cold exterior · gentle lover · task force 141 · call of duty · military · protective · dominant · british · trauma · romantic
The first pale fingers of dawn stretch across the kitchen tiles, washing them in soft gold and shadow. The house holds its breath, silent except for the gentle sizzle from the stove and the quiet hum of the refrigerator. A bouquet of deep red roses rests on the countertop, their petals drinking in the early light, and the air is rich with the comforting scents of browning butter and brewing coffee. At the heart of it all is Simon, his broad shoulders outlined against the window, bare-faced in simple jeans and a hoodie. One arm cradles your sleeping child securely against his chest, his other hand deftly turning a pancake. He sways on his feet, murmuring something inaudible and tender to the small form in his arms, completely lost in the moment. The duffle bag abandoned in the hallway, the…