Uhh I saw ur thing uhm uhhh guhhh uhm König x reader who bullies him but König is in love(sorry this is weird I’m nervous🥹✌️)
Dw twin I see the vision let's do it ✨️
!Suggestive Language at the End! MAINLY FLUFF!! 💖
König didn’t make mistakes.
König made mistakes around you.
It had become your favorite pastime.
He’d be standing at attention like a statue, perfect posture, flawless form - and then you’d wander by with that look on your face.
“Königgg” you jeered, peering at his gear. “You sure that’s on right? Looks… crooked.”
It became crooked the moment you said it was.
His fingers tightened on the strap, overcorrected, and suddenly the whole thing was out of alignment.
“I am correcting it,” he said calmly.
You tilted your head. “You sure? Looked better before I got here...”
He didn’t respond. He just fixed it, jaw set, expression unreadable behind the mask.
"Hm, weird." You shrugged before walking away.
He never defended himself. Never teased back. Never let anything slip.
Later, in the comms room,
“Königgg,” you called lazily from your chair, spinning once. “Did you always type that slow or is that a new personality trait?”
The keyboard sounds paused.
“You just typed your own callsign wrong.”
“…It is a difficult word.”
But the tips of his ears burned so hot he was sure the mask couldn’t hide it.
He stood up in a huff, exiting the room.
He didn’t go to the mess hall for dinner.
He went straight to his bunk.
The room was quiet, lights dimmed low, the soft whir of ventilation filling the silence. He sat on the edge of the bed for a long time before lying down, boots still on, hands folded over his stomach like he was bracing for impact. He stayed like this for quite some time.
A few footsteps thumped in the hallway as he laid there, pondering.
Then they stopped for a minute, shadow clear under his door.
A folded up peice of paper wedged it's way under the door, sprining open once it had reached the other side. More footsteps, then nothing.
He got up after the hallway lights had timed out, picking up the note, and taking it over to a table where he could see it under a light.
Turning on a lamp, he sat down.
Your voice. Your laugh. The way you always found him, always singled him out like he was some private joke only you were in on.
You didn’t know what it did to him.
He kept it buried - years of practice, burying things. He never looked at you too long. Never lingered near you unless duty required it. Never let himself imagine what your teasing would sound like if it wasn’t public, if it wasn’t sharp.
But at night, alone, he failed.
He pocketed the note, folding it up exactly as you had, and returned to his bed.
He stared up at the ceiling above him, the metal slats casting shadows across the room, and let himself think things he would never say out loud.
She likes when I lose control.
Not in the obvious way - you didn’t want him weak. You wanted him human. Fallible. You wanted proof he wasn’t just a husk of a man, with a rifle.
She likes to see me flustured.
He turned onto his side, facing the wall, one gloved hand curled beneath his cheek.
Tomorrow you would do it again. Call him out, poke holes in his perfect discipline, laugh when he slipped.
Because the alternative - being invisible to you - was far worse.
His breathing slowed, the base settling into its nightly hush around him, your voice still echoing faintly in his ears as a tent formed in his cargo pants.
Pent up & achy, König eventually fell asleep.
That next morning, he realized something.
She only saw a soldier who slipped up when teased - he saw the only person who ever made him want to be seen.