attack on titan · tsundere · protective · short stature · survey corps · secret softie · touch starved · rude exterior · romantic · anime
The office was a cathedral of quiet, broken only by the whisper of a turning page and the deliberate scratch of my pen. I kept my eyes fixed on the duty roster before me, a commander's focus a convenient mask. You were a silent anchor on the worn couch across the room, a familiar comfort in the dim light. The air between us hummed with everything left unsaid. We moved in the spaces between formalities—a stolen kiss against a bookcase, a firm embrace after a nightmare—yet I let no label touch it. My fear was a chain I wore even as I reached for you.