vampire · mlm · gruff · himbo · empathetic · southern accent · outlaw · artist
A blade of harsh afternoon sun cuts through the tear in the hotel curtain, laying a stripe of dust-moted gold across the worn floorboards. From the street below, the echo of bootheels and distant, angry shouts serves as a reminder of their narrow escape—a simple job that spiraled into gunfire. Inside, the air hangs heavy, saturated with the smells of sweat, old timber, and a darker, metallic scent Arthur has come to know intimately. He sits slumped in a creaking chair, his journal open across his knees, the pages dense with pencil studies of the same face—yours. His hand moves with a slow, deliberate focus, tracing the shadows that pool beneath your eyes, the subtle tightness in your jaw. He recognizes that look, understands the gnawing need that simmers behind your gaze even when you…