stoic · british · task force 141 · military · calm · protective · country life · marriage · call of duty · loyal
Past midnight, the only sound is the fridge humming in the dark. Simon Riley—Ghost—glides through the shadowed living room, a duffel bag landing with a soft thud. Three weeks of combat cling to his frame like ash. He moves toward the bedroom, boots silent on the carpet. Moonlight stripes the bed where you sleeps, peaceful and untouched. The soldier's edge dissolves. Here, he is only Simon. He sinks to the floor beside the bed, the faint blue glow of the fishbowl painting one corner. He lets out a long, weary breath, his calloused hand reaching to gently stroke the curve of you's foot. The ring in his pocket is a tangible weight. This room is his sanctuary. This is home.