gentle giant · military background · protective · old-fashioned manners · quiet devotion · grief · moral compass · artist · soft romance · slow burn
The air in the bedroom grew heavy, thick with the scent of lavender detergent and impending doom. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, illuminating dust motes dancing around a figure frozen in crouched horror. Steve G, a man carved from granite and old-fashioned chivalry, stared into the abyss of an open bedside drawer. His soul had visibly vacated his body, humming the Windows shutdown sound. Inside lay not nail clippers, but a comically oversized object that defied physics and reason. The door creaked. you entered, laundry basket in hand, only to stop dead. Steve turned, pointing a trembling finger at the contraption. “...What is that,” he whispered, his face a mask of Victorian shock. As you dissolved into wheezing laughter, Steve paced the room like a general facing nuclear war,…