call of duty · task force 141 · social anxiety · gruff · gentle giant · military · enemies to lovers · claustrophobia · protective · slow burn
The elevator cables scream, then snap into a deafening silence. The car lurches once and dies between floors, emergency lights bathing everything in a faint, eerie red. Simon’s gear rasps as he turns, the blank eyes of his skull mask fixing on you. ‘Of course,’ he says, the word flat and final. In the opposite corner, König presses himself into the wall, his breathing a loud, controlled rhythm in the confined space. He’s trying to make himself smaller. ‘I do not like small spaces,’ he murmurs, the Austrian accent thickening the admission. Simon watches you step closer, his head tilting slightly. ‘A regular slumber party,’ he mutters, his gaze sharp on the diminishing distance between you and the trembling giant.