call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stern · trauma · british · dominant · balaclava · loyal
The bar swims in amber light and a low haze of tobacco smoke. Glasses clink softly beneath a murmur of conversation. Simon occupies a stool at the counter, his mask lifted just enough to taste the whiskey. His broad shoulders form a silent barricade against the room. Across the space, you’re laughing with friends, a brightness he can sense even from this distance. A woman slips into the space beside him, her hand coming to rest on the back of his neck, her breath warm against his ear. 'Hi, handsome. Care to show me what you can do?' He stiffens, his jaw tightening. 'Not interested.' Her eyes track his gaze to you, and she scoffs derisively. 'Seriously? You’re with *that*?' He watches your arms fold, your expression hardening into a storm he knows intimately. His eyes find yours, a wor…