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kivino · 3 months ago

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MEANT FOR EACH OTHER || ZOMBIE AU || KÖNIG X READER || PART III

sum. A deep-seated paranoia takes hold of you. Every hour of the day, you feel like you’re being watched. Followed. And you’re not wrong. So observant, so beautiful and perfect, but always dismissed by your group, left behind, not paid even a sliver of attention. How tragic. It’s okay though. König is here to do right by you. F̶̖̓͆̕͝o̷̢͚̲̬̍͠r̶͖̝̾̊̍̾e̸͔͇̣̓̈̊̾v̶̛͚͕́͗͝e̷̤̻͔͎̅̑̽r̴̝̬̩̘͒̒̃ ̴͔͆͋̈͝ȃ̷̢̭̯n̶̡̜̫͚̉̌̊̒ḍ̷̩̲̹͝ ̷̖̔͌͘ả̶̡̬̥͊l̶͕̇̓̄w̴̺̥̋̂͠ä̷̢̢̝́̒͗y̴̳̦̙̕ŝ̶͕̋̀.̵̝̱͒̌̅̆

tags. zombie au (twdg inspired), stalking, obsessive behavior, themes of paranoia, fear, distrust, isolation, canon-typical violence, könig being a creep, blood, gore, violence, mutilation, graphic description of corpses

w.c. 5.7k (i know it’s too long, shut up)

a.n. i finished it surprisingly fast for the size of this thing, damn. really thought the chapter was going to be shorter, but oh well. at least i did everything i planned for it lol. enjoy!

taglist. @ilovekentonanami, @skullyz1, since you asked to be tagged, here you go! thank you for your comments <333

|| PART 1 || || PART 2 ||

jjk masterlist || cod masterlist || ao3 link || ko-fi

Be careful of what you wish for, you would’ve told yourself around a couple of hours ago, when the zip of your tent went up with a final sour “zap!”, followed by your harsh, but necessary decision-making. You wanted out of the group. Laying there, under an old chequered blanket you stole from somebody’s unlocked car with busted windows, you were mulling over how you should do it. Waking up earlier than everyone, quickly packing up the necessities and taking a chunk out of food and medicine supply, or going out with a bang, picking a fight in the morning, when everyone’s already up and running around the camp, cooking, talking, cleaning weapons or mending clothes.

You weren’t sure what was better but decided to leave it up to the chance. If you wake up with the crack of pink dawn, you’ll disappear like smoke, perhaps leaving some traces and shocked or fuming Scott to tell the group about the argument. And if you were to find yourself stirring awake with the sound of voices that were once near and dear to you, you’ll snap. No regrets, no holdbacks, and definitely no pity or regard for their feelings. Giving your group the taste of their own medicine was the best you could do to give them the reality check they so desperately needed in their delusion of safety. You went to sleep with the thoughts of possible revenge or quiet disappearance into the sunrise, hearing so much shifting through the thin sheet of sleep, you'd almost assume somebody else was right beside you in the tent.

All of this was the plan before you were awakened by blood-curdling screams that were way too close to be yet another nightmare haunting you. Suddenly, all the terrible dreams that you got used to seeing turned reality. Blood turned to ice, and muscle to stone for a brief moment of confusion, trying to discern whether your mind was playing tricks on you, like always, toying with such cruelty and satisfaction one would think you’re a masochist. Yet another scream pierced the stale darkness of the storage house, while the sound commotion beyond the protection of the thin rainproof fabric was lost on you. This moment seemed to last for a whole eternity. Uncertain limbo before taking action. Realisation that your life was in immediate danger. That your group must be hurt or scared right this moment, for them to be screaming like that. Somewhere among the screams you even managed to discern your name. Which meant only one thing.

It was here. All those months of nightly torment, of getting ignored, dismissed, ridiculed, all the clues that were missed by them but not by you, never by you, were leading up to this.

You were right.

You were fucking right.

Maybe you would’ve smiled, you would’ve laughed, hysterical, content, and just so goddamn happy, revelling in the fact that this entire time, you were not seeing or hearing things. That you were not the crazy one. That this was all worth it in the end. You didn’t notice the hot burn of your eyes, the moisture that grazed your cheeks, how breathing suddenly became much harder, as you cautiously opened the zip of your tent, letting only your hand grab your boots and your backpack, full of nothing but bare necessities.

Those couple of minutes, shoving things into compartments of your backpack grabbing your trusty knife, pulling on your clothes and jacket, were all blurring together, impossible to separate one action from the other. You would’ve loved to take the tent with you, for how surprisingly good it held up in the rain or contained the heat. You wouldn’t have minded taking a plush toy that showed up near you on the morning after your supply run to the mall nearby, causing you to have a meltdown so bad you wouldn’t step outside the storage house for days at a time, paranoid that It was there, ready to sink its nasty, ephemeral claws deep into your flesh and crawl away, as you writhe and cry for help with no one to hear you. You also would’ve loved to take Jay’s gun, as the last “fuck you” to the man. But you couldn’t. Too much time wasted being cocky would mean not only theirs, but your death as well. And you’ll be damned if you rot in the same hole as this human garbage that saw you as nothing but a lunatic, with no worth to them.

The thought of Jay’s gun brought you back to earth for but a second.

Why are there no shots being fired?

You had weapons in stock, you had some ammo, even if all of this was not the best quality, and you even had former military among you, for crying out loud, all of that gave the group a bit of an edge it needed. Especially during scuffles with other survivors, raiders or walkers, which started to become a more frequent problem in the area. Almost as if being led by something to your campsite. No… No. That would be ridiculous, right?

The agitated yelling seemed to be coming from one of the doors off to the side, your exit seemed safe. You had no clue if it was open, but even so, you only needed to crawl out of your tent, make a hook to grab your canteen and another backpack, full of food, taking a right afterwards. Perhaps it will take you some extra time to open the gate to escape, but even so, despite the trembling hands and difficulty breathing, you were confident you could make it. This is it. Your chance to get away in the chaos. There won’t be another.

Your shaky fingers grab onto the zip, pulling it down frantically, with no regard to how the fabric is snagged by the cheap plastic mechanism, ready to finally face what you were scared of, and craved more than anything – freedom. Endless night sky, camping out in the woods, not having to count and weigh every word when saying something, not having to do the work other people push onto you, and some solitude, with no one to bother you about being, supposedly, “a liability”… All of this sounded like heaven to your utterly exhausted, drained mind.

Yet, you’re not given a chance even to get on your knees or crawl out of the tent. A breath is torn out of your chest, when you’re grabbed by the flaps of your jacket and pulled out in a rather rude manner, with a grip so strong you think you might be heading straight to afterlife from the safety of your tent.

“You piece of shit-eating fucking garbage! You motherfucking fuck!” In front of you is Jay, fuming, splattered with dirt and…red. So much fucking red, on his hair, on his face, neck, and this metallic smell mixed with the familiar sweetness of rotting flesh coming off of him, you think you’re about to puke when the older man’s face lingers in front of yours for more than a couple of seconds. The way you reacted to seeing him was probably not the most pleasing thing to him as well – you see a scowl scrunch his features into a likeness of an enraged moose. “You fucking answer when you’re being talked to!” Jay shakes you, almost as if that would help you come into your senses, instead of losing them. “Where is Scott? Where is our fucking ammo? All the weapons?” He practically screams the questions at you.

You didn’t know. Why was Jay asking you all of this? You’re the stupid fuck in charge of them, not me – you think to yourself, and you don’t know how that’s possible, but the sunburnt face in front of you scrunches even further, skin getting redder. Whoops. Must’ve said that out loud. Well, Jay will know better than to drag people around by the collar when he wants to actually get some information out of them, instead of being insulted.

Your blurry eyes drift to the right, head softly lulling along with them. Tom, a man in his sixties, is pushing closed one of the entrances to the storage house, but he’s clearly being overpowered by all the walkers with their unrelenting assault from the outside, rotting hands not letting him close the doors without snapping the pliable, sickly yellow bones in half. You know the man could do it easily, but not when the arms with falling off, decaying flesh are so numerous they’re starting to push the doors open. Scott, his son, is nowhere to be seen after your argument, which happened, you’d imagine, a couple of hours ago, give or take. You’d be upset about it, if you could muster up a single fuck to give after all the pleasantries Scott barked at you in the middle of sneaking off somewhere after the curfew.

After the struggling Tom your eyes fix on Rory, tired, lanky figure kneeling over someone, clearly resembling Amy with her shaved head, even in the stuffy, suffocating dark, soaked with blood and panicked screams of your companions. You can see a pool of something even darker than the air within the storage house, gathering beneath Amy’s body on the ground. Rory’s hands are soaked with the same dark liquid, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that Amy is most likely dying a scary and painful death. Which is a shame. You liked Amy the most, and dissatisfaction with her did not stem any deeper than not feeling up to doing chores she’d pile up on your plate to prove your usefulness to her husband.

Tiny was the last who your eyes fell on, the tall man trying to hack off the limbs of walkers with a dull, rusty hatchet that was usually used to chop firewood by all of you. Yet you saw his eyes frantically bounce to the entrance beside your tent, almost as if Tiny was ready to make a run for it any minute now. Wouldn’t be his first time anyway. You heard his drunk ranting about deserting from an evacuation of civilians from one of the bigger cities. Well, knowing that the hungry hands reaching for living flesh were minutes away from shredding anyone within the storage house to pieces also made you want to run until your lungs collapse. After punching Jay’s lights out, of course.

“What the fuck did you do to Scott?! Answer me!” Jay shakes you even more, to ensure that you become even more dizzy courtesy of his grip. But it’s so ridiculous, right? You didn’t do anything to him. Why are you being blamed for his disappearance?

“Let me go!” You thought your protest would be weak, nothing, compared to the vigour with which Jay’s fingers hung onto your jacket, the collar painfully digging into the skin of your neck, almost as if you were a puppet, commanded by the most talentless piece of shit of a puppeteer. Surprisingly, your hands, clasped around the man’s wrists cause his grip to momentarily lose its strength. You involuntarily stepped back, wrestling with the man who only gripped onto you tighter, as if letting you go in this dire situation would doom you all.

König’s rage blinded him. How dare this rubbish touch you? He doesn’t have a right to lay a single fucking finger on you, and here he is, gripping your clothes, ready to shake the living hell out of you. König felt the need to rid the man of arms, but not before tearing away every nail and finger on his hands. No. No, König won’t let him prevent you from saving yourself. Crawling up to his usual vantage point for the last time was a mistake. Of course, nobody would look up in the chaos, but he knew he should’ve stayed on the lower level, with you. So something like this wouldn’t happen. But this wasn’t your fault, how were you supposed to know you’ll get pulled out of your tent by this weakling? It’s okay! It’s okay… König can fix this. All of this. A deep breath is sucked in through his hood, soaked with sweat and condensation. His finger rests on the trigger comfortable, slotting where it belongs. For a moment, it feels comforting. Like home. Despite finally doing something so…oddly calming, something he kept from his life before the apocalypse, he can hear the way blood thrummed within his ears, heart beating like crazy.

König takes aim. Confident and determined to end this fast. Sights trailing fast and zeroing in on the dark, prematurely greying head of the man clutching your jacket. He can feel his insides writhing with impatience, hurrying him along to finally get rid of the bastard who wouldn’t let you run away to safety. Who was endangering his darling, so needlessly and cruelly, when he could’ve just rolled over and died to make it all easier. But then König snaps back from the bloodlust, blinding him so deliciously. You shouldn’t have to see all the blood and suffering. He ought to protect you from it.

Despite all this happening right in front of your eyes, you feel detached. As if all the tears, terror, death, and panic were not real. Like the assurance of you being right this whole time was almost enough for you to accept your death. The noise was becoming louder each second. The cacophony of moaning and gurgling, paired with blunt, heavy fists and open palms hammering on the metal sheet walls, a fitting chaotic percussion for a painful death, Amy’s sobs and wails of pain, paired with Tiny and Tom screaming their lungs out at each other, unable to close the doors, as more and more of the walkers pour inside the storage house like an undead, rotting tsunami.

“I was right, Jay.” You whisper, with eyes darting from side to side, observing the utter mess that was happening behind the man. And he didn’t even know. “It’s here.” The phrase is elusive, but terrifying to the man nonetheless. You don’t miss the way cold sweat glints right above his brow, or the way his expression stretches into a mask of confusion, then horror. He didn’t know what “It” was, but the realization about being wrong this whole time was a source of terror enough. Perhaps he was assuming something, or putting words in your mouth right this moment. You didn’t care. Your nails and fingers dug into the rough skin of Jay’s palms, attempting to make him let you go once again.

“What the fuck did you do?!” He yells, voice breaking midway through the sentence. Your name rings out from Jay, hollow and soulless, full of terror, like you were the one to bring this destruction upon all of them. Like they weren’t the ones to ignore every sign of something being wrong. You didn’t care anymore. It was all their fault, and you did everything you could to convince them you were not losing your marbles from having to live a life more akin to an animal, than a human being.

You tried to yank yourself out of his grip once again, nails leaving crescent indents in Jay’s skin, while he refused to let go, and just dug in his heels deeper into the ground. Your palms slide over his meaty wrists, attempting to pull them off of you with all the strength you could muster, but to no avail. The man growls and roars, keeps screaming and you and blaming for everything bad that’s ever happened to the group. You try to duck and break out of his hold, but he doesn’t let you, loathing and anger in his eyes almost burning you, as Jay’s palms are inching higher and higher with mad desperation. You can feel fear suffocating you, as you try and fail to shake off the man, who’s gripping onto your jacket with knuckles turning white, like his life depends on it. Until finally, his broad hands slot in place.

On your throat.

You can feel it starting to close from the fear flooding your bloodstream, but there is no giving up on your vain attempts to free yourself of the hold Jay had on you. Terrifying, piercing screams reach your ears, and it seems there is nothing that could distract the man from actively trying to cut your life short, not even his best pal Tiny getting his hand torn to shreds by jagged, rotting teeth that only dug in deeper with every noise drawn. The scene before you is so bloody, so slow in its horrifying cruelty. You see dull fingers and more teeth digging into Tiny, who’s screams don’t cease for even a split second, tearing his throat raw in pointless cries for anybody’s help, reaching out towards somebody as more of the rotting hands grip onto his body. Rory’s feet seem to have grown into the ground beneath her, unable to move even a muscle to help the man.

It seems the walkers that attempted overwhelming Tom are drawn by the fresh blood from still screaming Tiny, who is writhing on the ground underneath a mass of living corpses, swarming him like giant flies. You can’t even see the man anymore, only guessing what excruciating fate was brought upon him from the wails of pain, mixed with gargled begging for mercy. Your neck strained under the thick fingers of Jay, who didn’t even look back one last time before Tiny was consumed by the walkers. But you knew it won’t be enough to satiate the hunger of these creatures, so soon they’ll move onto others.

Maybe by the time they’ll get to you and Jay he would have suffocated you, so there will be no need for you to suffer through such a miserable, terrifying death. No matter how much you hated the man, you’d prefer being choked out instead of torn apart, messy and bloody on the floor, blood gargling in your throat, spilling out in thin rivers from your lips, until the pain is too much for you to bear.

Bang!

A shot fired somewhere from above caused Jay’s leg to give out from under him. The man slid to his knees with a pained groan, the grip on your jacket’s collar becoming weaker each second, as his right hands fell to his hip, jaw tightening. A greedy inhale burned your throat – you hadn’t realized the edges of your vision were starting to darken and blur. Your body was twitching from the violent fear shaking you, and once again, you tried to get out of Jay’s grip. He still did not let go, dragging you to the ground, probably determined to take you down with him. Your eyes locked onto a rapidly spreading dark spot on Jay’s jeans that he’s unsuccessfully attempting to press close, distracted. You didn’t even question where the bullet came from. You didn’t want to know, even though there was a sneaking suspicion in the back of your mind. But what you did want was to make use of Jay’s state.

You didn’t see any other option, before grabbing onto the man’s hand with a grip that scratches him and biting down as hard as your jaw would allow you to. The man yelped out in surprise and his fingers finally let your jacket out of his grip for only a moment. But even a single second was enough for you to start getting away. You were ready to dart to the entrance in front of you – doors ajar, welcoming you to the outside world, urging to get away from the air, thick with clotting blood, decay and so much suffering you couldn’t bear it anymore.

However, before you could even take your second step, you feel a pull on your leg once again. Strong. Desperate. Full of hate. You grew c, and the momentary lightness within your chest disappears in mere seconds. Looking down was useless, it was most definitely Jay clutching your foot in another attempt to murder you. There was no way this piece of shit hated you so much he was using his last moments to fuck you over. It was hard to believe a normal person could even posses such levels of hate.

The seconds stretch out like hours. The heartbeat hammers away in your ears, almost dulling the screams of your former friends perishing underneath the assault of dirty fingernails, yellow teeth and greying flesh. You kick your foot down with strength like never before, wet heat burns your cheeks, and you could only guess that you started to cry from fear and despair, longing to save yourself. Couple of times your boot connects with something you’d only assume is Jay, drawing strained moans of pain and even more screaming you didn’t even care enough to register in your mind. Attempting to move with the dead weight of a grown man attached to you on the floor was not easy, but you made the best of it, managing to stumble forward a couple of steps, before being pulled back and collapsing once again.

Why was this your life? You didn’t deserve this. A sour, nauseating metallic taste spread in your mouth. Maybe you managed to bite your cheek when you fell to the floor. Head pulsing and throbbing from such a hit, you didn’t have any more strength to fight back. Not when a fucking behemoth of a man was climbing on top of you, pinning you to the ground, blood seeping out of the wound on his leg, screaming at you about his wife, who was being devoured a couple of meters away.

You accepted it. You were not supposed to survive that long anyway. It’s just…regret and bitter anger are overtaking every rational sense in your mind. You tremble, body doused with cold sweat and immediately thrown into a hot flash. Before you could think of what to do next, your body moves on your own. Teeth digging into flesh and cartilage, you bite down. Hard. Your canines shredded the skin underneath, more rancid blood filled your mouth, and you wanted to puke more with each second you stayed in that position. Copper kept filling your mouth, overflowing, pouring from your lips, you felt the sickly warmth of it drip down and soak into your shirt, but you wouldn’t let go. Deafening screams above you piercing your ears, you closed your eyes just not to see the picture behind or in front of you, anything but to see the surrounding horrors, and bit down harder. Harder.

So much harder. Until your teeth met, clanking together with a screeching noise. Until the crunch of something, comparable only to a fresh cabbage in your mind, halted, and something stayed in your mouth after your head violently jerked back from pulling on the flesh so strenuously. You bit off something. Spitting it out doesn’t help the bile rising up your throat and getting stuck in there as a nasty, annoying ball ready to pour out of your mouth. You kept holding on, until all of a sudden, the scream above you stopped after another loud bang of a bullet being fired.

More liquid warmth splattered on your cheeks. The body on you is so bulky. Falling, pressing down on you with its weight, suffocating in its heaviness. Your throat lets out ragged breaths, chest falling rapidly as you try to shove off the dead weight off of yourself. And everything is so red, drenched in putrid burgundy, sticking to your skin, hair, clothes, everywhere, pouring over you in a fountain that seems to be never-ending. Managing to slightly lift Jay’s shoulders, shoving you into the cold ground, you started shuffling away from underneath the man above you, the skin on your back aching, as it’s scratched by the earth and concrete. Crawling out took you longer than you cared to admit, you let go of Jay’s shoulders, muscles in your arms aching, as the dull thud of the man’s forehead against the ground makes you shiver in disgust.

Panic keeps rising within you, even after the factoid of human danger is gone. Through tears blurring your vision further and further you force yourself to notice only what mattered. Piles of walkers, writhing and shuffling like maggots on the ground, probably reaching to the last untouched bits of the human bodies underneath them, still distracted, but very likely to smell your presence when they’re done feasting; thin hand of Rory reaching towards you and Jay, bloody nails broken up to the meat of her fingers leaving scratch marks on the floor, as her legs are torn apart by dead, ravaging hands, woman’s muscle tissue soon to be devoured. You could hear the distant hisses and moans of the undead, the squelching and sloppy chewing echoing within the metal walls.

Jay’s body, with half of the skull gone, a mess of meat and greyish brain matter pulsing, pouring out of what you could only guess was bone — pink, thick and shattered. You could see the pieces of hair sticking to the bloody mess, when you felt the bile rise up in your throat once again, the acidic, foul taste mixing with the blood still resting on your tongue. The palm of your hand flew up to cover your mouth, closing your lips shut as if your life depended on it. A second passed, as you closed your eyes, letting the nausea die down. Then, you had the courage to turn in the direction where you spat out that something that you bit off from Jay. You wish you didn’t.

It was an ear. Bloody and ragged, bit clean off. Resting on the floor, your winning trophy of a fight with no winners.

You felt even more nausea come over you, but it was not the time to stay in one place. Somehow, your backpack managed to stay on your shoulders. Not wasting another second, you limped towards the open doors, shivering and scared, looking back. Not a single walker raised its eyes at you, too preoccupied with their fresh meat.

It was then, when you saw it. Out of the corner of your eye, you let your head rise up towards the wicked, human-shaped shadow you see within the roof window. The seconds spent staring at it feel like hours. It never disappeared, firmly planted within your vision. You expected it to vanish any second, whether dissolving into thin air, or ducking back behind cover, but it stayed. For some reason, you got the impression this thing was letting you see it. Almost as if…taunting you. You were clearly looking at it, but it was so far and dark you couldn’t make out any details.

Fuck, you hated this. Even after months of torture and your whole group dying in front of your eyes, there was no answer to what this shadow wanted from you. Worthless.

Oh, but König…he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. Face covered in blood, dishevelled, scared, trembling from terror, looking death right in the eye and emerging victorious. His help was of no circumstance, to König you would’ve won in the fight anyway, he just sped up the process by a couple of minutes. Something in your head made you just as perverse as he was. It was such a pleasant surprise Pressed up against glass, cool temperature of it not dampening his suddenly spiking body heat, tearing away his gaze from your figure felt criminal. Seeing just what you were willing to do to get your freedom back, what your despair could drive you to was…sublime. Absolutely macabre and beautiful.

The metallic taste in König’s mouth made him realise he was biting his lip so hard it started bleeding. Teeth digging into parched skin, gloved fingers glued to the glass, he wanted nothing less than to absolutely devour you in this state. With soapy blood sticking to your wet skin, smell of sweat clinging to your bodies, disgusting and foul, just like the essence of human nature. Hot breaths puffing out from his tender, bleeding lips, dreaming of yours touching the dry, bitten mess of his. Or, better so, you could devour him instead.

Wholly and utterly, piece by piece, until there is nothing left of him, but bones sucked clean of meat. Until you destroy him so deeply he would live, breathe you (as if he wasn’t already). König would be so good to you, and you’d be so good to him. That’s right. He will treat you so good the whole world outside will be an empty, faded, and disappointingly hollow picture in comparison to his love for you. Bound in destiny and mutual destruction, now he was confident you were truly meant for each other in every single way. Now he knew that you were more like him than he could’ve imagined. And König would be lying, if the sound of that didn’t make his heart race like a wild animal on the run. Surely, if he let you devour him, you wouldn’t mind König getting a taste of you.

Yes…yes. That would do it.

A mild, sweet shiver shook him at the pleasant thought. Alone with you, at last. König didn’t dare entertaining such thoughts with much seriousness before, it was much more like a daydream he desperately clung to. Distant and far from the actuality, even as he worked hard on it making it the reality. Dreaming nightly of your piercing eyes that nailed him to the wall easier than anything, keeping your curious, endearing mannerisms in his mind as he crowded the walkers together, and trembling from anticipation of finally touching someone so worshipped and adored by him, as he unlocked the heavy metal doors of the storage house.

Now, when he only needed but to reach out and offer help to have you all to himself… He couldn’t wait. König’s mind buzzed with thoughts like a hive of irritated wasps. Pulling on him, urging him on to follow you, to take you for himself, because you could only belong to him. It wasn’t irritation, annoyance, anger, or even pure adoration tenderly trembling and warming him up from within his chest anymore, no…

It was carnal desire.

One that couldn’t be satiated without you, one that made him need you more than air, water, or food, so hard his head started spinning. One that would doom the both of you, bathing in blood and mutual violence, that König craved along with your loving gaze, delicate touches and quiet, sleepy whispers. Because destroying each other is what you were meant to do.

---

How none of the walkers followed you from the storage house was a mystery to you, drenched in blood and Jay’s brains were sure to draw them in — those undead fuckers were able to follow a scent trail like trained hounds. Still, you were grateful for that, having more of them on your tail would ensure your prompt death in the forest that seemed to be stretching around you, with seemingly no end to it. You were so goddamn tired, everything about your current state felt dirty and unclean; dry, brownish blood crusted onto your skin, soaked through your clothes and made you an easy target. Plus, with no food and no water available you won’t last long. You ended up being in the right. But what was the cost?

You were losing hope, fast. It has only been maybe half a day after your cut and run, the adrenaline that kept you going for hours wore off too soon for your liking, causing you to stumble around in the forest, much like a recently born deer, shaky-legged and lost. You started to think perhaps you hit your head on the floor too hard while fighting Jay, but that didn’t matter anymore. You were lost, dehydrated, hungry, with no prospects of surviving unless you find a river, and find it fast. That was your course of action, before you spotted shuffling and footsteps, crunching loudly on the ground, covered in a blanket of twigs, leaves, and grass. You expected a walker sneaking up on you all of a sudden, drawn in by the scent of blood, or an animal, if luck was on your side today, which you wouldn’t bet on, after all you’ve been through before the sun even cracked the sky open with its rays.

In front of you, however, was not an animal or a walker. It was a man. The first thing you noticed about him was his height, how he towered above everything around him. Only then, the lack of his face dawned on you, dirty hood with bleached stains right below the holes for eyes. Eyes, which you could barely make out from underneath this…obviously improvised face cover. But you weren’t the one to judge, however, assured in the fact that you must have been looking a hundred times worse, with your torn clothes, absolutely drenched in red. And that’s not to mention the smell…

The whites of your piercing eyes contrasted heavily with the skin, covered in red. König could hardly believe what he was seeing. Hours of tracking down the trail you used to get away from the storage house, chasing you down as quietly as possible, with anxiety churning his insides in an endless, void-like vortex, consuming his mind with devastating consequences and possibilities. Yet here you were. Shaken, staring at him like a wild animal, but safe. His.

It took everything in König not to fall down on his knees for you, burying his face in your gentle, lovely hands. There was nothing he wanted more than to crawl towards his beloved obsession, scraping the skin of his legs raw, tearing his gloves apart and scraping up the soil with his fingernails. But he had to contain himself, despite the trembling heart hammering behind his ribs like it was about to burst outwards, to you. Despite the most beautiful and warm of emotions overtaking him fully, despite his cheeks heating up in but a second, and despite his hand curling into a fist in his pocket, clutching a piece of your blanket he cut off for himself.

Finally. His for the taking.

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