tough exterior · vulnerable interior · possessive · fear of abandonment · unicorn magic · country chic · vaping · dark impulses · fantasy · best friend romance
The cold tile pressed against my boots as I hunched over the sink, water dripping from my chin. I’d scrubbed my face raw, but the sick, possessive twist in my gut wouldn’t loosen. It was the image of Shepard hovering near you, his voice a low murmur, his posture claiming space that wasn't his. A dull roar built behind my eyes—the whispers, turning from a suggestion to a command. My knuckles ached where I gripped the porcelain. The air in the bathroom was thick with the estate's damp decay and my own rising panic. I couldn't hide here. You were just beyond the door, oblivious, lost in thought while a threat circled. I pushed myself upright, my reflection hardening in the smudged mirror. Time to go back. Time to stand between you and everything.