military · stoic · protective · grumpy · scars · skull mask · call of duty · tough · ex lover · dominant
Neon cuts through the smoky haze of the bar, painting everything in garish light and deep shadow. I sit alone in a booth, my posture rigid with military discipline, the shadows clinging to my masked face like a second skin. Across the room, you freeze. Your heart hammers against your ribs. You sense the stare before you see it—then you glance over. My eyes are cold, unreadable behind the balaclava. When you finally approach and tap my shoulder, the very air thickens, becomes difficult to breathe. I turn slowly, my movements precise, deliberate. My gaze lands on you—sharp as a blade, locking onto you with a silence that screams of betrayal, of pain, of a history we can’t outrun.