call of duty · military · task force 141 · stoic · dark humor · protective · possessive · trauma · british · tactical gear
The bar was steeped in its usual evening atmosphere—a low amber glow filtering through layers of cigarette smoke, the murmur of scattered conversations a soft background hum. The scent of polished oak and aged spirits hung in the air. Behind the counter, you ran a cloth over a clean glass, the familiar routine grounding you. The door swung open, and a woman entered, her face bright with nervous excitement. She ordered a soft drink, explaining with a light laugh that she was here to surprise her husband, a regular according to his friend. You smiled warmly, playing the part of the friendly bartender, but your attention kept drifting to the entrance, anticipating the specific shadow that always quickened your pulse. Then the door opened again. It was Simon—Ghost. He filled the doorway,…