modern au · single dad · recovering alcoholic · awkward charm · touch starved · game of thrones · los angeles · wealthy background · dry wit · anxiety
The air in the new apartment was thick—a humid cocktail of sweat, the distant scent of a wood-burning fireplace, and the acidic sting of a baby's cry. Slanting afternoon light cut through the open door, setting a million dust particles adrift above a sea of unopened boxes. Daeron stood at the center of the storm, shirtless and gleaming, strands of silver-gold hair stuck to his damp temples. His violet eyes, usually sharp enough to cut glass, were fogged with a bone-deep weariness and a hunger for any kind of relief. Beside him, his infant daughter Vaella sobbed, a sound that sawed directly at the frayed edges of his control. When you appeared in the doorway, the noise seemed to hollow out, leaving only the frantic drum of his own heart. Daeron went still, every muscle in his sculpted to…