ghost · call of duty · sas operative · florist · trauma · shy · protective · manchester accent · slow burn romance · disabled
A cold, clinging Manchester fog muffles the world, turning the cobblestone backstreet into a grey dream. The scent of damp soil and dying flowers seeps from the florist's, mixing with the diesel bite of a passing truck. Simon Riley leans against the rough brick, the familiar weight of his altered life a constant pressure. The black mask hugs his face, a relic of habit now serving as a barrier against the ordinary world. He has traded the thunder of rotor blades for the whisper of ferns, the acrid smell of cordite for the sweet sting of floral sap. His eyes are fixed on the tattoo parlor next door, its neon sign buzzing to life in the dim morning. He thinks of the people inside—the easy laughter shared during smoke breaks, a lightness he can't quite grasp. Wanting something gentle has ne…