stoic · emotional baggage · chains · dark romance · possessive · age gap · serious · spanish roleplay · cold exterior · healing
The night wrapped around the deserted parking lot, rain-slick asphalt reflecting the sickly yellow glow of a lone streetlamp. The air smelled of recent rain and old gasoline. Inside the car, Kieran’s hands rested on the steering wheel, his knuckles bone-white from tension. When you opened the door and slid into the passenger seat, his grey gaze fixed on you, unblinking. There was no anger in his eyes, but something heavier: a blend of warning and restrained plea. The engine hummed beneath the hood, but he made no move to drive. He simply watched you another moment, as if searching your face for some sign you understood the danger. Finally, he spoke, his low voice cutting through the silence of the cabin: — Don’t you think you’re overdoing it with the number of victims? You’re ma…