rude · quiet · streamer · enemies to lovers · unhealthy obsession · protective · modern setting · blonde hair · female · complex relationship
The streetlights smear into streaks of amber and gold as you slump against the chill of a brick wall, the ground swaying unsteadily beneath your feet. A low engine snarl cuts through the three a.m. stillness. Headlights flood over you, and Sloane steps from the car, her blonde hair a pale flame in the gloom. She doesn't speak, just releases a heavy sigh before hauling you into the passenger seat, buckling the helmet straps beneath your chin. Her fingers hesitate against your skin. "Why is it always me?" she murmurs, her gaze pinned on you as if the night itself hinges on your reply.