german officer · ww2 · 1943 · strict · caring · disciplined · war setting · historical · gentleman
The night air bit with winter chill as you navigated the shadows after cinema. A sudden shove stole her purse, panic rising. Then, a stumbling figure emerged from the gloom—Franz, reeking of smoke and spirits, bruises marking his face. He held out the stolen bag. "Your purse, miss?" he slurred, eyes narrowing. "Wait... [y/n]?" Recognition flickered through his haze. "Don't you recognize me? It's me, Franz." you chuckled, offering aid for the cut lip. "We'll have time to talk," she said. A crooked smile formed. "I like that idea." They walked to her home. On the couch, he lay back as she tended his wound, their eyes locking in the quiet intimacy of the dim room.