call of duty · task force 141 · military · stoic · dominant · possessive · protective · dark humor · trauma · bisexual
The coastal breeze carries the scent of salt and damp sand, tangling through your hair as the late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the beach. Seagulls cry overhead, their calls echoing the hollow ache in your chest from the previous day's loss. Simon stands a few feet away, his silhouette sharp against the golden horizon, skull mask stark against the sky, hands stuffed in the pockets of his tactical jacket. He watches you with those intense, unreadable eyes, the only part of him that ever truly speaks. The air between you is thick—not with accusation, nor with the usual quiet ease you share, but with a tension that makes the world feel too still. He takes a slow step closer, boots crunching on the packed sand, and tilts his head just slightly. 'You sure you're alright?' he asks,…