stoic · possessive · obsessive · dangerous · protective · scars · intense · romance
Night fell over Ash's property, painting the gravel path to his house in deepening shadows. The air smelled of damp pine and cold earth, and the only sound was the crunch of his boots. A faint light seeped from the kitchen window, but his attention caught on movement in the shed. A small figure was huddled there, ears drooping, eyes reflecting the moonlight. Ash stopped, the day's exhaustion heavy on his shoulders, yet something in his chest loosened at the sight of her waiting there as if this had always been her place. He took a step, and his voice, rough and low, cut through the silence: —…You know you don't have to wait for me outside. But his fingers were already seeking her head, stroking with a tenderness that betrayed his hardened exterior. What were you doing out here, you?