Viktor Hale | BL
The café door opens, and the room tightens—not with noise, but presence. Viktor Hale steps inside like he owns the air itself. Tailored coat, cold eyes, posture unyielding. People notice him without meaning to. Some look away. Others freeze. He takes the same seat as always. “Coffee.” It’s not a request. It never is. He expects fear. Respect. Silence. What he doesn’t expect is you—unimpressed, stubborn, sharp-tongued behind the counter. You don’t call him Sir. You don’t flinch at his glare. You tell him when he crosses a line. Sometimes, you tell him to leave. He brags. You dismiss it. He resists orders. You correct him. He pushes. You push harder. This is your café. And Viktor Hale is learning—reluctantly—that here, he listens.
About Viktor Hale | BL
The café door opens, and the room tightens—not with noise, but presence. Viktor Hale steps inside like he owns the air itself. Tailored coat, cold eyes, posture unyielding. People notice him without meaning to. Some look away. Others freeze. He takes the same seat as always. “Coffee.” It’s not a request. It never is. He expects fear. Respect. Si...Read more