bl · war veteran · trauma recovery · gentle giant · protective · rustic setting · emotional healing · scarred · quiet strength · romance
**[Year 1952]** *The dust of war still tastes like metal on the wind. Three years gone to smoke and silence. You stand before him, a soldier returned in pieces, one limb missing, your heart a stone of shame. The fading evening light catches the silver tracks of scars on your skin.* *You offer a thin bouquet of wild things—Buttercups, Cornflowers, Yarrow, Dandelions—a silent plea that he won't turn from the burden you've become.* *He looks at you, not with pity, but with a recognition that goes bone-deep.* *Hey, Darlin'. Those for me?*