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sushiyuzu · 3 months ago

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fainted

warning: fluff + comfort — soft!sylus taking care of you after you fainted 💫🫶🏻 [ x mc，x reader ]

a/n: thank you for the lovely request, anon! are you feeling better now? i’m concerned :c pls take care of yourself, okay? <3

anon’s request / link: click here

- second acc: @blushpawss

“you know… i don’t think i’ve ever seen a night like this,” you said softly, looking up at the stars shining in the dark sky.

the air was cool and fresh, wrapping around you like a gentle breeze as you and sylus walked down the almost empty street. it was quiet, with only the distant sound of crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves.

you and sylus had discussed and planned this night out a few days ago, even though he lived far away in a place called onychinus. it was a big dangerous city far from linkon, where you lived. getting to linkon from onychinus took him hours, but he didn’t seem to mind.

never to him at all, when it comes to you.

“distance isn’t a problem,” he had told you over the phone, his voice calm and steady. “i’ll be there. all you have to do is say yes.”

of course, you had agreed. the thought of him driving all that way just to spend time with you made your heart race. you could almost hear him smile through the phone when you said yes.

“then it’s a plan,” he replied, as if the long drive was nothing.

now, as you strolled outside together under the night sky, you felt grateful. he had come all this way just to be with you. when he arrived, you felt a thrill seeing him step out of his sleek black car, his eyes finding yours as he walked toward you.

sylus looked at you from the side, his expression hard to read as always, but there was a slight smile at the corner of his mouth. “guess it’s not often you’re out this late,” he said, his voice low and smooth, with a bit of his usual confidence. even though he was usually serious, you had learned to see the small ways he showed his softer side—mostly when he was with you.

and you find that adorable, however.

“maybe not,” you replied, a lighthearted tone in your voice. “but i like it… it’s peaceful.”

you had been walking together for a while, enjoying the cool night air. he had suggested this place earlier—a quiet little park just outside the city, away from the bright lights and noise. with the moon low in the sky, shining soft silver light on the path, it felt like a different world, one where time slowed down, and it was just the two of you.

you felt a small warmth in your chest that grew stronger when you were with him. the way he walked a bit closer to you tonight, his hand sometimes brushing against yours, made your heart beat a little faster. there was something calm and charming about him that made you feel safe, even when you felt a strange dizziness you couldn’t shake off. you had been feeling a bit off since earlier, but the moment felt too perfect to ruin with your worries. maybe it was nothing—a little tiredness or a chill in the air.

maybe.

“are you sure you’re alright?” he asked suddenly, his eyes focused on you as he noticed you swaying a bit. sylus had a way of noticing things that others might miss, and his attention to detail was almost surprising.

“yeah… i’m good, really,” you assured him, managing a small smile. “just a little lightheaded.” you laughed softly, trying to brush it off, though you could feel his gaze linger, a crease forming on his brow.

he didn’t buy it; you could tell by how he slowed his steps and focused completely on you. “we don’t have to keep walking,” he said, stopping and looking down at you with a mix of concern and determination. “we can go back to the car if you need to rest for a bit.”

“no, no… i’m fine, really,” you insisted, trying to sound convincing, but even to yourself, it felt weak. you wanted to stay and enjoy just a few more moments of this rare peace with him.

but that’s when it happened.

you felt the world tilt, the stars above becoming blurry and slipping away. your knees felt weak, and your vision faded to a soft blur. before you realized it, the ground seemed to disappear beneath you.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

when you opened your eyes, everything felt different. the cool night air was still there, but it felt warmer now, and you understood why—it was sylus. he was holding you in his arms, his strong grip supporting you. his expression was unusually soft, showing a rare vulnerability in his normally steady gaze. his voice was quiet, but it felt like a warm blanket around you.

“hey… you’re awake,” he said, relief laced in his tone. “just take it easy.”

you blinked, still feeling a bit confused, trying to understand what was happening. “what… what happened?” you asked softly, your voice shaking. it was a strange feeling to be so vulnerable, and the look in his eyes—something like worry—made it feel even more real.

“you fainted,” he said, his voice softer than you had ever heard. one of his hands was gently on your back, holding you close, while his other hand held yours, making you feel secure. “just breathe, okay? you’re safe.”

a wave of embarrassment washed over you as you realized what had happened. “i… i’m sorry,” you mumbled, feeling a flush rise to your cheeks. “i didn’t mean to scare you…”

“don’t apologize,” he said, his voice strong but soft with unexpected kindness. “it’s not your fault. if anything, i should have noticed sooner.” he changed his grip a little, gently brushing his thumb along your shoulder in a way that felt almost unreal.

you took a shaky breath, feeling a little more steady, but still shaken by everything that happened. fainting was something you had never experienced before, and how sudden it was made you feel vulnerable, like you were on unsteady ground. “it… it’s never happened before,” you whispered, looking up at him, trying to hide the fear still in your eyes. “i didn’t know what to do…”

his gaze softened even more, which was rare to see. “you don’t have to know what to do. that’s what i’m here for,” he said quietly, his fingers tracing gentle circles on your shoulder, his touch comforting. “it’s okay to lean on me, you know? you don’t always have to be so strong.”

his words wrapped around you, calming the panic in your chest. sylus was always a loving presence, and even in moments like this, his affection shone through. every gentle touch and soft word felt like a promise that he would always be there for you. he helped you sit up, keeping his arm around your shoulders to steady you, his grip strong and reassuring.

“still dizzy?” he asked, his voice soft but full of quiet concern that made your heart ache in a good way.

“just a little,” you admitted, feeling a bit more stable now but still grateful for the warmth of his arm around you. “thank you, sylus… really. i don’t know what i would have done without you.”

he let out a soft laugh, shaking his head a little. “you think i’d let you faint without doing something?” his lips turned up into a small smile, a hint of his usual bold confidence coming back. “besides, if it’s you who needs me, i don’t mind being a little less… myself.”

his words made your heart skip a beat, and their meaning settled over you. for someone like sylus, who was so confident and calm, it meant a lot to know he would let his guard down just for you. he wasn’t just saying it—he was showing it with every careful movement and every gentle touch.

after a while, he helped you get back up, guiding you carefully to a nearby bench under the trees, where the moonlight filtered softly through the leaves. you both sat there in comfortable silence, your small hand still held tightly in his large hands, his thumb tracing gentle circles on your skin.

“just promise me something,” he murmured, breaking the silence, his voice barely above a whisper.

“anything,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

“next time, don’t hide it. i’d rather know you’re not okay than find out like this,” he said, his eyes serious and filled with so much unspoken care.

you nodded, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “i promise.” then, you leaned your head against his shoulder, letting the quietness of the night surround you both. you knew that as long as he was beside you, you’d never have to face anything alone again. as you sat there, sylus kept his arm draped around your shoulders, steadying you with every gentle movement. he didn’t let go, as if to reassure you that he wasn’t going anywhere. a soft breeze rustled through the trees, bringing the scent of night-blooming flowers. even though the air felt cool against your skin, his presence kept you warm.

“let’s get you some water,” he said, his voice a smooth murmur, laced with concern. “i parked a little ways back. can you stand?”

you nodded slowly, still feeling a bit shaky, but his hand on your back gave you strength. he helped you rise from the bench, his touch careful yet firm. as you swayed slightly, he immediately moved closer, wrapping an arm around your waist. “easy now,” he said, his voice low but steady. “i’ll take you.”

with surprising ease, he lifted you off the ground, cradling you against him. the warmth of his body enveloped you, and you instinctively relaxed in his hold. it felt both comforting and safe, easing the fear that had been building in your chest. you caught the glances of a few passersby, but in that moment, all you could focus on was sylus.

“hold on tight,” he said with a hint of a smirk, though you could hear the seriousness beneath it. “i promise i won’t drop you.”

as he carried you toward his car, the world around you began to blur, the sounds of the night fading into the background. the soft crunch of gravel beneath his shoes was the only noise as he approached the sleek vehicle parked a few meters away. when you reached the car, he gently opened the passenger door and carefully placed you inside.

“there you go,” he said, his tone lightening as he made sure you were settled in comfortably. “now, just relax for a moment. i’ll be right back.”

you watched him as he closed the door and walked toward a nearby convenience store. he moved with a smoothness that always caught your attention, even in a rush. his broad shoulders were strong and made his waist look smaller. you could see his biceps flexing slightly as he walked, showing off the muscles under his fitted shirt. his abs were well-defined, tightening a little with each step he took.

when he turned to look back at you, the streetlights lit up his strong jaw and the light stubble on his face, making him look even more charming. you leaned back in the soft leather seat, still feeling a bit dizzy but thankful he was there. the cool air from the car’s air conditioning felt nice against your skin.

as he went into the store, you admired how he carried himself, a mix of confidence and grace. it was always nice to see him move like that, reminding you how strong and supportive he was, especially in moments like this. you felt warmth inside, not just from his presence but from how much he cared for you.

after a few moments, you took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering light-headedness. sylus returned quickly, a water bottle in one hand and a small bag in the other. he climbed back into the car, his expression a mix of relief and determination.

“i got you water and some snacks,” he said, handing you the bottle first. “you need to stay hydrated.”

you unscrewed the cap, taking a few small sips, the coolness refreshing against your dry throat. sylus watched you carefully, his gaze never leaving your face as if he was making sure you were okay. once you finished drinking, he handed you a small pack of crackers.

“here, eat these,” he urged, his voice low and steady. “it’ll help with your energy.” you took a cracker, nibbling at it while he kept his eyes on you, his presence calming you.

“thank you for coming back so quickly,” you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest at his care.

“wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone after that,” he replied, his tone casual yet sincere. “not a chance.” he settled back in his seat, his body angled toward you, ready to offer support at a moment’s notice.

as you continued to nibble on the crackers, he leaned closer, his hand finding yours, fingers intertwining in a comforting grip. “you scared me, you know,” he admitted quietly. “when i saw you sway like that, it felt like the world stopped for a moment. i just... i couldn’t let anything happen to you.”

the weight of his words settled between you, his usual confident facade dropping just enough for you to see the worry behind it. you felt a swell of emotion in your chest, and you squeezed his hand tighter.

“i’m sorry,” you said softly, feeling guilty for causing him concern. “i thought i could handle it.”

“it doesn’t matter,” he replied, shaking his head slightly. “just promise me that if you ever feel off again, you’ll tell me right away. no hiding it.” his voice held a firm yet gentle tone, as though he was reminding you once more, giving you a silent promise that he would always be there to help.

“i promise,” you said, feeling reassured by his care. the way he was looking at you made you feel safe, like nothing could hurt you as long as he was by your side.

after a while, you started to feel more like yourself, the snack helping to ease the light-headedness. as you leaned back in your seat, you took a moment to appreciate the night sky outside the window, the stars twinkling brightly against the dark backdrop.

“do you want to stay here for a little while longer?” he asked, noticing your gaze. “i can turn the car on for a bit if it gets too warm.”

“i think i’d like that,” you replied, feeling a sense of calm wash over you.

he nodded and turned on the car, filling the interior with a soft hum. he shifted in his seat to face you fully, resting his arm casually against the back of the passenger seat. “tell me more about what you want to do when you feel better,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “i’m all ears. and i’ll always be right by your side, even if it means facing any challenges.”

as his warm words wrapped around you, you realized that what happened earlier was behind you. in this moment, with sylus next to you and the stars shining bright above, everything felt right again.

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madschiavelique · 26 days ago

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A Crown Of Ink : Chapter 10 - Three of Cups

summary : you are invited to a masquerade, and between battling to find a decent dress and the expectations of conducting oneself in high society, you manage to pull it off

content warnings : masquerade shit idk, reader putting men back in their places because duh, for reference here are the link to reader (the pic on the right) and viktor's outfit for the masquerade (art made by me)

word count : 8,5k

author's note : omygoodness, i’m so dubious about this chapter. i could NOT not give viktor some khôl sexy eyes okay. i just did and i don't regret it. also!!! i moved the taglist down the doc now hehe

proofread by the lovely @yaffles-world <3

masterlist : here ．．discord : here ．．playlist : here

"Really now?"

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your head barely visible above a fluorescent orange collar with multiple layers piling up on top of each other like lasagna.

Who would have thought that finding a dress was such a long and difficult job?

You'd already been in a few shops in Piltover for a good hour each. You'd been going from boutique to boutique for nearly three hours already, and you were beginning to lose hope about the possibilities open to you regarding your outfit.

Tonight was the gala, and you still hadn't found a dress. You'd probably imagined that the matter would be sorted out quickly. That, by some miracle or other, you would find a dress that was chic and presentable enough to wear to a masquerade.

But the clock was ticking, while your search continued unabated. Sélène and Sky had both come to accompany you, and the two of them had enough in common that the teacher-student barrier was forgotten and she just saw her as a friendly aunt.

Sélène had this extraordinary ability to always be open, to see everyone as an equal, no matter what their age or background was. It was an immense and admirable quality, coupled with her extraordinary patience to hold out and persevere in finding you a superb evening outfit.

You had tried on so many dresses that you thought you could now recognise every possible material a dress could be made of. You'd tried silk and velvet, pleats of tulle or organza, all sorts of cuts that made you look either too invested in this evening or far too casual.

You knew that, once you entered the gala hall, it would be an arena. A constant battle of eyes tearing at the others, comments on their appearances, their words - passive-aggressive phrases disguised as condescending benevolence.

You could understand why Jayce didn't want to face such a world, always so hungry for crumbs that left stomachs screaming to invent new words and cover the world with a layer of sneaky ridicule.

Speaking of ridiculous, the outfit you were now wearing completed the criteria.

You turned to Sky and Selene who, with a knowing glance, sighed in turn. You returned to the cabin, removing the dress and putting on your clothes again with annoyance.

"Maybe I should just tell Jayce I can't make it," you concluded as you left the cabin.

"No way in hell," chuckled Selene.

"Maybe we should try the other side of the river?" Sky suggested, after seeing that there was no one around to overhear.

Zaun owned huge dressmaking houses, however they clashed with Piltover’s aesthetic. If word got out that one of the guests at this prestigious gala was wearing couture from the enemy city... you didn't know what that would do to your reputation and the strings that would be pulled to constrain you in your aims.

"No," replied Selene, her eyes fixed on you as a flash of lucidity seemed to cross her mind. She gave you both a wise smile. "There's still a wardrobe in Piltover where you'll probably be able to find something."

She then turned to Sky, offering her a charming smile and taking both her hands, squeezing them gratefully.

"Sky sweetheart, I'll be taking over from now on. I thank you immensely for your time and your very pleasant company." She turned to you for a moment. "Dear, give me one of those tickets Jayce gave you."

You complied, handing her one of the tickets still looking crisply printed, which she handed to Sky.

"Go on a little shopping trip and get yourself some treats. You've earned it."

Sky looked deeply surprised, exchanging a glance with you for a moment as you shrugged, equally confused.

Selene turned to you. "As for us, we've got some real archaeological work to do."

The two of you returned to Selene's flat as Sky had left, exchanging one last minute and promising to tell each other absolutely everything once you got back from the Gala.

"What card did you draw today?" she asked as she opened the door to her dressing room.

You watched as she grabbed a small stepladder. "Three of Cups."

"Aha," she smiled as she climbed onto it, scanning the shelves above, "the cards know about this little soirée."

The little booklet was starting to feel a lot more familiar now: Joy shared with others. Friendship and celebration. The expression of love and warm feelings.

It all seemed very positive, you thought, as you continued to read the page. The Cups reflect the sacred triad of creativity and growth. This card reminds you to share with others. Empowering others increases your happiness, health and wealth. Surround yourself with people who uplift you.

Talk about elevation, you'd find yourself surrounded on all sides by aristocrats and other big heads, where the only level that could rise would be that of clever condescension camouflaged under dishonest smiles.

Selene's graceful hands, full of rings, clutched a large black leather suitcase. She blew on it, a cloud of dust rising into the air as she passed it to you.

“What's this?” you questioned as you picked it up, its weight comfortable in your arms as you observed the trunk.

She bent down to grab the handle of a second briefcase, brown and with the varnish starting to peel off the corners.

"I was around your age when I started getting invited to Galas and other balls of the sort." She descended the small steps of the stepladder, facing you. "I kept all the dresses that some men had offered me."

You smiled, amazed and surprised. "Offered?"

Selene giggled, kneeling on the ground as you did the same.

"They offered me drinks, and the drinks went to the bed, and from the bed came enough adoration that I have to my credit two or three divorces in which I am the centre of the affair." She sighed as she undid the two golden buckles guarding the sealed chest. "They covered me with jewels," your eyes passed over her hands again, "flowers, and on special occasions, dresses."

She opened it, and your lips parted at the beauty of its contents. She pinched an emerald-green piece of fabric, lifting its heavy velvet into the air before you and revealing a winter dress all embroidered with carmine and obsidian stones, dripping like blood.

Another slipped through her fingers, a summer dress in a fine, peachy pink, its sleeves made of organza embroidered with gold embellishments.

Another made you open your mouth until your jaw hit the floor. A long golden dress, with a loose neckline reaching down to just above her navel, while the bare back almost reached her sacrum.

"You wore that?" you almost choked out.

She smiled, raising her eyebrows. "Some of them wanted to uncover me more than cover me."

You laughed softly, opening the black trunk in your lap. The glitter of a black sequined dress was immediately reflected on your skin.

"These are all so beautiful..." you said almost absently, your hand running through the fabric.

The thought then occurred to you that you were going to wear something so expensive and beautiful tonight, but you felt almost unworthy to have any of these dresses on your skin. You were first in the Academy, of course. And you had worked hard to get there. But a masquerade that would surely be attended by all the most important people in Piltover was no mean feat.

"Now," Selene broke through your incessant internal doubts, clutching the first dress that came her way, "let's see how beautiful you look in them."

You smiled softly at her, shyly accepting the piece of art as she stepped out of the dressing room and gave you time to change.

You held the fabric close to you, the sequins reflecting off your hands as your eyes tried to visualise you wearing that same dress tonight. I must be perfect, you thought.

As you began undressing to put on the dress, a reflection caught your eye. Your attention was drawn to a dark patch peeking out from under an old pink dress.

Drawn in, intrigued, you gently pinched the shoulder of the dress to discover the one hidden beneath. A soft, violet fabric, approaching a dark blue, gleamed in the light from the ceiling, lines of small blue and black stones streaking it from top to bottom.

Purple, you thought, the conversation from the day you visited the museum coming back to mind.

You took the dress in your hands, rising up and letting it unfurl like a waterfall at night. The fabric seemed magical, shimmering like stars on water, glistening like the moon on snow. The neckline ran from around the neck in a V-shape to the centre of the valley of your breasts, a dark, almost black bodice hugging the waist while the skirt came down to the feet. The shoulders were covered, the sleeves parting loosely halfway down the arm until they met at gold bracelets around the wrist.

It was sublimely elegant, dark and mysterious, perfect for a masquerade. You carefully replaced the dress Selene had originally given you in the suitcase, and slipped it on. The fabric was soft against your skin, a slight reassuring weight on your shoulders as the bracelets closed around your wrists with ease. You felt neither too tight nor too loose – a perfect balance.

Maybe purple wasn't such a bad colour after all.

"So?" called Selene from outside.

You inhaled, hesitantly opening the dressing room door. Selene was at her vanity, looking in her drawers for the few palettes that might embellish your eyes. She looked away from her search, resting her eyes on you, and her gaze softened.

"Where did you get this one?" you asked, your finger pinching the skirt gently as you gazed at the stones glinting softly in the light.

She moved towards you, tender, as a thin smile stretched her lips, gazing wistfully at the dress on you.

"It was given to me..." her hand came to rest on one of your shoulders, sliding down your arm, "by a man I loved."

"You loved?" you repeated in wonder.

"Mhm," she hummed, her hand reaching for the gold bracelet, index and middle fingers together as if to trace its pulse. She seemed to come back to reality, regaining your eyes. "I'm glad you're wearing it."

She then turned her head to the mirror on her dressing table, taking your wrist gently and pulling it so that you came to sit in front of it. In your reflection, the dress looked stunning, highlighting your figure to perfection and lighting you up.

Selene then picked up a black circular mask, hanging over the mirror.

"Now," she brought the mask up to your face, placing it to make sure it would fit, "it's time for the world to figure out how to resist you."

Your heart was pounding as the music came closer to your ears and your heels echoed in the huge hallway you were walking through.

Selene had done your make-up after you'd showered, spending a good while on your eyes, since they and your lips would be the main attractions. She fixed your hair, gave you a few accessories and found a pair of heels in your size.

You made your way to the masquerade building without much trouble, the cool night air calming the heat in your cheeks. And now that you'd reached the big ballroom, your heart was starting to race in your chest.

What if you stumbled and made a fool of yourself? What if you said something wrong that didn't fit in with high society etiquette? What if you made a mistake?

You tried to breathe, to calm yourself down, to not assume that you were going to fail no matter what. You were the top of the Academy, after all, and defeat feared you. You thought about all the possibilities, and resigned yourself first of all to finding Jayce, who was probably just as lost and scared as you were.

You took one last breath, and turned into the chamber with your head held high.

The room had a high ceiling from which modern crystal chandeliers shone, illuminating the space where all sorts of silhouettes mingled. Some were standing by banqueting tables piled high with petits fours and amuse-bouches, while others were forming clusters of discussion groups, each carrying a champagne flute.

Do as they do, you thought, on the lookout for a waiter who might pass not far from you. With great luck, a charming butler came towards you as if a radar for people without champagne flutes had been grafted onto his eyes.

You took one, offering him a polite smile. As he prepared to leave, already looking for new people to please, you thought hesitantly to ask him if he'd seen Jayce Talis. But you stopped yourself, instead bringing the drink to your lips to prevent making a fool of yourself. You were in a masquerade, the very principle of which was the doubt and mystery of those with whom you were sharing a discussion.

Fortunately for you, however, you knew Jayce well enough to recognise him in a crowd. Had Viktor even arrived? You had no idea. Perhaps you were alone here, a shrimp trying to pretend to be a shark when an ocean of danger could bring a deadly current at any moment.

You looked around the room a little more closely. On either side, pillars of white marble rose up to a vaulted ceiling covered with superb frescoes. The floor was almost a mirror of it because of its intensive polishing, the black and white tiles creating intricate rosettes which you could no doubt start counting if the evening ever got too boring for your liking. At the far end of the room, three huge windows, almost embedded in the domed ceiling, let you discover the night and its mysteries. There was even a small band playing a steady stream of classical music, much to the delight of everyone it appeared.

The setting was magnificent, the scents of expensive foods and fragrances mingling almost to the point of suffocation. Everyone was wearing quite different colours, but the majority were still in Piltover's gold and white.

Finally your eyes found Jayce, dressed in the colours of his house. It's all about subtlety, you thought as you walked towards him. You hoped that by some miracle he would turn his head towards you and recognise you, so that you wouldn't have to worry about interrupting a conversation.

Alas, he did not. You walked towards them, a sentence ending as you arrived.

"I thought I'd never find you," you said, Jayce and his chatting companion both turning to face you.

Jayce looked confused for a moment, frowning and hoping he wasn't a complete idiot.

"Do I know y..." You feared the worst when a flash of genius crossed his eyes. "Oh it's you!"

Your shoulders relaxed as the stress subsided.

"I almost didn't recognise you," he admitted, apparently taken aback by your outfit. He turned for a moment to his conversation companion. "If you'll excuse us."

The latter nodded politely as you and Jayce walked away, along one of the buffet tables.

"This place is terrifying," you started, your eyes going around the room as you noticed a few glances being on you relentlessly.

Jayce shrugged, grabbing an appetiser that looked far too sophisticated for you and Sky to be lucky enough to find in the corner shop. "It's not as bad as I thought it would be," he said with his mouth full.

"That's because you're a social butterfly, Jayce," you remarked, your stare stretching across the room as a few eyes rested on you and smiled in what looked like an attempt at flirting from a distance for some. "You're the sunlight of this room."

He stopped chewing for a moment, looking at you with big eyes. "That's probably the nicest thing you ever said to me."

"It's not that complicated - all of them look like they were dipped in wax and can barely crack an actual smile."

"I take that back," he sighed, swallowing his bite.

You turned your attention back to the buffet, plates probably costing more than your salary, containing all sorts of arrangements mixing puff pastas and all sorts of garnishes.

You ventured to take one, exhaling a hum of relief as the taste was absolutely divine. Perhaps you'll be staying near the food this evening? The advantage with them at least was that you didn't risk having to talk yourself to sleep.

"So," you licked your fingers, "will you introduce us to your girlfriend?"

He sighed, his shoulders drooping. "Chances are she'll find you before I find her,” he mumbled, his eyes roaming the room in search of the aforementioned lady. "She's in her element here, but I think you'll recognise her once she comes to you."

You'd seen Mel Medarda before. Selene, who had a metaphorical place on the council, used to take you along from time to time when public meetings such as trials took place. You knew each of the councillors, like most of the people in Piltover, and would no doubt recognise them if the occasion arose.

Mel Medarda, sumptuous woman that she was, had left her mark on you in her beauty, her eloquence and her generosity. You hoped to honour your memory and her greatness by recognising her this evening.

"Is Viktor here with you?" you asked, curiosity winning out over silence.

"Yes," he smiled, raising his eyebrows, "I think he managed to temporarily escape to the toilets."

You brought your champagne flute to your lips. "Smart man."

From across the room, a guest raised her flute to Jayce.

"Duty calls," Jayce confirmed as he rubbed his hand off of any crust before placing his hand on your shoulder, "don't sweat it in here, just... mingle."

And with that, he left, leaving you at the mercy of a world you despised.

You looked at the dishes, taking a second one in your hand so as not to stand there like another statue in the background. You took a few steps out of sight, trying to savour what little quiet and time you had on your own before anyone requested your attention.

"That is quite an unfamiliar silhouette that I meet."

You turned, your eyes landing on a young woman covered in a dress combining saturnine white, black and gold.

Mel Medarda.

In her long dress with a skirt slit up her thighs, she looked like an elegant bottle of poison, an addictive elixir that gave you the serenity and comfort of knowing you were in control and that you had someone to talk to if any worries arose.

She had a mouth shaped like a chameleon, ready to take any shape or colour that might interest or uninterest her auditor. Her dark lips quirked into a smile as her eyes crinkled, all covered in gold and dark glitter. There was power in her grin as she moved forward, murmuring I've got lies so handsome you'll never want to believe the Truth, and that would make her jealous. I've got excuses so beautiful you'll want me to betray you to listen to them, so powerful you'll forgive me anything.

She was the fiercest shark in the pond, and she was coming towards you.

"Councillor," you raised your flute in introduction, trying to gain the same calm and consistency of diplomatic discussions, "I don't think we ever officially met before."

She sighed as she came up to you, shaking her head. "Let us drop the formalities – you're not going in for a discussion joust with me."

You looked startled, Mel dropping her shoulders.

“I know you're a friend of Jayce and Viktor, you're not a part of any of..." she described a graceful circle in the air with her flute, "them."

You relaxed a little. ‘Thank the Hells, I thought I'd have to behave myself and have conversations about a multi-polarised conflict of international importance, or anything of the sort."

She smiled at you, all charming. She was young, if not the same age as you. So how did she go about her day-to-day life, pushing herself to act like an adult whose shoulders bore the weight of big, heavy decisions?

"To simplicity," she toasted.

You raised your flute to hers before taking a sip. Its contents were beginning to dwindle already.

"How did you and Jayce meet?" she asked after her own swig.

"Two years ago, when I first started at the Academy, I was transferred to his class after three months."

"Really? For what reason?" she inquired.

You shrugged. "I'd made enough progress on my year's programme that they were considering moving me to another class. Skipped two classes in my life," you smiled.

"I'm beginning to understand why you're in first place in the rankings," she nodded, arching an eyebrow.

"Determination can take you a long way," you confirmed. "Jayce passed me the notes of the classes he'd taken since the beginning of the year, and wire by wire the title of classmate blurred into friend."

You thought back for a moment to the afternoons you'd spent poring over Jayce's notes, the question marks he'd drawn over and over again on his papers that you'd ended up completing for him. And when the weekends came and he came to see you at the café, he'd always wait until you had your break to talk about anything and everything with you.

“How about you?” you asked in return. “Haven't had many times this year to sit down and talk with him about his life, but I do want to know about you.”

“What don't you know?” she smiled. “The advantage of advisors is that a lot of their lives are biographed and catalogued.”

“Lucky then that I get to talk to a human being and not a pile of dead leaves,” you remarked.

She nodded gently before tilting her head to one side in consideration.

“I met Jayce after his trial. We had a long discussion and reconsidered his sentence after sharing it with the council. Since then, I've helped finance some of his projects, and the line between the professional and the romantic has blurred.”

“You're sure he's a good boyfriend, aren't you?” you inquired, ”if I find out he's not buying you a bouquet of flowers every week I may well have to perform an urgent intervention to educate him on the subject.”

She laughed softly, amused by your enthusiasm for making sure he was beyond reproach.

“No lesson needed, I assure you,” she confirmed, turning to the rest of the room and making a very subtle gesture with her hand for a butler to come and serve you both again. “How are you enjoying the night so far?”

“Well,” you sighed, ”I haven't made myself any new enemies so that's a good sign. You?”

“I think that if I hear another conversation about a love affair with a 62-year-old priest or a thesis on predictive models of pluripotent stem cell susceptibility, one of these drinks will end up poisoned by the end of the evening,” the butler reached you and poured you a refill, Mel smiling at him. “Thank you.”

She turned back to you.

“You are my breath of fresh air of the evening.” Her eyes drifted over your form for a moment, intrigued. “That's quite a lovely dress, by the way - I haven't seen such garments around here. Where did you find it?” she inquired as she pinched the fabric of one of your sleeves between her long fingers.

“Oh, my mother gave it to me,” you replied, pleasantly surprised that you could talk so calmly and simply without any pressure. “You probably know of Selene?”

Her eyes returned to yours. “Selene? Selene Phathe?”

You nodded, her lip stretching to the side.

“I wasn't aware she had a daughter.” she remarked.

“She has many children,” you smiled. “I'm her legal daughter.”

Selene had always had something very maternal, but had inherited the bitterness of infertility. Any child or young person she came across and helped became a bit like her spiritual children, and you knew your siblings were in good hands.

“I see,” Mel said, offering an understanding smile. “I ask her from time to time for readings and such. Everything she's shared with me has turned out to be true. I was quite skeptical about being carried away by such a science, but she managed to convince me of her certainty.”

“Started reading Tarot myself after a few years of getting readings, it's... startling how accurate they are.”

“Truly?” She pressed her shoulder against yours, “you'll have to come visit me to give me a reading someday.” She smiled. “And inform me of any of Jayce's mischief if he ever does any, I'll be sure to correct him on that matter.”

You raised your then-full flute, all smiles. “I'll drink to that.”

She returned the smile, taking a sip before her eyes found those of another guest in the room and she sighed.

“If you'll excuse me, I think I have another boring conversation to attend to.”

“Good luck - you have my support from afar,” you encouraged her as she gracefully made her way to the designated person.

Your eyes then roamed the room again, observing the few outfits the guests were wearing and all the high heels worn by the women who must have been killing their feet... But your eyes found the end of a cane, a cane you knew all too well and which almost appeared in your horizon like a real lifeline in this troubled sea.

You moved forward, your eyes still lowered on the end of the cane as someone blocked your field of vision and you bumped them.

“I'm sorry,” you uttered immediately, checking to make sure your champagne hadn't spilled as your eyes darted back to the masked ones of-

Tyler?

The fool's blond curls had been partially combed back with gel, his scarlet mask matched by a suit in Councilman Hoskel's colors: Black, Red and Gold.

He frowned, his eyes watching you completely before he realized where he knew that voice from.

“You?” he pronounced with as much disgust, shock and surprise mingling in his voice.

“Equally pleased, Tyler,” you grumbled, moving to extricate yourself from the situation when he grabbed your arm.

Your eyes immediately landed on where his hand was, moving slowly until they found his. How dare he even touch that fabric?

“What are you doing here?” he questioned, still not letting go of your arm.

“Got the invite for the biggest bastard competition, but it's just my luck that you got here. Now I can't win it, so if you'll excuse me-” you tugged again but Tyler kept his grip firm.

“How the hell did you get in there, huh?”

“Through the door, like everyone else. Can you let me go?”

“Where did you get such an empyreal dress?”

“Oh, you learned a new word.”

“It's Talis, isn't it?” He chuckled, finding the situation pitiful. “Thought he could just let you in like this?”

“Did your mother throw the baby away to raise the placenta? I was invited by merit, unlike you,” you almost spat at him. “Now let go of me.”

“Say please, and I'll consider it.”

“Tyler, I'm going to make you soluble so I can dilute you in my piss and dispense you into every flute in this room,” you threatened. “Let go of me.”

He nodded. “That's not how please is pronounced.”

“Her? Saying please, to you?”

You both turned toward the voice that had just spoken to you, the accent now inscribed in your ears.

Viktor.

Your breath seemed to almost supernaturally halt as your eyes fell on him. A purple, almost black velvet coat sat on his shoulders, the collar of his pierced shirt from which golden chain ornaments dangled, reached down to his vest, which elegantly outlined his waist. His black pants, flowing harmoniously down to his ankles, led to perfectly polished black shoes.

As your gaze returned to his face, your eyes locked on his, whose eyelids, beneath his mask of purple velvet and gold, were covered with a layer of kohl. His amber eyes possessed something mystical, mysterious and powerful.

“You too?" huffed Tyler. "It's an epidemic.”

“Tyler, I believe the Miss asked you politely to leave her alone. I suppose you wouldn't want any rumors to get out about the Hoskel heir and some of his violent behaviours,” Viktor remarked.

Tyler's eyes darted around the room, most of the masked faces turned towards him while many murmured unintelligible things as they watched the scene. His gaze reached yours again, one corner of his lips rising in annoyance as he finally let go of your arm.

“What's vermin like you doing here?” he asked, teeth clenched.

“We've been officially invited,” Viktor marked. “The efforts of the two top-ranking Academy students that we are have therefore been given the opportunity of such an evening to solidify diplomatic ties, with the hope later of obtaining alliances useful to our projects for the common good.”

You had no idea how quickly Viktor had combined all these justifications to give him an air of credibility. The possibility then occurred to you that Jayce and Viktor, before they came here, had probably rehearsed many times what they had to say in case fools like Tyler found themselves playing the curious.

“The standards have obviously gone down,” Tyler chuckled.

“Tell me about it,” you replied, looking at him almost apologetically, as if just seeing him made you feel sorry for him, so worn out was the little that served as his brain.

“Dearest Nephew!” Bombarded a voice.

Councillor Hoskel himself, then accompanied by what you recognized as Councillor Salo, strode towards your merry little group.

“It seems you have never mentioned such a beauty to be part of your acquaintances.”

The latter's eyes roamed over your figure as his tongue ran over his teeth. The figure was repulsive, one of his ridiculously thin arms against the enormity of his round beer belly nudging Tyler to make the introductions.

“Um,” he suddenly seemed to have lost his good-for-nothing tongue.

“Revealing our identity at a masquerade would defy the very principle of it,” Viktor sighed, exchanging a glance with you.

You had to play along, take on the etiquette of the discussion for an evening. “Exactly,” you declared with a tense smile that you offered to the trio of troublemakers.

“Is this your date?” Hoskel pointed, his slender finger unwinding from his flute to point at Viktor.

“Pardon?” you questioned, close to choking on your own spit.

“For tonight, is this young man your date?” he corrected. “Unless fate has miraculously brought you together with stylists,” he remarked with a greasy laugh.

Exchanging glances with Viktor and your two outfits, it was almost impossible not to notice the fact that, subconsciously, you'd been matching. Anyone seeing you side by side like that might have wondered about it, and the thought brought what you presumed was shame to your cheeks.

“Oh, no,” you laughed nervously. “Sorry, I did not understand.”

He shrugged and nodded arrogantly. “It's normal, pretty and intelligent is rare.”

You suppressed the urge to throw the contents of your flute in his face, given that he himself seemed not to be on his first one for a while now, and decided instead to play in his own court. “Yes, when ugly and stupid is quite common.”

Tyler's gaze narrowed as much as his uncle's and Councillor Salo's as Viktor lowered his head, a small smile spreading across his lips as he glanced at you from the side.

“Funny,” Hoskel struck a slight pose as he watched you, ”how being behind a mask gives you wings.”

You raised your chin, squinting your eyes as if looking down on him. “Funny how multiplying champagne flutes does so as well, only...” your eyes drifted to his red nose then his belly full of booze, ”one remains hidden better than the other.”

Hoskel seemed to chew air, grinding his teeth together as he grunted dully.

“My my,” Salo tilted his head down as his eyes remained on you, straightening, ”that's a sharp little one we have here with us tonight.” He cleared his throat, raising his gloved hand to point at the sky as if preparing to lecture. “Take care not to make a woman cry because gods count her tears. Whereas when a woman's up to something, the devil sits at his desk and takes notes.”

“A citation?” remarked Viktor, destitute as he was of a champagne flute while his free hand let only his thumb protrude from his pants pocket.

“From one of my books,” said Salo, proudly, resting his hand on his chest.

Viktor didn't seem any more enchanted than that to be taking part in the discussion, but no doubt had to try to find some fictional interest in all that was being told. “Do you write?”

Salo took a sip of his champagne, swallowing it quickly enough to respond with airy hand movements. “The Gods kindly offer me the first verse. What is difficult is to write the next ones which will be worthy of their supernatural brothers."

You brought your flute close to your lips. “Yes, otherwise who'd write the scripts for beggars,” you mumbled, before taking only one more sip.

Viktor huffed. Salo frowned, not seeming to have distinctly heard your words. “I beg your pardon?”

You swallowed, pressing your lips together to collect the rest of the contents of your sip. “Yes?”

“I don't think I quite heard what you said a moment ago.”

You thought you wouldn't be heard, your eyes shifting from Salo to Viktor for a moment before returning to the counselor and closing your eyes, a nervous smile spreading across your lips as you tried again to be diplomatic.

So you tried a graceful exit, shaking your head. “I think the champagne bubbles must have started their little rise, I'm thinking of getting some air to release them.” Just before leaving, you repeated the formula you'd heard so many times this evening. “If you'll excuse me.”

You looked at them one last time, lingering a moment longer on Viktor's gaze as you left for one of the balconies.

The night air bit into your cheeks like apples, the winter coolness slapping you in sharp contrast to the warmth inside. The cool air filled your lungs and you thought for a moment you'd end up frozen from the inside out. There was no wind, just the muted calm of the cold and the murmur of the city below.

You stepped forward, placing your glass on the edge of the balcony. You didn't care if it fell, if it flew away, if a pigeon shat in it. The mere fact that the crystal of this flute had touched the lips of so many people who had destroyed so much hope for your own made you want to grab it by its stem yourself and send it waltzing off to the stars.

You brought your hands to your arms, as much to prevent yourself from needlessly accessing this hatred as to gain warmth. Your eyes watched the horizon, the lights of Piltover in every window. How many knew what their consumption was bringing from the other end of the river? Your gaze drifted towards the latter, the lights much dimmer as they gleamed from the very bowels of the city. You thought back to Eris's letter for a moment, but what did she want to talk to you about?

Your hips touched the guardrail, your fingers running over Tyler's previous grip as if to dust off any DNA that had settled there. It was a good thing Viktor had arrived, or Tyler's nose would surely have had a few stitches.

A warmth rose in the back of your neck, familiar from Viktor's breath when he'd saved you from a nasty fall in the library. He'd gone ahead and helped you. There seemed to be this mutual recognition, this acceptance that, whatever happened, you were there to take the lead from each other.

Your hand instinctively went to the back of your neck, trying to banish this feeling, or to recover it on your fingers in the hope of getting a little warm comfort. Was this a reaction to the trauma of his presence? Surely it could be, unless shame had crept under your skin and lingered there.

You drew your fingers up slightly until you found the string of your mask, undoing it and letting the fresh air spread over your face.

The distinct tinkle of a cane snapped you out of your thoughts, and you didn't even need to turn around to know who it was.

“You've left me in the lurch of a thorny conversation.” he said, his voice warm in the night air as he approached you, staying a reasonable distance to your left.

You sketched a smile, not yet turning towards him as you watched a fictitious dot in the distance. “What were they discussing?”

You felt him remove his mask, dropping the loop of black ribbon holding it to dangle from the handle of his cane. “I left as soon as they'd mentioned the matter of therapeutic obstinacy.”

“A discussion like that should have had you hanging on to their every word,” you joked, finally turning your head towards him.

The prince of the night offered you his profile, his darkened eyes watching the horizon in the distance. He had a presence that froze you, a power so strong that it held you in place. You felt worthy of being the rival of a man like him. But were you still assuming this title?

“I think I'll let Tyler take it from here,” he smiled softly, turning to you.

His amber eyes planted themselves in yours, and you only managed to support it for a few seconds before your eyes drifted to his shoulders.

“You...” you breathed in, observing his elegant, sophisticated outfit, ”you look nice.”

He parted his lips, tilting his head slightly to one side as he squinted with a slight smile.

“Was that a compliment, miss?” he questioned.

“Don't get used to it,” you sighed, rolling your eyes, then reaching for your champagne flute, ”this is a special occasion after all.”

You brought your drink to your lips, the sensation of champagne making you feel a little freer, a little lighter and able to loosen your tongue to say or accept things you'd normally refuse.

You could feel his gaze on you in your peripheral vision, skirting the length of your body, your back illuminated by the interior of the room while the rest of your dress looked like a piece cut straight from the night that embraced you.

“That colour,” he began, his gaze drifting back to the horizon, ”it suits you.”

You thought back to what he'd said what seemed like an eternity ago. ‘It's beautiful, it's calm, in lavender as well as plum, in cassis as well as grape, in wisteria as well as... whatever, it's the one I prefer.’

It's the one I prefer.

You tried not to dwell on that thought, to move on.

“Who'd have thought Tyler would come all this way to bother us?” you huffed.

Viktor chuckled lightly. “He can't get enough of us.”

“I've rarely seen anyone scrape so deep into the depths of incompetence.”

“I believe you've met his uncle, though,” Viktor remarked. “And he, so far, holds a place on the Piltover council.”

“I guess it runs in the family to fall victim to one's own mediocrity.”

“And you had the gift of reminding them of it.”

You smiled, regaining his gaze for a moment. “Don't tell me you didn't want to either.”

He shrugged, pretending to think about it. “Yes, although I must applaud the success of your execution.”

“Would that be a compliment, Moravec?” you stressed.

He earned your gaze, eyes crinkled with a slight sneer. “Like you said - this is a special occasion after all.”

You nodded, shaking your head as if it were a song you'd heard too many times already.

A moment of silence passed, a slight quiver taking hold of you as the hour advanced and the air grew fresher and fresher.

“I've been thinking about the clauses for our truce.”

You turned towards him, arms again crossed as if to hold any ounce of warmth close to your body.

You smirked, grabbing your flute as if to help you listen to him and make those decisions.

“I'm listening.”

“Firstly,” he began, ”we shan't have any rivalry that doesn't engender some obsession pushing us into critical health situations.”

You rolled your eyes. “That was a one-time thing-”

“That is my first clause,” he cut in, his kohl-rimmed eyes insisting on the fact. “Second, mutual aid. If one of us experiences a difficulty somewhere, they must share it with the other, no matter how big their ego and pride.”

“Well that's going to be easy,” you sighed, pressing the crown of your flute close to your lower lip.

“Thirdly,” Viktor straightened up, tilting his head slightly forward as if in a short bow, ”let's be friends.”

You pressed your lips together, considering the offer truly.

Was there even a downside to becoming friends with Viktor? Besides the fact that you had to question your animosity towards him since the beginning of the year, what were the pros and cons?

Sure, he could get on your nerves in discussions, but it had been ages since you'd tried your hand at verbal jousting so constantly, and you were beginning to get used to it.

But apart from that, he wasn't a threat, he was inclined towards progress and advancement rather than stagnation and stubbornness, and he'd already considered you friends for a while, if you went back to Agrane's attribution of detention where he'd wished to come to your defense.

Besides, he was from Zaun - few students here could say as much and understand you on certain points.

“Agreed,” you replied, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. “But be careful, don't expect me to hop like a flower around you.” You huffed. “Jayce has already had to chase me around for quite a while before I'd officially consider him a friend.”

He shrugged, pressing his lips together slightly as if indifferent.

“That's fine by me. Fourthly,” he continued, ”clauses can be added in the future. Of course, they won't be imposed and can be discussed.”

You arch an eyebrow, huffing. “Do you have many more clauses?

“Do you agree to this one?” he asked, frowning.

You looked at him for a moment. This seemed to be very close to his heart. “Yes.”

“Good.” he smiled.

“Is that all?”

His eyes trailed over your shoulders for a moment. “Just one last one.”

He set his cane down against the marble railing, unclipping one of the pins that held the chain holding his coat to his back. He pinched the shoulders of it, taking a single step towards you to place it on yours, pressing his hands lightly on them as you felt the warmth his back had spread over the fabric against your own. He took care, with his long, slender, cool fingers, to reattach the chain neatly.

“My last clause for tonight is for you not to get cold,” he said, his voice more tender as he took a step back as if to observe the vision you were. “Luckily, we wore the same color.”

You took one of the sides in your hands, bringing it close to you to cover yourself with it.

“Won't you get cold?” you asked.

He shrugged, regaining the grip of his cane as his eyes remained on your coat-covered figure. “If you think Jayce won't get rid of his coat at some point this evening, you're wrong.”

You crack a smile, wondering what would happen if Jayce overindulged in champagne and Viktor had to go home with him tonight. Unless, of course, Jayce and Mel ended the evening together. He slipped on his mask again, replacing it gracefully over his features.

Viktor was getting ready to go back inside, and you didn't know if the magic of champagne bubbles was making you say things, or if out of sheer urge you were calling him.

“Viktor?”

He turned to you for a moment, one part of his face bathed in the warm light of the interior while the other remained in the night like a crescent moon.

You parted your lips, the simple two words coming pouring out without doubt or regret.

“Thank you.”

He seemed amazed, even with his mask over his face. But the astonishment quickly gave way to a softening, until his lips stretched into a smile and he stepped back inside.

Some people won't get any magic words out of you, but Viktor was worthy of them. You brought the collar of his coat close to you. His scent was sweeter than you'd expected, that of sun-warmed stone mingling with a lingering coffee fragrance.

Your eyes returned to the city, the vision of his kingdom, of streets he would split with his cane to hit the color purple on their cream walls.

It's the one I prefer.

The evening had come to an end. You had tried to fit into some of the conversation circles that came and went as time went by, remaining mostly silent and listening without interjecting, laughing when they laughed, nodding when they nodded, and trying not to simply stuff yourself with petits fours.

You'd thought of finding a way to take a handful with you so you'd have a little variety to bring back to give Sky a taste of how the evening was going. But you expected that, of course, you'd be looked at strangely for this behavior if you went through with it.

Some of the guests began to leave one by one, and you took the opportunity to do the same. Jayce, Mel and Viktor seemed nowhere to be found, so you dropped the idea of venturing into such a building in search of them. Who knows what you might stumble upon in the surrounding rooms? You didn't want to accidentally walk in on the feverish one-night stands of the guests, so you just took off.

The city had been asleep for some time, and the quiet yet illuminated streets were deserted. Had it been Zaun, venturing out at such an hour of the night in such an outfit would have been worth a lot of trouble. But Piltover had real rules of respect and a very different general upbringing, so you didn't feel in any danger of advancing like that.

Your heels were starting to hurt seriously and you would have given anything to be carried home. But there was no vigilante Jayce in sight to catch you if you fainted, nor any gentleman gallant enough to carry you like a princess.

How nice it was to be looked after, to have someone take care of you simply because they could.

The memory of Viktor dozing beside you as you recovered came to mind a moment before you chased him away as you turned a corner. Viktor's scent had permeated your nostrils all evening, and it was the only familiar, reassuring thing that kept you going.

The vision of the dormitories appearing in your line of sight was the greatest relief of all.

You passed silently through the doors of the building, taking the opportunity to remove your heels and sighing at ease as the soles of your feet finally settled on a surface that didn't need to be arched.

You slowly climbed the stairs, the soft feel of the red carpet almost tickling your feet as you inserted your key into the lock. It was late, perhaps Sky had not stayed awake and had gone to bed, and you had no wish to disturb her peace.

You turned the knob, entering the still-lit apartment, Sky lying on her bed with a book. Her eyes turned to you, her mouth opening wide as she looked at your outfit, which she hadn't had a chance to see. You smiled, closing the door behind you and dropping your heels to the floor.

“Girl,” she'd chuckled, watching you as you took off the coat and folded it neatly to let it hang over your arm like a waiter's towel, ”give me a twirl.”

You performed, spinning around before finishing with an exaggerated supermodel pause that made Sky laugh.

She snapped her book shut and sat cross-legged on her bed. “I need every detail you can give me.”

You picked up a hanger in the dressing room, hanging Viktor's coat which you hoped to return in the next few days before returning to Sky and sitting down with her to tell her all about it.

She had you turning your back to her, helping you remove the few decorations in your hair as you described everything to her. The hall, the dresses, the atmosphere, all the endless discussions, your meeting with the famous Mel Medarda, your altercation with Tyler and his idiot uncle.

“In any case, you didn't miss a thing. Apart from a few exceptions, the room was filled with the heads of bankers who hadn't gotten laid for twenty years.”

She laughed softly, pausing in the unraveling of your hair, her eyes watching a point in the void.

“Doesn't it make you dream a bit?”

You turned to her, confused. “To be a banker who looks like she hasn't gotten laid in twenty years?”

“No,” she chirped, giving you a little nudge on the shoulder, ”the mystery of the masquerade, the richness of being able to organize such an event without having to worry about much?”

You rested your head on her shoulder, pondering her question for a moment. Finally, you raised your head, staring into space.

“I think I would rather spend my life close to the birds than waste my time thinking I can carve myself wings.”

Sky sighed, probably dreaming of the golden life of the princes and princesses the world inhabited and longing for more. You didn't envy them - you felt scorn for their privileges and their inability to act for change. But you had no intention of crushing your friend's hopes.

“Who knows, maybe one day you'll be one of them and laugh as you drink champagne with infinite bubbles.”

She smiled softly, wrapping an arm around you.

You didn't tell her about your discussion on the balcony with Viktor, preferring to keep your exchange a secret for the time being. perhaps you'd bring up the subject when she asked you where the dress and coat came from.

But for now, you kept the secret of the purple close to you.

It's the one I prefer.

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taglist : @doctorho @6selkie @yunloyal @kryscent @hypocritic-trash-baby @kapitankarate @a-lovers-card @ababanerb @lolixsstuff @forget-me-not-my-dear @smolanchovy @shugar0cone0alt @harrys--ferret-blog @suuummerrr @stillinracooncity @noxturnalmoth @dlbitch @cloufire @csolya @kathyholdsagrudge @furblrwurblr @potatointhedirt @atrocioushaircut @ren-ni @schrodingersraven @urmommt @enoojnij @stilinskisensation @emlovesya @soupsaurus @luvreadingfics @the-valars-sapphire @solbringer @adorabluesposts

#a crown of ink #acoi #arcane #arcane x reader #viktor #arcane viktor #viktor arcane #viktor x reader #arcane viktor x reader #viktor arcane x reader #viktor x your #viktor fic #viktor fanfic #arcane fanfic

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sanguinesky-if · 2 months ago

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Sanguine Sky: Chapter 3 Pt. 1 is OUT! [Public Update]

Hello! I'm happy to announce that Chapter 3 Pt. 1 is OUT! The update contains 89k words [excl. code].

Here's the link: [DEMO]

Total word count: 197k words [excl. code] | 227k words [incl. code].

Important note: old saves won't work [including saves from the Patreon demo]. Please make sure to start the game from the beginning or use the "Proceed to the new content" option. I apologize for the inconvenience.

What awaits you in the update:

A busy morning at the department a week after the CID team's arrival: ▹ Seven unique scenes, one for each of the ROs, plus one additional scene for the solo route. ▹ Jealousy moments for both the MCs and ROs [conditional].

A new investigation that leads to a place from your past that you'd hoped never to return to: ▹ An unexpected encounter with Investigator S. Goldstein at a crime scene. ▹ Personal struggles and the possibility of experiencing an initial breakdown [conditional]. ▹ Additional POV scenes with one of the CID team members [conditional].

List of the new features:

A new secondary rival who offers an alternative to Paul(a)'s path.

The MC's and the ROs' height difference variables.

The MC's smoking habit.

Additional customization option for moles.

Technical notes:

Information about the romance system has been updated.

The list of the content warnings has been updated.

Important note: before messaging me about a bug, please make sure you've started the game with a new save.

Thank you for your interest and support! ♥

#interactive fiction #sanguine sky #sanguine sky if #if: wip #if demo #if update #demo update #update #announcement

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midnighvtm4ss · 5 months ago

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Rosemary

Summary: Kidnapped in the middle of the night you’re dragged far away from camp by the ruthless Lemoyne Raiders. Your disappearance a painful wound for Arthur who has to, quite literally, fight for your love back.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4

AO3 link

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x f!reader

Content: angst, hurt/comfort (finallyyy !!!) description of gun fight, kidnapping, heavy themes

wc: 5k

a/n: so we’ve finally come to the end of this silly little story. The comfort is finally here woohoo !! I’m actually kinda proud of this chapter because I tried a different approach to writing and idk,, i like it. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to every single one of you who liked Rosemary and filled my days with love, I’ll forever be grateful to all of you. A slightly better version of Rosemary will be posted on my ao3 account along with a new series im writing following John Marston and the reader. The plot for it will be revealed in a few days. As always let me know what you think of this chapter <33 (gif from pinterest)

Pain.

The very first thing you noticed was the pain—a sharp, throbbing agony spreading from the back of your head to the front. You winced as you tried to move your hands to support your head but your limbs felt heavy, almost as if you were trying to lift one of Pearson’s flour bags.

Everything was dark. A muffled piercing sound rang through your skull. You blinked, trying to clear your vision, but failing as the pitch darkness of the thick woods clouded your vision. Trying your hardest to get out of your dream-like state you decided to focus your mind on what exactly was happening, the last thing you remembered was your fight with Arthur and taking a walk into the woods outside camp. And then the pain. Oh, the pain was killing you.

You had to go back to camp and ask Reverend Swanson for some medicine.

You once again tried to raise your hands to your head to check for blood but your action, unfortunately, was unsuccessful. And then you felt it. The rough, scratching sensation of rope digging into your wrists. Your arms were bound tightly behind your back, the coarse braided fibers of the rope biting into your skin with every slight movement. Panic flooded your mind, its freezing tide rushing down on you as you realized that you were tied up.

“She’s comin’ to. We better hurry up before she starts and give us trouble,” A low, hoarse voice cut through your panic haze.

From your lying position, what seemed like the figure of a large man could be made out approaching you in the darkness. You felt yourself being hoisted roughly into the air, before you were slung harshly like a sack of potatoes, across something hard. A horse, you judged by the pungent smell of hay that invaded your nostrils. The saddle dug painfully into your side as the animal began to move forward under the command of its rider. The sudden movement made you almost throw up, your head pounding rhythmically with each rapid beat of hooves on the woods ground. You wanted to scream but no sound escaped your throat, the pain in your body too intense. As the horse rode further and further into the woods you could feel your consciousness slowly slip away,

‘Arthur,’ you managed to utter before darkness took over you.

The second time you awoke, it was due to the biting cold of dawn. The sky above was just starting to lighten, the first rays of sunrise penetrating through the dense treetops, coloring everything in pale hues. You were lying on the ground again, your body stiff and muscles aching. You shivered uncontrollably, teeth chattering together, your dress doing a poor job at keeping you warm, as you tried your best to gather your scattered thoughts. The men were still nearby, the sound of their hushed voices mixing with the rustling of leaves blowing in the wind. Despite the overwhelming pain and tiredness you felt washing all over your body you forced yourself to stay awake.

You rolled to the side as best as you could, mud staining the soft colored fabric of your dress and cheeks, trying to find out where they had taken you. You knew you had to think clearly, to find a way out of this nightmare. Your eyes, although blurred, scanned the area in front of you. You were in the Bayou area, the shadow of tall trees and surrounding swamp a dead giveaway of the location and judging by the various bottles of moonshine all over the place, your kidnappers probably took you to an old moonshine distillery camp.

“You sure she’s worth all this trouble?” a high pitched voice asked.

“What, a beauty like her ? Absolutely partner,” another man responded, his tone cruel. “Just keep her quiet until the boss comes back, then we’ll have ourselves a real party,” he added laughing.

Fear gripped your chest like a vise—you could hear footsteps approaching, quick and heavy. Rough hands grabbed you by the shoulders, flipping you over onto your back, your eyes focusing just enough to see the blurred outline of a man’s face looming above you, the bitter smell of liquor and tobacco taking over your senses, the end of his yellow scarf tied around his neck dangling down in front of you. Lemoyne raiders.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” he muttered, his voice dripping with mockery as he smiled down at you. He took out a small pocket knife from his satchel leaning in closer. The blade flashed in front of your eyes as he lowered it down to your cheek, slowly moving it down towards your neck without breaching your skin.

Your breath caught up in your throat, your chest rising and falling rapidly making you lightheaded as the blade touched the sensitive skin of your neck. Your heart pounded so violently in your chest that it made you physically sick. A strained whimper left your lips as tears welled up in your eyes blurring your vision. You were completely frozen in place, terrified under the man’s knife. The man menacingly laughed at the sound you let out, flashing his yellow teeth at you, satisfaction evident in his cold eyes.

He roughly manhandled you up by your arm, his tight grip leaving dark bruises on your skin as your feet dragged in the mud. The man pushed you inside a decaying wooden cabin, its interior surprisingly worse than the exterior, you noted as you were sat down on a small chair positioned in the corner of the entrance room, far away from the door.

Another man, much smaller than the previous one, grabbed you by your hair lifting your face towards his making you wince.

“You’re gonna stay nice ‘nd quiet Miss,” he said before stuffing your mouth with a dirty piece of cloth, the bitter taste of dirt making you gag.

The two men spared you one last glance, a satisfied expression painting their faces, before leaving the cabin to join their other men outside, locking you in.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The usual cheerful chirping of birds coming from the trees surrounding Clemens Point camp acted as a morning alarm for Arthur. The chill morning air biting at his exposed ankles, his blanket messily tangled up his torso as a result of the restless night he spent tossing and turning, waiting for you to come back. He knew that following you was the wrong choice. You wanted some space from him and he respected that, but his heart couldn’t help but ache at the missing warmth of your body in his bed. He waited and waited for you, his eyes growing heavy as he rehearsed in his mind all the ways he could make it up to you, until his body succumbed to its tiredness and fell asleep.

Putting on his hat he lazily walked towards the coffee brewer on the campfire near the ladies’ tents, his mind replaying the events of the night. The way you looked at him as if he had just shoved a knife into your chest, your pretty eyes bloodshot and puffy from the constant crying. Your trembling form making its way out of your shared tent hunting his mind like a vengeful ghost. He loathed himself for that. It was his damn fault. He had to make it right and he’d do anything to take all the pain he caused away.

Sure you had slept with the girls since you never made it back to your tent last night, he expected to find you chatting away with Tilly as the both of you usually prefered to start early on your morning chores, his steps carrying him with a determined aura, but once he made it in front of the ladies’ tents you were not there. His face scrunched up in confusion as a small glimmer of concern planted its root in his head. That same glimmer grew rapidly as he darted his eyes around camp seeing no signs of your presence.

“Arthur,” the gentle sound of Abigail’s voice snapped him out of his turmoil.

“Abigail, hi.” he answered absently, eyes still scanning the camp’s grounds in hope of catching a glimpse of you.

“Look, I don’t want to be nosy but is everything alrigh’ between you two ? I heard you two yelling last night, she was pretty shaken up before you arrived”

“Yes, no—I don’t know. We had an argument, and she didn’t sleep in our bed last night. Can't blame her really, but I can’t seem to find her,” he explained, concern radiating out of every fiber in his body “Have you seen her ?”

“No, not since last night. Maybe she just needs some time alone” she reassured, placing her hand on his shoulder. The gesture soothing his worried thoughts.

“Yeah maybe you’re righ—“ Arthur didn’t get to finish his sentence as the cutting voice of Leopold Strauss interrupted him.

“Herr Morgan, Herr Morgan. Busy, my friend ?” The Austrian man approached him, a folded piece of paper in hand.

Arthur's shoulders dropped. He dreaded working for Strauss, but the older man was persistent, always ready with another fella to squeeze dry for some cash. Sure, the money helped keep the gang afloat, put food on the table, and clothes on the backs of the women and children, but the work, well, the work was dirty. It was the kind of work that gnawed at a man’s conscience.

“What is it now,” Arthur turned to face him, Abigail excusing herself, patting his back before leaving to wake Jack up. Strauss handed him the piece of paper, fortunately for Arthur only one name was scribbled down. ‘Gwyn Hughes’

“He’s an undertaker in Rhodes, he shouldn’t be giving you any trouble but he’s a slippery fellow. Just scare him and collect the debt” he explained. Arthur sighed accepting the job, wondering when all this loan sharking business would come to an end. You always hated when he’d go out dealing with Strauss’ business, saying how the gang should steal from the rich to help the poor and not steal from the poor to help the poor. He knew deep down inside of him you were right, but unfortunately money is money and with the gang’s situation looking far from good, every single cent counted.

He put the paper in his satchel before walking towards the hitching post, his gaze falling on your Tennessee Walker before mounting his horse.

“Oi english!” Sean called out from his lookout post “you look like shit this mornin’”

“Yeah well, don’t I always,” Arthur groaned before signaling his horse to move forward.

The collection of the debt turned out stranger than Arthur ever imagined. As it turned out Gwyn Hughes, the debtor, planned to pay back his debt by robbing a woman’s grave and as if that wasn’t enough he tasked Arthur to clear the cemetery and eventually stop the people from coming in. By noon, Arthur left Rhodes with a diamond brooch, a few bruises on his face and a confused conscience.

He returned to camp exhausted, his body and mind heavy, the dirty work weighed heavily on him as he hitched his horse near camp. All he wanted now was to see you, hear the sweet sound of your voice, even if you’d yell at him. He just wanted to see you. But as he ventured inside the camp, the usual hum of chatter was gone, the atmosphere heavy. Something was off. Abigail and Sadie were the first to come up to him, Abigail face pale while Sadie scanned around camp anxiously.

“Arthur,” the brunette called out, her voice rising with an edge of worry as they hurried towards him. “She ain’t been back”

Arthur’s heart skipped a beat “Wha—What do you mean she ain’t been back ? Nobody’s seen her ?”

“Last time I saw her was last night, I was on lookout and saw her headin’ out towards the woods, thought she was goin’ for a walk” Sadie explained, her expression filled with worry. “I asked ‘round camp and no one has seen her today”

His stomach dropped as numerous possibilities of what could’ve happened to you flashed through his mind. Without muttering a word to the two women, Arthur stormed over to Dutch’s tent, the latter standing outside talking to Hosea about the recent developments on the Gray-Braithwaite situation. The moment they saw Arthur approaching their conversation dissolved, the look on his face signaling them that something was off.

“What’s the matter Arthur ?” Dutch asked, concern dancing in his eyes.

“It’s about her, she went out last night and no one has seen her since” he explained, his voice strained. Dutch expression hardened

“You think something happened to her ?”

“I do, yeah”

“Alright then better move quickly, Charles! Bill !” Dutch called, his voice reverberating across the camp calling out the two men. “Arthur’s Miss is missing. I want you two to go out with him, see if you can track her down. The others, I want all eyes on the perimeters of camp, if she comes back you holler. Nobody moves from camp.”

Charles, who had been crafting some poisonous arrows near by the campfire, quickly dropped his task as he listened to what happened. He quickly gathered all his gear and began to move towards the horses, Bill just a few paces behind him.

“We’ll find her, Arthur. She’s gonna be okay” Hosea consoled him, but the older man's words did little to calm Arthur’s racing heart.

Within minutes, the three men were mounted on their horses and heading into the woods where Sadie had last seen you. Arthur’s mind was racing, a dangerous storm of fear and anger bubbling beneath the surface. He couldn’t lose you, not like this. Not after everything that happened.

The woods were dense, the tall trees casting deep shadows that made it difficult to see much of anything, but luckily Charles was an expert tracker, the hunter’s keen eyes scanning every inch of the ground for any sign of you.

After what felt like an eternity for Arthur, Charles held up his hand, signaling the other two men to stop. He dismounted Taima and crouched down, examining something on the ground. Arthur quickly joined him, his breath catching in his throat as he saw what his friend had found.

It was her bracelet, the golden one he had gifted you for your first anniversary. The small wristlet laid in the dirt, the delicate chain now broken. Arthur felt the whole world crashing down on him as he picked it up, his hands shaking in a mix of anger and fear.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

As the hours dragged on, you struggled to stay alert. The pain in your head had dulled to a persistent ache, but every muscle in your body screamed in protest with every small movement. Your wrist burned, blood dripping down your hands as you tried to wriggle them out of your ropes, the process slow and agonizing, but you could feel the ropes loosening further and further. You just needed to grit your teeth through the pain. The men had become less concerned about you, talking and drunkenly laughing amongst themselves, making you nauseous at their inhumanity.

Then a man entered the cabin, followed by two others behind him. He was tall and well built, his hairline receding leaving his hair to hang awkwardly on the sides. By the way he dragged himself around you deduced he was their leader. He crouched down beside you, his face dangerously close to yours, his breath fanning in your face making you scrunch your nose at the rancid smell of his breath. He reached out to check your ropes, tightening them furthermore, the action causing bolts of pain to shoot through your body.

“What was a pretty lady like yourself doing all alone in the woods mh?” He took out the now drenched piece of cloth out of your mouth. You swallowed, feeling your dry throat burning at the action.

You couldn’t muster the strength to respond. Your head lolled to the side as the man stepped back, a sinister grin plastered on his face. Then a harsh, stinging sensation hit your cheek.

“I said what were you doing all alone in the woods, slut” Tears welled in your eyes, both from the pain and the hopelessness of your situation. Your thoughts kept drifting back to Arthur. You had to hold on, had to find a way to escape, if not for yourself, then for him. He would come for you—you knew it deep down in your heart, but you needed to survive until then.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

Arthur’s eyes burned with anger and fear. He clenched his fists around the bracelet, his mind racing. “She was here,” Charles said quietly, his voice grim. “And she wasn’t alone. Look at these tracks, it seems like there was a struggle. She was taken.”

“By who?” asked Bill.

Charles pointed his finger to the ground, where the faint outline of various boot prints led away from their spot. “Judging by the tracks, it looks like a group of men. Three, maybe four. Could be Lemoyne Raiders. They must’ve grabbed her and taken her somewhere nearby. At this point the only place near is the old moonshine distillery.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold at the thought of you in the hands of the Raiders. The Lemoyne Raiders were known for their brutality, his encounter a few weeks prior with Sadie confirmed their reputation. The thought of what they could be doing to you filled him with a rage so intense it nearly consumed him.

“We find their hideout, and we get her out,” Arthur said through gritted teeth, already mounting up on his horse “I’m gonna kill all them goddamned bastards. I don’t care what it takes.”

Mounting their horses they followed the tracks, the three men riding fast through the woods. Thankfully it hadn’t rained so the trail was still clearly visible. It led them deeper into the Bayou region, the trees growing thicker and the air heavier with humidity and tension.

Finally, after what felt like hours, they spotted the moonshine distillery through the trees. It was a crumbling mess of buildings, half-hidden by the vegetation in the shadows, but there was no mistaking it. A few horses were tethered outside, and faint light flickered from the windows of an old cabin.

Arthur’s heart pounded as he dismounted. Charles and Bill followed him as they hid behind a crumbled stone wall, his hand instinctively reaching for his gun. Their eyes scanned the area, there was a man guarding the horses while a group of five others were sitting near by the campfire, drinking and laughing with each other. He exchanged a quick glance with Bill and Charles. This was it. They’d kill those bastards outside, storm the cabin, take out anyone who stood in their way, and get you out of there.

“Let’s go, I’ll take that guard near the horses out” Bill whispered, his voice steady with resolve. He made quick work of killing the guard, his knife glimmering just a second in the light before settling into the man’s neck. Charles and Arthur joined Bill in action. Arthur was the first to shoot his gun, the bullet piercing clean through one of the men’s chest. Then all hell broke loose.

Bullets went flying as the Lemoyne Raiders spotted them, the air filled with smoke and gunpowder as both sides fought violently. Their position didn’t offer too much cover, the Lemoyne Raiders, although drunk, fought hard, their guns never stopping. A stray bullet scraped Arthur’s arm but that didn’t stop him as he barely registered it. His mind was singularly focused on one thing—getting to you before it was too late. And in just a few minutes Arthur, Charles and Bill managed to take down all five men outside. Moving quickly out of their cover they reached the front of the cabin, and with a nod from Arthur, they burst through the door.

Chaos erupted as they stormed inside. The few Lemoyne Raiders inside the cabin barely had time to react before Bill and Charles opened fire, cutting them down where they stood. Arthur moved with deadly precision, his eyes scanning the room for any sign ofyou. And then he saw you, tied to a chair in the corner of the room, your face bruised, wrist bloody but alive. You were alive

The last of the Raiders fell as Arthur rushed to your side, his hands quickly working to untie the ropes that bound you so tightly. Your eyes fluttered open at the sound of his voice, you thought this was just your mind playing tricks but tears welled up in your eyes falling rapidly down your face when you realized it wasn’t your mind playing tricks, it was really him. Arthur had found you.

“Arthur,” you barely whispered, your voice hoarse and weak.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” Arthur murmured, his voice shaking as he finally freed you from the chair. He quickly checked you for more injuries before pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly as if he’d never let go. “I’ve got you sweetheart. You’re safe now.” You were still in shock from the whole ordeal, overwhelmed by the mix of emotions—fear from the attack, but also a deep, undeniable relief that Arthur was there with you. In this moment you both forgot your fight, your mixed feelings and both held each other, the intensity of the moment washing over you. You held each other for a few seconds longer before separating. A strange turmoil of emotion took over you as you looked around the room seeing the body of your kidnappers unmoving on the ground. Unable to look at them a second more you diverted your attention back to the group of outlaws in front of you.

The first who broke the silence that fell around you was Bill, awkwardly clearing his throat before adding “We need to get movin’ all this gunfight definitely caught someone’s attention”

Arthur offered his hand to you and you took it, using it as leverage to get yourself up to your feet. Your vision spotting for a second before coming back. You didn’t find in your heart to let go of his hand, his warm skin offering you peace. They escorted you out towards the horses. Arthur helping you up on his before sitting behind you, his strong arms holding you tightly to his chest giving you support. The last thing you felt was Arthur chaste kiss on your temple before you let yourself fall asleep.

––––– ✧ ✦ ✧ –––––

The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm orange glow over the camp as the day slowly faded into night. The air was cool, a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of the trees surrounding your tent. Inside the tent, the air was still, heavy with unspoken words and lingering tension.

You were finally out of the cot after three days of recovery. The girls had come to check up on you in the morning, bringing you a mug of coffee and a pack of chocolate biscuits Mary Beth had managed to steal from the general store. The pain had dulled, your wounds were slowly healing, but the ache in your heart was still fresh, raw from everything that had happened. Arthur had barely left your side the entire time, his presence a constant, quiet comfort, but the words exchanged between you could count on your fingers. The silence between you two was loaded, filled with everything unsaid, with everything that had been tearing at you long before the kidnapping.

The both of you were now in your shared tent, you sat on the edge of the bed absently tracing the edge of an empty tin cup of peaches with your fingers. The room felt suffocating, but you knew you couldn’t keep avoiding this conversation any longer. The memory of those letters, the sight of Arthur and Mary together in Rhodes, his lies. it all still stung, a wound that hadn’t yet healed.

Arthur was seated on the small chair at the foot of the bed, his head hung low, hands toying with the rope that wrapped around his worn hat, face brim as if bracing himself for what was to come. He had watched over you, cared for you, over the past three days but there was a palpable distance between you two now that neither of you could ignore. You could see the lines of worry etched into his face, the guilt that had been gnawing at him for days.

Finally, you broke the silence. Your voice barely above a whisper “Arthur, we need to talk.”

He looked up at you, his aqua eyes filled with a mixture of sadness and something else, something that made your heart ache more at his sight. “I know,” he replied quietly, his voice rough and tired from the last couple sleepless nights. “I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout what happened, before all this mess.”

You took a deep breath, gathering the strength you needed to confront him, to confront the hurt that had been tearing at your heart. “You lied to me, Arthur. About the letters, about Mary. About everything.”

He winced at your words, the truth of them hitting him hard. “I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice thick with regret. “I thought—I thought if I didn’t tell you, it would hurt less. That it wouldn’t matter, ‘cause it was supposed to be nothin’. But it was a mistake. I should’ve been honest with you from the start.”

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, the pain of those memories sharp like the ghost of the tip of the Lemoyne Raider’s knife on your neck. “I saw you two together, Arthur. In Rhodes. You both looked so happy. It felt like, like my worst fears were coming true. Like I was losing you.”

Arthur stood up slowly, taking a tentative step in front of you. His hand reached out, but he stopped mid air, hesitating as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” he repeated, his voice thick with emotion. “Mary, she just needed help after the passing of her husband. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to and I didn’t have the guts to shut her down. So I helped her. I didn’t want to drag you into it ‘cause I didn’t want you to worry.”

You looked up at him, searching his face for the truth. “But you lied, Arthur. And that hurt more than anything.”

He nodded, his expression pained. “I know. I know, and I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make things worse between us. But I can see now that I did that anyway by not bein’ honest.” A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, trying to keep your composure. “I love you, Arthur. But I can’t live like this, I can’t live wondering if there’s something you’re not telling me, if there’s a part of you that’s still with her.”

Arthur’s face scrunched with regret. “There ain’t. I swear to you, there ain’t. She’s from another life, a life I walked away from a long time ago. Jt’s you I love darlin’. It’s always been you.”

You looked down at the tin cup in your hands the juice residue sloshing as you toyed with the cup, your fingers trembling with the heavy weight of your next decision. “I don’t know if I can just forget what happened Arthur, it hurt too much.”

He stepped closer, this time his hand gently cupped your cheek, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “I don’t expect you to forget. All I’m askin’ you is to try. Try give us another chance. I’ll do better, I swear it. I’ll be honest with you, about everything. No more secrets.”

His touch was warm as his thumb stroked your cheek, comforting you and despite the hurt, you couldn’t deny that bright flame of love that still burned inside of you for him. You met his eyes, seeing the sincerity, the sheer desperation in them. He made a stupid mistake of thinking for you, but he was now acknowledging his mistake, he was willing to try and be a better man for you, a man you could see your future into.

You let your tears fall freely now as you nodded, your voice barely a whisper. “I want to try, Arthur. I want to believe in you, in us again.”

He kneeled down to your height and held you into his arms, holding you close as you cried against his chest, the tension of the past days finally breaking down. His hand gently stroked your hair, his voice a low murmur of comfort in your ear.

“We’ll make it work, I promise. We’ll get through this.”

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