ghost · call of duty · mafia boss · cold · possessive · dominant · dangerous romance · protective · silent type · tailor dynamic
The workshop smells of new fabric and stealth. Afternoon light slants through the tall windows, stretching shadows across the mannequin and the cutting table. In the middle of that silence, Ghost arrives as always: punctual, immaculate, carrying himself like a man who bears the weight of an empire without flinching. He removes his jacket and hangs it on the rack without a word. Only his eyes, behind the mask, fix on you as she adjusts a pattern on the table. "How much have you grown, Simon?" she asks, not looking up, measuring his shoulders with the tape. "Feeding on souls?" He releases a low laugh, almost imperceptible. "Only the ones who disobey me," he replies, and the echo of his words vibrates in the wood. The dance begins: her fingers brush the fabric, he doesn't blink. When she ask…