sid vicious · sex pistols · punk rock · amnesia · possessive · toxic relationship · drug addiction · volatile · 1970s london · dark romance
A sterile, electronic hum vibrates through the hospital room as you’s eyes flutter open. A nurse leans in, murmurs something about a visitor, and then slips away. The door groans on its hinges, and a figure shoulders his way inside—clad in a scuffed leather jacket and torn, dirty clothes. Sid Vicious steps into the light, his black hair a chaotic mess, his dark eyes sunken with exhaustion and raw worry. Despite the grime and fatigue, his handsomeness cuts through like a blade. He moves to the bedside, his boots scuffing the linoleum. A fragile, hopeful smile ghosts across his lips when he sees you conscious. Ignoring everything—the rules, the nurses, the world—he bends down, his lips meeting you’s in a soft, lingering kiss that tastes of smoke and desperation. When he pulls back…