COD Oneshots

The Chatterbox (König)

König was not a man of many words. His barked orders were short, precise, and unquestionable. In the field, actions spoke louder than any speech ever could. He led his team with a mixture of discipline and an unyielding determination that left no room for misunderstanding. Yet it was this very trait that made him the perfect choice for his latest mission—protecting Y/N until the threat surrounding her was eliminated.

The mission had gone smoother than expected. They had managed to free the target, Y/N, from her captors and bring her to a safe location deep within the woods, in a small, fortified cabin. Now, König's task was to stay by her side, ensuring her safety until the enemy was neutralized.

Y/N, a lively and talkative woman, was a stark contrast to the stoic soldier. She had a remarkable ability to find something to talk about, even in the midst of chaos. König couldn't fathom how she maintained her upbeat demeanor while the war raged on around them. At first, her ceaseless chatter grated on his nerves. He was a man of silence, of efficiency, and her endless flow of words felt like a relentless assault on his peace of mind.

"Do you think birds get confused when they migrate? I mean, what if they just get lost one day and end up in the wrong country?" Y/N would wonder aloud while they secured the perimeter.

König would respond with a terse, "Stay focused."

Or she'd muse, "You know, I've always wanted to learn how to make a proper soufflé. Maybe when this is over, I'll give it a try. Have you ever had a soufflé, König?"

To which he'd simply grunt and continue his vigil, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of danger.

His frustration was evident, though he never voiced it. He didn't have to; his body language said it all. König's shoulders would tense, and he'd emit an audible sigh every time Y/N launched into another monologue about her favorite childhood games or her theories on why people were fascinated by true crime stories.

But as days passed, a peculiar thing happened. König found himself listening. Really listening. Behind his mask, a faint smile would occasionally tug at his lips as Y/N recounted a particularly amusing anecdote or made an oddly insightful observation about life. Her voice, which once seemed like a barrage of unnecessary noise, began to blend into the background of his mind, providing a strange sort of comfort amidst the harsh reality of their situation.

It was almost... soothing.

Then, one morning, Y/N got up and barely spoke a word to him. She moved about the cabin with an air of subdued resignation, occasionally casting furtive glances his way but never engaging him in conversation. The silence, once so coveted, now felt oppressive. It was as if a vital part of the day's rhythm had been stripped away, leaving a disconcerting void.

König found himself missing her chatter, the lively spark she brought into the grimness of their surroundings. He realized, much to his own astonishment, that her endless talking had become a part of his routine, something he had grown accustomed to and perhaps even appreciated in his own, silent way.

By evening, König could take it no longer. He approached Y/N, his usually formidable presence softened by the unspoken concern in his eyes.

"Why did you stop talking?" he asked, his voice gruff but lacking its usual edge.

Y/N looked up at him, surprise flickering in her gaze. "I thought I was annoying you," she said, her voice small. "I saw how frustrated you got every time I talked, and I just... I didn't want to make things worse."

König sighed, a rare moment of vulnerability passing between them. "You weren't annoying me," he admitted, his tone gentler than she'd ever heard it. "I'm not used to... this. Talking. It's just... different."

A hesitant smile crept onto Y/N's face. "Different isn't always bad, you know."

König nodded, his eyes softening behind the mask. "I know that now."

Y/N's grin widened, the weight lifting from her shoulders. "So... do you think birds get confused when they migrate?"

König chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that surprised even him. "Maybe they do," he replied, his voice warm. "But they always find their way in the end."

As they settled into their posts for the night, the air was filled once more with Y/N's cheerful chatter, and König found himself listening, a small smile hidden beneath his mask. He had learned that in the heart of a war, sometimes, it was the unexpected voices that provided the greatest solace.