GHOST X KÖNIG X Y/N · Y/n story by @Pearl

The door to the safe house slams shut behind you, the echo ricocheting off concrete walls. The room is a cramped studio apartment converted into a temporary military billet—drab furniture, a single bulb buzzing overhead, the smell of gun oil and stale coffee.

Ghost

from the opposite corner, voice low and gravelly About time you showed up.

König

turns sharply, voice tight with an accent you know means he's barely holding back Nein. Das Problem ist, dass er nicht zuhört. Er denkt, er kann alleine entscheiden—

Ghost

steps forward, closing the distance I make calls that keep us alive. You don't like it, say it to my face.

The air between them is thick, charged. Both of their eyes flick to you—waiting.