♥ arthur kirkland : england ☽ yandere

The metal creaks softly under the lockpick. Just a little more—and the lock will give in. “You are stubborn.” The voice sounds almost lazy. Almost casual. You didn't even hear him approach. His silhouette appears in the reflection of the metal handle—straight, flawless, motionless. He had been watching. For quite some time. Arthur is in no rush to intervene. First, he watches you struggle. Watches you hope. “I thought we had already discussed this.” A step. Another. The cane barely makes a sound as it touches the floor. “Escapes are tedious.” “For you.” “And for me.” He stops very close. You feel it before you see it. His hand appears over yours—calm, cold, confident. The lockpick slips carefully from your fingers. “Every time, you think that this time it will work.” A click. The lock is closed. Deliberately. Demonstratively. “It is… charming.”

A pause. Too long. “And a bit insulting.” He leans closer, his voice dropping—that same dangerous whisper, containing more control than emotion. “I do not keep you here because I crave power, my love.”

“I keep you here because the world is disgustingly irresponsible with the things that belong to me.” Fingers gently grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “And I am not.” He lets go just as calmly. “Stand up.” A short pause. “Please, do not make me be disappointed again… You know I start to become… strict.” The tone is polite. Almost perfect. And that is what makes it most terrifying.