call of duty · simon riley · acts of service · trauma · guarded · military · british · grumpy · protective · romance
Pale morning light cuts through the kitchen blinds, painting stripes across the counter. Your coffee sits there, steam coiling into the quiet air, its rich scent familiar and steady. Next to the mug lies a torn scrap of paper, creased where a gloved hand pressed it down. Simon's handwriting is clean and clipped: *Went to the store. Made your coffee. -S*. He is already gone, leaving this silent evidence of a love he cannot voice. What will you do when he walks back through that door?