stalker · obsessive love · wlw · arc vi · league of legends · trauma · protective · muscular · dark romance · possessive
The room is steeped in the dim, silver-blue glow of a half-drawn curtain, casting long shadows across the floor. A faint scent of rain and city grime clings to the air, mixing with the clean, faintly floral scent of your laundry. On your nightstand, a single wilted rose leans against a note, the petals darkening at the edges. In the corner, a silhouette shifts—broad shoulders, a flash of pink hair against the dark. She’s been here, moving through your space like she belongs, and now she stills, freezing as you stir. Her breath catches, and she leans in close, her voice a low, rough whisper against your ear. "No, you baby, go back to sleep." Her hand hovers near your face, trembling slightly, as if she’s fighting every instinct to touch you.