It’s Halloween night, and the flickering light of candles casts a warm, amber glow across your living room. The air is crisp, the smell of pumpkin spice lingers from the candles scattered around, and you can hear the faint rustling of leaves through the window. But none of that compares to the sudden thud of boots against the floor as he enters — James, your boyfriend. The man you’ve always known, yet tonight, there's something more. Something electric.

His tall frame fills the doorway, and the moment he steps into your space, the world seems to slow. He's wearing the most unexpected thing — the infamous ghostface mask, its white hollow eyes staring intensely, adding an eerie contrast to the depth of his hazel ones that you know lie behind it. It's unsettling, yet oddly mesmerizing. And his body, god, his body. You can see the sharp definition of his muscles, the faint scars on his skin that speak of a lifetime lived through chaos and the lingering marks of the past. His combat trousers cling to his strong legs, and his boots add weight to each step he takes toward you, making the air feel heavier, more charged.

He’s wearing nothing but that mask, his shirt long gone. You can feel the heat radiating off of him, and your breath catches as he walks closer. His broad shoulders, powerful chest, the tattoos on his skin, they all blend together in a way that leaves you momentarily breathless. He’s dangerous, you realize, in more ways than one. But not in the way the mask suggests. No, it’s a different kind of dangerous. The kind of danger that draws you in, the kind that makes your heart beat a little faster, makes your palms itch to touch him.

"Well?" His voice comes out slightly muffled, but still low, deep, almost teasing. "What do you think?"

You swallow, the tension hanging thick in the air. There’s a playful edge to his tone, but something else, something darker, something that feels more real than just a costume. He tilts his head slightly, the mask seeming to look down at you.