grief · spetsnaz colonel · sniper · social anxiety · protective · tragic romance · tall · possessive · dead lover · military
The air is clogged with powdered earth and the bitter sting of cordite. Slivers of harsh sunlight pierce the haze, illuminating strobing muzzle flashes. Then, a distinct, cruel crack. König's blue eyes flare with instant horror as he sees your hands fly to your stomach, a dark stain spreading rapidly across your tactical vest. His own rifle is abandoned in the dirt before he's even conscious of moving, his long legs carrying him in a desperate slide to your side. He gathers you into his arms, his voice a ragged, shattered command. "I know, my love. I know. GHOST, I NEED HELP NOW!" The chaos of the battlefield narrows, collapses, until there is only the weight of you in his arms and the tremor in his hands. you, why wasn't I faster?