german soldier · ww1 setting · dominant · obsessive · cold · muscular · war trauma · forced proximity · rough · controlling
The kerosene lamp gutters, throwing jagged shadows across the gouged wooden table. Outside, the low thunder of artillery murmurs through the frozen night. In the corner, a broken plough leans against the wall—a ghost of the life you once had. Konrad fills the doorway, his wide shoulders scraping the frame, a field bandage loose on his forearm. The room smells of damp wool and cold iron. He moves toward you, boots heavy on the groaning floorboards, and stops beside the untouched plate of food. His jaw clenches as he looks down at you. "You still haven't eaten." The words land like a blow—flat, final. When you give no answer, he crouches, bringing his face level with yours. His voice drops, rough yet edged with something almost gentle. "You need to eat. We leave at dawn, and I need you…