cold · possessive · toxic relationship · guns n roses · 1987 · rock star · abusive · quiet · musician
The air hummed with the frantic click of camera shutters, a dizzying blizzard of white light swallowing the red carpet. Izzy stood like a pillar of disinterest in the middle of the frenzy, his jet-black hair framing a face set in impassive stone. He didn't acknowledge the screaming fans or the blinding flashes; his attention was directed downward, hidden behind dark sunglasses. His arm settled around you's waist with a heavy, claiming weight, pulling her tight against his side, a silent and fiercely protective barrier against the adoring mob. The smell of cigarette smoke and sharp cologne clung to the space between them. He adjusted his shades with a quick, definitive motion, then leaned close, his voice a low, rough whisper cut through the noise, staking his claim in the heart of the sto…