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simp4konig · 1 year ago

Text

König finding out that you are hard of hearing

Gender-neutral Reader

*Slow burn

Word count: ~4265

Always ignoring your Colonel, König takes it into his own hands to finally turn your attention on to him.

What he doesn't anticipate... is that you have actually been hard of hearing all along.

*‼️Mature themes**‼️ (mostly in the form of König's overly sexual[ised] fantasies and downright delusional thoughts of you). König is a MAJORRR pervert, and you're oblivious. 😋💅✨

I AM BACK!!!! 😳😳FROM THE *DEAD*!!!!! ☠️💀🧟‍♂️And ive fot a lil smth planned for you Ghost lovers ;)

*Many thanks to -—>@trepaika<;—-🤭💖✨💓💞🩷💕 for proofreading this !!😇😇 I had no energy whatsoever to read it afger typikg this out so i am so honoired that you took time out of your day/night to help mw out and it rlly means alot 🥹🥹💙💙🩵🫂💙🩵 you better do yoir fucking biologu work afterthis 😡😡

*Thabk you so much to @reyner-lee for this request!! 🥰💖💖💕 Initiallt, i was aiming for a "idiots in love" plot where König and reader are both oblivious😩😩😩 . .... made König veey mentally unstable and psosessive instead ☠️☠️💀, mb broski😇💁🏼‍♀️🧚✨🌟💫💕💞💞💕✨

no but seriouslh i didnt mean to mwke this so mature it was meant to be a FLUFFY(mayb a little bit angsty 😳) fic as ALWAYS😡😡 so im SO sorry for dekivering something COMPLETELY different to what u probs had in mindbc lets face it this is completely diffetent to whay i initially hwd in mind too LMAO😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

*Part of the KönigxKing series (drabbles with loose plot, no world-building just a collection of one-shots)

*Edited 14/10/2023 for typos

Tag List ♡ @simpforkonig ♡ @abysslovesyou ♡ @puff0o0 ☆ @rustic-guitar-notes ☆ @happy-mushrooms ♡ @reyner-lee ☆ @lotionlamp ♡ @trepaika

...

You couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when your hearing worsened.

As a soldier, heightened senses were something of a blessing, especially in high-pressure situations: a 20/20 vision, a gut feeling, or even just the ability to distinguish the most indistinguishable of sounds that others would miss was something of a life-saver.

Literally.

Hairs standing on end and goosebumps running down arms could alert a soldier — you — to an assassin sneaking behind them, hand with a knife glistening under reflected light in the dark, poised ready to slit their neck.

Instead, you could save yourself in the nick of time by executing them before they had the chance to do so.

Stealth on missions was a lifeline. To sneak in and out, to extract intel, evading all detection all the while, and to disappear when you hadn't even appeared on the enemy's radar in the first place made you breathe easier on the journey home.

The ability to hear footsteps in enclosed spaces and pinpoint the exact location of someone through a mis-step on a creaky floorboard or a squeaky door hinge was vital. Crucial. An important distinction between life or death, between success and failure.

Obviously, you were no super-soldier. In fact, your eyesight was below average — having to wear contact lenses specifically designed to be as discreet as possible so you weren't a walking lighthouse sending a signal to your postion always — and you could never separate the feelings of foreboding from the foreshadowing of what was to come, the fine line between imagination and intuition blurred.

However, hearing shuffling that others wouldn't, muffled footsteps upstairs that others couldn't, hushed voices around the corner that others would miss, gave you and your team the upper hand.

You weren't the best, but you proved damn useful, more useful than someone that could see in the dark or a person that had some omniscient sixth-sense.

At least your hearing used to be put to good use. Could have been put to good use.

Up to the point when a grenade blew off right beside you on a mission.

No time to realise, no time to react, and no time to recover from the shock, let alone alone to dive for cover, a blast flung you to the side, arms and legs flailing mid-air like a lifeless ragdoll. Time seemed to slow down, and for what felt like an eternity — mere seconds in reality — you were suspended in the air.

Body suddenly thudding on solid ground with a deep thump, you hit your head so hard against the pavement that you had thought you cracked your skull. Debris toppled over your stomach, dust making your eyes tear up and cough painfully, collapsed brick all around you.

You groaned in agony as an ear-splitting ringing inside your head nearly broke your forehead in two.

You couldn't raise your limbs, body limp and weighed down by what felt like a tonne, but could feel the thick waterfall of blood through the open wound on the side of your head; staining your uniform, streaming into your mouth, the metallic taste and smell on your tongue and in your nostrils.

Confusion, disorientation. Bewilderment.

Seeing double, figures running to and fro looked like a dozen, and panic stiffened you.

Desperate blinking eyes squinting to try and make sense of the scene before you, head spinning and unable to think clearly, struggling to lift the limbs that each weighed a tonne, all you did — all you could do — was lay there. Limp.

No one was nearby to help you, and your anxiety intensified: it was just you, and broken debris to keep you company, all noise muted aside from the high-pitched screeching.

Not much is clear from that incident after that. Memories are hazy and unclear.

All you remember are hands tapping your face, tugging your arm and willing your eyes to focus. Then, those same hands suddenly lugging you up by the scruff of your collar and slinging you over their shoulder. Finding yourself being lifted off by a helicopter, and ultimately passing out in the end.

Medics told you your ear drums were inverted, turned inside out from the force, and ear canal blocked by dust. Thankfully, all you required for the head injury were a few stitches, and you wouldn't suffer any brain damage.

Still, the news of becoming hearingly impaired made your world come crashing down.

Yes, you'd still be able to process sounds, they assured, but not as well as you used to.

An official diagnosis was made, and condolences were given to you, for there was nothing that could be done to fix your hearing. You were practically inoperable as the risk was too high, and you could go permanently deaf if the procedure was to go wrong.

You didn't reveal you having a hearing impairment to anyone — why should you, anyways? Things like this happened, and there were people in your faction that have had it worse.

Besides, it wasn't like you would be permanently deaf or anything, you reasoned, so the only thing to do was keep working.

Like you used to. All things considered you were a good shot, with good aim, with good spatial awareness and reaction times.

You could keep working, keep serving your country.

Yet you didn't work like you used to.

How intensely you stared at people, their face, eyes darting from theirs and their lips, was passed off as you being attentive.

No one would have considered that you were desperately trying to keep up with everyone else, and feeling like you were left behind. To fend for yourself as the world moved in triple speed, while you were still processing your new circumstances.

Of course, no one noticed the change.

And König, for one, sure didn't.

Completely enamored by you, he thought it foolish, really, to be so taken by a soldier, one below him in ranks and younger than him.

Yet, he admired you, was your secret admirer, and let his feelings blind him to what could have been so easy to see.

Well, to onlookers, his admiration for you was far from secret. In fact, it was obvious. Very obvious.

Initially, people joked that you were going to be reprimanded by the Colonel, taught a valuable lesson for some mishap you had committed, when you'd be pulled aside. Not a single one could have forseen König's behaviour towards you.

Stares, only strategically turning his head when you looked in his vague direction. An aura of threat, had it not been for the way his eyes sparkled. Held a particular glint that no one could pinpoint his intentions, and his needing to excuse himself to go to the restroom and not return for half an hour.

Walking behind you, guarding you at all times. Making sure he figuratively — and literally — had your back. A hand that would roam, explore, and push its limits, figuring out how low he would have to go before you broke, before you'd beg for more.

Demonstrating combat moves to you under the pretence that it would help fix your reaction times, all an excuse to be near you, to touch your mid-section and rest his hands on your body for seconds longer than necessary.

Touches that he would commit to memory, that would help him reach his climax behind closed doors at the thought of feeling your bare skin, and the feeling of your clothed body having to suffice.

No, none of it showed intent to humiliate you like they thought he would; rather, it was evident that their Colonel had taken a liking to you. Favoured you among the rest.

Obviously, no one saw the perverted nature behind your interactions, the side that König revelled in.

You always seemed to appreciate the gestures, albeit hesistantly, and would blush up to your ears and would flash him an uncertain yet award-winning smile, one that made blood rush up to his face and lower half as he wondered what other sorts of facial expressions you could be making, and whether that smile would stay if you saw his most intimate self.

However, you rarely paid him any attention afterwards. Would go on about your day, as if he wasn't even there.

Ignored him, as if he wasn't worth your time, or even your acknowledgment.

He'd attempt small-talk with you when you were on your own, trying all he could to find common ground, to keep you interested —or, butt in the conversation when someone else diverted your attention from what should have been on him — but, throughout it all, your facial expression was blank. Like you didn't even recognize him.

Eyebrows furrowed, wondering why your colleague stopped talking, you'd only come to realise that König existed when they'd nudge your side with their elbow, whispered frantically in your ear, and when you turned back around you'd jump up with seemingly exaggerated fright, blushing.

Stuttering and sputtering apologies to your superior with a bowed head, eyes avoiding his, König thought that there was a triumphant smirk that you were hiding, a strut as you walked, back turned as you flaunted your way out of the room in a mischievous manner.

Teasing, testing the waters to see how long you could go on without admitting that he was there next to you, to see how long König would last before he broke.

Oh, the things that you were doing to him.

Fury brewed in König, and he'd stew over your (his) one-sided interactions, your blatant ignorance of him, your complete disregard of him. Regarding him as not worth your time, and seemingly ignoring him with an air of superiority.

So imprudent, so rude, and such a daring little thing. So fucking naughty.

Contradicting urges of wanting to yank you by the collar into a passionate kiss in front of anyone and everyone and marking you as his in his private quarters became near impossible to contain. To put you in your place, and prove that you weren't all that that you made yourself out to be.

After all, brats like you had to be tamed, and König would not stand you demeaning his ego like that.

Reprimands from unsuspecting soldiers got harsher. Spitting at others in a rasping voice, barking commands loudly from the background. Drills became a living nightmare — everyone a target for König's relentless bullying. Sparring became relentless, and damn-near a deadly duel as he was unrelenting, remorseless.

König needed to release his pent-up frustration somehow.

König hated that his love was unreciprocated, and would be in a bad temper, stomping around the grounds looking for an inferior to abuse.

He loathed how you made him feel, yet loved what you made him feel, his feelings intensifying when you were in eyesight, and the knuckles of his fists turning white, shaking with rage as you frolicked off with some dummkopf, some piece of shit saukerl that didn't pay attention to you like he did, not considering the higher-ranking alternative.

Figuratively speaking: as, let's face it, König was the full package; and literally speaking, as he had a full package of his own to satisfy your every need, and would convert you to his lover in an instant.

You were an enigma. König couldn't read you at all, and was in internal turmoil.

Why couldn't he win you over? Were you really that high-maintenance, or playing hard to get?

You had to like him back. There was no way you weren't doing this on purpose.

Were you really that unbothered? Unbothered by his advances, not caring at all?

Or, were you really just proud, too full of yourself to pay respect to your superiors?

Really, König should have taught you a personal lesson if that had been the case, one so personal you'd learn to never disrespect him ever again, and be as respectful as a little darling as ever.

...Yet you? You couldn't have been more oblivious.

Sensing a presence in the background as you scrolled mindlessly on your phone, you only became vaguely aware of something off about König when you realised the intensity of a stranger's stare, bearing down on your neck.

Glare. König's glaring at you from afar, camouflaged in the corner by the shadow of the dimly-lit room, the few flickering light bulbs all the more unnerving.

Only in close proximity did you become aware of your Colonel, imposing even while sitting down, tall even with his being hunched over.

Accidentally meeting the eyes behind the veil draped over his face, he unapologetically took up as much space in the room as he could, back straightened to his full height and long legs wide spread apart in an act of dominance.

Those eyes pierced yours, and made you shiver, all intentions of small-talk drying in your throat and, in fear of becoming tongue-tied and losing your cool, you said nothing.

Why was he just... staring at you like that? Did you do something wrong?

It made you shudder, and you shivered, trying to shake off the ominous feeling.

Never in a million years would you have thought that König had any sexual romantic interest in you — if anything, with that grim expression you'd have thought he'd had a bone to pick with you.

He looked absolutely terrifying. A beast of a man, with penetrating eyes.

Unbeknownst to you, König was undressing you with those same eyes. Penetrating, yes, but imagining scenarios where he himself would he penetrating you.

He made himself so inviting, with the spot on his lap reserved as a seat especially for you, reclining on a chair with a head in his palm as he gazed at you in interest.

He even considered making a gesture with his hand, a beckoning finger signalling for you to "Come here", just to make it loud and clear that he was welcoming you, and wanted you exactly where he had positioned himself.

Until some soldier entered the room, saw you and hit you up, starting casual banter and exchanging sarcastic remarks, which made you laugh. The tension melting in your body, you allowed yourself to relax, and forgot about what was looming in the very same room.

To König, the man was flirting with you, and with the way you had a hand clasped over your mouth, practically swooning over the guy, it was solidified.

Grinding his teeth in frustration, he jolted upright, and the chair he was sat on was nearly flung backwards from his sudden action, a deafening screech echoing in the room.

Two pairs of eyes on him, he beckoned the man over to him:

"Come here. I have a duty for you, sergeant."

Only this time, he wasn't at all inviting, and even the man beside you knew he was in for it big time with how König's fury was seething.

"Toilettendienst, weil du ein Stück Scheiße bist."

Cackling, and a sly, venomous smile under his veil. "I'm sure you'll love it, seeing as you can't mind your own business."

Your encounters with König were terrifying, but you tried with all your might to keep them out of your mind. After all, you were still struggling to get by, so to be so on edge would only make matters for you worse.

Having people repeat what they said to you over and over again was passed off as bad signal or static over walkie-talkies, yet without being able to read their lips you were practically deaf and couldn't interpret the gargling, speech drowned by the feeling of your head being underwater.

However, you managed. Managed to keep afloat, somehow. Clung on to your life raft, despite the crashing waves of the tide that flung you from side to side.

And, lulled into a false sense of security, you were contracted for another mission.

Just like before, and on all the other missions before all the ones before your injury, all seemed to be going smoothly.

No sudden movements, no noises out of the ordinary. Nothing amiss.

Except, suffocating silence had shifted and pushed its weight down against you, swirling and following your movements as it had slowly tied a noose around you and your crew's necks, making it difficult to breathe.

But you shrugged it off. You rationalised your nerves as post-morbid jitters. No way was it a gut feeling.

It was unusual how well things were going, and was second-guessing yourself after not having had been deployed in ages.

Your guessing proved to be true, and it was a shame that you realised this too late.

Ambushed out of nowhere, bullets and blood were all that you saw; blasts and bangs were all that you heard.

No one escaped unscathed. Every single one of the operators had sustained some sort of injury, yours minor scratches compared to gaping bullet wounds, stabs in the abdomen, and broken bones.

Intense guilt plagued you for hours, days afterwards, and you were unable to look those colleagues in the eyes for days, weeks afterwards.

How could you let that happen?

Clawing up the ranks until you were finally trusted, finally deemed worthy, it shook you to your very core that you failed to forsee any of this. Failed your colleagues. Failed.

No one blamed you, because they didn't connect the dots that you were the common denominator behind both incidents, the one that catastrophically failed your allies.

König, seeing you in your most vulnerable state, pounced at the opportunity to finally confront you once and for all. To settle the doubts in his mind and come to a solid conclusion.

He wasted no time in hunting you down as you were walking, alone, a predatory look in his eyes.

At last, cornering you in a remote area where no one would interrupt, nor allow you weasle your little way out of it again:

"King."

You dropped your head, avoiding his gaze. Readying yourself for the severe scolding, being berated by König, you dropped your head, cowering below him.

"Before you say anything—" mumbling under your breath, "—I will admit this myself first."

"I... I messed up. Messed up completely on this mission. I'm— I'm so sorry for endangering your men, for nearly getting the entire crew killed. It was my fault."

König's eyes widened a little. This was the most you had ever said to him in one conversation. And you sounded so... sincere.

...Could he have had the wrong perception of you all along? Were you just... Timid? Shy? Maybe a little bit introverted even, and not one for socialising?

No, that couldn't have been right.

He needed to interrogate you, press you for information, put you under pressure. You'd break then, and he'd finally figure out the truth for himself.

"Ja," he spat shortly, voice unwavering and eyes betraying no emotions. "You did mess up. My men are all injured."

You were mortified when all you could interpret was harsh gibberish. None of the words made sense to you, and you couldn't differentiate any consonants from the syllables.

You breathed in deeply, feeling so foolish for thinking of asking this, and prepared yourself for the worst:

"Sorry, sir? Can you repeat that?"

König was the one to be bewildered this time. For a few agonisingly long moments, he needed to process what you had just said. Your request.

Finally, it sank in.

Oh, you were in for it now.

What did you mean "Sorry, sir?"?

You ignored him, have been ignoring him for all this time, and you had the gall to give him attitude?

Worst of all, to fail to pay attention when he is was scolding you?

No. König wasn't having it.

Both hands slammed against the wall above you, with such a force that even you could hear a deep crack of splintering brick.

With you trapped, he wasn't about to let you go until you learned your place.

"You're not going to say anything anything more, maus?" He leans in closer, steel-blue eyes betraying no emotion baring into yours. "Pip-squeak has lost its voice, has it? You really should learn manners."

Understanding "...going to say anything more, maus?... Pip-squeak... should learn manners" it was enough for you to understand what he was implying, and you were confused. In disbelief. Bewildered.

"S-sir, I—! "

Eyes wide, you shook your head vehemently, hands held up in protest. "—It's not like that at all! I swear!"

König quirked a brow, leaning in closer. Licked his lips inquisitively, curious to hear your defence.

"I've not... been ignoring you, sir. Never. I wouldn't ever do that..."

You trailed off, averting your gaze. "...Or, at least, consciously..."

You bit your lip. Shifting uncomfortably, your fingers fidgeted, fingernails digging into the palm of your hand. How were you going to explain this?

"Y-you see, I'm—"

Bracing yourself, you breathed in deeply.

"—I-I'm— I'm actually hard of hearing."

König blinked twice. It was his turn to be confused, and he pulled away a few inches, concentrating hard.

Seeing the blank look in his eyes, you immediately clarified:

"N-not deaf, obviously! — I suppose I can still hear, in a way — but my hearing is not good. I struggle to understand people."

A defeated sigh. "Communication is tough enough because I'm not good at reading lips yet, and..."

"...with you, it is — would — have been impossible, because of the—"

A weak gesture towards his face covering "—mask..."

An awkward pause.

"L-look sir, I'm sorry for ignoring you. Honestly, I never meant to. It's just I—"

"Never heard," König said, nodding faintly. "I understand."

He understood, alright. Understood what a moron he had been all this time.

God, what a fool he was.

All this time, concocting scenarios of finding a way to prove himself to you, of asserting his authority, of sexually frustrated evenings considering all the possibilities, all personality traits... was all one-sided pining.

Poor thing, you were just oblivious.

He couldn't blame you, and was kicking himself for viewing you as anything other than a pure soul.

If he had known this, known of your condition earlier, perhaps he wouldn't have been so frustrated, so confrontational.

Now, he had ruined all his chances with you by intimidating you out of nowhere.

God, he was such an idiot.

Embarrassed, and not knowing what to say, he sheepishly slid his hands off the wall.

Coughing twice, he cleared his voice, and projected his voice so it was clearer and louder:

"King."

You looked up, face showing shame and genuine guilt.

"Gut. Keep looking at me."

To your surprise, König's hand was reaching up to his veil, fingers hooking under the the hem.

In a prolongued but fluid movement, the fabric was pulled up, and, slowly, slowly, he revealed his face.

His white chin and stubbled jawline came into view first. Only slightly defined, not modelled after some Greek God, yet not lacking definition, either.

Then, thin lips, pale pink and pressed into a tight line.

A hooked nose, crooked likely from it being broken more than once before, neither long nor large nor flat. Perhaps slightly off-center.

Keeping the fabric in place, he would not raise it higher.

After a few seconds of silence, you saw how his Adam's apple moved when he gulped, his lips quivering as he breathed in deeply.

Even seeing the half of his face, he looked handsome to you.

"Well... is this better?"

Mouth moving to reveal white teeth, some misshappen and others crowded, it looked as if he had never worn braces before.

He swallowed thickly, then his hot breath fanned your face, mouth partly-open as he panted in increasing agitation.

Blue-gray eyes looked into yours, no longer domineering. Instead, pleading.

Wanting your affirmation, to be reassured that you would appreciate him partly presenting his identity to you, the most vulnerable part of him.

To be told that you truly did appreciate this gesture after all.

A smile tugged at your lips. "Yes. Much better, sir."

You were touched.

To think, that your commander, your Colonel, the big, beefy, burly man, the masked soldier of towering stature, would go out of his way to be sensitive. To be at the mercy of you.

It made you tear up a little. No one had ever gone out of their way to accommodate you like this, and it left you at a loss for words.

"Sir, I—"

"Nein. Call me König."

Cleared throat. "König, sir—"

A devillish smirk formed on his face, and he shook his head.

"Gott, such a sweet little thing," he cooed, purposefully slowing down his speech so you could interpret it on your own. "Will need to have you getting used to you saying my name, ja?"

Those steel blue eyes had melted. Were warm. Held a fondness in them that he hadn't had before — or, maybe they had, but you had never noticed it until now — either way, you felt at ease with him. With König.

One of your biggest mistakes.

"Thank you, König. Really. For being so patient."

Rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly, you shot him a bashful, lopsided grin.

"I'm sorry that you had to be patient in the first place! I wish I could make it up to you, König. I really do."

König's mind flashed with blasphemous images of you.

Images that he had visualised in vivid detail, when he had been longing for you, longing to have you around him.

He was almost regretting what he had on his mind, yet, he reasoned, it was only fair you gave him a reward.

For his patience.

The smirk on his face became broader. Serpentine.

"Don't you worry, meine liebe. I know of a way."

A cackle, sounding forced and a little too loud to be genuine.

"I'll make sure that you'll be loud enough so that even you can hear it for yourself."

...

Note: i promised yesterdag id get thus oit today ... 🥹Bit late cuz at the time im typimg this ntoe its 22:33 (gonna be later once i proofread this for the final time😫😫) Edit: its 23:25 and i have a test tmr hahaHHhahahahAHAHAHAHHAHAHAA 😍😍😍😍

Hope yoi guys like perverted König 🗿 i for one do 😇😇 (fyi, it was NOT MT INTENTION to write him in this wau I PROMISW😭😭😭😭😭it just sorta happened and i rolled witj it ☠️💀)

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