Late Night Talking: König x Reader

Chapter 6 - Dressing

*Injury TW*

"König?" I ask, my voice wavering. 

"Ja." He breathes out. 

I look at him and take in his form. His left arm is over his chest, most likely covering a giant wound, while his right one is above me on the door frame, supporting himself. He's breathing heavy, his clothes are filled with mud and dark red and brown stains, and he's looking at me through his mask with half-lidded eyes. He doesn't have his arm guards on and his long sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, soaked in a red liquid, but he still has his gloves on. I notice that he has deep gashes all along his arms. 

My eyes go up and down his form and I signal for him to follow me inside my house. I lead him to my living room and light the fireplace, I don't know if it'll help him, but maybe it'll just make him feel better about his current situation. I motion for him to sit on my couch and he plops on it with a heavy sigh. 

"Am I helping a dying man right now?" I ask König with a genuine tone.

"No, I'll be fine if you hurry." He says, looking at me with pleading eyes.

I go to my downstairs bathroom and rummage through my sink cabinet, trying to find a first aid kit. I live alone and I'm prone to hurting myself stupidly, so I have a pretty nice one with all the good stuff. I find it at the very back and grab it, making my way immediately back to König. 

I see him laying on the couch with one arm over his chest still and the other over his eyes. One of his legs is on the couch while the other is off of it, with his foot planted on the ground and his knee bent. 

"König.." I trail off as I see him weak and bloody.

He removes the arm off of his eyes and looks up at me. I slowly brush his cheek with the back of my hand, not really knowing why. He looks at me with hope in his eyes but then he squints at me and glares. 

"Are you trying to kill me? Hurry up, dame." He commands. 

My face flashes with disgust and anger and I know he sees how his words affected me. "I didn't have to open my fucking door." I spat out, looking at the pathetic excuse in front of me. 

He looks down at my feet and then back up to me, maybe trying to apologize with his eyes. 

"I'll help you, but not because I care, but because I'll feel bad if I don't." I say, sitting on the coffee table in front of him so I can look at him face to face. 

I examine his form and I decide to do the biggest injury it looks like he has, which is the one on his chest. I push his arm away from it, earning very little resistance from him. I look at the cut in his shirt and see how stained it is. There's wet and dried blood everywhere. I raise an eyebrow and realize there's only one way to dress this injury. 

"Take off your shirt." I state blankly. 

He looks around nervously and then proceeds to move a little to try and take it off gently. I can tell he's in a lot of pain, but he insulted me in my own home. Even after I cared about his well-being, too. 

He takes it off slowly and I see his stomach. I feel my breath hitch as I notice his wound and his perfect body. There are scars everywhere, making this feel more intimate than it should. He has perfectly broad shoulders and an even more perfect abdomen shape. His collarbone is so sharp I'd put my money on it being able to cut diamonds. I see a full sleeve tattoo on his left arm, that I didn't notice before, which goes up to his shoulder and across some of his chest. God, I dislike this man, but I can't keep my mouth from going agape when I look across his body.