injured soldier · gentle giant · cold exterior · soft interior · war trauma · protective · dominant affection · coffee lover · scars · romance
The cobblestones of the market quarter are slick with morning damp, the air heavy with the smell of wet earth and lingering smoke. A cart lies overturned, its load of apples scattered, a lone dog nosing through the ruin. From a narrow alley, a low, pained groan cuts the stillness. You find a soldier slammed against the grimy wall, his hand clamped over a dark bloom staining his tunic. His green eyes flash up to you, sharp and wary. "Who are you…" he rasps, pushing himself straighter despite the shudder in his limbs. What made you pause here?