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powerfultenderness · 10 months

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Hello there! I just discovered your könig neighbor series, and I was wondering what would happen if könig got hurt? Maybe he came back from a mission with something the reader notices?

As big or as little as you like. I'm obsessed for real. The way you write him is spot on to what's in my head. I'll take whatever scraps you are willing to throw out!

First, thank you so much! And I'm so sorry for taking so long with this one! I usually try to keep the requests/suggestions shorter, but this one got a little out of hand!

There's a tiny bit of angst here. But most of it is like half fluff and half suggestive. So [Mature 18+ rating]

He never imagined himself as one of those men that would rush home to see his partner. And he still wasn’t. He was a man rushing home so he could see his neighbor. After quickly dropping his bag off at home, he found himself knocking on your door and hoping it wasn't too late for you.

Thankfully you were still awake and answered the door only after his second knock. Clearly you had been getting ready for bed, as you didn't look tired but were dressed in a large t-shirt and loose fitting shorts. You smiled up at him as soon as you opened the door, "König! You're back!"

And you jumped up and hugged him. Not your usual greeting for him, usually it was just a nice smile and a wave, if he was lucky you'd gently graze his arm. But this was the first time since you moved in that he had been gone longer than a week.

He quickly returned your embrace, wrapping his arms around you and holding you off the floor, enjoying both the feel of your body against his and your happy little squeal.

You giggled as he set you down, you let your hands gently glide down from his shoulders, until you were simply holding onto his arms.

König smiled down at you, taking you in like you were the very air he breathed, and so saw the moment your face shifted from happiness to horror. You let out a little scream and jolted out of his hands, “ah! I’m bleeding!”

“Shit! What happened?” He quickly, but gently, took your arm, smeared in blood, and looked over it with you.

“I don’t know!” You panicked as you tried to find the source of your bleeding.

Wait…you didn’t feel any pain. You looked up from your arm to his and gasped. “I’m not bleeding! You are!”

It was hard to tell, as he was wearing a black long sleeved shirt, but with a closer look, you could see a dark wet patch sticking to his arm.

He hummed quietly and followed your line of sight to look at his right arm. “Oh. Yea. I did get hurt.”

“What do you mean, ‘oh yea’? Come here!” You tugged on his uninjured arm and pulled him into your flat.

“It’s not that bad, darling. I’m fine.” Though he protested, he followed you with no resistance.

“Sit,” you ordered as you pointed to your couch and disappeared into the back room.

You returned with some clean towels and a first aid kit; not a cutesy supermarket kind, he noticed, but quite the premium kind. You gently set the items down on the coffee table in front of him and headed to the kitchen, running the water until it was warm enough.

“Why do you have this?” He asked poking through the first aid kit while you were running the water. It was good that you were prepared for emergencies, but he liked to think that you would turn to him in emergencies.

“House warming gift from my sister. The kids like to spend time with me, and one of her kids is a little accident prone.” Never, at least in your care, needed anything more than a band aid, but better safe than sorry.

Ah. That made sense, he nodded to himself. A first aid kit of this caliber did seem like something a worried and responsible mother would gift.

You filled a bowl with warm water and set it down on the coffee table next to the rest of the supplies. “Now, let me see.”

His injury was near the back of his right bicep, simply rolling his sleeve up didn’t even reach the wound. You hummed and dropped your hands back onto your lap. "Even I think it would be too dramatic to cut up your shirt."

You were about to continue, to tell him to change into a shirt with short sleeves when he crossed his arms at his waist and pulled his shirt over his head.

You should have kept your gaze up. Not only would it have been more polite, you might have caught a glimpse of his face as he pulled his shirt over his head. Hindsight. Instead your eyes immediately dropped his chest, a breath caught in your throat, as you stared at…him. When you first met, he had rolled up his shirt to show you a scar on his side, and that had sent your heart racing. But now? With his shirt completely off? Your eyes, very wide, were glued to his chest, taking in every dip of his muscles, naturally leading your eyes down and down, only disrupted by scars (that you had the sudden urge to touch) and hair that dipped down-

“Darling?” König cleared his throat nervously. “I can do it, if you are, uhm, scared of the blood.”

You jumped, and breathed, at his voice. Crap! You were caught completely checking him out and a quick and hopefully subtle swipe to the side of your face proved that you had literally been drooling. You, brain still not caught up, scoffed at his words. Instead of taking the polite out he’d given you, you opened your stupid mouth. “Please, I’m not scared of blood.”

How did you not notice him take one of the towels to sop up the blood on his arm?

“You’re not?”

The way his hood moved with him, as if it were a part of him, combined with the streaks of faded paint underneath his eyes should have been intimidating. You imagine that on the field, even to his own teammates, that it is. But the way he tilted his head and how you could tell, even with the eye black still on his face, that his eyes were wide was almost…comical. It was cute. And it grounded you, out of the gutter.

“Nope. Now, let me see.” You returned to the task at hand, taking the towel from him and cleaning up the blood.

“You are full of surprises.”

“Not really.” You half laughed as you set the bloodied towel on the coffee table. You had meant that you had experience with blood quite often, once a month for a couple of days kind of often. But considering most men got queasy on that topic, you dropped it. “Looks like a little band aid won’t do.”

Every time you turned away from him, this time it was to get an antibiotic ointment, König had to remind himself to calm down. Your touch was so soft and gentle, he’d been treated for such lacerations more times than he could count, but the medics were never so gentle. Of course, you didn’t have a line of patients waiting on you, but that somehow made your attention all the more special. It was a good thing you could not see his face, he was sure his entire face up to his ears was red. He would look so much less cool, would ruin the lust he saw in your eyes when he took off his shirt, if you could see just how flustered he really was.

“Am I allowed to ask what happened?” You softly asked as you moved onto applying gauze.

“Nothing bad.” He leaned forward just enough to get a whiff of your shampoo, or maybe it was your lotion, either way an intoxicating and fitting scent. “An enemy managed to sneak up on me with a knife.”

You gasped and looked up at him, eyes wide once again but for an entirely different reason. “You said it was nothing bad!”

“It wasn’t!” He chuckled, hand moving to pat your knee. “This was all he got before I killed him!”

His wound completely bandaged now, you froze for a moment before quickly dropping your hands. “O-oh.”

Shit. Was that the wrong thing to say? You didn’t seem to mind the violence when he told you about the scar on his side, was mentioning that he killed someone too much? His stomach dropped, were you scared of him now? You gently removed his hand from your knee and started to quietly clean up. König swore his heart stopped beating for a moment. You were pushing him away.

“Please see a doctor or medic or whatever you have on base, tomorrow.”

While your voice was still soft, there was a cold edge to it that made König want to drop to his knees and beg you to forgive him.

“In the meantime, you should rest.” You finished and took his shirt from his lap and the bloodied towels and stood up.

He followed, at least he meant to, but you quickly turned and pointed back at the couch. “Rest.”

“Darling, please. I don’t need- This is fine. I am fine.”

You crossed your arms, and narrowed your eyes at him. “König.” You dragged out his name in warning. “Sit down. And rest.”

He sighed and sat back down, grateful for the soft blanket you had draped over the couch. The air suddenly felt cold without you next to him.

You put away the first aid kit and dumped the bloodied towels and his shirt in the wash, luckily noticing that you also had blood on your shirt, probably from when you hugged him. You glanced over at him and he was staring straight ahead, not moving, and quickly ducked into your room. You changed your shirt, and made sure you didn’t have any more blood on you (you didn’t), before adding your shirt to the wash and returning to the living room.

He looked so massive seated like that on your couch. He was slouched a little, legs spread, right knee bouncing nervously, and his arms crossed over his chest. Oh. Maybe you should send him home now, he was half naked in your home now, after all.

König looked up when you came back and froze, heat instantly returning to his face and chest and ears and. He swallowed thickly and forced his eyes up. You had changed from a large t-shirt to a fitted, low cut, tank top. You were looking at him with a raised brow. Shit. Had you asked him something and he missed it because he was too busy staring at your chest?

“Are you sure you’re okay? See, this is why I told you to rest.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine.” He repeated, standing up and taking a few steps, standing close enough to you that you had to crane your head back just to keep eye contact.

“Where are you going?” You shouldn’t be trying to stop him from leaving, but, heart racing and blush heating your face and all, you still wanted to spend time with him.

“Oh, you know.” How could you hear his grin under that mask? “Just to work out.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” He shrugged. “Lift some weights.”

“König.”

“Maybe some pull ups.”

“Just sit back down.”

He sighed and did as you said. “I told you-”

“If you don’t rest, I’ll make you rest!” In essence, you already were! He was sitting back on the couch!

He chuckled, “oh yea? How?”

“I’ll! I’ll, uhm…”

“You’ll what?” Now he was laughing. It was cute how you thought you could make him do anything! (even though you just did…)

Frustrated that you could think of nothing to make him listen, you shouted a last resort: “I’ll sit on you!”

König stopped laughing and blinked at you. “...what?”

You crossed your arms. “You heard me.”

The silence that followed dragged on for a second too long, you shifted your weight nervously, and König suddenly started laughing again, loud and gasping for breath, as if what you said was the funniest thing ever. “You’ll sit on me! Is this a dream?”

Even if you had understood the German, it would have been difficult to make out what he was saying between all the laughing. You glared at him, misinterpreting his words as a challenge. “Don’t think I won’t do it!”

His head dropped to the back of the couch and he slapped his thigh, “do it, love!” He sat back up, chuckles still falling from his mouth, “go on. Sit on me!”

You tried to keep glaring at him while your mind struggled to translate unknown words into English. You were pretty sure he was just repeating what you said, like he didn’t believe you. Well, he was wrong!

He finally stopped laughing and sighed, you were always so willing in his dreams. “Not a dream, yea? I thought so.”

He tensed, like he was going to stand back up, and you moved quicker than he thought you could, not that he was going to stop you. Just like you “threatened”, you sat on him! Your hands were on his shoulders and you were straddling his lap. He froze for a moment, his mind trying to catch up with his racing heart, and looked up at you.

“Rest.”

He swallowed and nodded. “Ok.” His hands moved from his sides to run up your thighs, his thumbs playing at the hemline of your shorts before you snatched up his hands.

“Hey!” You dropped his hands, letting them fall back onto the cushions, and leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Only good boys get to touch.”

König’s head flew back and he groaned, hips unintentionally thrusting up. He was panting, as if he’d been holding his breath for far too long, and looked up at you. “I can be good!”

You half gasped and half giggled at his reaction, your blood practically sending fire to your face as your heart raced in a mix of excitement and nervousness. You thought he’d laugh at you again, instead he shifted beneath you, and looked up at you with big desperate eyes.

“Please.” König pleaded, hands digging into the cushions. If he needed to be good, then he couldn’t touch you again without permission. But it was so hard! You were so close to him, your weight on his lap giving such nice pressure, if only you would scoot a little closer! His eyes rolled back and his head dropped onto the couch again, as he imagined, prayed for, you rolling your hips, grinding onto his growing bulge.

You were still though, no longer even touching him as you crossed your arms. “Hmm. Are you sure? No working out?”

He looked at you again and shook his head vigorously. “No. No, I won’t!”

“Noo, lifting weights?”

“No!”

“No pull ups?” “No! I’ll be good, I promise!”

You giggled, heart still racing at how quickly he got riled up.

He whined and shifted under you again, not in an attempt to get you to touch him, but just to alleviate his need for space.

“Then,” you uncrossed your arms and gently took his chin in one hand, forcing him to look at you again. “What are you going to do, König?”

He swallowed again, lips darting out of his mouth to lick his lips. Your soft, gentle, sweet little touch that he could barely feel through his hood might as well have been an iron grip, for all that he was willing to give you control of his body. He blinked, eyes searching yours for the answer you wanted to hear. “Ah, rest.”

You smiled and dropped your hand, though he remained still. “And?”

König’s heart dropped, his stomach alight with butterflies, and licked his lips again. “Touch you?”

You laughed, and he laughed with you for a moment, before you shook your head. “Noo. What are you going to do tomorrow?”

“Oh! Medic!”

“That’s right!” You cheered and much to his disappointment, climbed off of him.

He panted for breath and tried to follow you without standing up (not until you gave him permission to), and leaned forward. You chuckled and held your hand out to him, “come on.”

He jumped up, reaching out not for your hand, but for your waist. But your hand on his chest stopped him, “you can tell me what the medic says tomorrow.”

He once again found himself frozen and unable to think clearly. “...what?”

You started to guide him towards the door, “oh and I’ll drop off your shirt tomorrow too.”

“What?”

You opened the door and nudged him through it. “Welcome home, König. Good night.”

König stared at your closed door for half a minute before he leaned against it, his hand flying to the doorknob and finding it securely locked. Good. But…he sighed, “good night, angel.”