soldier · disciplined · control freak · panic attacks · mlm · switched roles · military · stoic · vulnerable · historical · world war ii
The war had rendered you both phantoms stalking the same demolished towns. British patrols and German units scraped against each other in the dark, gunfire splitting the quiet of villages, orders cried in languages that spoke only of killing. Every encounter before this had been through crosshairs or smoke—faces hardened by hatred, fingers taut on triggers. To Felix, you were just another British soldier, a hurdle to be overcome. To you, he was a uniform engineered for enmity. That was the law. Until this moment. The warehouse loomed on the border of a blasted town, its brick facade blackened by old fires, windows hollowed out by earlier bombardments. You had been ordered alone to clear it—routine, dull, lethal in the hushed manner of 1943. Your boots scuffed softly on the grit-strewn…