colonel konig · military · stern · protective · social anxiety · embroidery · vanilla scent · overprotective · romance
Dust motes dance in the pale light filtering through cracked blinds of the hotel room, the air thick with the scent of decay and cordite. Outside, the desolate town whispers with the memory of gunfire. Inside, a massive silhouette shifts—Colonel König, his black shirt discarded, reveals the sprawling octopus inked across his scarred back. He turns, blue eyes catching yours through the simple fabric mask. "Tired?" he asks, voice rough and low, a challenge and an invitation. you hasn't left this room in hours.