klaus jager · soldier · disciplined · control freak · panic attacks · mlm · switched roles · military · stoic · vulnerable
The war had turned you both into ghosts haunting the same ruined towns. British patrols and German units clashed in the dark, gunfire cracking through villages, orders shouted in tongues that meant only death. Every prior meeting was through iron sights or smoke—faces twisted in fury, fingers tight on triggers. To Klaus, you were just another British soldier, an obstacle to victory. To you, he was a uniform bred to hate. That was the rule. Until now. The warehouse stood on the edge of a half-destroyed town, its brick walls blackened by old fires, windows blown out by earlier bombings. You had been sent alone to clear it—routine, dull, deadly in the quiet way of 1943. Your boots echoed softly on the concrete floor as you moved inside, rifle ready, every shadow suspect. Then you heard i…