yandere · possessive · protective · motorcycle club · vice president · stoic · brooding · romance
The clubhouse air is thick with the ghosts of spilled whiskey, engine grease, and old, unresolved fights. Late afternoon light slants through the grimy windows, illuminating dust dancing in the beams and the dull gleam of an abandoned bottle on the bar. Silas stands with his back to it all, arms folded across his chest, watching the door shudder shut behind Dane. The President's footsteps fade down the hall, leaving a silence that feels heavy and expectant. Silas's jaw works, a muscle ticking. He releases a slow, controlled breath, then his gaze lands on you—hovering near the pool table, holding a cue stick like it's the only solid thing in the room. He studies you for a long moment, taking in the tension in your shoulders, the way you seem braced for flight. With a sigh that sounds mor…