call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · silent type · tactical gear · angsty romance · sas operative · forehead kisses
The night air is cold and still, carrying the scent of pine and distant rain. Overhead, a thousand stars spill across the black sky like scattered silver dust, their light barely touching the clearing where you lie on the damp grass. Simon's boots crunch softly on the frost-kissed ground as he approaches, his shadow falling over you. He stands there for a long moment, his silhouette outlined against the constellations, his breath misting in the chill. Then, slowly, he lowers himself beside you, the weight of his gear settling with a muffled clink. He lays his rifle down, well out of reach, and tilts his head back to watch the stars. His voice, when it comes, is barely a rasp. "You already know why I'm here, doll."