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#my tummy hurts
bergselise · 4 months
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metalsonicplush · 4 months
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HAPPY HOLIDAYS!!!
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Not sure if this is how I send you asks but could you do a König x male baker reader? Like a fluff story? Like at some point Konig realizes he's in love with the sweet baker? If not that's fine too 🫶🏾🫶🏾 please?
Sweet Tooth
König x Male!Baker!Reader
Warnings: Swearing, fluff, and König being clueless about his feelings (Tags apply differently. Jokes about suicide, meant to be read with a light heart)
Pronouns for reader: you, he/him, reader is implied male
A/N: I really appreciate this opportunity to write for a character I haven't really written for or considered writing for in the past. I’ve also never written for a male reader before, so thanks so much for this ask! I’m also a firm believer that König drinks an unhealthy amount of hot chocolate. We’re talking 4+ cups on a normal day. I was given the idea and it kind of spiraled. He’s also shy and very pookie-coded here, I think.  Let me know if any of the German is wrong, I relied heavily on Google Translate for this. Also if I missed anything. I’ve read this so many times that the words are melting together and I just needed to post it. Sorry this took so long, I’ve been sick and it’s kicked my ass.
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It was a bit of a shock, the first time he walked into the bakery. At almost seven feet tall, how could he not be a shock? 
Ding. The soft tinkle of the bell above the door alerts you to the presence of the morning’s first customer. You glance up, and the smile drops from your face, then immediately reappears. 
“Good morning! Take your time with the menu, and let me know when you’re ready to order.” Your voice cuts through the silence. “I’m going to go take some muffins from the oven, but I'll be back soon. Let me know when you're ready, alright?”
“Ja.” A man’s deep rumble sounded from under his dark veil. You notice his head tip back up toward the chalkboard menu as you slip through the swinging doors to the kitchen. 
When you return, holding a tray of still-warm muffins, he looks to you. “Bitte, ah, please, may I order?”
“Mhm,” you hum in response, your chest buzzing with the vibrato. “What would you like?” The air is filled for a moment with the quiet sound of each muffin tapping onto the glass display plate. 
“May I have a- a blueberry scone, and a medium, ah, large, hot chocolate, please?” He asks. You notice him picking at his gloves and shrinking down as if trying to appear smaller than he is. 
Maybe he’s shy. The thought makes you smile inwardly. “Yup. I’ll get those for you. Sorry for the wait, it’s just me this morning.” 
“Die Stille [hush], it is- do not worry. It is no problem.” 
Oh my god, he really is shy. 
“For here, or to go?” 
“To go. Danke.”
Several minutes later, you raise a hand in a slight wave as he leaves, paper bag and steaming cup clutched in one gargantuan mitt. “Have a good day.”
“Ja. You as well,” he replies. 
It becomes routine, after a while. At first, it was about once a week. Then, it was a few times. Now, Monday through Saturday, he’s the first customer in the bakery, often causing the bell to ring as soon as you flip the sign. 
It’s a typical Tuesday morning, about a month after he started coming in. You’ve already opened the door, he’s received his usual order, and you’re curious. “What’s your name?” You ask, the urge to inquire obscuring any boundaries you might cross. 
He considers lying for a moment, but you’ve been kinder than most. Always assisting him whenever you could, treating him like a human, not like an apathetic war machine. 
“König,” he answers. 
“König,” you repeat. “Isn’t that German for ‘king’? Are you German?” You can’t keep the questions in. They fall from your lips before you recognize that what you’ve asked is invasive. He’s a customer. He’s here to get cocoa and a scone, not be bombarded by questions he might not even want to answer. 
But the man seems unfazed. “Ja, it is German. However, I am from Austria, not Germany.” 
Thank god for those Duolingo lessons, you think. 
“Oh. I’m sorry for all the questions so suddenly, but what do you do for work? Do you work around here?” The embarrassment you felt at the barrage of questions leaving your lips ebbs, and you feel more comfortable asking them now. 
“Ah, well,” he hesitated. “I am a Marine. I am a colonel. I work on the KorTac base, just outside of the city.” He checked his watch, then looked back up to you. “I’m sorry. I have to go, now. It was good speaking with you. Ah, goodbye.” 
It seems rushed, but you think little of it. He’s just shy. 
“Oh, yeah. Of course. See you tomorrow.” 
“Ja, I will be here.”
Tomorrow comes and goes. As does the next day. And the next, and so on. You don’t ask any more questions, as he seemed to leave hastily the last time. 
But he wishes you would. Why did I not ask one of him? I want to know more about the man, the little voice in the back of his head tells him. 
Weeks pass. He returns again. And you’re feeling brave.  
“König?” Your voice accompanies the sound of the paper bag as he grabs the top. “Would you, uh…” You trail off. 
“Would I what, der Nachtisch [sweets, dessert]?” 
“Would…” You had a hard time getting the words out. Your palms begin to sweat against the counter, and everything seems to be amplified tenfold. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?” You blurt. 
König is silent for a moment. Then, “Dinner?”
“Uh- yeah. With me.” You wish you could see under the veil, as he doesn’t answer. It seems like hours before König’s head tilts back upward to you. 
A small smile grows on his face, not that you can see it. He finally speaks, and his voice is soft. “Ja. I would like that, very much. Thank you.”
He doesn’t understand why his neck feels hot. His ears. His cheeks. His face is on fire and he doesn’t know why. 
You breathe a sigh of relief. He didn’t reject me. He wants to go to dinner. 
Shit. He wants to go to dinner.
“Cool, cool. What, uh, what kind of food do you like?” You ask casually, as if talking about the weather. As if you hadn’t just asked Colonel Colossus to grab a whole ass meal with you. 
He thinks for a moment before responding. “I quite enjoy anything. I am in favor of the foods of my Austrian background, though I am sure you are much more accustomed to those of your home. The choice is yours, mein Täubchen [my dove].” 
“Uh, well, it’s not Austrian, but there’s a little German restaurant a few blocks from here.”
Why did he ask me to choose? “If that’s okay.” 
König smiles, though his glowing cheeks remain obscured by the veil. “That sounds perfect, Mein Schatz [my dear].”
Your face lights up. “Great. When are you free?”
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gniteruirui · 2 months
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I've been swallowing on this all along, and I just found out now that it's a bubble gum.
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plants-and-geraniums · 8 months
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Red is a nice color ok
This is old drawing but it’s not THAT bad I guess 🤔
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I just know Choso would lay with you, hands pressed softly to your tummy if you told him you had cramps or your stomach was upset. Even press soft kisses and lightly scold your body for making his baby feel bad ):
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bluravenite · 7 months
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I miss when terzo was a lil slutty...
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garf-lover96 · 2 months
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just me and my six 10×15 julian devorak rossmann photos against the world
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(i have three copies of the flower one, so it's actually eight)
it's scary to see him as something i can hold in my hands it's messing with my head i don't ljke it
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angelpuns · 3 months
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Guess who just found out the caramel he's been eating is supposed to be refrigerated after opening-
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tetsuskei · 11 days
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guys i hate how being on your period is like someone turned your insides into a human blender bc what is going awn in there
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supernaturalkickparty · 2 months
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Having a food allergy sucks so bad
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hiro-doodlez · 2 months
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the battles i must face alone... walks away from you crying as i start howling and turning into a werewolf.. "my tummy hurts" i mutter under my breath as i let out a gut wrenching cry
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ephemeral-meadows · 9 months
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i’m screaming
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protectingswift · 5 months
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and i wanna brainwash you into loving me forever
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snzluv3r · 3 months
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anddddddddd i have the flu happy 2024
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