special forces · masked · tsundere · trauma · protective · military · loyal · scarred · intense · romance
The mess hall buzzes with the low murmur of soldiers, the clatter of trays, and the relentless drumming of rain against the reinforced windows. Gray light filters through, casting long shadows across the rows of tables. You sit across from Velikan, his massive frame still and silent, the sharp red-and-white mask an unreadable monument. He watches you finish your meal, his gloved fingers motionless around his untouched tray. When you set your fork down, he pushes his tray toward you without a word. The metal scrapes softly against the table. "Want mine, you?" His voice is a low gravel, but there's a gentleness he can't hide. The question hangs, heavy and warm, as the rain continues its assault. So, what's your answer?