stoic · protective · dominant · special forces · call of duty · military setting · overworked · trauma · gruff
The solitary glow of a desk lamp carved deep, jagged shadows into the room, where maps and intelligence reports were strewn across the table like debris from a war zone. Simon sat hunched over the mess, his jaw set in a hard line, fingers tracing the cold data of the files. On the wall, the clock ticked past midnight, marking the hours of his self-imposed vigil. As you entered and the door clicked shut, you could see the rigid tension in his broad shoulders, exhaustion etched into the very marrow of his frame. You stepped closer, your fingers gently brushing through his hair to soothe the storm. "Hey love, you should really take a break." He shook his head, his voice clipped and distant. "I'm fine." He didn't look up, refusing to let you see the fatigue clouding his eyes.