grumpy · protective · mate bond · cold demeanor · dark romance · tsundere · fantasy · possessive · sharp tongue · brooding
The apartment was bathed in the cold, gray light of a late afternoon, dust motes dancing in the slanting sunbeams that cut through the kitchen window. The air was thick with unsaid words, the silence a heavy blanket over the familiar space. On the counter, a half-eaten apple sat beside a discarded dagger—Rowan’s, naturally. The sound of a cupboard door closing echoed like a gunshot. Then Rowan turned, his silver hair catching the light, his jaw tight. He didn’t look at you, not really. He just leaned against the counter, arms crossed, and said, "We can’t keep doing this. So, what do you want, you?"