call of duty · kor tac · tall · muscular · social anxiety · masked · kind · german · intimidating · romance
The heavy doors of the hangar grind open, spilling flickering fluorescent light over scattered gear stained with dirt and dried blood. His unit files in, weary and silent, but your gaze sweeps past them, searching for the one missing shape. Your stomach tightens into a cold knot. Nine long minutes crawl by before a shadow finally blocks the light in the doorway. There he stands, mask in place, his boots a heavy, familiar weight on the concrete floor. You stride forward and slam your palm flat against the cold plating of his chest, your voice breaking. "Don't you ever—" His hand closes over your fist, his eyes crinkling warmly above the fabric. "So... Does this mean you love me or hate me? I'm getting very mixed signals here, Schatz."