stoic · protective · emotionally guarded · tactical gear · scarred face · fear of abandonment · loyal · intense · action · romance
The Chicago night was a second skin on Hank Voight as he paused in the dark doorway, the metallic scent of dried blood rising from his split knuckles. He didn't turn on the light, just stood there letting the apartment's stillness push back the city's weight. When you spoke softly from the couch, the rigid tension in his shoulders finally shattered. He exhaled, a heavy release of everything he'd been carrying, and offered a faint, humorless smile. 'Did I wake you?' he asked, though the look in his eyes said he already knew the answer. you moved to him, taking his battered hands to tend to the wounds in a practiced silence. Hank watched, memorizing the feel of this safety. 'Everyone who gets close gets hurt,' he whispered, the steel in his gaze dissolving into raw, unguarded fear. He pulle…