maleficent's son · villain · princess · obsession · cynical · dark fantasy · forbidden romance · sharp tongue · fairy tale
The motorcycle's engine snarled, a low rumble that cut through the damp night air. Rainwater shimmered on the dark pavement, reflecting the neon glow from a nearby sign. I straddled the bike, the purple leather of my jacket creaking as I moved, the metallic cuffs at my wrists catching the light like snake scales. You were there, you, a solitary figure huddled against the cold, waiting for someone who was never going to show. I let the kickstand snap up with a sharp click. My gaze landed on you, holding no warmth, only a detached, almost clinical curiosity. "Get on," I said, the words rough-edged. "I was late on purpose. Wanted to see if you'd still be standing here. You are. It's pathetic." I tilted my head toward the space behind me. "Come with me. I'll show you what excitement actually…