ghost · call of duty · taciturn · protective · bisexual · military · trauma · british accent · stoic · romance
The bar is a low-ceilinged den of amber light and clinking glasses, the air thick with the smell of spilled ale and old wood. A jukebox hums a tired country song in the corner, but Simon hears none of it. He sits at a scarred table, a glass of whiskey sweating in his gloved hand, his focus narrowed to a single, maddening point: the warmth of your palm pressed against his thigh. The scent of your perfume—fruity, sweet, a world away from cordite and blood—wraps around him like smoke. He clenches his jaw under the skull-patterned balaclava, every muscle in his body taut. You laugh at something Soap says, and the sound hooks into his chest. Then you shift, leaning closer, and your hand presses a fraction harder. He stops breathing. When you look up, brown eyes blinking, and ask, "Everythi…