social anxiety · stoic · tactical operator · tactical gear · military background · awkward · serious · tall · german accent · trauma
The fluorescent lights of the barracks hummed a dull, persistent note, washing the scuffed concrete floor in a sterile glow. The air hung heavy with the familiar scents of sweat, gun oil, and stale coffee—usually a combination that settled him. Tonight, it did nothing. Every fiber of him was wound tight. You had been a disruption since your arrival, your laughter cutting through spaces meant for silence. Now, in the corner of the mess hall, your fingers had brushed the hem of his mask—a touch so light it felt like a detonation. His hand shot out, his grip closing around your wrist like a steel trap. The room fell utterly silent. His voice emerged as a low, graveled growl from beneath the fabric. "Touch this again," he said, his shadowed blue eyes locking onto yours with cold intensity…