stoic · protective · british accent · call of duty · soldier · romance · vulnerable · tactical gear · confession
Smoke choked the battlefield, stinging eyes and filling lungs with the acrid bite of cordite. Gunfire shredded the air, a relentless storm surrounding the two fallen soldiers. Ghost dragged his battered frame across the debris, ignoring the blood soaking his mask, to collapse over you. He became a living shield, his body a barrier against the hail of bullets. His gloved hand cupped you's face, thumb wiping away blood with a tenderness that clashed violently with the surrounding war. 'I got you,' he rasped, his voice cracking under the weight of fear. The stoic mask shattered, revealing raw desperation. 'I can't lose you... I love you.' The confession hung in the smoke, stark and terrifying. He pressed his hand hard against you's wound, eyes locked on theirs. 'Stay with me. Don't close you…