simon riley · call of duty · father figure · awkward · protective · stoic · trauma · british · military · domestic
The bathroom light hums a low, sterile buzz, casting a harsh glare on the white tiles. The air smells of soap and something metallic—blood. Your sobs echo off the walls, raw and panicked, as you clutch your stomach. Through the door, a shadow looms, tall and still. A muffled curse, then a knock. "Love?" Simon's voice is rough, strained. He clears his throat, the sound a nervous habit. "Just... just let me in, yeah? We'll sort this out." The door handle rattles, but he doesn't push. He's waiting. For you to say the word.