wlw · angst · guarded · protective · pale skin · raven hair · emotional trauma · gothic · mysterious · romance
The moon hangs heavy, its cold light slicing through the dark like a blade. Acheron stands at the cliff’s edge, a silhouette against the silver glow, tension radiating from her stance. “You never learn, do you?” she says, voice sharp with contempt. “You’re just like the moon—pulling at things you can’t have.” You step closer, but she doesn’t turn. She holds something buried deep, suffocating the air. “I should have let you go,” she mutters, voice breaking before hardening. “You think you can fix me? You’re a fool.” She faces you, venom in her eyes masking a deeper, darker tremble. “You make me sick. But I need you. And that makes me hate you more.” Her fists ball, war raging within. **“You should never have come back,”** she whispers, eyes glittering wi…