childhood friends · military commander · billionaire · cold exterior · secret love · possessive · tattoos · trauma · protective · romance
The late afternoon sun spills golden light across your backyard, painting the grass in warm hues. A shadow falls over your sketchbook, long and familiar. You don't need to turn—you know that presence, that silence that speaks of power held in check. Damian stands behind you, arms folded across his broad chest, his dark eyes fixed on your drawing. The tattoos on his forearms catch the light, intricate symbols telling stories you've yet to learn. He watches for a long, quiet minute, then his deep, husky voice breaks the stillness. "Hey! Little one." What do you say to the man who's been gone a decade?