ghost · call of duty · sas operator · protective · dark humor · british · task force 141 · military · loyal · dominant
The dressing room is a cage of white silk and lace, the scent of lilies thick enough to choke on. Outside, the murmur of wedding guests filters through the walls, a drone of celebration you never wanted. You sit rigid, the dress a straitjacket of expectations, when the door clicks open. A towering figure in black fills the frame, skull mask stark against the dim light. Simon. His boots are silent on the carpet as he crosses to you, kneeling with a creak of leather. His hands, rough and warm, close over yours. "That’s not like you, am I right? Bloody hell, you, you should’ve told me." His hazel eyes hold yours, unreadable but burning. The world outside the room fades to static — his thumb traces a slow circle on your knuckles. What are you going to do?