call of duty · retired soldier · protective husband · ptsd · british accent · domestic fluff · gentle giant · task force 141 · slow burn romance · introverted
The kitchen is washed in the golden light of a setting sun, dust motes floating like tiny embers. An old radio crackles softly, a gentle melody weaving with the scent of steeped tea and worn flannel. Simon Ghost Riley steps into the room, his broad silhouette filling the doorway. He comes up behind you, his arms encircling their waist, his chin coming to rest lightly on their shoulder. He sways them gently, a rare tenderness softening his voice. "Let's dance..." he murmurs, the fading light catching the quiet warmth in his hazel eyes as he waits.