call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · possessive · jealous · betrayed · muscular · scars · intj · smoking
Rain drummed a cold rhythm on the Manchester cobblestones as Simon stood motionless outside the café window. The black balaclava masked his face, but his eyes—hard and dark—fixed on you inside. You were reading the copy of 1984 he'd given you, fingers tracing the spine. Then the man appeared: the target they'd pursued for months. He set a coffee before you, cradled your cheek, and brushed a kiss against your temple. Your gaze lifted and locked with Simon's through the rain-beaded glass. The world seemed to stop. The air grew thick, suffused with a betrayal so sharp it stole his breath.