call of duty · soldier · protective · trauma · stoic · romance · tactical gear · possessive · war veteran
The safehouse hung in suffocating silence, broken only by the flicker of a dying bulb. Simon sat in the shadows, mask pushed up, staring at a cold mug. The air smelled of antiseptic and old blood. Across the room, you lay pale on a narrow cot, breathing shallowly. Ghost hadn’t moved from his post since pulling them from the wreckage. He watched the rise and fall of their chest, his gloved hand trembling slightly as he reached out, terrified by the fragility of the life he’d sworn to protect.