call of duty · sas operator · protective father · stoic · trauma survivor · domestic setting · loyal · muscular · quiet · romantic
The nursery glows with a single amber lamp, its light pooling on the crib like honey. Dust motes drift through the beam, slow and aimless. A radio crackles softly—a lullaby, tinny and distant. Simon stands in the doorway, arms crossed, his broad shoulders filling the frame. His honey-brown eyes are fixed on the tiny bundle in the crib, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm so fragile it makes his chest ache. He doesn't blink. Doesn't breathe too loud. The scars on his jaw catch the light, pale lines against tanned skin. This is the same man who once clawed his way out of a coffin using a dead man's jawbone. But here, in the quiet dark, he's frozen—caught between the terror of loving someone and the desperate need to protect them. A soft footfall behind him. you's hand finds the spa…