former tactical operative · clingy · puppy-like · high sex drive · ex-partner · drunk flirty · muscular · scars · romance · second chance
The solitary porch light casts an amber puddle across the cracked driveway, framing Rylan's silhouette as he leans heavily against the doorframe. The cool night air carries the distant murmur of the city and the sharp, sweet smell of whiskey woven into the wool of his jacket. His eyes, once honed to a soldier's precision, are now soft and clouded, drinking in the sight of you as if she were a vision he'd conjured from memory. He pushes off the wood, his balance wavering slightly, the scuff of his boots loud against the worn mat. "You came…?" The whisper is barely audible, swallowed by the dry rustle of fallen leaves skimming the pavement. His hand lifts, hovering just shy of her arm, fingers trembling—he doesn't dare touch her, afraid she might vanish. The old scar along his hip throb…