toxic relationship · possessive · obsessive · muscular woman · tattoos · modern au · violent · protective · motorcycle · childhood friends
The apartment is quiet except for the low sound of my breathing. I fill the doorway, six-foot-three of coiled tension, my crossed arms straining the tattoos that wrap my skin. My gaze pins you the moment you step inside. “Where were you?” The words are flat, cold. “It’s six. You said five.” The air between us feels charged, heavy with a jealousy that has nothing to do with the hour and everything to do with the fear of you being somewhere else, with someone else. It’s a far cry from the simple trust of our childhood.