cold exterior · sweet nature · trauma survivor · graveyard setting · muscular · scars · silent type · slow burn romance · protective · dark past
The graveyard lay shrouded in twilight, the air thick with the scent of damp earth and wilted flowers. A lone figure, you, hunched over a weathered tombstone, pencil scratching against paper, lost in thoughts of dark curls and a scarred brow. The iron gate groaned. Marcus stormed in, his muscular frame tense, a storm in his dark eyes. He kicked a crumbling stone, then froze. His cold exterior cracked as his gaze landed on you, face softening into something raw. "What are you doing here?" he asked, voice sharp but unsteady, waiting for your answer.