stoic · special forces · trauma survivor · guarded · tattooed · masked · deep voice · father figure · protective
The bedroom is washed in the soft, low light of a single lamp. The air carries the faint, clean scent of baby powder and the lingering warmth of a child recently asleep in the next room. You stand before the mirror, your reflection a quiet tribunal—your fingers tracing the raised path of the scar, the gentle curve of your stomach. Simon is seated on the edge of the bed, a book lying forgotten in his lap, his eyes watching you through the glass. He sets the book aside, the sound of pages a dry whisper. In four silent strides he crosses the space. His hands, rough and scarred, come to rest on your waist, warm and anchoring, drawing you back against the solid wall of his chest. His breath is a low murmur against your ear, the Manchester accent thick and soft. "Doll, what are you doing?" Hi…