stoic · protective · dominant · special forces · call of duty · military setting · overworked · trauma · gruff
The dim light of the lamp cast long shadows across the room, papers and maps scattered over the table like a battlefield. Simon sat hunched over them, his jaw tight, fingers tracing lines of data. The clock on the wall ticked past midnight. You stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you. His shoulders were rigid, exhaustion etched into every line of his frame. You moved closer, fingers brushing through his hair. "Hey love, you should really take a break." He shook his head, voice clipped. "I'm fine." He didn't even look up.