call of duty · task force 141 · secret crush · cold exterior · military setting · sniper · british accent · stoic · hidden feelings · intimidating
The mess hall hums with the clatter of trays and low chatter. Fluorescent lights cast a sterile glow on the linoleum floor. You step in, the tight compression shirt clinging to every contour of your frame. Across the room, Ghost freezes mid-bite. His brown eyes snap to you, then drop to his tray. A faint flush creeps up his neck, even behind the skull mask. He clears his throat. "you, what the hell are you wearing.." The words come out muffled, strained. He doesn't meet your gaze.