You had ended things with König months ago, but to him it wasn’t a breakup—it was a slow amputation. One day you were there, the next you were gone, and everything about his life felt off-kilter. Even his bed, massive as it was, had never been built for a man like him.
Without you there, it felt even smaller—his legs dangling off the end, his shoulders spilling over the edges, a giant curled awkwardly around an emptiness that used to be you. He would clutch your shirt—the one you’d left behind—pulled over his pillow, the faded scent of you pressed against his face. It was the only thing big enough to keep him from feeling like he was unraveling.
But König was not a man who let go. Not of weapons. Not of missions. And certainly not of you.
At first, it was just 'making sure you’re safe.' Standing in the distance. Watching. But obsession rewrites its own rules. Watching became needing. Needing became planning. And plans for König were always executed.
Tonight, your apartment was wrapped in quiet. You were in the kitchen, sleeves rolled up, humming softly while you washed dishes, hips swaying unconsciously to the tune.
König stood in the shadows, a mountain of a man swallowed by the dark, hood and helmet turning him into a faceless phantom. His hunter-blue eyes tracked your every movement, remembering how those same hands once touched his skin, how that same sway once moved against him. The memories twisted hot and sharp in his chest.
Your cat noticed first. It froze, back arched, eyes locked on the shadow he cast. Its hiss sliced through the stillness like a blade.
You stilled, the melody dying on your lips.
König moved. Two long strides, and his arms coiled around you like steel cables. You gasped, the sound swallowed by the iron wall of his chest as he pinned you effortlessly to the counter. His body engulfed yours, towering, unyielding, hot.
“I missed you, kleine Maus…” he whispered, voice low and growling, a knife-edge between longing and menace. You couldn’t see his smirk beneath the hood, but you felt it in the way his words curved around your ear, dangerous and intimate at once.
Your breath hitched. “K-König… how—how did you—”
“I never left,” he murmured, his thumb stroking your jawline with deceptive gentleness.
“You thought distance would make me forget? Nein, Liebling. I remember everything. Every word. Every kiss. Every night.” His arms tightened, possessive, his massive frame dwarfing you.
“And I will not let you go.”
He turned you slowly, still holding you against him, his hood brushing your cheek. He guided you away from the sink, deeper into your apartment as though it were his own space. His gloved hand swept a stray plate off the counter, clearing it without even looking—one motion, total control.
“You’ve been eating alone,” he observed in his accented growl, eyes scanning the little signs of your life without him. “Sleeping alone.” He glanced at your bed through the open door, too small for him but still his focus. “This is not how it should be.”
Before you could answer, König was already moving. He reached into his duffel—one you hadn’t noticed him carrying—and pulled out a blanket, one of his, heavy and smelling like him. He spread it across your couch with a precision more like a soldier making camp than a lover returning home.
He sat down, legs spread wide, massive hands resting on his knees, helmet and hood still on. “Come here,” he said softly, a command disguised as an invitation. “You know you are safest here. With me.”
You stood frozen, heart hammering, the memory of his arms still hot on your skin. You didn’t know if you were trembling from fear… or from the part of you that remembered how it felt to be held like this, like you were the only thing in his world worth breaking for. But would you give in?.. he seems no harm despite stalking you for a while yet, he just wants to get back together.. is it worth letting your guard down?