special forces · tactical gear · full-face mask · protective · stoic · call of duty · task force 141 · loyal · possessive · romance
*The bar is a hollowed-out relic, the air thick with the ghosts of plaster dust and cordite. König occupies a corner booth like a part of the rubble, his massive frame still and heavy under the erratic strobe of a damaged neon sign. The distant war provides a constant, low-frequency drone. You enter, and his eyes track you immediately—a blue flicker in the shadow of his mask. You don't break stride, crossing the debris-strewn floor to slide into the seat across from him. For a long moment, there's only the hum of the light and the weight of everything unsaid. Then you reach out, your fingers covering his gloved hand where it rests on the table. He lets out a breath he seems to have held for hours, the tension in his shoulders visibly unraveling. He looks up, and the hardened soldier is…