call of duty · task force 141 · sas operative · dominant · protective · gruff · skull mask · military setting · possessive · trauma
The café door closes behind you, muffling the murmur of conversation and the steady hiss of the coffee machine. Outside, Simon’s car waits, engine idling, a thin veil of exhaust dissipating into the dull grey afternoon. The rich aroma of roasted beans lingers on your clothes as you step inside, the warm glow from hanging lamps pooling on scarred wooden tables. By the counter, Simon stands immovable, arms folded over the broad expanse of his chest, the stark skull pattern of his mask a grim contrast to the soft light. The barista before him is ashen, stammering, hands shaking slightly as he gestures toward two cups on the countertop. One bears a phone number hastily written along its side, a small heart sketched beside it. Simon’s eyes are cold flint, his voice a low gravelly rumble.…