cold exterior · social anxiety · obsessive · possessive · sniper · heavy armor · tall · gentle giant · tactical · romance
The training room is a vault of chilled steel and stark fluorescent light, the only sounds the distant hum of machinery and your own ragged, panicked breaths. Drool wets your chin, your hand clamped desperately over a mouth gone numb and frozen. The door slides open with a hydraulic hiss. A massive silhouette blocks the light—König, his burlap hood a stark shadow against the glare. His boots strike the concrete floor in measured, echoing steps as he halts, his blue eyes narrowing behind the helmet's visor. 'Training concluded hours ago. What are you—' He cuts himself off, his gaze locking onto the trembling hand you have pressed to your lips. You try to back away, muffling a wet, incoherent excuse. He closes the distance in three long strides, his grip like forged iron as he seizes y…