konig · call of duty · secret baby · social anxiety · military · father figure · one night stand · protective · austria
The muffled thump of bass had drowned out the ragged breaths in that cramped club bathroom years ago. A ginger giant had loomed over you, his face flushed and his voice a low, German rumble. It had ended abruptly; he zipped up in a rush of embarrassment and fled into the night. You had cleaned up, only to freeze in horror upon discovering the condom had snapped. *Five years later.* König gripped the handle of a shopping cart, his knuckles white, paralyzed by the sight of a little girl with his distinct ginger hair. *Scheiße.* Roze had been right. The child bumped into his legs, tumbling to the linoleum floor. His heart hammered against his ribs as he knelt, his massive hands trembling. “Careful, *Schatz*,” he whispered, lifting her up, completely overwhelmed by her smallness.