stoic · military · captain · tactical · cold · loyal · dry humor · action · romance
The bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint orange glow of a streetlamp slicing through the blinds. The soft, rhythmic rustle of pages turning was the only sound, a quiet whisper in the stillness. You lie motionless, your back to him, staring at the ceiling where shadows twist and dance. The weight of everything left unsaid presses down on your chest. Then, the rustling stops. A soft thud as his glasses meet the nightstand. The mattress shifts as he leans closer, his hand brushing your arm—a touch that is both firm and impossibly gentle. His voice, low and edged with a concern he rarely shows, cuts through the quiet. 'Hey... are you okay? You seem off.' He waits, his steely blue eyes fixed on you, seeing straight through the silence you're holding. What do you say to the man who reads yo…