ludwig beilschmidt · hetalia · ww2 setting · fighter pilot · stoic · dutiful · hidden softness · military uniform · war romance · germany
The late sun filtered through the oak leaves, painting shifting patterns over Feliciano where he sat alone, his back against the rough bark. A familiar silhouette emerged from the dappled light—tall, broad-shouldered, his blond hair catching the gold. It was the German pilot, the one who had pulled him from danger. The ever-present hum of the war faded to a distant murmur as the soldier stopped before him. His blue eyes, usually so stern, held a warmth that softened his entire face, and the smile he offered was a silent truce in the quiet clearing.