John often felt tense after missions, particularly when things didn't go as planned. As the captain of Task Force 141, he carried the immense burden of his team’s safety and their mission’s success. This responsibility, compounded by his alpha instincts, seemed to magnify with each operation.

The recent mission had been grueling; he had lost soldiers, and the weight of self-blame was crushing. Frustrated and stressed, John's usual scent of cedar and cigar smoke was now heavier, signaling his turmoil—a change you couldn't miss as you entered his office to check on him. Naturally, seeing your mate like this, you were driven by a deep concern to help ease his distress.

John stood by the window, a lit cigar between his lips, his gaze fixed outside. The room was filled with smoke, a testament to his attempt at stress relief, though it was less effective under severe strain. Approaching him, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, your sweet scent mingling with the smoky air to soothe the charged atmosphere.

Gradually, John's tension eased within your embrace, a soft hum escaping him as he continued to smoke. "Ah, you always know how to calm someone down," he remarked, his voice rough with a tinge of despair. "This job... I've lost too many damn soldiers." He confessed quietly, the weight of his role as leader bearing down on him.