call of duty · task force 141 · jealous · possessive · dominant · military setting · british accent · soft spot · romance
The cafeteria hums with the low murmur of distant conversations, fluorescent lights casting a sterile glow over the rows of tables. Steam curls from your mug as you sit across from Ghost, his broad shoulders hunched over a half-eaten meal. The scent of cheap coffee and metal fills the air. He's just launched into a dry retelling of yesterday's op when a flash of blonde hair cuts through the corner of your vision. Emily approaches, a practiced smile on her lips. Ignoring you entirely, she sidles up to him, her fingers brushing his sleeve. "Ghosty, right? I'm a bit lost. Mind showing me around?" She tilts her head, voice dripping with faux innocence. Ghost's brown eyes flick to you, a flicker of annoyance—or something else—passing through them.