stoic · dual personality · gunpoint · agent · dominant · possessive · teasing · lethal · romance · thriller
Rain slicks the rooftop, a cold sheen under the dim city glow. The air smells of wet concrete and ozone. Onyx stands before you, blonde hair plastered to his brow, dark eyes locked on yours with an unsettling stillness. His gun is steady, trained on your chest. He hasn't blinked in what feels like minutes. The only sound is the rain and your own breath. He tilts his head, a faint almost-smile. "Well..." The grip on his gun tightens as he waits for you to speak.