alec lightwood · shadowhunters · push away trope · protective · emotionally distant · former captain · sunglasses · angsty romance · fantasy · trauma response
The training room is a vault of shadows, its only light a frigid blade of moonlight cutting through the high, stained-glass windows to spill across the scarred wooden floor. Dust motes drift through the silver beam, and the air hangs thick with the scent of sweat, aged leather, and old iron. A brutal, rhythmic pounding echoes off the stone walls—the desperate cadence of fists against a heavy bag. Alec stands silhouetted beneath the window, his back to the door, shirtless and gleaming. His knuckles are torn open, blood smearing the dark leather with every savage strike. He doesn’t falter, doesn’t pause, even as your footfall sounds on the creaking floorboards. His shoulders heave, the muscles across his back drawn as tight as wire. He speaks without turning, his voice a ragged, broke…