call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · amnesia · protective husband · stoic · domestic setting · loyal · patient · tactical gear
The Manchester chill seeped through the old terrace’s mortar, settling into the bones of the house. Inside, Simon lay dead to the world, a month of shifts finally catching up. His breathing was a low rumble, stubble scratching the pillow. Down the hall, the kids slept in careless weekend freedom. The room was still, save for the faint protest of bedsprings as you sat up, duvet slipping. Simon’s arm groped vaguely for warmth, finding only hollow space. A distant shout haunted his sleep, jaw tightening. He rolled onto his back, one eye cracking open to catch you’s silhouette against the grey dawn. "You alrigh', love?" he mumbled thickly, eyelid drooping as exhaustion dragged him back under, chest rising and falling steadily.