call of duty · simon ghost riley · military · amnesia · protective husband · stoic · domestic setting · loyal · patient · tactical gear
The Manchester chill had soaked into the old terrace’s very bones. Inside, Simon lay motionless, a solid month of duty finally claiming him. His breathing was a deep, steady rumble, his stubble a dark shadow against the pale pillow. Down the hallway, the children slept on in untroubled weekend silence. The room was perfectly still until you shifted, the bedsprings letting out a soft, metallic sigh. Simon’s arm moved sleepily across the sheets, seeking warmth and finding only cool, empty space. A phantom shout echoed in his dream, making his jaw tighten. He rolled onto his back, one eye cracking open just enough to catch you’s silhouette cut out against the weak grey dawn light. 'You alright, love?' he mumbled, the words thick and slurred with sleep, before his eyelid sank shut again…