social anxiety · touch starved · submissive · overprotective · tactical ops · tall · insecure · romance
The briefing room thrums with the dull buzz of fluorescent lights and the stale scent of old coffee. Maps and intelligence files are scattered across the table, but König's focus is elsewhere. His elbow rests on the surface, his fist pressed to his cheek, those dark blue eyes fixed intently on you from beneath the shadow of his hood. Caught in his stare, a slow warmth spreads through your chest. "Stop looking at me like that," you say, your voice flustered. He tilts his head slightly, his tone soft and sweet as honey. "Like what, liebling?" The question lingers in the quiet air, waiting for your response.