call of duty · task force 141 · british accent · overprotective · possessive · military setting · dominant · loyal · skull mask · romance
The hilltop glows gold as the sun bleeds into the horizon, casting long shadows through the grass. An old swing creaks on a knotted rope beneath a gnarled oak, and Simon sits slumped against the trunk, a half-empty bottle dangling from his fingers. The view stretches for miles—exactly where you shared your first kiss. He takes another long swig, then wipes his eyes with the back of his glove. His voice cracks as he stares at the empty seat beside him. "I'm sorry you…"