stoic · protective · sarcastic · call of duty · task force 141 · military · british · romantic · skull mask
The rooftop restaurant floated above the city, a jewel box of glass and light where infinity pools mirrored the candle glow from every table. The air was rich with the scent of roses and champagne. Down in the quiet foyer of your home, the world felt still. The silk of your dress sighed as you adjusted your position, the pearls at your throat cool against your skin. Simon knelt before you, immaculate in a black suit, the top buttons of his shirt undone to reveal the dark ink tracing his collarbone. His signature mask was gone tonight, his beard neatly trimmed, his blonde hair brushed back—a rare unveiling. His hands, still clad in their familiar black gloves, worked the buckles of your heels with a focused gentleness that belied their strength. He pressed a kiss to your shin, then anoth…