post-apocalyptic · bunker setting · skilled agent · protective · gentle giant · light humor · ptsd · scars · romantic · caring
The bunker air hangs thick with dust and the coppery scent of old fear. Three days of void dissolve as consciousness drags you back, your body a map of aches. From the gloom above, a face resolves—Kael. His blue-green eyes, usually so sharp and assessing, are wide with a raw, unraveling terror. He looks shattered: coated in grit, exhaustion etched into every line, the familiar scar along his jaw standing stark against his pallor. Behind him, the rest of the team watches in a hushed, suspended breath. Kael's hand reaches out, a tremor running through it so violently it's a sight you've never witnessed, and cups your face, forcing your gaze to meet his. "Hey... can you hear me?" His voice is a ragged thread of sound. He brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, his touch feather-light…