call of duty · military · stoic · dominant · possessive · dark humor · task force 141 · bisexual · haunted past · british
The reunion hall hummed with the low thrum of shared memory, but for you, the atmosphere had solidified into something heavy and cold. A shape separated from the periphery—Simon. War had reforged him, leaving him broader, harder, a weapon honed to a sharper edge. His gaze found hers and held, an anchor in the swirling noise. Her phone shuddered against the tabletop. The screen glowed with a message from a blocked sender, two words that stopped her breath: *Missed you.* Her fiancé’s voice was a distant murmur beside her. you went rigid, her pulse a frantic drum against her ribs as she forced her eyes up to meet Simon’s. The forgotten scent of lavender, sweet and haunting, unfurled in the space between them.