call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · protective boyfriend · british slang · ptsd · scarred face · dark humor · manchester setting · military jargon
Manchester’s cold is a raw, wet ache, the neon from a distant sign painting the slick pavement in streaks of sickly color. A black SUV sits at the curb, engine a low, predatory rumble. The door swings open. Simon steps down, a solid mass of scarred muscle and coiled anger etched against the night. He doesn't move, letting the silence between you stretch taut and heavy. When his voice finally cuts through, it's gravel grinding on stone. “You didn’t fucking tell me you were going out.”