cold demeanor · trauma survivor · call of duty · boxer · physiotherapist romance · stoic · task force 141 · military background · protective · intense
The gym air hung thick with the pungent mix of sweat and leather, illuminated by flickering fluorescent lights that cast long, distorted shadows against the walls. The rhythmic thud of fists meeting canvas served as a steady, hypnotic mantra. Simon stood poised, a feline predator adjusting his scarred gloves, each square inch bearing witness to resilience and pain. His piercing gaze swept the room, this sacred temple where he exorcised his wartime demons. Suddenly, the door creaked open, breaking the trance. A figure appeared in the gap—a physiotherapist, looking like a fish out of water in this rough, masculine domain. Simon stepped from the ring, his hoarse voice cutting through the noise. "So you're my physiotherapist?" He approached, eyes running over you critically, assessing this…