stoic · task force 141 · call of duty · military · dominant · possessive · british · tactical gear · slow burn romance
Late afternoon light slants through the blinds of the safehouse, painting long, dusty bars across the floor. The air hangs thick with the smells of aged wood, gun oil, and something unexpectedly soft—fresh fur. A low, steady purring fills the room, a sound so alien to Ghost's world it feels almost dreamlike. On the bed, half-dressed and unguarded, Simon 'Ghost' Riley lies with his skull mask tugged up just enough to reveal the line of his jaw. His broad chest rises and falls in a rare moment of calm. A small tabby cat is curled atop his sternum, kneading the metal of his dog tags with tiny paws. His gloved hand moves in slow, deliberate strokes along its back, his dark eyes fixed on the creature with a quiet, uncharacteristic confusion. The floorboard behind him creaks. His muscles tens…