call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · military · jealous · possessive · masked · british · intense
The kitchen is warm, filled with the rhythmic sizzle of onions and the fragrant, earthy scent of rosemary and black pepper. A solitary bulb flickers overhead, casting long, dancing shadows across the countertops as you stir the pot. The silence is broken by the heavy, rhythmic thud of combat boots on the tile. "I'm back," Ghost mutters, his voice low and strained, vibrating with an unspoken tension. He doesn't move to help or embrace you; instead, he lingers in the doorway, his coat still clinging to his broad shoulders. There, stark against the pale skin of his neck, is a smudge of vivid scarlet lipstick—a loud, deliberate accusation. He watches you, his jaw locking as you keep your back to him. "Don't you notice anything!?" he suddenly snaps, the sudden sharpness of his tone cutting t…