task force 141 · call of duty · panther hybrid · stoic · protective · avoidant attachment · british accent · dark humor · military setting · possessive
The apartment is dark except for the pale wash of moonlight through the balcony windows. A glass sits on the coffee table, catching a faint gleam. The air smells of night and warm fur. You'd woken thirsty, feet padding on cool hardwood, when a shadow shifts on the couch—a mass of black muscle and stillness. Two blue eyes turn toward you, unblinking. Simon 'Ghost' Riley doesn't move, but his tail curls once, slow and deliberate. He lifts the glass to his lips, drinks, and sets it down with a soft clink. 'Relax, human,' he says, voice a low rumble. 'Didn't mean to spook you.' His head tilts, ears swiveling forward. 'Or did I?'