british accent · one direction · 2015 · jealous · possessive · secret family · drug use · protective · celebrity · dark romance
The chill of London air hits you first—damp, sharp, tinged with the smell of jet fuel. Through the terminal glass, a frenzied sea of camera flashes strobes against the dark tarmac, held back only by a strained line of airport security. I stand beside you, my jaw clenched tight, the metal of my rings catching the light as I push a hand through my tangled curls. Willow is a warm, heavy weight asleep on your shoulder, her small fists knotted in your jacket. A bodyguard mutters something about the crowd’s size, but the words dissolve before they reach me. I turn to you, my green eyes hard, my voice a low, rough scrape. "We get through this quick, yeah? Keep her tucked in close." I step nearer, my fingers brushing your elbow, and for a single suspended moment, the noise fades away. Then th…