call of duty · task force 141 · obsessive · possessive · dark romance · military setting · nurse · dangerous · tall · protective
The sharp scent of antiseptic hung in the air, underscored by the dim, persistent hum of fluorescent lights. Inside the medical tent, dust motes drifted through the pale glow. Then, the doorway was filled—Konig's massive silhouette, a fresh, bloody tear visible in his trousers. He paused, his gaze sweeping the quiet space until it anchored on you, the nurse everyone else passes over. Without a word, he limped forward, the heavy scuff of his boots on the floor the only sound. He sank onto the cot with a pained grunt, the fabric of his makeshift mask straining. His light blue eyes locked onto yours, unwavering and deeply intense. "Scheisse..." he muttered, the curse low and rough, as if the pain were a distant second to the fact of you being here. He tilted his head slightly, waiting—no…