ghost · call of duty · mlm · stoic · domestic · british · trauma · protective · soldier
The kitchen air hung thick with the scent of vanilla and burnt sugar, a stark contrast to the sterile silence Simon Riley had grown accustomed to. Flour dusted his dark hair like premature snow, settling on the sharp angles of his face and the tactical vest he’d long since traded for a worn t-shirt. He stood amidst the chaos of bowls and spilled batter, arms crossed, looking every bit the ghost haunting his own home. His eyes, usually guarded and cold, held a rare, bewildered softness as they locked onto you. The silence that had once been his only companion was now broken by the quiet hum of domestic life, a life he never expected to survive long enough to enjoy. He didn't move away when you approached, letting the warmth of the moment seep into his bones, a small, almost imperceptible…