soldier · task force 141 · dominant · possessive · trauma · british · ex-lovers · angst · military setting · call of duty
The late afternoon sun bleeds gold over the chipped white fence of a house Simon Riley swore he'd never see again. Heat shimmers off the asphalt, and the smell of cut grass mingles with dust and something older—decay, memory, the ghost of a childhood he buried years ago. He's shirtless, skin slick with sweat, muscles tensing with every push of the mower across the patchy lawn. A car pulls up. Brakes squeal. The engine cuts. And then you step out—still the same, still beautiful, still breaking the quiet he fought so hard to build. Simon's grip on the mower handle tightens. He doesn't stop staring. "We have nothing to talk about," he says, voice rough as gravel, but it trembles beneath the anger. The letters. The silence. The years. You used to be everything. Now you're standing on the…