stabled. He watched you cautiously as if he had any reason to be careful around you.

“How did you know Jesse’s men were after me?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his eyes narrowing as he considered his response. “I have my ways,” he muttered, eyes darting to the horizon. “Words travel fast in these parts, and I keep my ears open.”

You only gazed at him for a while, hearing him sigh when you didn’t let your eyes waver, his eyes narrowing as he studied you, measuring how much truth to reveal. He adjusted his hat, the shadow casting a veil over his expression. “We heard things. Rumors in the towns. Jesse’s men have a way of making themselves known.” You nodded, absorbing the information. It made sense in a twisted way; your past seemed to chase you no matter where you ran or how far you went.

Arthur shifted his weight, his voice dropping lower, more serious. “And when we ran into some of his boys a few days back, well,” He stared at you hard. “They mentioned you.”

“Me?” Your breath got caught in your throat, your voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded.

“How did you know I was in Blackwater?”

Arthur’s eyes darkened slightly, a shadow crossing his face. He took a moment before answering, his voice low and steady. “I’ve been keeping tabs on you,” he admitted tersely.

You blinked in surprise, the revelation catching you off guard. “Why?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper, your tone betraying none of the turmoil.

He only sighed, glancing away briefly before meeting your questioning eyes again. “Because I had to make sure you weren’t getting yourself killed,” he retorted sharply, his words tinged with frustration. “Especially after everything that happened all those years ago.”

Many emotions flooded through you—confusion riddled with anger, a strange sense of relief you wanted to cast far away. Anger at his presumption, a deep ache for the man he once was when he mentioned the past. “So you’ve been watching me all these years?” you countered, your voice carrying a cutting edge.

Arthur’s jaw clenched, his temper flaring. “I’ve been trying to keep you safe,” he mumbled, his voice growing snappier.

The reality of his words sank in, and you struggled to process the implications. You met his gaze, trying to keep your composure, refusing to let his anger shake you. “Protecting me by keeping me under surveillance?” you shot back.

“Call it what you want, but I had to make sure you wouldn’t end up lying dead somewhere,” he said gruffly, staring stubbornly at you. “Jesse’s men aren’t exactly known for sending love letters.”

“And did it ever occur to you that I might’ve been wanting to be left alone?”

“You don’t get it, do you? They’ve been after you this whole time; they still are. You think you can just walk away and be fine?”

The air hung tense between you and Arthur, his words cutting through the warm air like a sharp blade. “You had no right,” you hissed, your voice low but filled with simmering anger. You knew you were right, and you were sure Arthur knew as he quieted down, grumbling as he strode past you, stepping on the fire’s dying embers to put it out, his movements stiff and rigid.

“We’ll keep moving, get you out of the wild for a bit.” You stayed facing away from him when he spoke, only moving when he extended his hand, motioning you towards the horse.

“Listen,” he murmured, turning you around before you could sit behind the saddle. “I didn’t—” he turned his head away from you for a moment as if thinking about his following words, hands gripping your shoulders carefully, flexing slightly. “I know how these types of men work, and you would thank me for keeping an eye on you if I told you what they would’ve done to you.”

“And how are you so different from these men you talk of, Arthur?” Your voice was accusing and bitter, and only silence followed from his side. “I used to know a different man,” you murmured. One who was understanding,” you finally said, your voice barely a whisper as your walls crashed, a somber look glazing over your eyes. “Kind.”

You felt him stiffen before you, and he didn’t respond immediately, as if surprised by your words. “Things change,” he replied curtly, his voice devoid of sentiment.

“I can see that,” you said, lifting your hand as if to move his hat out of the way but faltering at the last second. “ I barely recognize you.”

You hadn’t failed to realize it, and it had consumed your thoughts fully since you first discovered it was him when he held that gun toward your head. Never did you imagine he would be the type of man to wield such a dangerous weapon towards a woman—towards you—yet that’s precisely what he’d done.

“You don’t understand the world we live in now,” he said, his tone hardening. “Things aren’t as simple as they used to be.”

“Maybe not,” you replied, feeling the weight of your disappointment settle in your chest. “But I didn’t think you’d let it change like this; I didn’t think you’d become-”

“What? Like them?” he interrupted, his eyes narrowing. “You think I had a choice?

“There’s always a choice,” you shot back. “You used to be a different man.”

“And what good did that ever do me?” he snapped, stepping closer. His breath was warm against your cheek when you lowered your face, staring at the fabric of his shirt.

“The world is cruel, whether you want to acknowledge it or not, and I had to make sure to keep the gang safe, and I still do.” The last part, he muttered to himself. “And since you decided to leave me-”

“Leave you?!” you gasped, appalled at his choice of words. The familiar stabbing pain gripped your heart when he accused you, and you stepped backward slightly only to find his hands rooting you in place. “I had no choice!”

“No choice, huh?” He said, his lips curling into a bitter smile as if your words were ridiculous and filled with lies.

“I asked-, no begged, you to come with me, but you refused! Talking all sorts of rubbish about loyalty and Dutch this and Dutch that!” It felt like a stone the size of your fist was plunged down your throat while the muscle could only constrict around it, twisting your body slightly so he would let go of you.

“I realized there wasn’t a place for me there, with you, any longer, so I had to leave before I went insane!” you said. “I couldn’t bear it, living that life anymore. My whole life had been filled with cruelty and violence, and I needed to feel as if I was the one living it instead of watching myself from the sidelines!” Flashes of faces, both grim and cruel, passed your vision, the image of a younger you looking for somewhere to hide but only finding broken souls wandering around you.

Like lost in a maze, you had tried left and right, but with no guidance, it proved useless as you kept wandering, trying to make sense of the world that you grew up in, parentless and abandoned in a gang whose hearts had been ripped out of their chests and feasted on by the devil. His pupils were all that was left, and you, a lost child, were made to endure a world that had been stripped of both kindness and care.

“But you-” your voice was choked up, trembling as your frenzied eyes flickered around you. “You didn’t care enough to see that, and now I can see why.”

“You’re just like them.” As your words ended, the onslaught of feeling simmered underneath your hectic breathing, and you finally felt the pressure loosen on your shoulders. Taking a few steps back, you passed the back of your hands over your eyes, feeling the warm liquid rub into your skin.

Those years felt distant now that they were brought up, and you had done your utmost to keep them far away until one day, you woke up feeling like that life hadn’t been your own; the person you were hadn’t been you and the memories entirely someone else’s. It had become too much, the air around you thick and nauseating when it felt like none of it would stop, like you were in a loop that never ended, only bringing you back to where you first started but with different people this time.

You soon realized that since you managed to remove yourself from Jesse and his men, you’d only wound up sleeping on a hard ground once more, the twigs and sticks poking you through your back like they’d always done. However, the people around you were new, but they were still the same lost souls as you, and the thought terrified you. You couldn’t handle the idea of that being your life, of always following someone who strived towards a goal that, when reached, would only be replaced by another one.

You didn’t dare glance at Arthur, yet you felt his eyes on you. As you tried to calm your breathing, you wondered why he didn’t say anything, defend himself, or retort and fight back like you thought he would. Yet, his lack of words made you second guess your revelations, shame soon filling your body when you realized how much of yourself you’d given a man who no longer cared to understand, who was so far gone your words meant nothing, just like the men he killed in cold-blood—a menace and an obstacle.

“Let’s go,” was all that he replied with after some time, avoiding glancing at you before grabbing your waist carefully to sit you behind the saddle, stomping one last time at the dying fire before sitting before you, no doubt noticing how your hands ghosted around his waist as if touching him alone was a vile and horrid thought.

—

You couldn’t help but ponder over what transpired this morning, all too aware it had to be spoken about sooner or later, but you wished he’d tell you more, explain why he’d acted the way he did and why he’d changed so much even though the words might’ve been said in anger. Yet, perhaps, that is a ridiculous exception, for who can say why they’d change if they even stopped enough to notice they did? Still, you realized what he had to say might not be what you wanted to hear, and the thought didn’t fail to make your heart sink.

It’s terrible what time can do to one person, but you could not understand how it could wound its way into Arthur so firmly, as if not considering his past self that had been so different from who was before you now. Perhaps being young and in love had made you fail to realize that maybe the man he was now is only an older version of who he’d been then and that he’d only shown the sides he felt deemed to you. Why, you wondered. Had it been shame or fear, knowing very well the cruel place you came from, not wanting to admit that he was a criminal—that he did exactly what every other man would do when following another blindly?

Bringing yourself out of your thoughts, you observed that day had once more turned into night, the familiar setting sun casting its warm gaze over the landscape as the horse huffed underneath you in exhaustion from running all day—tired from the lack of rest and the growing tension that was heavy between its riders.

Rising your gaze to look at his back for the first time since you set off, you let the follow along the chestnut tone of his hair, trailing over his tense back, eyes focusing on the various scratches and stains on his clothing, the blood that had been rubbed so many times it had turned into a lighter shade, yet the slight pinkness still resided, marking him unknowingly, as if his clothing represented his being.

It was so unfair, you concluded, yet you felt angry at him, furious at yourself and the world for being unpredictable, for never making anything easy, and more so for laying trouble over minds that from the start were pure, a blank canvas now to be trifled with. But there was also a tinge of sadness over the people you had turned out to be and grieving over the man you seemed to have lost behind smokes of black and anguish.

The pit of darkness that now filled you turned into thunder, and as the rain began to pour, the cold drops doing nothing to wash away the hollowness you felt, you failed to hear the hooves that could be heard from a distance. Arthur, though, had sensed them for some time now, trying to make his abrupt, faster pace less noticeable, hoping to gain some distance before you could see their dark figures form behind you.

Unfortunately, they only gained on you with every minute that passed, reaching out for you with their slinky arms and wild gazes, bullets vibrating in the metal, begging to be released so they could bury themselves into your flesh. Yet, it was hard for them to see, the heavy downpour blurring their vision of you, the fading sun offering them no help, and the galloping of their horses dizzied their sight.

A gasp left you as the horse suddenly stopped abruptly, the reigns held tightly as it skidded across the slippery ground. You didn’t get the chance to be surprised, hastily brought down to the ground, Arthur’s hands almost lifting you with the way he pushed you as you clumsily glided across the ground, grasping onto his arms to find stability as you walked up the small stairs that appeared on front of you.

A small porch, desolated and lonely, spread out around you; from the hasty look you could get, the windows seemed dark and lifeless—not a single light shining through them. The two-story structure seemed to stand on the outskirts of a forgotten, overgrown field, its once-white paint nor a peeling, weather-beaten gray where ivy and wild vines clung to the sides, creeping through the cracks in the wooden boards. The roof sagged precariously, shingles missing in place, revealing patches of rotting wood underneath.

“Shit!” You could hear Arthur shout as the loud weather dampened his voice, grasping the handle as it refused to open.

“What’s going on, Arthur?!” you said loudly so he could hear you, but you got no answer to your question. He pushed you to the side with one motion, trashing his shoulder into the door, and rusty hinges groaned in protest; the flimsy wood bent slightly before he bolted against it again. With this attempt, he opened it, and it smashed against the wall; the smell of something musty reached your nose as it escaped the house, contrasting heavily with the freshness of the rain.

“Get inside!” he shouted, and as you hurried inside, you heard the door slam shut. Your back pressed against the wall beside it, and Arthur stood before you, peeking out carefully from the window beside it.

It grew quiet the minute you stepped inside, the rain reduced to a slight humming as it splattered against the one-story house that seemed long abandoned, the faint smell of mold and neglect traveling through the air–the stale, dry air left a metallic tang in your mouth, the taste of dust was ever-present, gritty and unpleasant, seemingly coating your tongue and throat with each short, terrified breath you took.

“Arthur,” you whispered, craning your neck so you could gaze up at him where he leaned against the window, his eyes scanning the storm outside as his hands squeezed your arms gently but firmly.

“I gotta hide you,” he said, his voice low, his throat straining around the words when he finally looked into your eyes.

He pulled you from the wall, leading you deeper into the cabin. The floorboards creaked underfoot, threatening to give away with each step you took. Moving through the tiny parlor, past the broken chairs and sagging sofa, you moved into the kitchen where the cabinets hung open, their contents long since scavenged or rotted away.

As you gazed back, you found Arthurs’s eyes darting around the place, searching for a place where you would be hidden from the gruesome and horrible event that would soon take place in this already damned building. A small pantry, its doors hanging loosely on its hinges, seemed to be the only hiding place he deemed approvable.

“In here,” he said, guiding you towards it.

“Why?” you asked, hesitating to enter the small space.

“They caught up to us,” he murmured, watching your hand grasp his shirt. “Jesse’s men.”

“What about you?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“I’ll be fine,” Arthur replied, momentarily passing his hand over yours. “I’ll handle them, just please-” he trailed off, grasping your cheeks between your hands so you would focus entirely on his and his words. “Please don’t come out until I tell you.”

A few moments passed before you tentatively nodded, feeling his hands leave you so you could squeeze into the pantry. The small space was barely big enough to hold you as the doors were closed gently, slightly ajar so you could breathe through the thick, consuming air.

A few moments passed, your eyes wide in the darkness as you took in his words. It surprised you there were still so many, remembering the night in Blackwater where it seemed like bodies littered every corner of the streets when you passed them, lifeless and now soulless. How many, you wondered, were outside now, and how had you not managed to feel their presence before, to catch sight of them behind you, yet Arthur could without a glance?

As the first sign could be heard, you held your breath, the beating of your heart almost audible in the small space as it fought against your chest, your hands covering it as if it would give away your position. That was when the door burst open, and you could only clamp a hand over your mouth to stifle a gasp that escaped against your will, listening tentatively at every noise that could reach you.

You could only make out Arthur’s voice, low and steady, even though you couldn’t make out the words that left him, almost wanting to cover your ears as if it would help against the terror you knew would soon erupt, praying-no begging Arthur would be alright, that you wouldn’t have to be dragged away from there a weeping mess as Arthur lifeless eyes stared into your own, bullets imbedded in his flesh as you awaited your fate.

The sound of struggle filtered through the storm—the clatter of boots, shouts of men that boomed through the cabin, and the crackle of gunfire. Each noise made you cringe, squeezing your eyes shut as you tried to block out the terrifying reality, hands shooting up to cover your ears as the loud sounds lessened; instead, the more vile noise of flesh hitting flesh ensued, the noise bones made when broked and the bloodily smack of skin against skin.

It ensued for a while, the disgusting sound of grunting and groaning making you remember the many times you had to hide your smaller self and only listen. Listen till the danger was over, examining every sound that could be heard to tell if you’d be alright stepping out or whether it would lead to your death—which had most of the time been the biggest possibility. You felt like you had traveled back in time, with not an ounce more courage than you had lacked back then, quivering like a fool while others fought like madmen around you, wishing you could be somewhere else—for someone to swoop down and save you like in some sad fairytale.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, heart pounding in your ears as you didn’t dare to peek out from the cracks. Then, amidst the chaos, you heard a voice—Arthur’s voice, calling your name as you heard him breathing heavily, your name strained as he spoke. A sense of relief coursed through you, now knowing he was alright, yet you still lingered for a second, hand hesitating at the door as you feared what sight you’d be presented with. Yet, as you pushed it open, you stepped into the cabin again, taking small steps leading further into the house, trailing over the dark red liquid as you closed your eyes at the bodies it came from.

“They won’t hurt you no more,” Arthur murmured.

He stood there, hands at his side, his eyes as blood-filled as his hands, the red liquid dripping onto the wooden planks, staining them til they flowed beneath the cracks. Fitting to yours, you could only gasp, taking a step back as you were filled with dread over what he just did, the brutality of his actions, and the lives that now lay devoid of it around you. There had been too much death over the last few days, and although it was either their life or yours, you couldn’t help but detest the constant smell of the deceased resting just under the tip of your nose.

You gazed over the chaos; the broken glass shattered on the floor, blinding you when the sun was reflected on their surface. The white porcelain was stained red, and the walls had been painted the same color. You felt his eyes stay on you, unmoving and seemingly not bothered by the brutality he just possessed—always had possessed—but not making any attempt to move, as if he was waiting for you to make the first move, speak the first word.

He looked tense where he stood, and despite his horrible deeds, he looked at you as if he searched for your acceptance, as if trying to convey that he did this for you, that he dirtied his hands only to keep you safe, just like he’d always done. And, as you stared at him, you could almost see his hand flex slightly, as if it wanted to reach out to you, yet was held back, rooting him to the spot.

It might surprise him what you would do next, as the first tentative step towards him—although riddled with a faint fright and shaking hands—never wavered, carefully stepping over the bodies in your way until you stood in front of Arthur, ignoring their deathly, vengeful eyes that almost followed you, rolling into the back of their heads when you went out of sight.

His hands were still shut tight, knuckles white against the suntanned skin that flexed slightly when your fingers ran over them, bringing them higher as you felt the callousness that bruised his hands. They contrasted so heavily with your own, soft against hard, the veins beneath his skin protruding til the blue shades created valleys, irritated and angry. The warmth of your touch contrasted starkly with the cold reality of his actions, a shiver running down your spine when the blood on his hands painted your untouched skin. Arthur didn’t attempt to push away from your touch but stood like a statue, eyes cautious when you brought his knuckles to your lips, closing your eyes as you ghosted over them.

Every breath you took was heavy; each inhale difficult to make as his gaze remained locked onto yours. The bluish shade grew molten on the edges, warming up the coldness of the otherwise sharp hues, staring into yours like he was waiting for something or perhaps fearing something. It made the ache in your heart settle daftly, staring into the eyes you could now recognize from the ones you had known many years ago, see the man you hadn’t been able to remember till now rightfully.

You pulled away slightly when you realized that man wasn’t standing before you but a figment of him, perhaps a vivid remembrance yet not reality. Your fingers lingered on his skin, though, as if afraid to let go, afraid you might’ve lost him as you’d done before even though he wasn’t whole—the pieces of him scattered wherever he went, falling away like fragments with every step.

Brutally and cold, the devil resided in his eyes, each glance laden with sin and searing pain that engulfed like wildfire, encircling and trapping in its flickering, scorching embrace. It was a warmth that turned cold, caressing with its chilling touch, raising the hairs on your skin in protest—an unwelcome sensation that one dared not wish for. Yet, amidst this, your heart beats heavily–not in fear, but in yearning for his touch to linger.

How could your heart betray you so? How could it stray so far from reason, captivated by a man who made you unable to tell between reason and desire? Traitorously, it thudded heavily within, not out of fear but wishfully. It created an ache that settled so deep in your bones it hurt, a pain born of longing—a desire that scorched like a fever. Every instinct screamed for you to flee, to turn away against your now abandonment of all sense and sensibility—to run far away from the life he reminded you of, a life you’d so desperately feared.

You were caught between shame and confusion as if he could sense your pulse racing against the barriers of cotton and leather. Did he notice your heart’s betrayal and the quivering of your lips as your shaking breath rose like wisps of smoke in the cold air? Maybe he did, for as you closed your eyes, unable to handle the downpour of emotions coursing through you, you suddenly felt his breath against your lips as his presence enveloped you, casting a shadow over the world when he drew closer. Your breath caught in your throat as your eyes opened in protest; the space between you dwindled, narrowing to nothingness until you could feel the heat of his breath mingling with your own.

His eyes burned like smoldering coal, holding you captive as every voice in your head told you to run, hit, scream–anything to get away from him—only to silence when his lips brushed against yours in a feather-light caress. It was far away and fleeting, the small touch of skin almost ghostly as they moved over your trembling lips. His breath was warm, so warm it made heat crawl up your neck, spreading slowly throughout your body.

His careful touch made you wonder when the world turned him so cold. To carry the burns of his soul, hideous and bare, with not a single kindness seemingly left inside him. Was he ashamed of his skin, which wrapped so harshly around his bones, scarred yet strong–cold but fond? Was it right for you to fear the hands that once fell so delicately on your skin, porcelain never having been touched as carefully as he had touched you? There were days you now could remember so clearly, the warm look in his eyes as they caressed over your skin, the naivety and desperation that shone so bright within them—a want so fundamental it made you wonder if it was even possible.

The years had passed now, and you were both older and saner, but through the shades of blue in his eyes that were covered with darkness that rested like a veil over them, you thought you could still see the same man you had once known, and as his lips met yours firmer if felt like the past washed over you again. And it was good, so good you felt your knees almost give out, stumbling backward slightly but finding yourself not falling heedlessly towards the ground. Instead, the pressure of standing on the ground disappeared as your felt fingers worm their way under your thigh, lifting you in the air.

Softly, your back met the planks that creaked audibly when Arthur pushed you against them, the material groaning and protesting when he leaned more of his weight against you as if the pressure was too much to bear. You were trapped in his embrace that spoke only of desperation—desperation so raw you wondered if it spread from his skin to yours like a disease, if it traveled through your body, infecting everything it passed in its way.

A certain rigidness could be felt in the hands that held you, their grip tight yet unmoving as if he battled against letting them touch any other part of you. They were there, yet somehow unwilling, like he needed to touch you but couldn’t bring himself to go any further. Perhaps, you thought, he shouldn’t. Maybe it would be best to end it here, not to get any more pain that would surely hurt more than do good. Yet you missed him, missed Arthur so much it felt like a part of you had returned when he was this close as if you could imagine him being who he once was.

You chastised yourself for it when his lips caressed you softly, letting them push further against yours. The distant sound of chattering and calls beckoned you from afar, the clanking of pots loud in your ears as he had you pushed up against a tree, far and hidden from curious eyes, all your senses focused on him. It had been so simple then, such a warm, inviting touch, the feeling differing strongly against the violence and pain that had followed you until you met Arthur. It was the only reason you’d stayed with him for as long as you had, for never had hands handled you so carefully, so tender; never before had you stared into a pair of eyes that, without a blink, promised to keep you safe and sane.

It felt different yet the same; for now, those feelings mingled together, the brutality shining so strongly within him. Yet, his hands were so gentle, his means to keep you and cradle you in his arms til no one else could touch you so palpable it made every fear you had for him dissipate with the wind that flew through the cracks in the wall. It felt like you held a giant in your grasp, a lost soul seeking the goodness of his past, wishing to erase the bad and expel the vile, monstrous thoughts that he’d been forced upon—expectations he grew up with. How could you possibly blame him? How unfair was it for you to tell him he was wrong, that he acted wrongfully?

Your hands shook as you brought them up to his cheeks, claiming< them in your grasp, feeling him sigh when your fingertips ghosted over him as if the feeling alone chilled his blazing—scorching—skin. Following that means of human nature, his hands that kept you lifted from the ground raised one, caressed its way over the swell of your hips, letting it feel the warm flesh emitting from under your clothes until it followed the path of your sides til it found the valley which where your waist sunk in, letting fingers grip under the harsh bones of your ribs.

A gasp left you, lips parting as if to speak but only inhaling his warm breath, pushing your head away, yet your grasp on his cheeks making him follow you—ordering him to chase the pink, swollen skin that begged for the sensation of more—demanded it. You realized soon that you didn’t have to, his imposing frame pressing you further into the wall, no longer needing to hold you by the tight to keep you from the ground as his lips sensually now found yours again, a deep, dark rumbling—like thunder brewing—could be heard deep into his chest.

It was sickening, the air thick and pasty, like breathing into sourdough bread, the swelling yeast filling all spaces around you, making it difficult to breathe. When you needed air too much, begged for the oxygen yet displeased with the thought of parting with Arthur, he pulled his head away slightly, eyes opening to gaze at your closed eyes, the warm tint of red rising from your chest to your cheeks.

Opening them, you’d only be given a moment to stare upon his face until he leaned in again, his lips finding their way to the dip of your collarbone, rising to cover the space where your shoulders dipped up to the slope of your neck. Inhaling, exhaling, he breathed in the dizzying warmth of your neck, groaning when he let his tongue taste the humid skin that was scorching under his wet, slippery touch.

So divine, yet so dangerous to touch what wasn’t his anymore, what couldn’t be his—but he couldn’t deny he longed for you, couldn’t deny that your smell alone awakened the man he had been, your hands reaching out to him like the gates of heaven shining with its door wide open. A cruel joke was what it was, but he had no want to dispel it, to turn it away. It taunted him, laughed at him, giving him a fair bit of pleasure so the rest of his living days would turn to torture, a small taste of what he could’ve had before dooming him to an eternal defeat—dooming him to live the rest of his days a hollow shell.

Your hands found the back of his head, fingers threading through the strips of hair that felt like velvet under your skin. You couldn’t help but push on the back of his scalp to bring him even closer, dismayed when you realized he was as close as he could be, fingers gripping his hair so tight you feared you would leave tufts of it when you released your grip. You only got a hum of satisfaction in return, the feeling of a wet muscle traveling down your collarbones til they ghosted over the swell of your breasts carefully, like waiting on a signal before they could devour, let their touch consume you.

“Arthur,” you mumbled, lost in what was wholly him, the very fibre of your being begging for him never to stop, wishing he’d never done all those years ago.

You only got a low, appreciating groan in return, only gained the feeling of cold air hitting your legs as he snaked his hands under your skirt, hitching it up as he let them run over the bare skin like a starved man, not even an inch of you left untouched. The wind’s chill lessened when his rough, warm hands caressed you, soothing your aching, quivering legs. Almost, it seemed, he mended every bruise and hurt, internally or externally, replacing them with something that felt so divine you were nearly sure you were dreaming when he returned to your lips, his once guarded eyes bare before you.

He took a few steps back, letting your feet hit the floor as you followed him. You did not let him back away further as you walked with him, rising on your toes and writhing your arms around his neck. You were now the one to cage him in—cage him with your want and desire, your love and hope. It would be a terrible defeat if he stepped away from you, and your stomach twisted at the thought, the familiar pang of sadness only love could create.

“Don’t go,” you whispered, feeling his arms wound around your waist as he stumbled backward, his tall frame big and clumsy in the tiny house. He frantically ran his hands over you before hoisting you up again, seating you on the dark wooden table in the kitchen’s front of the sink. Your mind had grown clouded, his whole being morphing into the man that had once caressed you so gently—and when he did now, it made you dizzy, wondering if they were so unlike as you thought.

“I won’t,” he mumbled against your lips, the words hasty and muted when he didn’t want to waste a second of feeling you against him.

“I won’t,” he spoke once more, this time the words only coming out in nonsensical grumbling as he pushed you softly towards the poorly sawed planks after pushing the various knickknacks of it, plates falling audibly to the floor to join the rest of the mess, burying his face into the nape of your neck to once more take a final breath before standing up.

The mess around you turned vile and filthy compared to the wondrous look on your face as you watched him, the familiar pang of pleasure beating so heavily in his stomach he thought he might puke—coupled with the still warm, wet blood now lining the skin of your legs from his hands. A few moments passed where he stared at you, ignoring your hands that reached out to him as the horrid monster clad in black garments and poisonous fingers got to him first, digging its claws into his back, wrapping its fabric over his mouth till he felt himself suffocating.

It wasn’t until he felt nimble fingers ghosting over his hands, running along the inside of his wrist until they intertwined with his, that the small, supple kisses on his cheeks became his saving grace. Diminished the cruel and twisted devil that rested on his back, all he could think about was the gentleness of your hands, gazing to watch your furrowed eyes filled with understanding—yet a gracious knowledge at that.

“I know you, Arthur,” you whispered, laying your head on his chest. Listening to his wildly beating heart, you found comfort in his erratic breathing.

“No,” he mumbled, resting his head on top of yours. His arms were slack on his sides as your hands passed over the broadness of his back. You gripped the dark leather of his haunches as you slid them down his arms, letting them hang in the stuffy, thick air. “Not anymore, you don’t.”

“Well, you’re still as stubborn as you used to be,” you said softly, the corners of your mouth rising slightly when a grumble left him, acting like you couldn’t feel his slight smile against your head. “Still as warm as you were then,” you mumbled, hands slowly running over his arms that flexed slightly at your touch, mouth opening slightly as they came to rest on the table, trapping you beneath them. “Still as strong,” you gasped when he leaned over you, pressing his weight into you.

He closed his eyes as you spoke, basking in your quiet, warm tone, which he missed hearing. “That don’t matter anymore,” he said, feeling you snake your arms around his neck, arching your body against his, as one of his hands naturally found sanction on your waist. “What I’ve done—” he trailed off. “What I am, it’s not something I can run from.”

You felt your brows furrow, grief finding you at his words that rang so melancholy into the quiet air, the heaviness of his voice alone ripping the tapestry and breaking the windows. As you were about to tell him he was wrong—that although his actions had been so blood-filled and vile, you knew who he was deep down, for you had seen it, seen it in his eyes when he looked at you, seen it in the way he still cared about you—he instead laid you back down on the table carefully, covering you with his body as he hitched your legs around his waist.

Your breath hitched when you felt the rigidness rest against your warmth, feeling it lay heavily under the fabric of his pants. “Yes, you can,” you gasped, hands finding his shirt as you searched for something to hold onto, wishing it away so you could see the skin underneath it and feel it against your own.

You didn’t gain an answer, only the tugging of your undergarments, the chill from being bare cold against your skin, yet Arthur’s hands warming them straight back up when he tenderly caressed your inner thighs, stabilizing their trembling although never letting his palms stray too far, ignoring the way your legs tightened around him, trying to chase his touch as they attempted to chase his touch but finding his hips pressing into yours further, leaving you no place to go but stay in place.

The motion made a groan, quiet and unprepared, leave him, yet you had heard him. As your hands wound their way beneath his shirt to palm over the broadness of his chest, hips moving against him with the bit of space you had in protest, you looked up to find his gaze planted on you, head raised. Yet, eyes looking down at you, like he was trying to hold himself away, failing to escape from the softness of your touch.

He was too deep into it now. He felt the restraints that once were so tight around him lessen as he kept staring into your eyes, those deep and fascinating eyes that he didn’t deserve—that no one would ever get the chance to deserve. It was selfish for him to continue, but he wished to feel you one more time so he could restore his memory of you until he turned viler, meaner, the black poison coiling around his heart til he faced its death wrapped up in its grasp.

So, he found himself leaning into you once more, focusing on your hands that now had seen the planes of his back, his muscles flexing involuntarily as you did, his hand hitching your dress up further, letting it go past the delicious curve of your waist, groaning internally when he realized he couldn’t rise it further. So, he let his head rest between your breasts, pulled out from the tightness of the fabric, letting his tongue run over the warm skin.

You felt the arms of your dress hastily go over your shoulders down your arms, breath hitching when you felt his mouth able to travel lower until it caressed the inside of your breast, his rough stubble like sandpaper against the sensitive flesh. It was addictive, his whole persona making you desperately cling to every bit of him you could manage, grasping wildly as if he was made from thin air, trying to find something that would turn him back into a solid form, something you could touch.

The slight feeling of him grinding into you made you clasp harder. Your hands found his biceps as the back of your head hit harshly against the table, and your hips wound tighter against his waist. The roof above you blended, the colors of brown and ashen blond mingling as the morning sun shone through the windows, the tendrils of the light casting the room in a way that almost looked ethereal—too good to be true.

And it was, the whole moment was, and you memorized the touch of his hands and traveling mouth, imprinting it in your mind so you could remember it forever. It still, despite his words, felt like he would somehow dissipate, and it turned into your worst nightmare, like the last pages of a book that would send you reeling, biting at the corners in despair and slamming yourself against the wall in anger. It was pitiful, the way you were brought to your knees in front of the man you had not nearly long ago feared—more so wondering if you feared his actuality or feared how long a time had passed, how time changed and ruled people's character, how you didn’t know him anymore.

Or perhaps you feared the way you knew it had been doomed from the start, always known, the very first day he had planted his brisk, blue eyes on you, full of life yet the underlying promise of something that could only be transcribed into pain—of hurt and blame. Perhaps you were afraid of knowing that it didn’t matter how often you’d come upon one another; it would always end the same way, for you were both too broken by the life you laid upon you. The chance of redemption was maybe possible once when you were younger, but you feared that it was lost. And, while Arthur reminded you of a past you’d rather lay behind you, prayed and prayed through years of peril and hurt, wished you could run from it, you perhaps had reminded him of what he’d once had and what he could never deserve to have again.

As Arthur lifted his head, you could see in his eyes that he knew, knew there might not be a time when you could live out your life together, for he too was aware that it might be too late, that the world's grip on the both of you was too firm. Yet you both ignored it, entangled with one another as your limbs melted into the others, your motions becoming erratic and desperate, wishing—no, seeking desperately to bring the other back to life, back to what you once had been.

“Please, Arthur.” Clawing and almost beating his chest in desperation, the tension so ripe it felt like you might combust, you begged him to let his skin lay upon yours, bare and exposed, as close to each other as was humanly possible. It felt like a border, keeping you apart in a pitiful, almost laughable way.

“I know, honey,” he murmured, his voice steady, yet the beating of his heart speaking more than his tone ever could. “I know.”

Rising from you for the slightest of seconds, he hoisted his pants down his hips and over his thighs, dark, desirous eyes never taking their gaze off you where you lay breathless on the table that, compared to you, looked like rotting wood. He damned himself for letting you lay upon such misery, to unveil you in such an appalling space that now reeked of death and foulness.

When your hands reached out to him, he let them bring him back down, watching the way your eyes fluttered when he graced upon your pulsating warmth, his own eyes closing for a second before opening again, looking away so he could regain his senses, regain his clouded vision that only flashed with pictures of you beneath him, as if you had surrounded him. That is, only for a short while, not taking long before he had to—needed to— return to you once more, to slip through the warmth of your walls that wrapped around him, the palm of his hands slamming down the table as you clenched around him, the sheer bliss that left your throat burning like embers inside of him.

There was no outlet for him, nowhere to go, so he hitched you further up the table, pressing into you so he could feel you closer. The feeling of your hands in his hair was nauseating, the taste of your skin intoxicating as he kissed the corner of your neck, burying his head into it as he felt your strands tickle his cheek. Slowly pushing out to then enter you once more, he grew greedy, not wanting to spend even the slightest of time away from you.

It was tender the way he moved—careful—and you could only follow his movements as he stayed on top of you, the strokes desperate and short. The small moans that left you rose into the quiet house, your breathing hitching with every thrust of his, almost feeling like the air was being punched out from your chest as you slid further up the table. Arms wound themselves under your shoulders, one hand grasping the back of your head to keep you in place—to avoid letting your head hit the hard surface.

It wasn’t enough; how could it ever be enough? Wrapping your arms around his neck, you gasped audibly when his hips moved faster, now almost grinding into you, his breath shallow and erratic, white knuckles grasping on the end of the table, as if he was controlling himself, unsure what to do with the pleasure that was riding through his body, bleeding into his very bones.

“Come here,” he murmured, gently lifting you so you were seated upon the edge of the table, looking up to meet his eyes. Continuing his tender thrusts, your lips sought him, finding his eyes not closing but planted on you, eyes lidded and chest red from exhaust. A sheen of sweat dripped slowly down his neck to his chest, disappearing through the unbuttoned shirt, the material sticking to his skin like glue.

Pushing your hips further against his, he groaned, resting his head atop of yours when you placed mindless kisses on his exposed skin, mumbling nonsense as he hugged you closer, his breath hot and ragged. Every movement sent a jolt of pleasure through you, sharply white and burning red, coiling tighter and increasingly tighter within you. The sound of your mingled breaths filled the room, and you could feel his muscles tensing beneath your touch, almost seeming to tremble.

You whispered his name, a plea and a promise all at once, and he responded with a low rumble that resonated deep within his chest—a guttural groan escaping his lips as he pushed deeper, the table beneath you creaking with the force of his movements. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, just like you were before, just like you once had been—Arthur guiding your movements as if he was determined to merge his body with yours.

His arms tightened around you when you straighten your back to reach his lips, capturing them in a kiss that left you more breathless than you had already been as his pace quickened. The friction, heat, and sheer desperation were too much to bear, yet you craved more. His eyes were wild, almost desperate, as he responded to your plea, every thrust, every gasp, every whisper filling up inside you as you begged to god it would never end, hoping and demanding that nothing would take it away from you.

Yet, you knew it wouldn’t last, and therefore, you felt the tears burn at your eyelids, the hot liquid falling slowly down your cheeks as you found your back pushed against the surface of the table once more, Arthur’s hand softly wiping away the tear that fell from your eyes as despair filled his own.

“Don’t cry,” he mumbled, a low groan leaving him when you tightened around him, unable to ignore the way you sucked him back in. “I can’t-” He ground his teeth when the familiar coil spread through his stomach, wrapping itself around every organ and bone. “Please, honey, I don’t want you to cry.”

“I miss you,” you gasped under your breath, words choked up as you focused on the way he dragged himself in and out of you, feeling like someone was twisting your guts inside your stomach when you thought once more about him disappearing from you hold like ash, only leaving faint memories before blowing away with the wind. “God, I missed you, Arthur.”

He struggled to catch his breath, his hand finding your thigh as he pushed it further up the table, the new angle making your breath hitch. “I know,” he groaned. “God, I know-”

Was it all a dream, he wondered, would fade away from him as his evil deeds caught up to him, for once letting karma do its part? Would you vanish right before him, leaving him to face the consequences of his actions alone? He only held you closer as the thoughts passed, keeping you tight in his embrace as his elbows encased your head. Capturing your lips on his own, his eyes shut tightly as he tried to memorize the feel of you—the warmth of your breath, the softness of your lips, the way your body moulded against his.

The time seemed to stand still, yet it passed too fast, the coil wrung so tight it felt like your stomach would combust, pleasure so raw filling you it felt more like torture than anything else, and as you felt his hips ground themselves into you, one hand stroking so tenderly over your brest it felt like shots of electricity zapped its way through your body, you thought yourself tightening around him, gasping for air.

“You’re alright,” he murmured against your lips, consoling you as your moans left you without your allowance, desperate and bordering on pitiful as your whole body felt like it was burning up—like the very flesh was set afire with gasoline.

“Please, Arthur,” you gasped, not knowing what you were pleading with him for, yet the words left you involuntarily. Perhaps you wished for him to remove the hollow feeling that resided deep within you, to soothe the pain that never seemed to go. Or, possibly, it was deeper than that as you pleaded for him to return to you, to show that he was the man you’d remembered.

“That’s it,” he cooed at you, kissing your forehead softly as you clenched around him. Your hands found his shoulder as they gripped tightly, head knocked back against the table as a long, drawn-out moan left you. Staring up at the ceiling as the world grew dizzy around you, the bliss that traveled through your body was like no other.

His movements didn’t slow as you relaxed slightly on the table, now running your hands over his skin soothingly, gazing into his eyes as he groaned audibly, chest heaving heavily as he frowningly stared into yours, observing you like you held something he couldn’t have that he strived for, pushing and pulling you closer to him.

Lost in pleasure, it felt like he was gasping for air, the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoing through the now quiet house, only the splatter of rain still audible from outside, yet his ears were focused on something else entirely as you whispered his name, beckoning him to your as your eyes were tired yet warm in the afterglow, looking like something not quite real—more or less surreal—or perhaps ethereal.

With one final thrust, he buried his head in the nape of your neck, hands grasping the edges of the bale as he grimaced, taking a few seconds before letting a guttural groan leave his chest and travel through his throat, muted into your skin as he gritted his teeth. Pulses of pleasure wound themselves through him in intervals, the warm, wet feeling of your walls encasing him, wrapping around him wholly as he, with one last movement, buried himself deep, so deep there was no way out—and god, he thought as his breathing stayed hectic, god how he wished there wasn’t.

Especially when he rested against you, trying to catch his breath, revelling in how you hugged his head closer to you, pressing small, quiet kisses against his jaw as if you tried not to disturb him, letting him regain his senses. Letting a hand travel down your sides, he caressed your skin, feeling the softness underneath it as it went further down to then rise back up again, finding pleasure in the way your breath hitched from the sensitivity as he passed a thumb over your breast.

You didn’t speak much, for there was so much you wanted to say that it became overwhelming, leading to you saying nothing. How could you, when you weren’t even sure how to describe your emotions, which seemed still but then everywhere at the same time, running through your mind endlessly with no sense of direction or heading? Where could you go from here that would satisfy you both and let you stay with one another despite your differences?

You wished you could drag answers out of Arthur, torture his mind and soul until he had no choice but to respond, yet you doubted he could even know what to tell you, for he wasn’t sure, and you could see it in his eyes, feel it in his touch that contradicted his mind starkly. Every motion and caress was soft yet reluctant, and you could hear the slight sway in his voice when he spoke to you as if he battled against his will and obligations. It tore you apart to realize he struggled against himself, struggled against his beliefs and wants.

You realized that whichever hands managed to strangle your relationship before would surely do it again. To be quite honest, it did scare you, more than you dared to admit, for you knew you were two different people now, and when your bond wasn’t strong enough all those years back, how could it be now that you both had your inner anguish that clawed itself inside your walls, thrashing and screaming. More so, changing for someone else is a terrifying thought per se, and there was no mistake in thinking that would be the case for both of you. A cruel, horrendous fate, indeed.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan fanfic #arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan imagine #red dead redemption imagine #red dead redemption

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iwasntstable · 3 months ago

Text

n.s. | if i'm there

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

➔𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞➔➔　𝘪𝘯𝘷𝘪𝘵𝘦𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘰 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘈𝘳𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘷𝘦!+　　[𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝐀𝐎𝟯]

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

I didn't want to believe how much you needed help / And I just left you to be all by yourself / And now I wish I had seen that you weren't doing well / But I just came back to see how hard you fell Well, if I'm there to catch you when you fall / You'll have a friend down in Hell after all 　　— If I'm There - Bad Omens

summary: when things start getting bad, you withdraw. ignoring calls and texts, and descending into bad habits as you self-isolate. but noah knows what you're like and he loves you too much to let you suffer alone.

content tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, poor mental health, mentions of disordered eating, discussions of food, self-destructive behaviour, fluff.

word count: 3.8k.

note: having a rough time recently so enjoy the self-indulgent product of my stressing. 　　PS: please tell me if the layout of this post is fucked up so I can fix it for you.

Things are getting bad again. You find your sleep schedule sliding later and later, falling asleep in the early hours of the morning and waking in the afternoon, bypassing the day altogether. Meals are becoming infrequent and poor in quality. Appetite dwindling and opting to eat half a bag of microwave rice at 3am rather than dedicating time to creating a nutritious and satisfying meal. Truth be told, you didn’t have the energy to cook anything more, and the malnutrition itself likely played a part in that lack of energy. The trash was left to build up, and the laundry hadn’t been done in weeks.

The progression of all of this was gradual. So gradual, that by the time you recognised what was happening, it was all but too late to stop the rapid descent into your depression. And as the days go by, you start to withdraw into yourself. Messages from friends begin to go unanswered. You tell yourself you’ll reply later, when you have the mental bandwidth to engage in conversation. But later ends up being not at all. Too many days have passed, and you feel like it’s too late to reply now; you don’t know how. That includes your boyfriend.

　　　　　　　　　　　[Noah 💘]

　　　　　　　　　　　Tuesday 　　　　　　　　　　　10:45AM

— Morning! Do you wanna call later? Miss your voice

morning! I have a headache — right now and I feel like it's not gonna go away :( I'll let you know though. I miss you too ❤️ —

— Aw I'm sorry :( — I hope you feel better soon — Text me later and let me know how you are ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　　02:27PM

— Hey babe how are you feeling?

my head still hurts :( —

— Want me to come over and look after you? — Have you eaten yet?

you don't have to do that, I'd be — shitty company anyway just wanna sleep —

— Okay :( — I'll text you later tonight so you can sleep

　　　　　　　　　　　10:09PM

— How are you feeling? — Are you sleeping? — Hope you’re resting well. Text me when you wake up so I know you’re okay — I love you ❤️ — Goodnight ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Wednesday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Morning, how’re you feeling?

　　　　　　　　　　　09:13AM

— Are you awake? — Babe, are you okay?

hey! sorry I was still asleep. I feel a — little better but my head still hurts :(

— I’m gonna cancel today and come over — I don’t want you to be alone when you’re not well

no don’t do that, i’m okay really — you know this happens sometimes. I just wanna rest, you don’t have to cancel for me. not when work is important

— You’re important too — Please let me look after you

I love you and I love that — you want to be here for me, but all I want to do right now is sleep

I don’t want you to cancel — important schedules just to watch me sleep all day I’ll feel better soon. just need to give it time. —

— I’d cancel to sit and watch you sleep in a heartbeat — I love you, I just want you to be okay — I have to go, I’ll text you later okay?

I’ll text you back when I can, — if I don’t reply I’m probably asleep so don’t worry have a good day I love you —

　　　　　　　　　　　10:26PM

— Hey babe sorry I didn’t text all day I was so fucking busy — How’re you doing now? — Are you sleeping again?

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 10:31PM]

— Text or call me when you wake up, even if it’s the middle of the night I’ll leave my sound on — I love you ❤️

　　　　　　　　　　Thursday 　　　　　　　　　　　08:41AM

— Hey, are you awake?

　　　　　　　　　　　08:55AM

— Hello??

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 08:59AM]

— Message me when you wake up

　　　　　　　　　　　12:20PM

— Babe?? — I’m worried — Even if you don’t wanna talk can you please let me know you’re okay?

　　　　　　　　　　　12:46PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 12:48PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　01:20PM

hey, sorry I missed your messages — I’m okay sorry for worrying you —

— I was just about to come over — I still might — I’m worried about you

please don’t I just don’t — wanna see anyone right now

— Even me?

I’m sorry — I’ll text you tomorrow — — If that’s what you want — I love you

　　　　　　　　　　　Friday 　　　　　　　　　　　03:47PM

— I don’t want to bother you, I’m trying to give you space if that’s what you need — But I’m worried about you — You haven’t messaged me all day — Did I do something wrong?

　　　　　　　　　　　04:10PM

— Babe please answer me

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:12PM]

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:15PM]

　　　　　　　　　　　04:18PM

— Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days — What’s going on? You can talk to me. — You don’t have to talk to me if you don’t want to but text someone back, please — I just wanna know that you’re okay

　　　　　　　[MISSED CALL: 04:23PM]

And that’s how Noah ended up outside your door. Banging incessantly and shouting your name through the wood. You could hear him from where you were wrapped up in bed, but you were half hoping he would just drop it and go away. Realising quickly, however, the futility of that hope when you heard another voice join the sound of his. That of your neighbour, the nosy one from the house on the right.

You groan and throw the blanket off yourself, flinching a little when your feet touch the cold floor. You have no choice but to go downstairs, and no time to change your appearance. Hoping to whatever God will listen that Noah doesn’t make a comment on the clothes you’d been wearing for the past week before you can get in the shower and change.

“I’m just really worried about her,” you can hear the unmistakable tone of Noah’s voice through the door before you even open it.

Hesitating for a moment with your hand on the door handle, you decide to eavesdrop on the conversation. “I haven’t seen her for, ohhh let me think... has to be about a week now,” despite the man’s voice wavering with age, it came loud and clear through the door. An unfortunate side effect of his hearing loss.

“A week?!” Noah exclaimed. Having enough of the old man sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong, you unlock the door quickly, wrenching it open and taking a surprised Noah by the arm.

“Oh! Nice to see you, dear. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The old man sneers.

“Yeah, nice seeing you, Trevor,” you barely extend him a glance as you drag Noah in through your doorway, slamming the door closed and turning the key. You let out a deep sigh, your palms and forehead resting against the cool wood.

Noah calls your name softly. You squeeze your eyes tight and take in a breath before you turn to face him. Putting on the best phoney smile you can muster.

“Sorry about him, he’s always in everyone’s business. What are you-”

“He said he hasn’t seen you in a week,” he says matter-of-factly. There’s no hint of a smile on his face. “Your friends said they haven’t heard from you in days either, and you’ve been ignoring my texts. And calls.”

Your heart seizes at the sadness in his eyes. He stands there in your front room, his usual sweatpants and hoodie, but he just looks so defeated. You always tell him he looks like an upset puppy when he’s sad, and the puppy-dog eyes are working overtime on you right now. “I told you, I’ve just been busy, and I-”

“And you had a headache, and you missed my texts, and you didn’t want to talk,” his voice was as stern as his expression. You knew he wasn’t an idiot. That there’s no way he’d believe your—at best—flimsy excuses. You stand frozen to the spot, fiddling with the edge of your sleeve. Picking at the stitches, trying to distract yourself from the lump forming in your throat. “Aren’t you going to say anything?” Noah questions.

You swallow roughly, “I don’t know what you... I don’t-”

He says your name firmly and takes a step towards you, “I’m going to ask you how you are, and I would like you to answer me honestly.”

Feeling your heart begin to race in your chest, you swallow again, but it does nothing to get rid of the tightness in your throat. Or the dizziness creeping up on you.

“Are you doing bad again?” He sounds softer this time, and you almost wish he would just scream at you because when he’s kind and attentive like this, you can’t help but crumble and shut down.

You clench your jaw as your breathing gets quicker, shallower, and you feel the unmistakable burn of tears in your eyes. “I’m fine,” your voice comes out cracked and weak, not at all the sound of someone who's fine.

“Don’t pretend you’re okay. Please don’t lie to me, because I know you’re not okay!” Noah crosses the room to meet you, holding his hands outstretched towards you, “what can I do for you? Please, I want to help.”

You cover your mouth as you choke back a sob, wrapping your other arm around your middle; you can’t hold it in anymore, and the floodgates open. Gasping for breath that seems to never come, you grip the front of your shirt tight in your fist, the clothing suddenly feeling suffocating and stiflingly hot.

“Oh, baby. Come here,” Noah takes you by the shoulders and pulls you into his chest, where you fall into him and cling onto him like he’s your only lifeline. “I need you to breathe for me, okay? Slowly, in and out,” he strokes soothing circles against your back as he demonstrates to you how to breathe. “Come and sit down here, yeah? The couch is right here.”

You barely register your legs moving for the numbness extending across your entire body, from your fingertips all the way down to your toes. Your tears are hot on your face, and every time you try to wipe them away, they’re just replaced by more in a never-ending stream. The room feels like it’s spinning around you as you move, only worsening the feeling of nausea rising in your throat. The plush cushions of the couch are a welcome relief.

“You’re holding your breath, I need you to breathe. Just how I am, that’s it,” he cradles your head to his chest through your shaky attempts to take in a breath through your nose and let it out slowly through your mouth. Your breath hitches uncontrollably with every inhale, taking in tiny bursts of air at a time. Noah, though, has nothing but praise on his lips: “That’s it. You’re doing so well, just listen to my voice.”

You missed his voice. As you worsened and withdrew, you found any excuse to avoid going out to see him, and you had been ignoring his calls for days. You knew you were doing it, and you missed him desperately, but with every day that passed, you found it harder and harder to reach out. It was hard for you to reach out for help in the first place, hard for you to admit to anyone that you needed help. Hard to admit it to yourself. Opting instead to suffer in silence and just push through it until you finally broke. You didn’t know any other way.

The familiar presence of him by your side eases the pace of your racing heart, allowing each breath to come a little easier. A little calmer. “I hate to see you hurting like this,” he whispers into your hair, his hand stroking through it gently, working to soothe the seemingly unquenchable anxiety. “I want to help you, please let me help you.”

It broke your heart to hear the pain in his voice. You never wanted to hurt him, but that’s all you seem to do. That cold hand of dread tightens its grip on your chest again, panic filling your lungs and replacing all the air. “I’m sorry,” you barely choke out, gripping onto Noah tighter. Warring with yourself, wanting to hold him close, but feeling like you need to push him away.

“You don’t need to apologise, ever. I’m here, I’m right here,” he runs his hand up and down your back, cradling you close. He can’t help but notice that through the fabric of your shirt, the bones of your spine are ever so slightly more prominent than before. He keeps his mouth shut. Focussing instead on quelling your distress and holding you tight in his arms.

“I just- I fuck everything up. I can’t do anything right, I don’t deserve your love, I don’t deserve you-” Once you start talking, you can’t stop, finally letting it all out until Noah cuts you off, incapable of hearing you degrade yourself anymore.

“No. No, that’s not even remotely true. Don’t say that about yourself,” he says firmly, holding you just a little tighter.

You shake your head against him, “all I do is hurt people and push you away, and I don’t know how to stop. You don’t deserve that, you shouldn’t have to put up with me.”

“I don’t ‘put up with you’. I love you, and I want to be here for you. Whatever you need, whenever you need it.”

“You shouldn’t have to drop everything to come deal with me when you’re so busy. You deserve someone that isn’t so fucking hard to love.”

With that, Noah pushes you backwards by the shoulders, holding you there so he can look into your eyes when he speaks. “You are not hard to love. Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever had the privilege of doing. You just…” He takes a deep breath, cupping your cheek and brushing away the tears from under your eyes. “You just need to let me in, and let me show you you’re just as worthy of love as anyone else is.”

The image of him blurs when the tears overflow from your eyes again, your face crumpling as you bow your head. “You’ll leave me," your voice shaking with the force of your sobs.

"Why would you ever think I'd leave you?" he asks, dismayed by your fear.

"Everyone always leaves," you tell him, voice brittle and quiet, shaking your head. "It's only a matter of time before you leave too."

"I love you," Noah feels tears prick at his own eyes. "I love you so, so much. And I'm not going anywhere." He lifts your head, once again brushing away your tears so he can look into your eyes, "please trust me to help you."

"I'm just so tired," you confess, and he pulls you into his arms again.

“I can't promise to fix all your problems, but I can promise you won't have to face them alone. There’s nothing you could do that would drive me away. And the things that would, I know you’d never do,” he runs a comforting hand through your hair as you cry, his other arm secure around your waist. Your tears soak into his shirt, but he doesn’t mind. He wants you to give it all to him—all your sorrows, all your grief—so that he can bear it with you.

You desperately want to believe his words. To lean on him when you need him the most, but that insecure piece inside of you won’t let you yield. You don’t know how to open up to anyone without feeling like a burden.

Noah stays right there with you until the tears subside and your breathing evens out. Your head resting in his lap as he reassuringly strokes your hair, you feel the beginnings of a dull ache in your head that makes you drowsy. He rubs soothing circles into your back with his other hand, shifting slightly to get a better look at your face. “Have you eaten yet today?” He asks tentatively. Feeling your throat constrict under the pressure of guilt, you know you can’t lie to him. You know he sees right through you, so you decide to try being honest by shaking your head. “Want me to cook something for you? Or we can order something? My treat.”

You know he means well, but you don’t know how to say you don’t have an appetite without worrying him. He won’t let you go the entire day without eating, but all you want to do is sleep.

“Please talk to me,” he pleads, “I need to hear you.”

On a shaky breath, you settle for a half truth. “I don’t think there’s anything to cook.”

“That’s fine, we can order food then. What do you want?”

Chewing on your lip, you freeze. The silence stretches on far too long for you to be deciding what restaurant to order from, it’s clear you’re unable to answer.

Noah sighs your name, “you have to eat something.”

“I know. I just… I just don’t want to,” he remains quiet, waiting for you to continue. “I don’t feel hungry. Thinking about it is overwhelming. I just want to sleep so I don’t have to think about it.”

“What have you been eating these past few days?” He asks cautiously, his tone light. Conscious to not sound accusatory.

You sigh, knowing there’s no way of escaping this. “Microwave stuff, mostly,” you play with the fabric of his sweatpants, feeling his leg underneath, fidgeting your anxiety away. “Rice, oats, ramen. Stuff I don’t have to wash up after.”

“Have you been eating every day?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, the tension only thickening when you answer "no,” barely above a whisper.

You feel him nod. Quiet for a moment until he too speaks so quietly, you almost didn’t hear it. “You can’t go on like this.”

“I know,” you confess.

“Please let me help you.”

The desperation in his voice is what does it—the final straw. You sit up straight, turning to face him. Wiping the residual tears from your cheeks and looking him in the eye. You know it’s time to really be honest.

“It’s hard for me-” Your voice catches in your throat as the threat of crying again creeps up on you, not quite realising how much your body would resist. Taking a second to compose yourself—a deep breath in, eyes closed, releasing it slowly—your resolve strengthens and you continue. “It’s hard for me to open up to people. To admit when I’m struggling. I’m so used to feeling like I’m burdening everyone with my problems, so I just keep it all to myself. And by the time I realise I’m going down that road again, it’s too late to stop it.”

“It’s never too late,” Noah says reassuringly, tucking both sides of your hair behind your ears—the left first, then the right. “I mean this in the most loving way possible, but you don’t get to decide whether you’re a burden. You don’t get to take that choice away from me. The choice to help you. Your problems will never be a burden to me, no matter how big or small. You will never be a burden to me. I love you. I choose you. And I’ll never think poorly of you for needing help, ever.”

You don’t know what to say. Your eyes fixed on his. One of your favourite things about him is his big brown eyes. Always so full of comfort. So full of love that even you, with all of your self-doubt, can’t deny it. “I’m sorry. I know you said not to apologise, but I think I need to. I’m sorry for making you worry and for pushing you away. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Noah takes your hands in his. Large palms enveloping your own entirely. “Seeing you hurting is what hurts me the most. I love you so much, all I want is for you to be happy and healthy.”

You squeeze his hands in yours, “I love you, Noah. I’ll try harder, I promise. Feeling so unwanted for so long before I met you, I think I didn’t realise just how lucky I am to have you until now.” Noah raises one of your hands, kissing the back firmly and holding it there, savouring the feel of your skin against his lips. Timidly, you ask, “can we get pizza?”

He breaks out into a smile, “of course we can! But you have to text your friends back first," he bargains, "even if it’s just something short.”

“Deal,” you can’t help but return his smile. “My phone is upstairs, I’m just gonna go get it.”

“Wait!” he calls as you stand, pulling you back to the sofa and into him with a hand on the back of your head, “can I kiss you first?”

Without a word, you lean into him, closing the gap between you and feeling his lips on yours for the first time in weeks. That familiar burn of tears threatening to escape your eyes returns, and when you pull away, those beautiful brown eyes are full of concern.

“It’s okay,” you reassure him, laughing awkwardly, “happy tears. I just missed you so much.”

“I missed you too,” his smile taking on a more solemn appearance this time. “But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. I love you, please don’t ever forget that.”

“Don’t forget that I love you too. No matter what happens. No matter how stupidly self-destructive I act.”

Noah pulls you in for one final embrace before letting you retrieve your phone. You spend time texting back each of your friends, apologising for your absence and telling them you were okay, that Noah is here, and you’d explain more later. Noah, sitting at your right, creates your pizza order, periodically asking what else you’d like adding.

The two of you spend the night watching trash TV, settling into your usual comfort and hurling insults at the characters for making stupid decisions while you eat your food. Only realising after it arrived just how hungry you really were. And when you’re finished eating, Noah and you head upstairs.

You feel like a new person after you shower, coming out of the bathroom to find Noah relaxed against your headboard. The sheets on your bed changed, and a fresh set of clothes lay waiting for you to change into for bed.

Accepting finally how much lighter everything feels when someone is around to help you. You slide under the clean sheets, comforted by the warmth of Noah’s body beside you for the first time in too long. And just as you fall asleep to the sound of his heartbeat and the feeling of his hand stroking your back, you’re determined to never let things get this bad again. Knowing you need to trust him, because trust is the foundation of love, and you love Noah with every fibre of your being. And despite how hard it is sometimes, you need to let him love you back.

╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌╌

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entername322 · 1 year ago

Text

Obsession

Irene (Red Velvet) x Male Reader

Length: 12860 words

Next part

Cool, calm, and collected, that's the three main thing Irene always remind herself to keep.

Navigating through the idol life she has to keep herself from losing hold of her emotions.

Keep a facade, use a mask, make sure nobody sees what she feel or think. These are the main thing she always try to do when it comes to interacting with other people off camera.

She hates men, it's not because they've done something to her. It's just that she find all the men that have tried to flirt or make a move on her has been thoroughly pathetic and frankly, disgusting.

After years of navigating through the idol's life she's been very adept at hiding her feelings.

The nickname ice queen doesn't particularly mind her by any means. However she would also be lying if she said that the nickname doesn't hurt her sometimes.

She does have feelings, she just finds that showing it off would be a bad idea.

That being said, the name has done nothing but skyrocket her popularity, and help her build an image for herself.

Her cold expression and attitude has help her deter some people from coming on to her.

Although that just means the people that do came on to her is the stupidest or the most arrogant of the bunch.

"Unnie come on, Yun is a great guy"

That didn't stop her own friends and member to try and hook her up with someone though.

"Seung-ah, I'm thankful, I really do, but I'm really not looking for anyone right now"

Her own member, Wendy has tried to hook her up with some people recently. Irene hates this, she despise people who try to do that for her.

Wendy however, is her own member, so her motherly and loving side for her and the hatred for such actions leave Irene in turmoil on how to escapes this situation.

"Come on, one dinner, if things goes bad then I'll swear I'll never pester you about this ever again"

Irene's mind raced quickly, on one hand she's afraid accepting it would enables her other member to do the same. On the other an unpleasant night for a life time, well, a few months or year of peace isn't so bad.

"Fine"

She concluded that if others try to do the same she'll just bring up this incident. After all, if Wendy, one of the best at judging characters and the most sociable of them all, can't find someone who could match her taste, who else would?

Despite the consent she has gave her, on the night of the dinner, she felt a little regret.

This is gonna be a bad dinner

Of course, she tried to keep an open mind. She wouldn't want to ruin her own friends effort with prejudice.

She did her research, looking at the man online. His social media, his occupation, okay maybe it's a little to creepy, but she can't help herself.

On paper, everything is fine, he's an accountant to a big law firm. Late 20s, been in a few relationships. He keeps his exes photo on his Instagram, and seeing his recent post he seems to still hangout with them.

Most of the pictures is group photo so it most probably means that he still hangout with the circle of friends without any issue.

Looks wise, he's average. Irene doesn't have a high standard by any means, she just hangout with some of the most beautiful idols around her work. Compared to them, he's average, which means he's pretty good looking for the general public.

So what's the red flag? Irene doesn't know herself, it's just, she doesn't have any interest in him.

Most of the thing she find about him just leave an 'oh' in her mind. Not bad 'oh' or a good 'oh' just 'oh'.

Nevertheless, she went to the dinner, a reservation at the 2 Michelin star restaurant. She enjoys this kinds of food, not that she's materialistic, she just have a taste for expensive things. Okay she might be a little materialistic, a bit more than what she would admit.

"Hello, I'm David, it's nice to meet you"

The man was waiting for her at the reserved table already.

Quite and secluded place at the corner of the room, away from the windows that the paparazzi could use.

This is a two Michelin star restaurant, even the worst seat is better than the one in most places.

"Hello, Seung talk alot about you"

Give a little smile, shake his hand, sit at your seat. Don't try to be hostile or too friendly. Observe him.

"I must say, I'm a big fan of your work, it's very surprising that Wendy would offer me this opportunity"

A genuine smile, no signs of nervousness. Irene, doesn't have any strong feeling about that confidence, but it does leave some impression for her to note.

"Well, Seung is, very social, she likes introducing her friends to each other"

Perhaps that trait of her have left Irene in some awkward and uncomfortable situation. Of course Irene would never say this out loud.

"So, should we order?"

Chatty, this man is chatty. It does bring a little relive for Irene. She prefers someone who would take over the conversation and alleviate some burden from her.

It also means he might slip up and say more than what he meant, which is perfect for her since she's observing him.

"..... And it was pretty funny actually. How about you? Did Wendy ever brought you to an awkward situation like that?"

He was talking about how Seung once tried to hook him up with a distant cousins of him.

"Not really, although I'm not really good at meeting new people"

"Well, I used to as well, but being dragged into a lot of social gatherings I've been.... Forced to adapt. There's this one time...."

The dinner was fine, things has been going well, Irene was surprised herself that he was pretty charming.

"Sorry if I talk alot, I tend to do it if I was nervous"

"It's fine, sorry if I didn't talk much either"

"Of course, it's my pleasure to, you know, have a chance to sit here with you-"

His phone buzzed.

"Sorry, just a moment"

Picking it up, he opened his newly received text. It was a nude picture of a woman.

Irene saw it and raised her eyebrow, how does she saw it? Well, the little painting behind him gave a little reflection.

Not a noticeable one, but her eyes is one of a hawk, never missing any small detail.

He answered the text, something Irene can't see, before looking back at her.

"Sorry, work stuff"

Hmmm, off putting, but since she doesn't see his response she wouldn't mind putting the benefit of the doubt, slightly.

"It's fine, you were talking about your first year at the law firm you're currently working on?"

The conversation continues smoothly, almost like the little hiccup from before never happened.

In fact, Irene was throughly surprised that things went well.

"So, that was a nice dinner"

"Yes, it was"

"It's been nice talking with you Irene"

"Me too"

The two gather up their thing and ready to leave. As they walk out, David did the sinful and unforgivable act in Irene's book. He put his hand on her shoulder, almost leading her.

"How about we continue our talk at my place, it was fun, and the night is still young"

Confident, so much so he thinks that he could bring me to his place after the first date? On a blind date on top of that?

"Sorry, I have an early schedule"

Irene smiled again, unlike the others one she gave ro him during the dinner, this one is an annoyed smile. Not that he would notice it.

"Oh come on, you're a senior already, just break the rule a little bit"

"I'm, really sorry, it's an important meeting"

"Come on, not even a kiss?"

Men.

The next day Irene came to work in a bad mood.

"So, how does it go?"

Wendy said the moment she saw her leader.

"Morning Seung"

"Come on, spill, I told you he's great"

"He was, until he tried to talk me into spending time in his place"

"He did?"

"Things are fine until the end of the dinner"

"Oh shit, sorry unnie, he's not Korean, things are, different in the-"

"Seung, I don't, I don't like the vibe he gave me at the end"

Wendy frowned, from disappointment, although she's not sure it was directed to Irene or David.

"I'll.... Okay, I understand"

"Sorry Seung, he seems like a great guy, but he's too aggressive for me"

"Yeah, I get it"

"Anyway, what's the plan for today?"

"Well, beside the photoshoot at noon me and Seulgi-unnie is going to meet some of the trainee that we have. There's some promising people our produce said"

Checking in on the trainee is something a lot of the idols do in SM. Even Irene has done it a few time before.

"Can I come with you?"

"Sure, come on"

The two of them went to meet up with Seulgi at their designated dressing room.

"Unnie is coming too?"

Irene nodded.

"Well let's go, I'm gonna be the dance instructor for today"

The group of three went to the trainee practice room.

As soon as they got in the rowdy buch of kids got quiet. Entranced by the three women.

"Morning everyone, I'm Seulgi from Red Velvet, today I'll be your dance instructor"

Seulgi's word cause a wave of panic between the trainees face.

"Don't be nervous, I'll try my best to help you all. As you may have know these are my members, Irene and Wendy, they will be watching us today. Don't panic, they are simply watching us"

Irene's eyes scanned the room,watching and observing the expression. None seems to stand out for her, until she saw you.

You, were not by any means an outstanding person. Not the most handsome, not the prettiest or the cutest. You do standout a little due too your absurd height, not that it shown when you sit down.

Was she looking at me? No, come on now man, don't get your hopes up, that's Irene.

But she did in fact, looking at you. Long enough for her to get into a trace, short enough to where nobody's watching pick on it.

Irene was, stunned, she wasn't sure why. Her eyes was just locked in place as she saw you.

Thankfully Wendy nudges her, waking her up from her daze. Wendy pulled her to the side, a nice place so they can watch the trainees.

"Okay, come on, stand up, let's start"

Irene's eyes is locked to you, watching your every movement.

Tall

That's the first thing she thinks about the first time she saw you stood up.

Her heart was racing, what are you doing to her? You didn't say anything, you didn't even acknowledge her more than you should.

Yet, somehow, you caught her attention.

She was too entranced to hear the instructions Seulgi is giving.

She did realised it when you started dancing along the others. Your movement was stiff, not unsalvageable. Your expression is one of full focus, something that does nothing but daze her even more.

"That's great, now, let's do individual test"

While others are panicking you were looking straight at Seulgi with contemplative gaze.

You looked away for a second, to gaze on Irene. Just a second, but it's enough to cause Irene's heart to skip a beat.

"Now, let's go, who want to start first?"

One particular trainee seems excited and enthusiastic, he raised his hand.

The others moved back, now facing Irene and Wendy, watching one by one getting called out to do a dance routine.

Wendy was cheering and giving words of encouragement every now and then to each participant. Seulgi gave a polite yet stern comments.

Irene was, well, she's busy watching you.

Enough for you to feel a little uncomfortable.

"What's up blue?"

"I don't know, I'm just nervous, that's Irene bro"

"Fuck I knew, I'm gonna embarrass myself in front of my favourite idol"

"What about me man, I was in the zone before and I still look like a dancing stickman"

"You'll do fine man, just, be confident"

"Yeah, you too bro. Do you, do you feel like Irene is watching at us?"

Your friend took a quick glance to Irene, however she was watching the trainee that's dancing right now.

"Nah man, but I know what you mean, she's definitely watching all of us"

That's, not what you mean at all. You look back at Irene, seemingly busy watching the one being tested right now.

Was it just your imagination?

It wasn't, Irene read your lips, realising you might caught up with her intense stare she looked away to make sure you didn't get suspicious.

She still watch you from the corner of your eyes. Not until you look away did she turned to continue watching her.

Suddenly, this becomes a cat and mouse game where both of you tried to look at each other without being noticed by the other.

You, failing miserably, there's like 6 times in 5 minutes where you were looking at her only to find her gaze at you back before you could look away.

Irene was cool, calm and collected, even in the event of stalking someone. Not a single time you realise that Irene was watching you. Even though she has watch you more than you watch her.

When your time is up, anxiety and fear take over you. Nervously you walked to the front.

"Let's go blue"

Your bro have your back thankfully.

"Don't be nervous"

Seulgi smiled to calm you down, doesn't help.

The music kicks in, and you start your dance.

While you were haphazardly dance, Irene was having a little joy in her heart. She now can watch you throughly without having to avert her gaze every now and then.

Your movement wasn't terrible, just bad. That doesn't seems to bother her the slightest. In fact, she find it cute.

Wait, hold on, cute?

Really?

Irene ws confused, how those those words come up at her mind. During her confusion you managed to finish your dance.

"Well, that was a good effort, but I can see you're still a little awkward at dancing. Is it perhaps due too your height that you are less flexible?"

Irene decided to put it at the back of her mind so that she can focus back on you.

"Y-y-yeah, it was, a bit hard for me to do those delicate move"

Your stuttering seems to sent a rush of alien feelings in Irene.

"It's okay, you memorize the dance already and you seems to know when you messed up yet you still have the clear mind to continue on with your moves. Do a little more flexibility training and you will fix it"

Seulgi's word of encouragement put a smile on your face. A smile Irene is not enjoying.

"Yeah, you did good, keep up the hard work"

Having two encouragement from your future possible senior put you in a good mood.

"Thank you for the instructions and the encouragement"

You bowed, again giving smile to Seulgi who returned it beautifully. Irene does not like your smile. You then glanced at Wendy and her. Irene loves that smile.

As you sat back, stunned by the newfound motivation. Irene is stunned, having your smile imprinted in her brain and memory.

"Hell yeah blue"

Your bro gave you a fistbump before getting ready for his turn.

You glanced back to Irene, this time she wasn't hiding her gaze.

Your eyes meet, at that moment, time seems to stop. Both for you and Irene.

Your mind raced at a few million miles an hour, your heart stopped alongside the time. Irene, is looking at you, with a..... Best described as longing look.

Holy fuck she's dangerous, how did I managed to stay focus during the dance? Gosh she's pretty, is she prettier then when you saw her on screen? I should look away now

Why am I not looking away?

Irene was having the similar thoughts. Enthralled by your gaze, your eyes seemingly to be a bottomless abyss that drawns her. Her breathing got heavy, her heart thumping faster than she ever felt before.

What are you doing to me?

Then, just like it never happens, you two both look away.

You stare blankly to the wall, trying to keep your brain from coming up with impossible imagination.

Irene was staring at the floor, trying to keep her heart from going wild and burst.

In your stuppor, your friend managed to finish his dance and got a compliment by Seulgi and sat back with you.

"Fuck I thought I was gonna faint"

Yeah, you too, you stood up and went to the exit. You need to wash your face.

Irene was in a panic as she saw you leave. A weird unknown panic.

She stood up, following you soon after.

While you were washing your face and try to clear your face, Irene was waiting outside the practice room.

Your steps and heavy and loud, it's given due to he fact of how tall you are. Despite your lean stature your body still weights enough to make some loud foot steps.

The moment Irene hears your footsteps she slowly walked to the bathroom. Trying to make it look like she's going to the bathroom as well.

You were stunned again the moment you walk out, seeing Irene walking to the bathroom from a distance away.

Awkwardly you walk back to your room, once you were close enough Irene took away her eyes from her phone and look at you.

With a nervous smile you bowed to her. However as you wanted to continue walking Irene stop, next to you, looking at you.

Subconsciously, you stopped as well, again, meeting your gaze with her.

Irene wasn't sure herself why she stopped. She even put her hand behind her, hiding her phone and her nervous finger that keep jolting around.

"Blue? Is that your name?"

Her mouth moves before her brain can think.

"Ehmmm, y-y-yes, that's what everyone call me"

Your attempt to smile only made you look like a grimacing in pain.

"Don't be so nervous"

Irene however find this cute, your nervousness is amusing to her.

"I'm sorry, it's just that....."

"That?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, it's just that, I was a big fan of you and Red Velvet, so seeing you here feels..... Surreal"

The smile on Irene's face seems to grow even larger.

"Really? A big fan huh? So who's your bias then?"

Is she crazy? How could I say anyone else but her at this moment?

"Ehm, it's you"

Oh god, your nervousness, your shy smile, your blush, your words. It dragged Irene, deep into a dark place that she doesn't know she have in her heart.

"Really?"

Her voice raise a few octaves, not that you realized, you're busy trying not to faint out of embarrassment.

"Yes"

She loves it, she loves your demeanour.

Irene has met countless idols and fans that stammered and stunned the moment they see her. She have grown accustomed to it. Yet you, above thousands of encounters that she has, managed to leave such an impression to her mind, forever.

"That's good to hear, don't be so nervous, I'm not gonna bite"

She wants to, she really, really, really wants to do it, but it's not like she has lose control of herself.... yet.

"Oh sorry, I'm just, not good at handling my nervousness"

You reached to the back your neck. There was, a small, feeling, barely noticeable. A voice saying this nervousness is not just a simple nervousness.

You didn't realise it, it was barely noticeable in the first place. With the ice queen herself standing in front of you there could be a fire happening and you wouldn't even react to it.

Irene, was watching you, as you bring up your hand, the long sleeve of your sweater falls down.

Your exposed forearm made her eyes locked to it. Of course working out a little you have a decent body, but looking at your, somewhat impressive forearm, Irene was enamored.

"I'm sorry, thank you for spending your time to check in on us, it really means a lot"

You smiled again, and for Irene, it broke her heart to a million pieces before it brought itself back together and got inflated so big that it burst.

"It's fine, I'm sorry I didn't put in any comments. I.... Have a lot in my mind"

You, you were in her mind.

Irene tighten her grip on her phone, thankfully her slender and delicate fingers is not strong enough to break it.

"Oh, no, not at all, don't be sorry, it was more than enough to have you, spend some time to watch us. It was an honour for us"

You raised both your hand in front of you waving it to make sure it's okay. This cause Irene to watch both of your forearm. Remember that thing about self control? Yeah, it's slipping away slowly.

"Really? You mean it?"

Irene stepped forward causing you subconsciously stepped back.

"Y-y-yeah"

Irene felt her heart thumping so loud it might cause her to be deaf.

"Then, do you mind if I watch you again so I can help guide you?"

Just like a black hole you keep pulling Irene to come closer. Unlike a black hole you stepped back again. This time your feet meets the wall.

"O-o-of course, if it w-w-won't bother you"

Not wanting to look like a weirdo you try to stand straight.

"Oh, really? Are you sure?"

Irene coming even closer doesn't help though.

"Yeah"

While you were trying to keep your wits, Irene is trying to keep her self control.

Getting closer she smells the slight body odour you gave off from doing those dances. Your body heat seems to radiate to her, giving off warmth that she never felt before.

"Then let's exchange number, so I can give you a time and place for tutoring"

Your brain short circuit for a little. Along with your heart, and your lungs, and your, well, your whole organ.

This is Irene, of course you're having a full organ failure when she ask for your number.

"Sorry?"

You managed to squeak out.

"Your number, for tutoring"

Irene pulled out her phone from behind her before quickly opening her contact.

She then leaned forward while offering her phone to you.

Despite being a head taller, you felt like a little mouse in front of her.

You glanced at the phone, ready to take it, then something else caught your eyes.

She was wearing a loose sweater today, her little forward lean is enough for her to expose her clevage.

You, might stare longer than you should. It is mind boggling that she didn't say anything.

Irene didn't say anything, becuse she likes it.

That's right, Irene, one of the idol, maybe the number one idol who hate being sexualised, is enjoying your eyes.

He's checking me out? Oh yeah, the sweater is loose. Is he watching my clevage? Don't react Irene, don't let him realise that you realized his gaze.

"Of course"

Quickly you take her phone and put in your number. Double, no, triple, no, quad checking the number you put in is the right one before giving it back to her.

"Thank you"

Irene smiled happily, one for your number, two for your eyes that's showing your lustful desires.

"Y-y-yeah, thanks sunbaenim"

No, that's not quite right, she doesn't like that name you have for her.

"Don't be formal, call me Joohyun-noona"

Call me that, now.

"I, okay, thank you Noona"

Hmmmmm, Irene's heart has stopped yet again.

"Well go on, you should go back"

She doesn't have to tell you twice. You quickly scurry of the the practice door.

Irene watches your back, even from the back she can't help but be enticed by you.

I want you.

You can't believe it, you simply can't believe you just gave Irene your number. In fact, you can barely believe Irene is here watching you.

Take a deep breath. Calm down. Focus on the lesson.

"You seems happy unnie"

Nothing can escape Wendy, as soon as Irene walked back in, the little smile she had on her face has not escape Wendy.

"Oh? It's nothing"

Irene glances back at you, who is busy watching your fellow trainee performance.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just found something interesting"

"Someone?"

"You could say that"

Irene would love to stay here watching you the whole day. Unfortunately she has a schedule that she need to follow.

With a heavy heart, she followed her friends to say goodbye before leaving the place.

She has send you a text so that you would keep her number. She also knows that you can't use your phone until lunch.

That doesn't stop her from checking her phone every few seconds, hoping for you to answer her text.

When lunch come around Irene can't focus on her food. She keeps wondering what you were doing, and why you're not answering her.

Of course the answer is simple, you forgot.

Only until around the sun down when you finished your training for today did you saw she has sent you a message.

With a little hesitation you answered it.

Surprisingly for you, she read it instantly. Of course, Irene has been locked to her phone every since she sent you the text.

Despite all the anger that she have for you, there's still a glimmer of happiness seeing you answer.

She asked you what took you so long to answer.

You panicked, hurriedly saying sorry and told her it's been a long day and you were busy working out.

"Working out? Does he use the companies gym?"

"Companies gym? That's off limit for trainees, if only I can use it, I don't have to spend money for gym membership"

"I want to see him workout, I can give him an allowance to use it"

"She's giving allowance? But why?

"Why? What should I say here? Oh right, I just want to help him build up his flexibility"

"My flexibility? Is it so bad that she has to oversee me herself? Is she overseeing me?"

"Yes, of course I'm overseeing him, who else?"

"Whoa, that's, I don't know what to say"

Stunned by the message you took a minute to digest what she is offering you.

Unfortunately for Irene that minute is one minute too long.

"Why isn't he responding"

"Oh shit, what do I say? Thank you for the offer? I don't deserve it?"

"Why did he say that? Stop saying that, just take the offer and workout with me"

"Oh shit, did I piss her off? Sorry, I'll take it if she insist then"

"Good, I want to see him again, I need to ask his schedule"

"My schedule? I guess I can send her the screenshot for it"

"That's too restricting, ahhhh, I don't think I can just ask them to change it"

"What do you mean it's too restricting? Doesn't she went through this"

"I did, but I don't like it. Can he workout in the morning?"

"Morning? Like 5 AM? She wants to workout that early?"

"5 AM is too late, he starts at 8 AM. Can he starts at 4 AM?

"4 AM? Bruh that's like my unemployment schedule when I can just workout before sun rise and chill for the rest of the day"

"Too early? How do I convince him? Oh right, it's for his stamina"

"Ahhhh, she really want me to start at 4 AM? Fuck it, I don't get any more chances to do this"

"Good, I'll see him tomorrow morning, I wonder what I should wear tomorrow"

While Irene is filled with enthusiasm and struggle to find the best outfit for tomorrow you went to prepare 5 alarm to wake up early tomorrow.

The next day, you went to the company building, the security seems to have been informed for your arrival and send you up to the gym.

In the gym, there's nobody, except for Irene. Sitting there waiting for you.

Her ethereal beauty made you hold your breath, her gaze that's locked on to you made you feel uncomfortable, as if she's dissecting your whole body with her eyes.

Irene was struggling to keep herself from running to you. She held her breath, dug her nails into her palm, doing everything that she can to stop herself.

"Come here, don't be shy"

Too caught up in her beauty, you didn't realise her voice crack.

"Good morning Noona"

Irene love it when you call her that, the name, the tone, the deep raspy voice you have.

As you get close Irene felt the warmth that rejuvenate her yesterday, the warmth she never realised how much she enjoyed your presence.

"Good morning, so, let's start with a little briefing, how do you usually workout?"

You started of with some stuttering, but you did managed to smooth out your words and eloquently tell her the details for your workout.

Irene is happy, you didn't use much weight lifting at your workout, she prefer a lean body type in a person.

"Well, let's go, do a warmup, I'll follow you for now"

Do you feel nervous working out with Irene around? Yes, definitely yes.

"Come on now, go all the way"

It was when you do some stretching, opening your leg out in a split while trying to lower your body to reach forward as far as you can did Irene see an opening.

She went and put her hand on your shoulder. The touch cause a sudden thrill for both of you.

"Relax your back, take a deep breath"

Irene managed to keep her composure as you were panicking. You did managed to calm down and follow her instructions as she pushed you further.

Unfortunately for Irene, the move doesn't last forever and she reluctantly take off her hand off your shoulder. Feeling somewhat contempt for feeling up your back.

"Now, go start your workout routine"

She doesn't like your routine as much as before. That is simply because she doesn't find any more opportunities to touch you.

She craves it, she craves you. It's slowly driving her mad, the sight of you has become a full feast for her desires. The touch that she felt still lingers in her hand. Your warmth, it's comforting, so much so she can't help but get close to you during the whole workout, never letting herself further than one meter away from you.

As the workout progress your body start sweating up, your body odour is something you've been self conscious about. A source of insecurity that forces you to wash yourself multiple time a day.

For Irene, the smell is addicting, it was something she want to turn into a candle and light it up all around her house.

Needless to say she got more and more restless, she wants to touch you.

She wants to run her hand through your sweat stained t-shirt, she wants to dig her face to your neck and inhale your scent so it will imprint itself in her mind.

"That's enough, now we need to work on your flexibility"

She snapped, she can't hold it any longer.

"Go down on the mat"

As you sit down she walked behind you, putting both hand on your shoulder.

You felt, scared, intimidated. You wrote it off as a normal feeling, one of a junior when their senior is watching them very closely. If you were in the right mind you would've notice it was much more than that, it was the feeling when a prey felt when they have been caught in the hand of their predator.

"Now, let's start with the basic"

You have fail the basic, much to your dismay. Feeling the shame and embarassment rise in you, you grit your teeth and look up to her.

Only to find her faint smile while her eyes is filled with imagination and, hunger.

Irene is happy, you're terrible at this, so much so that she can spend alot of time teaching you for it.

"It's okay, we can still improve"

Her words of encouragement felt like pity for you.

"Now, it's my turn to workout, help me for a second"

Once again, anxiety fill you up.

"Come on, hold my leg"

She find a few manuvers where she could force you to held her close.

She felt fulfilled after feeling up all your body from before. Now she wants something else, she wants you to touch her.

Your big rough hand can be felt clearly through her tight thin outfits. She ejoy the gentleness you put on your touch.

She ejoy your meek expression as you held her.

She enjoys your shyness and attempt to look away from her only to fail and check her out every now and then.

Once she's satisfied she ended the training.

"That's was good, it is a productive first day. It's still 7 AM, why don't you get a shower so we can enjoy breakfast together"

Of course, that doesn't mean she's done with you.

You slipped off to the shower, taking a bath and clean up every inch your body.

Irene sneaked into the locker, she heard the shower noises so she ran to your gym bag. Taking out your t-shirt.

It's wet from your sweat, although it's not drenched like before since you had time to cool down as you help her stretch.

As she took out you t-shirt, the smell attacked her nose. Without thinking she stuffed it to her face, taking a deep breath, inhaling the scents.

"Oh god~~"

Moans escaped her lips as her pants is slowly developing wet spots. She doesn't wear panties, hoping that you would be brazen enough to get a feel of her ass.

Of course, you were to scared for your life to do so.

Then the shower stopped, Irene was woken up form her daze, she ran to the exit before escaping to her locker room.

She pull out a plastic bag from her gym bag, carefully putting your t-shirt in it before zipping it close. Your t-shirt will be out to good use for the next week or so.

You waited for her at the gym, she has make it clear that she wants to eat breakfast with you.

Not long Irene walks out, looking fresh and proper. She wore a white shirt along with a black pencil skirt. Awakening the teacher links you have in you.

"Come on, let's go"

Her smile is blinding you.

She took you to her office, seemingly already ordered a breakfast for two from the two take out box on her table.

"So, this was fun"

Irene is never been the one who started a conversation, however, it's been established that you, are different for her.

"Y-y-yeah, thanks for today noona"

You nervously look at her curious gaze.

"Of course, I have a question, why did your friends called you blue?"

"Well, it was during the audition, there was a little written test. Well not a test, there was just a few questions about me and my dreams and they want us to write it on paper. They gave me a pen, but then, it broke, somehow. Spraying blue ink all over myself and my hand. So, I finished the whole audition with a blue staint on my hand, face and shirt. The interviewer doesn't really think much of it, it was an error for their part. I don't mind it much either since they said it won't be a problem. The confidence u show even though I looked silly with the ink made them accept me. Some of the trainee was there as well, they called me blue man. I find it funny and just roll with the nickname"

Irene frowned for a second, noting to get to the bottom of this. Finding the person responsible to humiliate you like that.

"Where do you audition in?"

"Japan, Tokyo, I had a few Korean friends and have been, well somewhat talented in singing. So I just took the audition and got accepted"

Irene's warm smile and friendly demeanour distract you from finding out it was an interview by her.

Needless to say, you pass with flying colours. In her eyes, you went from an object of desires and lust to a perfect icon for her ideal type of men.

"Well, thank you again for today Noona, I'm not sure how to repay you"

You've grown accustomed to her presence, which is something Irene noticed and took joy in.

"It's okay, go work hard today okay? I'll see you tomorrow"

"Tomorrow? We're doing this again?"

"Hehehe, of course, we'll be doing this until you pass my standard"

"O-o-o-okay then, see you tomorrow?"

She smiled and nodded. As you walk out of the room, Irene is staring at your back.

Slowly she cursed you, making her feel this way. She's Irene, the queen of kpop, the one who have rejected many men, all of which is much more accomplished than you.

Yet now, somehow, she's in love with you.

That's right, she can no longer deny it, she loves you, and she wants you. Whatever she wants, she get it.

Irene doesn't hate men, she knows that now, she's helplessly in love with you.

This new routine has drained you slowly.

After the first week you felt like you want to die. You're probably dead actually, you just didn't realise it.

Every morning you will find Irene waiting for you in the gym. You could've sworn she keep picking the most revealing outfits she have.

Everyday, Irene is getting bolder and bolder. She would start to caress your back as you were doing your early stretching.

When she made you stretch your leg on the floor she would openly feel up your chest, disguising it as a way for her to keep her balance.

When you help her with her stretches she will keep suggesting for you to touch her even more, much to your dismay.

You kept your respectful, touch though, much to her dismay.

At day 4 or 5, you realized she's not wearing any panties. Her white tight yoga pants has show her perfect ass to you when she was facing away from you.

This doesn't go unnoticed by Irene, which excite her even more.

Unfortunately for her, you never do anything more than staring when you think she wasn't watching. She's always watching.

You did realised your shirt occasionally went missing, only to find it the next day.

Organized is not what you are, so you just wrote it off as your clumsiness or lack of attention to details, which is ironic.

The things you hate the most, is Irene keep buying you breakfast. Everytime you always insisted for her to let do that.

Everytime she will win the argument, a gentle smile, a little caress on your hand, and then you'll be a blushing mess, to shy to say anything else.

The new routine is perfect for Irene, she loves it, but slowly, she realised it's not enough.

Every night she would suffocate herself using your used gym outfits while masturbating.

The first time she did it was heavenly, the best orgasm she ever had.

Irene is not a pure girl, she has her own sexual needs. She knows how to keep it down though, never realising that her drive, is way too high for normal people.

All those years of controlling herself is out of the window now, because of you.

She have your pictures, she took photo of you time to time during the workout.

She has videos of you, masking it as a way to explain your form to you.

Every time she got the chance she would open this pictures and videos. Revering your body, your movement, all of you, is something she can't get enough for.

She wants more.

She needs more.

She needs you.

"Hey blue, you want to get some ramen"

Your friend invited you for a lunch.

"No bro, I'm poor"

The life of an unemployed, well, technically a college student.

"Come on, I'll pay"

You felt yourself cringe for a second before quickly hiding it.

"No, I can eat at the cafeteria, they have nice chicken"

Nobody like the cafeteria food, they felt, bland. Not that you care, they tasted better than the trash food that you used to eat.

"Ahhh, fine, we'll buy you something nice"

They quickly scurry off leaving you alone in the practice room. For a few moments you were contemplating should you go out and eat or should you continue practicing.

However, the choice was made for you, by a beautiful pale beauty walking in the empty practice room.

"Oh Noona, good afternoon"

You hurriedly stand up and bowed to her.

"I was looking for you, why didn't you go out to eat?"

She managed to hide her aggravation with the tone of curiousity.

"Oh, I was thinking to practicing a bit more. Beside I'm not hungry"

Irene looked at you, with the cold, angry eyes. Silently she started walking to you.

"Noona?"

Her aura seems to grow so much so you felt your whole body shivering.

She didn't say anything until she got in front of you.

"You, are, eating, lunch"

She crossed her arm and the coldness in her eyes is gone, leaving nothing but anger.

"I, I'm really fine Noona, I don't nee-"

Your argument is sound and flawless, unfortunately she shut you up by grabbing your shirt and pulling you out.

"Okay, Noona, can you let me go now?"

Seeing no way out of this, you sighed and compromise with the current situation.

She stare at you for a second before letting go of your shirt. You sighed with relief but then she grabbed your hand. Interlocking her fingers with yours before she continue walking.

"Noona? I don't need to be held-"

Yet again, your argument was indisputable, but do you really want to finish it? Especially when Irene turned around, giving you a glare that could pierce your heart and slice it to a perfect 1 cm³ cube.

You shut your mouth, wisely. Irene continue walking in front of you, hiding her bright smile from your gaze.

Without caring she pulled you to the elevator and clicked the basement floor.

You felt nervous, what if someone sees you? Subconsciously your hand start to press on Irene's and your finger start caressing her hands.

Irene loves it, your grip was hard, so much so she felt bone being squeezed together. Your rough fingers also sends tickling sensation to her heart everytime they grind themselves again the back of he palm.

Then suddenly the door opened, and an employee walked in.

Your anxiety went through the roof, in an instant you squeezed Irene's hand even harder. The pain was intoxicating for Irene, she had to bite her inner cheek to remind herself not to squeal right there and then.

The employee looked at your intertwined fingers, then they looked at your nervous face, then to the glaring Irene.

They slowly stepped backward as the elevator door closes again. Much to Irene's joy her little paradise is kept pure.

The basement was empty, Irene immediately dragged you to her car, putting you on the passenger seat.

"Where are we going Noona?"

"Some place nice"

"I, I don't have much money Noona"

"It's okay, I'm paying"

You grimaced feeling uneasiness well up in your body.

"You, really don't have too Noona, you already payed for all our breakfast earlier. I can eat at the cafeteria, I promise I'm gonna eat"

Irene saw your face contorted for a second, something she will throughly research later in the day.

"No, I insist"

She turned on her car and start driving. You swallowed your uneasiness and tried to focus on something else.

Her perfume is nice.

Okay, not that one please.

The car is cool.

You, don't like cars.

Her fingers seems so hot.

Okay this not working at all.

Irene on the other hand, has embraced your presence. She is struggling to drive while her body keep screaming to throw herself on to you.

She wants to hold your hand, she wants to run her fingers through your fluffy hairs, she wants to taste your lips.

The 15 minute drive felt like an hour for both of you.

"Come here"

Irene once again held your hand to lead you to the reserved seat.

"You like French food?"

If I say no I feel like she still wouldn't let me go eat in the cafeteria.

"I never tried it"

"Good, this is the perfect place to start"

Lady, I can barely afford to buy water from this place, don't make my food palate become higher than my own financial capabilities.

"Why do you not like being treated?"

"You mean getting people to feed me out of pity?"

"Is that what you think I'm having? Pity?"

"I mean, no offense, I don't think I have much selling point to make you feel anything otherwise"

"That's not true, I like you"

"I.... thanks Noona, that's very kind of you"

"You don't get it"

"Yes?"

"I like you, romantically"

So, remember that little organ called heart? Well it's a very important organ to help your body functions, and keep you alive. Well, you lost it, unfortunate.

"Yes?"

You managed to squeak out after god knows how long.

"I like you"

"Yes?"

"I want to go out with you"

"Yes?"

"This is our first date"

"...... Yes?"

"Good, from now on we're going out"

"Uhmmmm...... Yes?"

Your timidness has grown Irene's interest in you, thankfully you kept quiet after this or else she would pounce you and start kissing you all over.

Everything else felt like a blur for you, things just went pass you, without even thinking you start eating the food.

The confusion you had overpowered the taste the food has given you.

"Be my boyfriend"

You stare at her in a catatonic state.

"Good, we're official from now on"

Do you even speak Korean? That language seems alien for your since you can't understand a single word coming out of Irene's mouth.

Irene left you to your demise, as she was enjoying the sight of a lost bunny right in front of her.

Even as you finished your lunch you didn't say anything. Not when Irene grabbed your hand and wrapped her arm around it. Not when Irene put her head on your shoulder as you got in the car. Not when Irene got to your company building and pulled you to her embrace and start playing with your hair.

"Baby, do you want to stay with me for the whole day?"

Her whispers in your ears woke you up. Her tone is so cute yet also, lustful. Her breath tickling your ear making sure you know how close she is to you right now.

"I-i-i-i need to go"

You stuttered trying to get off her hug.

"Ssssshhhhh, let's leave you a memory, for today's date"

She yanked your collar down, exposing your chest.

As you were frozen she leaned in, giving your peck a kiss, long enough to left her lipstick imprint on your chest.

"Aghhh, Noona don't do that"

Irene pulled herself back, leaving a thin trail of saliva between her lips and your chest.

You glanced down to see the red imprint on your chest was contrasting to your pale white skin.

As you tried to wipe it Irene grabbed your hand while glaring at you.

"Leave it"

"What? Noona, I can't just-"

"Leave it"

Her eyes is stern and firery, her grip is weak, but since her nail is sinking to your flesh you can only winced in pain.

"Okay"

You can only sighed in defeat, Irene nodded happily before pulling your hand. She watch the faint mark of her nails on your hand before gently caressing it.

"You're my boyfriend now, so I have to make sure you don't get preyed upon by others. Just do as I say okay baby? Then I won't hurt you"

Everything suddenly flood back to you, all those feelings in the back of your head all banded back together telling you it's too late.

You can't run.

"Okay Noona"

She smiled again before grabbing your chin.

"I've wanted to do this the moment I met you"

She leaned forward, your head screams to run, but your instincts screamed back that it would only lead to your death.

You leaned forward as well, taking her lips with yours.

The kiss was, pleasant for you, she seems to be more driven by lust making it one of the most aggressive kiss you've been in.

For Irene, the kiss was heavenly, she wants more, she wants your lips, your spit, it all taste like the sweetest nectar made for the gods.

Her whole body tensed up as she tried her best to stop herself from devouring you, yet your godly taste was just too enticing for her.

However, she's not a god, she got reminded of that by her own lungs screaming for air.

"Haaaa, Haaaa, I love you"

Between her panting she gaze into your eyes, her iris is dilated, in a shape of -it's impossible but you swear you see it- a heart.

Her lips is twisted to make the widest smile she has ever had in her life.

Her tongue slitehered out, licking her lips trying to take more of your taste.

She's drunk out of you.

"I, love you too"

If you can hear her organs you will go deaf from the squeak they just let out. Irene can't let go of you, unfortunately for her, she have to.

"I'm picking you up after your practice okay baby?"

Her gaze leave a chill in your spine, yet it also arroused you.

"Okay, babe"

This time, she let out a happy squeal while her hand is shaking.

"I love you"

She leaned in again to give you a peck on your lips.

Just a peck, she still have some self control so she knows if it's any longer than a peck then both of you won't be able to leave this car with your clothes on.

She escort you back to your training room, this time there's other people in the elevator.

You're happy you are off the hook from the hungry wolves that's holding you by the arm right now.

They gave you a weird and surprised look, but Irene doesn't mind, why would she? She have her eyes to one man, and one man only.

She escorted you to the front of your room.

"I want you to call me once you're done, and I want you to wait here until I pick you up"

Is she my mom or my girlfriend? Why the fuck am I asking this question about the Irene of Red Velvet.

"Okay.... Babe?"

She squealed again before kissing your cheek.

"Keep up your hard work"

You can't, how could you? You're having a relationship with Irene. God damnit you just made out with her in her own car 5 minutes ago.

Thankfully for you, nobody notices the red lipstick mark on your chest.

"Blue you're zoning out a lot"

"Oh yeah, sorry, I, don't feel so good"

"Is it the kimchi again? That's it dude, you're not eating in the cafeteria again"

"No, I'm fine, I...... Got a text from an old friend....... He took me out for lunch today"

"Oh? Your friend take you out on a lunch is okay but we're not"

"Come on man, I haven't seen him in so long, and I payed for my lunch"

"That's the thing dude, we don't want you to, we know your situation so just let us help you okay?"

"I, listen I am grateful for your help, but, I don't like owning someone something"

"Just, take it as a debt, you can pay it back once you debuted"

"I, thanks, but, I think I have a way to get lunch from now on"

"Fine then, but if I see you in the cafeteria again I'm dragging you to the McDonalds"

You almost die. By that it means you almost forgot to call your..... Girlfriend....?

Your call didn't get picked up, because you saw Irene waiting for you by the elevator.

Stern pose, angry glare, crossed arm, she's furious.

"Come here"

She pulled you the elevator, her aura is enough to deter any of your fellow trainee to jump in with you.

"I, sorry Noona, I was just about to call you"

"Oh is that so? Do you want to wait until you walk home to call me?"

"No, I was just tired from today's practice. I'm still adjusting to the new sleep schedule remember? I feel tired"

"You can't be tired, we need to do our second date today"

"T-t-t-today?"

"Yes, do you have a problem with that"

Irene is furious, she is holding herself from jumping you right now and you know it.

"I, just think we should rest for now"

"No, I'm having a second date with my boyfriend right now"

Her roar could probably be heard from outside of the elevator.

"Then, what if, we have a date, in my place"

Immediately you see her whole body relaxed. Her furious expression turned to one of happiness and relief.

"Okay, then, good"

More than good, I can go to his place. I was trying to take it slow and go there tomorrow but he jumped in to offered it for me himself. He really does love me. We are meant to be babe, we will be the greatest couple to ever live.

She can't contain herself and gave you a kiss again.

"I love you"

Her whispers is almost as deafening as her roar from earlier.

"I, love you too Noona"

Irene can't decide if she loves Noona or babe more, but again as long as it's from you she will love it either way.

She dragged you to the car, practically sprinting to it before she drive to your place. How does she know where you live?

"Come on, move"

She even knows your apartment number.

Fear is enveloping you as you slowly unlocked the door to your apartment.

She hops in the moment the door is opened, you walked behind her before locking the door behind you.

Suddenly as you turn Irene slam you to the door, she grabbed your collar and pulled you to make out with her.

His fragrant is so addicting, his taste is heavenly, what's a 3 Michelin star food compared to this. Even his little moan- Haaaa, he's moaning, oh my god, I'm getting wet. He's so perfect, and even more than perfect now, he's my boyfriend.

She practically dry humping your leg that's between hers right now.

"Noona"

You pulled away, making her frown deeply.

"We should, move to the bedroom"

Her eyes lights up again, she dragged you inside, holding you by your collar.

The destination is the bedroom, the pit stop is everywhere.

She pushed you to the wall and made out again.

She pushed you to your couch and dry hump your crotch while sucking on your tongue.

She draged you to the door only to jump up and kiss you again, as you held her by the thighs.

Finally she got to your bedroom, pushing you down before taking off your shirt.

"Noona, you're so.... Hot"

Fuck your mind, how can you say no to Irene. Fuck the logic, fuck the instinct, fuck survival, you want her.

You craved her, as much as she craves you. Within just a few minutes you've fallen with her, deep into the abyss.

She dives to her favourite meal, your mouth. Her hand is practically feeling up every inch of your torso and arms.

You let go of your primal instinct and grabbed her ass.

"Ahhhh, squeeze it babe"

That's your intent, giving some firm squeeze making her let out a moan. Raising your hand, you then drop a slap on her ass cheek.

"Aghhhh, again"

She stopped kissing you and held you by the back of the neck. Her head is digging deep into your neck while bitting it.

"You're. Such. A. Succubus"

With every word you deliver a hard slap to her cheeks.

"Baby, I'm cumming, I'm cumming"

She moans as her teeth is holding on to the skin on your neck.

"A slut"

You slapped both of her ass and grabbed it, hard.

"Babbyyyyyy"

Her screams was loud and the pitch was enough to make a dog deaf. You didn't care, you bite into her neck.

Her body that's squirming is going in to a full on seizure as she reached her climax.

"I love you, my slutty, beautiful Noona"

You whispered in her ears as she was fighting for her life in your embrace.

After what seems like hours she stopped spasming, her breath got heavy as she seems to lose her energy.

"Tired already?"

"Never"

She sat on your lap before taking off her own outfits.

Her pink bra seems so cute enveloping her breast. Almost like an invitation for you to drown yourself in it.

An invitation, that you take.

Sitting up you used both of your hand to take it off and started bitting her already erect nipple.

"Baby"

Her moans and squeal sounds so defenseless, the polar opposite of the image she always gives off.

She put both hand around your head, hugging it and pushing you to dig deeper to her.

Her leg is locked to your stomach, hugging you like a baby koala hanging for it's life.

"Baby, I'm cumming"

Your hand grabbed her body, pushing her on to you. Your mouth is sucking on to her nipples greedily.

Her hand and leg tightened themselves on you as her climax came again.

This time, it's much shorter, but not less intense than before.

"Tired?"

You can't help but to tease her.

"Never"

She got off your lap before taking off your pants.

Your already erect member was mesmerising to her.

Your tip was leaking precum, using her hand Irene wipe it before licking it.

"You taste so good"

Her body shake before she took your member into her mouth.

Jesus her lips is so attractive. The way it wrap itself around your dick, the red, plump lips was a vacuum to your dick.

She can't take it all in, but that doesn't matter, because even with half inside you still feel her magic is working.

Then she took it our of her mouth before jerking it with both hands. Her mouth then travel down to kiss your balls and suck on it as well.

"Are you coming baby?"

Her high pitched whine push you even harder. She kissed your balls, and the bottom of your cock.

Your cock and balls was ridden with red lipstick smudge all over, something that arouse you even more.

She put your dick back to her mouth, this time, by the power of sheer will she managed to take all your member in her mouth and throat.

As her lips reaches the base she turned it in to leave another fine red imprint on it. She read your mind, she knows how to push you over.

"Noona I'm coming"

Hearing your moans she stopped giving you a deep throat, leaving only your tip in her mouth.

With the help of her saliva she used both of her hands to jerk you off.

Your cum sprayed into her mouth, undoubtedly turning all of it's inside to a white mess.

Her eyes rolled behind her eyes as she took a deep breath with her nose.

Then, as your climax ended she took the tip off her mouth.

She look at you with pride, then she opened her mouth and sticks out her tongue, showing your cum pooling inside her mouth.

Her lips is smudged all over, her mascara is runined with her tears, her mouth is practically over filled by your sperm.

A sight even the gods can only dream off, is right in front of you right now.

She closed her mouth back and then gulp it down. You can hear the sickening yet arrousing swallowing sound from her mouth. She opened her mouth back and sticks out her tongue to show nothing remains in her mouth.

Her eyes is filled with pride and happiness, almost, pure, a pure happiness of her own accomplishment.

You grab her by the thighs before picking her up and put her in the bed.

"Take it off baby, I can't wait for you anymore"

Pulling down her skirt you see her panties is practically drenched and even dripping some of her juices.

You pulled it down as well, giving you sights for the main course.

"Put it in baby, I want to feel you inside, make me yours, fill me up, pleaseeee"

She's whining and begging you like a spolied kid.

Any other time you would slow down and teased this ice queen, but not now, now, there's only one thing you wanted to do.

"OH MY GOD~~~~"

She screamed as her body convulsed yet again as you put the whole length of your member in.

You waited as she was orgasming. Wanting to remember this view for the rest of your life.

As it ended you realise there's a red stain coming out of her vagina.

"You're a virgin Noona?"

She nodded, without any shame.

"I'm waiting for you"

God she's a psycho, I love it. Wait, what?

You started thrusting, slow and hard, making her breat jiggle everytime you sink your dick deeper into her.

Moans and moans keep escaping her lips.

"Baby, I love you, I love you so much, baby faster"

She let out a high pitched whine as you continue thrusting into her.

"Oh god you're breaking me baby"

"Aghhhh, so deep, you're so deep inside me"

"Faster baby, break me apart, tear me into two GODDDDD........"

"I can't hold it anymore, please, faster"

"Baby, I'm cumming"

"You can't cum yet"

"Baby pleaseeee"

Oh god, the sight of Irene whining and begging in front of you is to hard for you to resist.

"I'm coming too"

You grunted and lay forward to be on top of her.

"Inside baby, fill me up, fill me up with your seeds"

She whisper before she kissed you again.

Your thrust is getting faster, her walls is getting tighter. Then, you felt your dick squirmed, she must've felt it too since her leg went to lock you in place.

"I'm cumming"

She screamed into your mouth as her body was sent into another seizure.

You're drained, your breath was heavy and slow. As you finished depositing sperm in her untouched womb you got off her and lay next to her.

"I, love you"

Tears starts to pour down her eyes, a joyful tears.

"I love you too, my ice cold Noona"

You kissed her again, and as you do, there's only one thing in her mind.

I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you. I love you.

You're fucked mate.

"Baby, hug me"

Irene whined as she envelopes her limbs around you.

"Okay, babe, let's, get in the right position to sleep first okay"

She grunted as you drag her so she can lay on the bed with you. Irene nuzzled up close to you, her nude body is pressing up against you, making you feel every inch of her perfect skin that has become sticky from her sweat.

"I love you, I love you so much baby"

Irene's small whimper is the devil's whisper that keep pulling you deeper and deeper into her.

"Okay, Noona"

Why would you say that?

"Say it back"

She spat as she pinched your neck.

"Awww, I love you to Noona, I told you earlier"

She doesn't seems satisfied.

"I want to hear it from you every moment in my day for the rest of my life"

Fuck, what do I do now? Why the fuck did I succumb to my own dick?

"O-o-o-okay Noona"

She smiled again, letting go of your neck.

"I like it when you stutter like that, you're so cute, my baby boy is so perfect"

She rubbed her face all over your cheek.

"Let's go to sleep Noona"

She squealed.

"I love you, good night baby"

"G-good night, Noona"

It's been a long day, you went through a lot. The moment you closed your eyes you feel your consciousness slowly sleep away.

The next morning you woke up with the heavy weight of someone on top of you.

"Morning babe"

You were still blinking your eyes trying to wake up when you felt Irene's lips pressing up against yours.

"Noona"

You pulled back, making her let out a growl.

"I-i-i-i need to w-w-w-wash my teeth"

Opening your eyes you see Irene is looking at you with dissatisfaction.

"I don't care, I want to kiss you"

She tried to kiss you again but you close your mouth making her face turned to anger.

"Noona please, let me wash my teeth first okay? You can kiss me all you want after"

She frowned but nodded anyway.

You stood up, trying to get out of bed, which is hard when Irene is clinging on to you.

"Noona, I can't move"

She just looked at you with a cute puppy eyes.

"I, love you?"

She smiled and kissed your cheek before letting you go.

"I love you too babe"

You went to your bathroom, with Irene following close behind you.

"Noona, I need, to take a shit"

She frowned yet again.

"Once you're done, I'm making out with you for an hour"

Was it an ultimatum? A promise? You decided to not think about it before you locked the bathroom door.

"Fuck"

You went to wash your face.

"What the fuck just happened"

You were hoping that your reflection would answer you, thankfully it didn't.

You do your morning duty before washing your face yet again hoping you would wake up in this weird dream.

When you go out you see Irene is waiting for you in your couch.

Crossed leg, crossed arm, cold eyes, she returned to the old Noona you know. Although, it was only for a moment, she smiled to you, a warm yet sinister smile.

"Come here honey"

You, awkwardly sit next to her.

"I love you"

She grabbed your hand, both of them.

"I love you too Noona"

You tried your best to be earnest.

"I want you to be honest with me"

"Okay"

"Do you have any relationship before me?"

Her eyes turned cold and sinister, you felt her hand pressing up harder against yours.

"I.... Do"

A few bones in your hand might broke off from the sheer force of her ire.

"You...."

Her growl made your body tremble.

"They're, just in the past"

She grabbed both of your head before pushing you to lay down on the couch.

"I don't care, I've waited so long for you and you can't even do the same? You're even a decade younger than me but you don't have any patience? For me?"

What? What is she talking about? What am I walking into right now?

"Noona, we just met, a week or so ago"

"I don't care, you should've waited for me"

Your face was wet, from her saliva and some tears. That's right, she's crying.

"I-i-i-i'm sorry Noona"

Good news, you felt her hand lower down from your face. Bad news, it's resting on your neck.

"You, fucking, cheater"

It tightened around your neck making let out a choked gasp.

"Noona"

You gurgled out.

"I hate you, I hate you so much"

Is this it? How you gonna die? Was it worth it for a night with Irene?

"Who's the bitch"

She suddenly let go of your neck and grabbed your head again.

"WHO WAS IT"

She screamed at you as you were coughing hard.

"My ex?"

You managed to squeak out.

"Yes, the bitch who seduced my man"

How do I get out of this? Fuck it, let's flirt our way out.

"Baby, it's nobody important, I already forgot about them"

You slowly wrapped her arm around her.

"They're bitches who almost succeed in getting you from me"

She's still mad, but her body atleast responded to your touch.

"They didn't, and even if I met you while I'm still dating them I would still choose you. We were made for each other right?"

Your forced smile is enough to calm her down a little.

"I don't want you to ever meet them again"

You nodded, obviously.

"And I want you to marry me"

You didn't nod, obviously.

"Say yes"

Fuck how do I get out of this. Uhmmmm, think fast brain, think.

"I, want to be the one who proposed"

She looked at you with discontent.

"Then propose to me"

What now smart guy? You felt your leg started to shake nervously.

"I need to buy a ring"

She snorted.

"I don't need a ring, I need to hear you say it"

Go all out? Fuck it I don't want to die.

"I, want to buy it, for you. I want to make it, romantic"

She frowned, cutely this time.

"You don't need to do that"

She can blush?

"I have to, we only get to, well I only get to propose once right? And we get married once, so I want to put all my effort on it"

Oh my god, Irene is blushing, hard. She looked away from you shyly, a very cute view, if only she didn't try to strangle you to death earlier.

"You're such a flirt"

You were stunned by her words, but recover quickly.

"For you, I have too, because..... I love you, and only you, forever"

She dug her face to your chest before letting out a shy shriek.

"Baby?"

She immediately attacked your mouth. Her hands is holding you from behind and work as your head pillow.

You felt your cheeks getting wet, her little moan and squeal also tells you, she's crying.

"I love you, oh god I love you so much it hurts. Hold me tight babe, don't let me go, never let me go"

She pulled away showing her tearful face.

"Okay babe, I love you too"

She took of your shirt.

"I want you, I want you again inside me babe"

She whined as she took of her's as well.

"I, am tired"

She kisses your cheek.

"I know, I'll do all the work this time. Just lay there okay baby?"

She pulled down your pants before ditching her panties and start grinding her already wet pussy on your dick.

"Hold my hand baby"

She reached out to you. You pulled up your hand and she immediately took it, interlocking your fingers with each other.

With the support from your hand she continues her grinding until your dick became hard.

Without waiting any longer she put it inside her.

"Aghhhhh, baby"

Her hands squeezed yours as her leg was quivering.

"You're, so tight Noona"

You can't help but groan feeling her inner walls is squeezing your dick, ready to milk it until it ran dry.

"I'm the best right baby, I'm better than those bitches? I have the best pussy you ever tried?"

Her eyes is filled with madness and a crave for your praises.

"You're the best one Noona, nothing come close to you"

You let go of her hand and reached to grab her ass.

"Yeah baby, my pussy was molded for your cock, it's perfect, we're perfect, I love you, I love you so much"

Losing it's support she drop down to you and start to nibbling on your neck as her hips start to pick up the pace.

"I love you too Noona"

You moaned feeling her teeth is biting on to your collarbone.

"You're so big, I'm breaking baby, do you want to tear me into two?"

Fuck this succubus is insane

Your hand starts to spank her ass making her moan louder and louder.

"Break me baby, fill me up, I want to feel your cum inside again. Come on, fill me up baby, fill up your Noona with your cum"

Your hip started moving, matching her pace. Every thrust you send made her thighs and ass wiggle. Her moans and screams start to shake matching her body's trembles.

"I'm coming baby"

She moaned as she sinked her teeth to your chest.

"No Noona, you don't get to cum"

You have to do it, how can you pass up the opportunity to dominate Irene?

"Baby please"

She raised her head showing her teary eyes and begging expression.

"If you cum, I will hate you"

You see her face was riddled with shock and fear, those two expression was then mixed with arrousal and lust as you start thrusting her faster and faster.

"Baby pleaseeee"

Her tears ran down her cheek. You almost feel sorry, almost.

"You cum when I cum, understand?"

She bite her lower lips, her tears running down her face.

"Babyyyyy"

Thankfully her whines help pushed you over the edge.

"Cum with me babe"

Your dick start to twitch, then as she felt your cum tainted her inner walls she let out a deep guttural groan as her body went to another seizure.

You felt, tired, drained, you lay on your couch panting as Irene was having an orgasm.

Finally it passed and she dropped to your chest. You hear her sobbing as her tears wet your chest.

"I'm sorry baby"

You decided to caress her head, she let out her cries as she hugged you.

Do you feel sorry for her? Maybe

Do you regret doing it? Fuck no

Finally she stopped crying and raised her tear stained face and her red eyes is looking at you timidly.

"Oh baby, I'm sorry, I just can't.... Stop myself when you're.... Being so cute"

Her tears falling again as she start to kiss you.

Her hands is hugging your neck, her leg is resting quietly between yours.

The kiss was, actually you're not really sure, probably 30 minutes or more.

"I love you baby, I really do"

Finally she finished and just whimper weakly in your ears.

"Okay babe, fuck it's already 7, I need to go"

She shake her head and just lock you in place.

"You're free for the day baby, cuddle me"

Even though her voice sounds so weak and tired you know resisting her now will only make your suffering greater tomorrow.

"I, need to contact my trainer at least"

She shake her head again.

"I don't want you to talk to other woman"

Fucking hell lady.

"Please?"

She then raised her face, it looked tired, but her eyes have some cold fury in it.

"Did you have her number in your phone"

Oh shit, here we go again.

"Yeah, I nee-"

She slapped my chest, it felt weak, but the emotional damage, well it's also weak since you're not that into her yet.

"Delete it"

You felt nervous, trying to make some excuses in your head.

"Why are you hesitating? You want to cheat on me again?"

You winced as she say that, knowing full well, what's gonna come for you for the rest of this relationship.

"I need her contact in case something happened"

She shake her head again.

"No, I don't care, delete it. If you want to say something then tell your friend to relay your message to her"

"Baby please"

"No, I lose you before I'm not losing you again to some scrawny whore who's going to seduce you. No baby, I'm not losing you again, not when I already have you in my arms"

What now? What will your brilliant mind come up with?

"I need it for my career"

She snorted.

"You only need me, if you want to debut just say it and I'll make you debut"

Sugar mommy is a pretty rare thing to have, especially someone this hot.

"Baby, I, need to earn it"

She growled again.

"You, can let me ask her right? I'm just telling her I'm sick"

Her face contorted as she grabbed your chest.

"Fine, but I want to see your chat history. In fact, I want to see your phone and check every single girl you tried to cheat on me with"

Well this is it, it's your life now.

#kpop gg #kpop fanfic #irene #red velvet irene #red velvet smut #irene smut #male reader

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