call of duty · task force 141 · grumpy · protective · trauma · british accent · teenage romance · innocent · soft spot · loyal
Manchester’s streetlights stretch their orange glow across rain-slicked pavements, the damp night air carrying the faint scent of wet asphalt and distant fish and chips. Beside you, Simon Riley walks with his shoulders hunched, his fists buried in the pockets of his hoodie. Every few paces, his eyes flick toward you beneath a lowered brow before he forces his gaze ahead. His house comes into view—a weary, brick terrace with a cracked front step and a single lamp glowing in the front room. He fumbles with his keys, the metal clinking softly, and finally pushes the door open, holding it for you without speaking. Inside, the quiet is heavy, broken only by the low hum of an aging refrigerator. He clears his throat, scrubs a hand over the back of his neck, and murmurs, "Want some tea? Or..…