König X Reader - Blog Posts

Honestly kind of thinking about a baby trapping situation all consensual

König baby traps reader for marriage Baby born out of wedlock? How scandalous

Reader baby traps König for more power

👀👀

Just thinking about Mafia!König and Mafia!Reader

Except König doesn't know the reader is apart of another Mafia gang until he throws a party to celebrate the alliances between both families he totally falls in love. Like love at first sight but reader is like lol no

Just thinking about Mafia!König and Mafia!Reader

Except König doesn't know the reader is apart of another Mafia gang until he throws a party to celebrate the alliances between both families he totally falls in love. Like love at first sight but reader is like lol no

Konig despises eggplant. He won't go near the stuff. No matter how you cook it, he'll shiver and grimace every time you offer him a bite.

He goes with you everywhere - and I mean everywhere. Sits at the empty table next to you while you get your nails done. Walks down the path from your front door to the mailbox at the crack of dawn, his hands shoved in his pajama pants. Clingy, though he'll never admit it.

Loves a bar of 70% cocoa as a snack. Doesn't need water or milk to wash it down, but he won't turn down a glass of cold, whole milk if it's offered to him (it never is. He grabs it himself).

He'll yell at you to turn the water temperature down when you shower together. Corners himself as far away from the stream as he can, acting like you're threatening him with a scalding fire poke.

When he comes home after missions, he doesn't always drag you to the bedroom to do the devil's tango. Sometimes, he hugs you tightly and begs you to make an actual meal, something to replenish him after weeks of boiled chicken and canned beans from wherever he was shipped off to. He wants you to sit at the table with him and just talk, please just distract him from his own thoughts.

If you hand him something, he'll hold it. He won't even pause what he's doing, whether that's talking about Spartan phalanx formations, or listening to you babble about your day. And he won't let whatever it is go until you tell him what to do with it. You'll turn around, seeing him holding the half stick of butter you handed him well over five minutes ago. "König, baby, you can put that back in the fridge."

He holds your breasts in his sleep in a non-sexual way - but damn, his grip can be fucking tight sometimes. He's got his head resting on your soft stomach, snoring against your skin as his fingers dig and squeeze at your tits. It takes a few minutes of your whining and shoving at his head before he finally relents, wrapping his arms around your waist instead.

He's happy to go to Home Goods with you and spend an hour just sniffing the different candles. He tends to lean towards the apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, or any warm, holiday scents. He can't stand the ones like "tropical waves", or "fresh linen".

He has eaten an entire wheel of brie cheese in one sitting. Multiple times. With nothing else to compliment it. And he will do it again. You can't stop him.

I’m at the beach rn so I wanted to do a quick drabble with fem!reader x König at the beach. Light suggestive themes.

First of all, König does NOT like the beach. There’s too many people, it’s too loud, it’s hot, not to mention all the stares he gets for being tall, hot, and littered with tattoos and scars. Oh, he also wears one of those black surgical face masks to the beach.

König would never go to the beach on his own accord. You’d have to ask nicely beg him to go to the beach with you. He only agrees because he can’t have you prancing around in your cute little bikini with no big strong man to protect you from all the wandering eyes at the beach

König would pack so much water for you two. He can’t have you getting dehydrated! He would carry a whole cooler full of water bottles. You’d shove some snacks in there too, to feed your grumpy man and thank him for going to the beach with you

König has to be almost dragged to get in the water. He was never much of a water person; all his training is on land. He can’t watch for enemies if he’s playing mermaid with you, come on Schatz! He would absolutely NOT play mermaid, I’m sorry :( come on Schatz, grown men don’t play mermaid

After a while, König would get fed up with the water and go back to your spot. He would watch you the whole time though, making sure you’re not drowning or no one is getting too close. His eyes wouldn’t wander to any other woman but you

After an hour or so, König would demand you get out of the water for a water break. He’d make you drink a whole bottle before going back out to swim.

Oh also sunscreen. König gets really bashful when you have to apply sunscreen to him, but he has no trouble applying it on you. Hell, he has half a mind to paw at your breasts while he’s rubbing the sunscreen into those soft curves. You always bat your lashes innocently at him, and he grumbles and tries not to get a hard on. He also reapplies sunscreen to you every hour. You won’t get sunburn on his watch!

Going to the beach isn’t the most relaxing with König, though you know you’ll be well hydrated and cared for ❤️ and it’s all worth it to König when he gets to take you out to dinner afterwards in your cute post-beach makeup and sundress

Konig despises eggplant. He won't go near the stuff. No matter how you cook it, he'll shiver and grimace every time you offer him a bite.

He goes with you everywhere - and I mean everywhere. Sits at the empty table next to you while you get your nails done. Walks down the path from your front door to the mailbox at the crack of dawn, his hands shoved in his pajama pants. Clingy, though he'll never admit it.

Loves a bar of 70% cocoa as a snack. Doesn't need water or milk to wash it down, but he won't turn down a glass of cold, whole milk if it's offered to him (it never is. He grabs it himself).

He'll yell at you to turn the water temperature down when you shower together. Corners himself as far away from the stream as he can, acting like you're threatening him with a scalding fire poke.

When he comes home after missions, he doesn't always drag you to the bedroom to do the devil's tango. Sometimes, he hugs you tightly and begs you to make an actual meal, something to replenish him after weeks of boiled chicken and canned beans from wherever he was shipped off to. He wants you to sit at the table with him and just talk, please just distract him from his own thoughts.

If you hand him something, he'll hold it. He won't even pause what he's doing, whether that's talking about Spartan phalanx formations, or listening to you babble about your day. And he won't let whatever it is go until you tell him what to do with it. You'll turn around, seeing him holding the half stick of butter you handed him well over five minutes ago. "König, baby, you can put that back in the fridge."

He holds your breasts in his sleep in a non-sexual way - but damn, his grip can be fucking tight sometimes. He's got his head resting on your soft stomach, snoring against your skin as his fingers dig and squeeze at your tits. It takes a few minutes of your whining and shoving at his head before he finally relents, wrapping his arms around your waist instead.

He's happy to go to Home Goods with you and spend an hour just sniffing the different candles. He tends to lean towards the apple, cinnamon, pumpkin, or any warm, holiday scents. He can't stand the ones like "tropical waves", or "fresh linen".

He has eaten an entire wheel of brie cheese in one sitting. Multiple times. With nothing else to compliment it. And he will do it again. You can't stop him.

Misunderstood By Society (6)

Asylum Patient! Konig x Doctor! GN! Reader

Warnings: Posted here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The box of activities in my arms wasn’t much. Simple things—some puzzles, a few basic sketch pads, even a stress ball. It wasn’t about the activities themselves. It was about control. König had none in this place. Every decision, every movement, every choice was made for him. I wanted to change that, even in small ways.

But first, I had to get his food.

I made my way to the meal cart, already spotting Jacobs lingering nearby. I should have expected him. He leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a smug smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Didn’t take you for a babysitter, doc," he mused, his voice thick with faux charm. "Bringing the big guy toys now?"

I didn’t take the bait, simply setting down the box and reaching for König’s tray. The moment I lifted the lid, my stomach turned.

The food was bland—overcooked, dry, and utterly unappetizing—but that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was the faint, crushed-up remnants of something mixed into the potatoes.

I frowned, glancing at the kitchen staff behind the counter. "What is this?"

One of them hesitated, looking over at Jacobs, who didn’t bother to hide his grin.

"Standard procedure," he said smoothly. "Gotta make sure the big guy gets his meds one way or another."

I scoffed, shaking my head. "And this is the best you could do? Bland, disgusting, and drugged?" I looked back at the tray. "No wonder he doesn’t eat."

Jacobs’ smirk didn’t falter. "You’re new here, doc. You don’t get how things work."

I exhaled through my nose, turning fully to face him. "Oh, I understand just fine. I understand that König reacts to you the way he does because he distrusts you. And do you know why, Jacobs?" I tilted my head slightly, my voice eerily even. "Because you treat him like an animal."

The grin on Jacobs’ face twitched, just slightly, before hardening into something else.

I saw the shift in his posture, the way his muscles tensed, the way his jaw clenched. He wasn’t used to people calling him out.

He took a step forward, lowering his voice. "Careful, doc," he murmured, his tone dripping with warning. "You’re playing a dangerous game. You’re new. They can replace you just as fast as they hired you."

I didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

Instead, I simply smiled.

Not a kind one.

A cold one.

"Then I guess we’ll see who lasts longer."

Jacobs' eyes flickered with something unreadable, something dark, before he huffed a quiet laugh and backed off. "Suit yourself."

I grabbed König’s tray, picking up my box of activities, and walked away without another word.

When I returned to König’s room, he was where I left him—sitting on the floor, his hood drawn low, his posture stiff but less guarded than before. His eyes flicked to the tray in my hands.

I set it down in front of him before carefully removing the plate and wiping the mashed potatoes clean with a napkin. The faint traces of crushed medication smeared onto the paper, proof of what had been hidden there.

König’s gaze lingered on my movements.

I pushed the plate toward him. "It’s out. You can take the pills when you’re ready."

He didn’t move at first.

Then, slowly, his fingers curled around the fork. He picked at the food, shoving the vegetables aside until only the meat remained.

I made another note: He only eats the meat.

The water sat untouched.

I noticed the subtle way his fingers twitched toward it before retracting.

He was hesitant. Suspicious.

I picked up the napkin, holding it up so he could see the powdery remnants. "See?" I said quietly. "It was in the food, not the water."

His fingers flexed again.

A long silence stretched between us before he finally reached for the cup.

He didn’t drink right away.

But he held it.

And for now, that was enough.

The small table between us felt like a fragile boundary, something uncertain but unbroken. I had spread out the activities—simple things, nothing complicated. I wanted to see what he gravitated toward, what caught his interest.

König eyed them warily, his large hands clenching and unclenching at his sides. The pencil I had set near the notepad remained untouched. His fingers twitched toward it but never quite closed around it.

Minutes passed before he finally picked it up.

I didn’t move. Didn’t offer guidance. I just watched.

He held it awkwardly, his grip too tight, his movements stiff. When he tried to press it to the paper, it barely scratched across the surface, the pressure uneven. His breathing changed—shallow, irritated. The tip of the pencil snapped, and he gritted his teeth.

His fingers flexed, and the pencil rolled from his grip onto the floor. He didn’t pick it up.

Instead, he reached for the puzzle.

I wrote in my notes without making a sound. Hesitant with fine motor skills. Difficulty gripping pencil. Signs of memory loss? Discomfort? Frustration.

The puzzle pieces were large, meant for children, but he didn’t seem to care. He worked through them slowly, his massive fingers surprisingly careful as he fit the edges together.

Then, quietly, he mumbled.

The first time, I thought he was speaking to me.

But then I realized—

He was talking to himself.

His voice was low, muttering in German and occasionally switching to English. It wasn’t nonsensical. It was structured, like a conversation.

"Here? No—there. That piece is wrong."

A beat of silence.

Then—

"No, it fits—see?"

A pause.

"It does not. Try again."

He was responding to himself.

Like two halves of his mind were speaking to each other.

I kept writing. Conversational murmuring. Auditory hallucinations? Inner dialogue?

I didn’t react. Didn’t try to stop him.

König’s fingers trembled slightly when he got a piece wrong, his breathing uneven. He paused, his hood dipping forward, hands curling into fists before relaxing again.

Still, I said nothing.

He noticed.

"You are quiet." His voice cut through the room, sharp and suspicious.

I looked up from my notes. "Do you want me to speak?"

He stiffened, clearly not expecting the question. His fingers twitched again. "You are a doctor," he muttered. "You are supposed to… show me how it is done."

I set my pen down. "Do you want help?"

Silence.

His shoulders tensed. His fingers tapped against the table once—twice. His head tilted slightly beneath the hood, something unreadable in his posture.

He didn’t answer.

And I didn’t press.

I leaned back in my chair. "I believe people should ask for help when they need it," I said simply. "After they’ve tried to find a solution first."

König’s breathing was slow, measured. He reached for another piece of the puzzle.

This time, he fit it in correctly.

He exhaled—quiet, barely noticeable. But I noticed.

And I wrote it down.

I'm baaaacckkk-

Okay, I am very sorry for such a long absence.

I went through quite a bit after January and it stunted alot of my time and motivation. I went through some tough family situations, a breakup and some other job related complications. I apologize to everyone who sent in any requests but I am starting fresh.

Inbox is officially OPEN to take requests!!

I will be updating the Misunderstood by Society story more seeing as an author reached out and offered help for me to write it! I plan on making it a real book and will have to change Konig's name but it wont change when posted on here!

I also want to greatly thank everyone for the likes and reposts I've been getting and all the support you have given!

I am SO glad to be back and hopefully I can keep my motivation this time!

ITS FIXED NOW!! CHAPTER 4 AND 5 ARE UP!

DAMMIT.

Okay so part 4 of Misunderstoof by society disappeared but luckily I saved it in my notes...

Gonna have to delete 5, put 4, then repost 5 again...IM SORY GUYS IM SO SORRY....I'll be updating my ML as well ugh

Thank you to the person who commented on which part it was, I would've never noticed that if it weren't for you😭😭😭😭❤️

Misunderstood By Society (5)

Asylum Patient! Konig x Doctor! GN! Reader

Warnings: Posted here

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I let the conversation flow, keeping it light, keeping it human. I talked about small things—books I had read, places I had visited, even the weather outside, though König probably hadn’t seen the sky in a long time.

He responded in sharp, clipped sentences, his tone always edged with something cold. His words were blunt, sometimes outright rude, but I didn’t react. If he was trying to push me away, he’d have to try harder than that.

It wasn’t until I noticed the subtle shift—the absence of Jacobs’ shadow behind the mirror, the guards no longer lingering—that I finally steered the conversation where I needed it to go. His treatment.

“König,” I said evenly. “Tell me about what they do to you.”

His entire posture changed.

His fingers twitched. His shoulders tensed. His breath came out just a little harsher. I saw it coming before it happened. His aggression flared like a match striking against stone.

*“You think I want to talk about that?”* His voice was sharp, rising in volume. His heavy boots scraped against the floor as he shifted, his entire body coiled with pent-up frustration.

I didn’t move. Didn’t flinch. He wanted a reaction. I refused to give him one.

I stayed still, my hands resting loosely in my lap, my breathing slow and even. “I think you don’t have to,” I murmured. “But I also think you want someone to listen.”

His fists clenched. His chest heaved. He was fighting something—himself.

For a moment, I thought he would snap. That he would grab the table, flip it, storm off, yell, something.

I spoke again. Soft. Steady. Grounding.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, König.”

Something in him stilled. His breathing slowed. His fists loosened.

Then, as if something inside him finally caved in, he sank to the floor in front of me, his massive frame hunched, his head slightly bowed.

I let the silence settle before speaking again.

“Things are going to be different now.”

König let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “Different?”

“Yes.”

I wasn’t Jacobs. I wasn’t the guards. I wasn’t here to break him—I was here to help.

He scoffed but said nothing. I took that as an opportunity. “Tell me how they treat you.”

He was silent for a long time. Then—

“They taunt me,” he muttered. “Mock me. They force me. Hit me. Tase me.” His breathing grew uneven. “They cage me like an animal....Im not an animal- Im not supposed to be here! I need to be out. They need to let me out!"

My heart clenched. But my face remained neutral. His anger rose but I chose to refrain from engaging.

I had suspected something was wrong, but hearing it from him made it worse.

He had been fighting back because he had to. Because the people meant to help him had become the very thing he needed to be protected from. I met his gaze. “That won’t happen anymore.”

He let out another low, bitter laugh. “And why should I believe that?”

“Because I’m going to be here more than Jacobs now,” I said simply. “And because I won’t force you to take medication you’re not supposed to.”

That made him pause.

I leaned forward slightly. “I don’t believe in unnecessary pills. I believe in natural medicine. Things that actually help rather than subdue.” König didn’t speak, but I could tell he was listening.

“You’ve been given drugs to control you, not to help you,” I continued. “I don’t want you drugged into obedience. I want to figure out what actually works for you." A long silence stretched between us.

Then, finally, König shifted. His fingers flexed slightly, like he was mulling something over. “…We will see,” he murmured, voice quieter now.

It wasn’t trust.

Not yet.

But it was something.

A start.

Misunderstood By Society (4)

Asylum Patient! Konig x Doctor! Gn! Reader

Warnings :Posted here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The silence between us stretched, heavy but not suffocating. I remained still, keeping a respectful distance, my hands loose at my sides—neither defensive nor threatening.

König hadn’t moved at first, just watching me from beneath his hood. I could feel his stare, could feel the weight of it pressing down on me, analyzing, waiting.

Then, slowly, his large hand reached for the paper cup on the table.

I didn’t react, didn’t make a sound, only kept my posture relaxed as he lifted his hood just enough to expose his mouth. I barely caught a glimpse of his pale skin, the sharp cut of his jawline, before he tipped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them dry.

I made a mental note: Refuses water. Either out of habit or distrust.

Behind the two-way mirror, I could almost hear the stunned silence from Jacobs and the guards. They had expected a fight, a struggle. Instead, they got this—quiet cooperation.

I turned my attention back to König. He had tensed again, his hands gripping the edge of the table like he was waiting for something. A reprimand? A sarcastic comment? I wasn’t sure.

So I did the opposite.

I spoke.

Softly, steadily.

But not about him. Not about his medication. Not about the asylum.

"Back home, I had a neighbor who kept pigeons," I said, keeping my voice even. "He used to feed them by hand every morning, and they’d always come back to him."

König didn’t move. He didn’t respond, either, but he didn’t tell me to shut up.

I continued. "One day, a hawk showed up, and the pigeons wouldn’t land anymore. They were too scared. The neighbor was frustrated, thought they had abandoned him." I exhaled through my nose, a small huff of amusement. "But I told him they weren’t gone. They were just waiting for the hawk to leave."

Another beat of silence. Then—

"What is your point?"

His voice was sharp, edged with something unreadable, and thick with an Austrian accent. His words were clipped, like he wasn’t used to speaking much.

I didn’t react to his tone. Didn’t flinch, didn’t stiffen. Instead, I turned slightly, tilting my head at him in mild curiosity.

"My point?" I mused. "Maybe the pigeons aren’t the problem. Maybe the hawk is."

A pause. His grip on the table tightened. I could almost hear the way his teeth clenched behind the fabric of his hood.

"You think I am the hawk?" His words had a bite to them, an almost mocking edge.

I considered that for a moment, then shook my head. "No. I think you’re the one waiting for it to leave."

His breath hitched, just slightly, before he scoffed—sharp and quiet. "You think you are very smart, ja?"

I smiled faintly. "No. Just observant."

His head tilted slightly, like he was studying me, weighing my words.

I didn’t press him. I didn’t need to. Instead, I did something simple—something human.

I extended my hand.

A handshake.

A basic, polite gesture. One that said, I acknowledge you. I see you.

His posture went rigid, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with the gesture. He stared at my outstretched hand like it was something foreign, something unfamiliar.

For a long moment, he didn’t move.

Then, just as I thought he wouldn’t take it—

His fingers twitched.

And slowly, cautiously, he reached out.

His hand dwarfed mine, rough and scarred, his grip firm but not crushing.

It lasted only a second before he pulled away, retreating slightly like he had just given something away.

I didn’t comment on it. I simply nodded, as if that single moment had said enough.

Behind the mirror, I knew Jacobs was seething, the guards stunned.

But I didn’t care.

I wasn’t here to control König.

I was here to understand him.

Misunderstood By Society (3)

Asylum Patient! König x GN! Doctor! Reader

Warnings⚠️: Posted here

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The quiet hum of my apartment felt almost unnatural after the weight of the asylum. The dim glow of my desk lamp cast long shadows as I flipped through König’s file, the pages slightly worn from being handled so many times.

I had read through his basics already—his history of violence, his refusal to remove his hood, his resistance to treatment—but it wasn’t until I dug deeper into his medication list that my brows furrowed.

Several of his prescriptions made sense—antipsychotics, mood stabilizers, anti-anxiety medications—but a few names stood out.

{High doses of sedatives. Heavy tranquilizers.}

I muttered to myself, running a finger down the list. “Were they trying to sedate him or tranquilize him?”

I had seen this before. In facilities like Winchester, when a patient became too “difficult,” the solution was often chemical restraint rather than actual treatment. But König wasn’t an animal to be put down when he got too aggressive—he was a man. A man with a fractured mind, one that had been pushed to the point of breaking.

Sighing, I leaned back in my chair and scrubbed a hand down my face. I’d figure that out later. For now, I needed to prepare.

I got up, threw a microwave dinner into the machine, and let it spin while I grabbed my notebook. König’s file had listed his three biggest diagnoses—**PTSD, Severe Anxiety, and Bipolar Disorder.** None of them were uncommon for someone with a history like his, but combined with past military experience and hallucinations? It was a volatile mix.

I started writing.

PTSD:

- Triggers can vary (sounds, environments, smells).

- Hypervigilance—may react aggressively if startled.

- May experience flashbacks—important to ground them in the present.

- Do not corner or restrain without necessity—could escalate panic.

Severe Anxiety:

- Constant state of heightened awareness.

- Likely has difficulty trusting others—especially in a place like this.

- Resistance to medication may stem from paranoia.

- Routines might help stabilize his mood.

Bipolar Disorder:

- Mood swings—manic episodes vs. depressive episodes.

- Manic: Impulsive behavior, possible aggression.

- Depressive: Withdrawal, possible suicidal ideation.

- Medication regulation is critical.

I tapped the pen against my notepad, thinking. König wasn’t just violent—he was reactive. His entire life, he had been treated as a monster, as something to be subdued rather than understood. It wasn’t surprising that he lashed out.

The mircowave beeped, but I barely noticed it, my mind too focused on the task ahead. If I was going to handle this right, I needed to know what not to do.

What NOT to do around König:

- Sudden movements or loud noises—could trigger defensive aggression.

- Forced eye contact—may make him feel challenged or threatened.

- Overuse of restraints—will increase distrust and worsen anxiety.

- Talking down to him—he’s not *stupid*, and treating him like a child will only piss him off.

- Forcing medication—there has to be a reason he refuses it. Find out why.

I exhaled, closing the notebook.

Tomorrow was going to be my first session with König. I wasn’t walking into this blind.

I was going to be prepared.

————————————————————————

The asylum always felt colder in the mornings. Maybe it was just the old building settling, or maybe it was something else—something deeper. Either way, I felt it in my bones as I made my way to the lockers, stopping when I saw Miss. Nessi leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

"Morning," she greeted, offering me a small but knowing smile.

"Morning," I replied, twisting open my locker and grabbing my things. "Anything I should know before I see him?"

"Yeah," she sighed. "Jacobs is already in there."

I paused, my fingers gripping the edge of my clipboard a little tighter. "Of course he is."

"Be careful," Nessi murmured, lowering her voice. "You ever notice how some of the staff here act like they enjoy this place a little too much?" I glanced at her, noting the concern in her eyes. She was right. There were people here who weren’t just desensitized to the work—they thrived in it. Jacobs was one of them.

I gave her a nod, silently assuring her I’d be fine before heading to König’s restricted wing.

The moment I stepped inside, I knew something was wrong.

König was restrained, held down by two guards, his entire body tensed like a coiled spring. His breathing was sharp and uneven, chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. Jacobs stood in front of him, holding a small paper cup filled with pills.

"You gonna take 'em, or are we gonna have to *help* you again?" Jacobs taunted, his voice laced with amusement. "Come on, big guy. Open up."

König didn’t move. His hood obscured most of his face, but even from here, I could feel the intensity of his glare.

I flipped through my notebook, skimming my own notes. "Intimidation tactics don’t work," I said aloud, not bothering to hide my disapproval. "Neither does *antagonizing* the patient, but I guess that’s too much to ask."

Jacobs turned, his cocky smirk faltering slightly. "Oh, look, the new doc finally showed up." I didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, I met his gaze with a calm but firm stare. "Leave."

Jacobs scoffed. "Excuse me?"

"You’re excused," I replied evenly. "I’ll be handling his medication today." Jacobs’ jaw tightened. "You’re new. You don’t know how things work around here." I smiled, sharp and polite. "I know enough to recognize unprofessional behavior when I see it. Now, leave."

For a moment, I thought he’d argue, but something in my expression must have told him I wasn’t budging. He rolled his eyes and stepped back, shoving the cup into my hands before walking off with an irritated huff. I turned to the guards. "Out."

One of them hesitated. "Doctor, we’re required to—"

"—Stay out." My voice was firm, leaving no room for argument. "You’re not helping."

They exchanged looks but, eventually, backed away. The heavy doors clicked shut behind them, leaving just me and König in the room.

I finally exhaled, looking up at him. His breathing was still uneven, but now that Jacobs and the guards were gone, it wasn’t as ragged. His shoulders remained tense, but his fists had loosened slightly.

I took a slow, deliberate step forward. "They always treat you like that?"

Silence.

I held up the cup of pills. "I read your file. I know you don’t like taking these. I’m not going to force you. But if we’re going to work together, I need to understand *why* you refuse them." König didn’t speak, but he was listening. That was a start.

I placed the cup on the small table beside us, keeping my movements slow and non-threatening. "I’ll leave these here. Your choice. No threats. No force." I took a step back, giving him space.

"Can I take these off?" I gestured to the restraints. His fingers curled slightly, muscles twitching, but he gave a small nod. Carefully, I reached for the straps, undoing them one by one.

As the last restraint fell away, König didn’t move. He just *watched* me. For the first time since I walked in, I met his gaze, though his face remained shadowed beneath his hood.

"I’m Dr. Y/N," I said softly. "And I'll be taking care of you."

Misunderstood By Society warnings ⚠️

Asylum Patient! König x GN! Doctor! Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Mentions of different disorders, patient abuse, medication by force, talks of symptoms and behaviors, suicide and violence, toxic work environment, dangerous situations, slight gore, hallucinations, PTSD, Anxiety, Bipolar Disorder, People are mean to patients, lobotomy may be mentioned but not descriptive.

....So I forgot to put trigger warnings on the last two chapters.... but this story will not have trigger warnings on every chapter. The story as a whole can be triggering.

This story contains sensitive topics on patients and their different disabilities, medication, and instances based off how patients had been treated in past facilities. In no way is this meant to harm or be hurtful to anyone. I've been researching each different disorder, I have researched and dug around old, shut down asylum and why they closed. I'm simply writing with researched knowledge. If you have information that I've written incorrectly or you have tips on a specific disorder, reach out, I will appreciate any helpful thing greatfully!!

I will be posting chapters out as much as I can. I enjoy writing this and I've had alot of motivation to write for it and a few other things!!!

Thank you all who are enjoying this story and showing your support♡♡

-Writer Icy♡

Misunderstood By Society (2)

Asylum Patient Konig x GN!Doctor! reader

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The staff locker room smelled faintly of bleach and old metal, the fluorescent lights casting everything in a pale, washed-out glow. I stood in front of my assigned locker, methodically placing my items inside—badge, clipboard, patient files, my white coat, and a thicker one for when the building’s heating inevitably failed in certain wings.

A quiet humming sound caught my attention before a cheerful voice followed. “New doctor, huh? You must be Dr. Y/N.” I turned, meeting the gaze of a woman in blue scrubs, her ID tag reading Miss Nessi. She was petite, her dark hair pinned back neatly, and she had the kind of warmth in her smile that made her seem out of place in a place like this.

“That’s me,” I replied, shutting my locker. “Nice to meet you.”

“Same to you,” she said, leaning against the lockers. “Wiles told me you’d be working with König. You’ve got guts.” I only nodded. People kept telling me that, and I didn’t know yet if it was a compliment or a warning.

Another voice cut in, this one male. “I was supposed to be his personal caretaker before you arrived. Guess they thought he needed a fresh face.”

I turned again and immediately felt a shift in the air. The man standing there—*Dave Jacobs,* according to his badge—was tall, well-built, and undeniably attractive by most standards. But something about him set my nerves on edge. Maybe it was the way his eyes lingered too long or how his smirk didn’t quite reach them.

“That means you and I will be working together closely,” he added smoothly, stepping just a little too close. “Guess that makes us partners, yeah?” I didn’t react, merely grabbing my clipboard from the locker and shutting it. “Only when I’m not here,” I said flatly.

For a split second, something flickered in his expression—something cold—but it was gone just as quickly. He chuckled, running a hand through his hair like he was in some kind of movie. “Don’t worry. I’ll take *good* care of him when you’re not around.” I didn’t answer, just turned to Miss Nessi, who gave me a look that said I know.

I made quick work of my things, not wanting to linger. I wasn’t scheduled to meet König until tomorrow, so for now, I busied myself with walking the asylum, familiarizing myself with the halls, the layout, and—most of all—the details.

I noticed everything. The smudges on the tile from worn-down shoes. The faint scent of stale cigarettes despite the “No Smoking” signs. The scratches on the walls, some fresh, some years old. Some carved with fingernails, others with something sharper.

The workers moved about in careful patterns, some chatting, others moving in silence. But something about them—most of them—felt off. I couldn’t place it yet, but it was there, lingering beneath the surface.

I thought about my empty home, about the dinner I had waiting for me, a simple meal I’d probably eat alone at my kitchen table. It was better than nothing.

Then—

BZZT!

The intercom crackled to life, the voice coming through sharp and direct:

“Code Yellow. Staff to Wing C. Repeat, Code Yellow.”

I froze, instinct kicking in. Someone had been hit by a patient.

Miss Nessi, who had been walking nearby, grabbed my arm before I could move. “Don’t. Security’s handling it.”

I hesitated, glancing down the hall. Already, orderlies and doctors were moving quickly toward Wing C. But something in my gut twisted.

I had only been here a short time, but I could already feel it—something about the asylum wasn’t right. And I had a feeling that König was only the beginning.

Misunderstood By Society (1)

Asylum Patient! Konig x GN! Doctor! Reader

SOO... I've finally decided to make this an actual story. Heeyyy @gremlinmodetweeker Thought you might like it!!! ♡♡

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The scent of old books and sterilized floors filled the office, a strange combination of history and control. Mr. Wiles sat across from me, his gnarled hands resting atop a folder marked with thick red ink—KÖNIG. The name alone carried weight. I had heard it whispered through the halls before I even stepped foot into this office, spoken in hushed tones by orderlies and doctors alike.

"You're aware of the assignment, Dr. Y/N?" Mr. Wiles' voice was soft, deliberate, but there was something unreadable in his gaze.

"Yes, sir," I replied, sitting up straighter. "König. High risk. History of violent outbursts. Resistance to treatment."

Mr. Wiles nodded, flipping open the file. His brow creased ever so slightly as he traced his finger down the page. "He's... difficult. Bigger than any of our other patients. Stronger. He has attacked staff before, and his reactions to sedation are—" He hesitated, choosing his next words carefully. "Severe."

I had done my research before taking this position. König had been here for years, in and out of high-security confinement, yet no one had truly reached him. The reports were conflicting.

Some described him as a mindless brute, others painted him as an intelligent but deeply scarred man, one who refused to speak unless it was in anger. He never removed the hood that obscured his face. Some believed he never would.

"He refuses his medication," I said, watching Wiles closely. "And he doesn't react well to needles."

"He despises them," Wiles confirmed. "We've had to restrain him on more than one occasion. It only makes things worse." I kept my expression neutral, but inside, my mind was already turning.

König had spent his life fighting—whether it was his past, his captors, or himself, I didn't know yet. But the approach they had taken so far wasn’t working. Restraints, forced medication, treating him like a caged animal... of course he resisted.

"And my role?" I asked.

Mr. Wiles closed the file, exhaling through his nose. "You're his personal caretaker now. You’ll oversee his treatment, manage his outbursts, and—if possible—try to reach him. You will be the one he sees the most, the one responsible for ensuring he doesn’t become a danger to himself or others." He met my eyes.

"No one has succeeded yet, Dr. Y/N. Many have quit. Some were injured. You are new, and I admire your determination, but I must ask—are you certain?"

I held his gaze. "If no one has succeeded, then that means no one has tried the right way yet. I don’t believe in giving up before I’ve even begun." Mr. Wiles studied me for a long moment before a small, knowing smile crossed his lips.

"I thought you might say that." He pushed the folder toward me. "Your first session begins tomorrow morning. Be careful, Doctor. König may not be the monster they say he is... but he is still dangerous."

I took the file, gripping it firmly.

"We'll see."

THIS IS BEAUTIFUL, IM GONNA CRY- thank you @goblinmodetweeker

I will be writing a several chapter story of the Patient Konig x Doctor Reader and I'm working the details out now. This sketch is so beautiful, I'm so excited for this!!

For @icrypop and their amazing psych ward AU! I loved the scene of YN reading Beauty and the Beast to our big boy, so I decided to do a preliminary sketch of it! However, I might adjust it to fit more with the setting as I learn more.

Konig Blurb Idea

Asylum Patient! Konig x GN!Doctor! Reader

Slightly sad fluff

I genuinely love the idea of asylum patient that's understood by their doctor through stories- Anyway! Enjoyyy!

-Writer Icy<3

They opened the well-worn pages of Beauty and the Beast, their words painting a vivid tapestry of enchantment. Konig's eyes followed the characters' journey with rapt attention, his head resting in Y/n's lap. His slender fingers traced the soft contours of their jawline, seeking a connection beyond the spoken words.

'Why is the Beast so lonely, Dr. L/n?' Konig asked, his voice a mere whisper.

'Perhaps,' Y/n mused, 'because he feels like an outsider, like his true self is hidden beneath a harsh exterior.'

'And the Beauty?' Konig inquired. 'Why does she love him?'

'Because she sees past his outward appearance,' Y/n explained, 'and recognizes the goodness within his heart. She teaches him the power of love and compassion.'

As the story unfolded, Konig's questions grew more introspective. 'I am like the Beast, am I not? Trapped in a body that frightens others away.'

A dull ache welled up in y/n's heart as they realized the extent of Konig's pain. 'That is not true, Konig,' they protested softly. 'You have a kind and gentle soul, a soul worthy of love.'

Konig raised his head and met y/n's gaze. 'Do you mean it, Dr. L/n?' he asked, his voice trembling with hope. 'Could someone ever love me for who I truly am?'

Y/n leaned forward and gently caressed Konig's cheek. 'I love you, Konig,' they whispered, their words echoing the transformative power of Beauty and the Beast.

A radiant smile spread across Konig's face, illuminating the shadows in his eyes. 'I love you too, Dr. L/N,' he replied, his voice filled with the newfound light of acceptance.

In that shared moment, the walls of Winchester Asylum seemed to dissolve, replaced by a timeless realm where love triumphed over adversity. As Y/n continued to read, Konig's breathing grew steady, his fears subsiding like the fading moonlight. Amidst the gentle rhythm of their voice and the tender touch of his fingers, they found solace and redemption in the pages of an enchanted tale.