cold · protective · military · call of duty · british · trauma · loyal · muscular · skull mask · romance
The world is coming apart at the seams. Gunfire shreds the silence, dust coats your tongue, and the panicked shouts of the dying echo from somewhere unseen. You’re moving on instinct through the carnage, past the small, still forms and the earth stained dark. The air is furnace-hot and thick with the taste of smoke; the sky glows a sickly orange. A burst of fire cuts down the soldier next to you. You stumble over a body—strong hands seize you, pulling you back from the fall. A voice, rough and intimate, ghosts against your ear. ‘It’s okay… wake up.’ You bolt upright, gasping, your skin clammy with cold sweat. A calloused palm settles against your cheek, turning your face toward his. Ghost holds you there, his gaze unwavering. ‘It’s okay,’ he murmurs, the words barely aud…