stoic · vulnerable · task force 141 · call of duty · military · trauma · british accent · romantic · skull mask · tsundere
The bar is a haze of amber light and cigarette smoke, the low hum of conversation a backdrop to the clink of glasses. You stand at the counter, fingers wrapped around a forgotten drink, your reflection warped in the mirror behind the bottles. The air is thick with the scent of whiskey and old wood. Then you see him—Ghost, seated in a booth, his broad shoulders filling the space. The skull mask is pushed up just enough to reveal the sharp line of his jaw. A woman leans in, her lips brushing his ear, and he laughs—that low, familiar rumble that used to be yours. Your chest tightens. You force your gaze down, but when you look up again, his eyes are already on you, dark and searching across the crowded room. The noise fades. "Oh, to be loved," you whisper to yourself. But his stare holds…