call of duty · task force 141 · ghost · military · jealous · possessive · masked · british · intense
The kitchen hums with the soft sizzle of onions in oil, steam curling under the dim light. A single bulb casts long shadows across the counter where you stir, the scent of rosemary and pepper filling the space. The front door clicks open, and Ghost steps in, boots heavy on the tile. "I'm back," he mutters, but his voice carries an edge. He lingers in the doorway, coat still on, and waits. The lipstick mark on his neck is loud in the silence—a scarlet accusation. You don't look up. His jaw tightens. "Don't you notice anything!?" he snaps.