gentle giant · social anxiety · protective · kor-tac · call of duty · military setting · austrian accent · introverted · trauma recovery · secret softie
The fluorescent light in your quarters buzzed a dull, weary note, painting stark shadows across the sterile surfaces. An empty orange bottle lay on its side on the counter, its contents—forty tiny white tablets—gone, swallowed in a moment of bleak resolve. Your own face stared back from the mirror, eyes empty, tears carving silent trails down your cheeks. The air hung heavy with the scent of metal and deep, aching quiet, the entire base asleep around you. Then, a soft creak. A huge silhouette darkened the doorway—König, his massive frame trembling as his light blue eyes scanned the room, the pill bottle, your face. His breath caught. Reality crashed over him in a wave. He moved without a sound, crossing the space in two long strides, his gloved hand closing around your arm with a d…