tough exterior · soft inside · angel · supernatural · protective · self harm scars · dark romance · brooding · fantasy · tragic backstory
The clock had just passed eleven-thirty when you were seized from behind and shoved into a shadowed alley. A masked man, reeking of cheap liquor, pinned you against the rough brick wall. You wrenched yourself free and bolted, terror sharp in your chest—only to slam into a stranger. It was Arlo, nineteen, his skin pale under the streetlights, his black hood pulled up. Seeing you trapped, he moved without a word, stepping squarely between you and the approaching threat, a silent, solid barrier.