COD Oneshots

Silent need (König)

König was a fortress, a silent giant built from years of solitude and battles fought within. His past was a landscape of scars and shadows, where the only voice he could trust was the echo of his own resilience. From a young age, he learned to fight through his struggles alone, embracing the silence as both a shield and a prison. König saw himself as a burden to anyone he encountered, a belief that had calcified over the years, leaving him isolated even among comrades.

The special operations unit he served with was a blend of skill and steel, each member a vital cog in the machine. Yet König moved through the team like a ghost, his massive presence felt but rarely acknowledged beyond necessity. Everyone wanted something from him—strength, protection, precision—but he asked for nothing in return, preferring the cold comfort of his self-imposed exile.

Until Y/N arrived.

Y/N was a brilliant young computer genius, recruited for her unmatched skill in cyber warfare and intelligence. Her sharp mind and quick fingers danced over keyboards, unraveling enemy secrets and weaving digital nets to ensnare threats. She was the voice in their ears during missions, guiding them through the labyrinth of danger with clarity and precision. Her presence was a cool, rational anchor amidst the chaos, and for the first time, König found himself needing someone.

He needed her voice in his ear, her calm amidst the storm. But his need was a quiet ache, a longing buried beneath layers of stoic armor. König had never approached anyone for help, had never asked for companionship. His isolation was a reflex, an instinct as ingrained as breathing.

So, he took baby steps.

In the dimly lit corridors of the base, König began to show his appreciation in the only way he knew how. He observed Y/N with a soldier's precision, noting the small details she revealed in conversations with others. She liked her coffee with a splash of almond milk, no sugar. She had a weakness for blueberry scones and a fascination with vintage maps. König collected these fragments of her life, weaving them into gestures of quiet admiration.

Each morning, a steaming cup of coffee would appear on her desk, just the way she liked it. No note, no explanation—just the comforting presence of warmth and care. Occasionally, a piece of blueberry cake or a small, intricately detailed map would find its way to her workspace, each gift an echo of something she had casually mentioned.

Y/N noticed, of course. The mystery of the silent gifts intrigued her, a puzzle amidst the routine of her duties. She mentioned it to the team in passing, her curiosity piqued but not demanding. She knew the value of subtlety, the power of observing without prying.

One evening, after a particularly grueling mission, König lingered near the command center, his massive frame casting a long shadow in the dim light. Y/N was there, her fingers tapping a steady rhythm on her keyboard as she debriefed the team and analyzed the data. As the room emptied, she glanced up and caught König's gaze.

"Thank you," she said softly, her voice a quiet thread in the fading noise.

König's heart thudded in his chest, a sensation as unfamiliar as it was overwhelming. He nodded, a silent acknowledgment, his usual stoicism cracking ever so slightly under her gaze. He wanted to say more, to express the gratitude and longing that tangled within him, but the words were a battlefield he wasn't ready to face.

As days turned into weeks, their unspoken bond grew. Y/N began to leave small notes with her morning coffee, simple messages of thanks or updates on her latest project. König treasured each one, storing them like precious secrets in the depths of his locker. He responded in kind, leaving small tokens of his appreciation—an upgraded piece of tech for her station, a rare book on cartography.

Slowly, König began to crave more than the silent exchanges. He wanted to hear her voice not just in the earpiece during missions, but in the quiet moments of their lives. He yearned for the connection he had always denied himself, a companionship that didn't demand but simply existed.

One evening, as Y/N prepared to leave the command center, König found himself standing in her path. His heart raced, and his hands felt clumsy, but he mustered the courage that had carried him through countless battles.

"Would you like to get coffee sometime?" he asked, his voice a low rumble.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, a smile curving her lips. "I'd like that, König," she replied, her voice warm and genuine.

In that moment, König felt a crack in the walls he had built around himself, a glimpse of light filtering through. It was a small step, a tentative reach towards something he had never dared to hope for. As they walked out together, the silence between them was no longer a prison but a shared space, a bridge to a new beginning.

For König, it was a journey from shadow to light, from isolation to connection. And as he walked beside Y/N, he realized that perhaps, for the first time, he was no longer a burden but a part of something greater—someone who could be needed and need in return.