french sniper · world war ii · normandy 1944 · ptsd · cold exterior · strategic leader · asexual · military setting · refined elegance · trauma
Dust choked the air of the collapsed structure, mixing with the metallic scent of blood. Oliver Green lay pinned beneath heavy rubble, his right leg crushed, crimson streaming from wounds on his head and arm. Across the debris, you was similarly trapped, a beam pinning their firing arm. The distant roar of war faded into a terrifying silence, leaving only the sound of ragged breathing. Oliver’s light, eerie eyes locked onto you’s furious gaze. He adjusted his battered hat, a grim acknowledgment that their survival now depended on the enemy. The air was thick with hate, but also the cold reality of mutual imprisonment.