#baby könig did not deserve that 😭

[sweetpascal]

" never would have thought "

summary: having been friends for a few years, you never would have thought you'd lower your standards to fill that void in your life. no matter how many times könig has tried to prove your worth, you're too blinded.

warnings: !! ANGST !! (grab the tissues), könig tries his best, heartbreak, toxic situationships, rejection, no happy ending

wc: 2.2k

notes: i remembered about all of my horrible situationships and it somehow included könig in the thoughts ?? also, könig is NOT gonna act how you think he's gonna act. trust me. !! THIS WILL HURT !!

.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・.・゜゜・

for the third time this week, you got blown off. it was confusing to say the least. you were doing everything right; not making too many jokes, being quiet when it's necessary, wearing clothes you wouldn't normally wear to keep him attracted. but it all is continuously one note. you keep giving, but have never received once. you knew how stupid you were being. you saw the red flags clear as day. the only thing that scared you if you ended whatever it was between you two is that you wouldn't find another person to fill in that lonely gap. you reread the texts back and forth, eyes swollen from the tears you've wept.

him: can't do it 2nite. reschedule ?

you: oh.. yep ! that's fine with me ! maybe tomorrow ?

him: idk y/n, i told you we'll see. i'll talk to you later 👍🏼

a fucking thumbs up emoji. you were better than a thumbs up emoji, but you didn't care. you threw your phone down and sobbed harder in your pillow. you two weren't even exclusive. it was mainly talking, the occasional hang out and hookup, and that's it. a hand rubbing your back made you cry harder.

"i'm so fucking stupid!" you wailed and pounded your fist into the mattress. you lift your head up to face your best friend who has been by your side through literally everything. könig. the quiet giant who chose you as his friend.

"don't say that, bohne," he tuts. "he's just.. immature and navigating his way through life by taking advantage of women like you."

"women like me? y-you mean gullible, stupid, lonely, sensitive, insecure women?" you sniffled and sat up in your bed. "god, it's just.. why can't i find the one person that makes me feel good about myself. like romantically and sexually and emotionally."

könig pulls his hand away and repositions himself against your headboard. it pained him that you thought of yourself as those horrid, negative words. he never saw that in you, ever. he sighs deeply through his nose and gives you a small shrug. "what i think.. and i'm saying this as your friend.. but what i think, bohne, is that you never learned how to enjoy life alone."

you squint at him. "what.. what do you mean?"

he shrugs again and plays with the ring on his middle finger. you have a matching one that you wear on your thumb. "you're so scared of being alone that you'll take whatever you can get and that's not a good mindset. you know. i know it."

what he says rings true, but it didn't feel good hearing them, especially from him. it was embarrassing having him see the texts and hear your cries. könig has met your situationship twice in a social gathering. the first time, he immediately told you of his dislike for the guy. the second time, he didn't bother to look, let alone speak to him. and if a guy friend says another guy isn't good for you, that's your cue to cut ties and believe your friend. but you didn't want to do that. there was something so invigorating about him that you couldn't pull away from.

it's been about a week since könig has witnessed your unnecessary heartache. and ever since then, you've been texting him updates between you and your situationship. you called könig one night and he hears your breathless giggles and slurring words. you had been so excited to tell him about your date. it was at a bar. you bought your own drinks. you bought your own food. and the guy invited his own friends. and for some reason, you didn't see a problem with that as long as you were within his proximity. it hurt your friend, very deeply. he knows in his heart that you didn't deserve this treatment, especially from someone you're not even dating. your priorities should've been on better things and not someone who only calls you for a quickie and a half assed hangout.

there was a knock on his front door. könig stopped doing pull-ups in his bedroom door and planted his feet onto the ground. he combed a hand through his sweaty, messy hair and fixed his backwards hat. when he opened the door, he was immediately taken aback and in awe of your appearance. you were wearing a pretty sundress - one of his favorite's actually. the color accentuated your skin tone and brought out the color of your eyes too. speaking of your eyes, they were puffy and rimmed red. when you let out a weak whimper, könig said nothing else and instead gently grabbed your wrist, pulled you inside, and gave you a bear hug as he shut the door with his foot and leaned against it.

you sobbed and wailed and gripped his shirt so tightly in your hands that he was sure you were going to cut through the fabric with your nails.

"he.. he has a girl-girlfriend now," you sobbed and shook your head, the hammering of your heart not stopping and the butterflies in the pit of your stomach never going away. "he p-posted her! on.. on his in-instagram!"

with shaking hands, you showed könig his account. and there he was, arm wrapped around a tanned blonde girl wearing a hockey jersey and jean booty shorts. the caption was simply a kissy face emoji. könig tuts and continues to hold you in his thick arms, his eyes clenching shut as you kept crying in his chest. his heart cracked every single time a whimper spilled from your lips. this needed to stop, now.

"y/n," he whispered when your crying turned into painful hiccuping and sniffles. "you.. you need to stop doing this to yourself. and doing this to me, bohne." since the situationship finally cut ties with you, he guessed now was the time to clear the air.

your brows furrowed as you stared up at him. "what do you mean? doing.. doing what to you?"

könig felt bitter. bitter at the fact that you never saw him as a person and only a form of comfort. he lets out a small scoff and drops his arms to his sides, staring down at you with heartbreak in his eyes.

"you know when we first met, the first thing that drew me to you was how strong a head you had on your shoulders. i always told myself that you could do anything. and even if you failed, you would still brush it off like it was nothing and keep going," he tells you with a grimace on his face, one that he specifically reserved for people who have done him wrong. seeing that look on his face had you feeling nervous. "and then.. verdammte hölle.. you get mixed up in these messes and i'm always the one to pick up the pieces."

you were stunned. there no words to describe what you were feeling right now. how dare he try to put the blame on you? how dare he try to make this about him?

"you are my friend, könig. my best friend. that's what best friends are supposed to do-"

he laughs. he actually laughs in your face. "supposed to do? supposed to do? i am not supposed to do anything. it is not an obligation of mine as your friend to only be seen as a person of comfort. that is not who i am, verdammt noch mal!"

one thing about könig is when he's pissed, he'll slip into german. and by the looks and sound of it, you can tell that this man in front of you has reached his breaking point. did you really cause this?

"you're.. you're the only friend i have, k! there's nobody else whose been there for me like you have!" you're starting to get pissed too. why is he so upset over something you chose to do? it shouldn't have effected him, right? why is it effecting him? what's going on?

"that's exactly it!" his voice raises an octave higher. "this is what i have told you from the beginning, ja? you couldn't stand being alone, so you felt the need to-to, what? hurt yourself even more by going out with these stücke scheiße to forget about just how lonely and sad you are?"

now that one stung. you blinked back tears and shook your head at him. "how dare you?" your voice was cold and quiet.

"how dare me?" könig lets out a humorless laugh and crosses his arms. you try to ignore the fact that the action of him doing so has increased the size of his biceps. "how dare you, y/n? you have used me for your own emotional comfort over and over without even realizing how much it has pained me. you have been so blinded from these-these sad excuses for men from really seeing what was in front of you."

your eyes widened and you swallowed down a gasp. without being told anymore details, you knew where this confession was going. you shook your head at him again and pressed your hands to your forehead. "oh, no, no, no," you whispered to yourself. "this was not supposed to happen."

könig looks away from you and instead stares at his feet. "no.. it wasn't," he replies quietly. he didn't know what else to say. here he was, heart out in the open, as vulnerable as they come. it's either a make or break type of situation. his heart grew heavy.

you really didn't want to do this right now, but there was no other choice. after all of these harsh words have been exchanged, you might as well bite the bullet. you took a step forward towards him, and then another, and soon you're standing just in his line of sight.

"könig," you whispered and laid a hand on his tense forearm. your bottom lip trembled and your eyes got all glossy with tears. "you are my best friend, but.."

"yeah.. there it is," he muttered to himself with a sad chuckle. "but you only see me as such, ja?"

there was a tense silence now between you two. könig moved away from you, letting your hand fall from his arm. you sniffled and swallowed down the pitiful whimper that threatened to leave your lips.

"you don't see it, do you?" he looks at you now, and you burn under his gaze. "with every cry, every heartbreak, every episode, i have been there. but where were you for me?"

that was the question that finally made you break. you covered your face with your hands and turned away from him. you couldn't even lie to yourself anymore. everything he had said was true. the ache in your chest only worsened at the thought of losing the one good person in your life. when you turned around again, könig was holding the front door open. you didn't even hear him do that.

"bear," you whispered brokenly, tears freely sliding down your cheeks as you stood before him again, desperate for a reaction or for him to tell you that he was just kidding. "remember me? it's your bohne?"

bear and bohne, or bean, as he loved to call you. those were your nicknames for each other due to your height and size differences. the names stuck for years and even then, you two would refer to each other as such.

könig shakes his head at you, opening the door wider when you tried touching his arm again. "no," he mutters. "you were never mine to begin with."

and that was the final crack in your heart before it shattered into a million pieces. who would have thought that your dumb decisions could cause one of the worst heartbreaks you could ever imagine? you whispered his name again, so broken and pitiful. but he didn't bother to look at you. he instead closes his eyes.

"it's time for you to go now," he tells you, his hand tightening around the knob behind the door that you couldn't see.

when you try to call his name again, he opens his eyes. and right there, you see the tears threatening to fall. the slight tremble in his lip and the way he furrowed his brows and clenched his jaw to prevent a single tear to roll down his cheek.

"bitte," he whispers.

that was a word you understood very well. in the early stages of your friendship, having learned that könig was of german heritage, you made it a point for him to teach you german words and phrases.

please, is what he said. he was begging you to leave. in all your years of knowing him, you have never heard that word come from that man's lips. he has never begged anyone to do anything, ever. so hearing him beg you to leave his apartment and essentially leave him alone for whoever knows how long tore you up. you stood in front of him in silence one last time and finally got the courage to exit. the second your feet touched the tiled ground of the hallway, the door slammed shut and locked behind you.

later that night, you saw that he had blocked your number when you tried sending him an apology text. who would have thought?

[eluxcastar]

can we get more dadtore fics plz?🤭🤭🤍🤍

Dadtore and his raccoon child

── ୨୧：il dottore & reader

୨୧﹑synopsis :: dadtore gets his coat stolen and quite possibly has a mild existential crisis at the realisation he is a present and available father

୨୧﹑genre :: fluff

୨୧﹑content :: gn reader, child reader, reader’s backstory is ambiguous, it's finally acknowledged they don't talk but feel free to ignore that, sorta proofread (omg finally I edited something)

୨୧﹑words :: 1.9k

I went to publish this and realised I lost all my dividers because I'm on a new laptop so I'm gonna have to go get those back 😭😭

anyway baby has officially graduated to raccoon status because each day this child grows more feral and will continue to do so 🫵 I'm surprised I even managed to write this cause I've been calling so many grown men babygirl lately Idk what even makes one say that about König from Call of Duty but I do

Whether against your will or the result of some strange form of Stockholm Syndrome, you have somehow come to love the days spent with him. It scares him more than he'd like, knowing that your life rests in his hands, even more so that that bothers him, yet he has been unable to remain especially angry with you.

No matter what you do, what buttons you push, and how much you've forced him to rearrange his lab to practically babyproof it, his desire to consider you a pest dies. It has rapidly died since he realised you clung to him so tightly when you became ill, even if it turned out to be only a low-grade fever that you were free from in a day or two. Something about it made the growing bond he had noticed and his fondness for you skyrocket, and it all happened right under his nose while he was distracted with making you comfortable and keeping you company.

Dottore never thought he'd have a doorframe close to one of the shelves in his lab marred by the marker-made scribbles of a height tracker specifically to tell him when it's time to cram everything up another shelve, yet it's there. He sees it whenever he swivels his chair in that direction or when the segments poke at it, mildly intrigued by his interest.

He can't trust some of them yet — not with you — the ones he does trust are almost entirely uninterested in you because that keeps you safe. His segments can't gain anything from a child who only annoys them by trying to hug their leg until they shove you away. From there, you can sense that they don't want to play from the glares you get that send you scurrying back to whatever corner has the reject dolls Sandrone gave him to mock him for his soft spot, so they don't care.

Despite wishing you were little more than a lingering annoyance he could palm off to the first available parental figure, you trust him so implicitly, and he's falling victim to your charms each time you stand behind him, peeking over his shoulder to spy on him like you're so sneaky, even when he can clearly see you looming out of the corner of his eye. You show interest and want to be around him, to loiter despite knowing you will receive only acknowledgement as he talks to you.

Returning to the lab reveals that you seem to have stolen his coat again — at least, that's what he gleans from its migration from the back of his chair to the floor — though he does not particularly mind even as you drag it back to your little set of chairs set up in the corner for you to play with.

Whatever tables did to you, Dottore has yet to figure out how it made you want to shove the little table you have over there so violently all the time. In your defence, it is usually in the way, and maybe it did something to deserve it that has you holding a grudge, but it's irrelevant as you position your little chairs and drape his coat over the backs of them to make a roof for your hideout.

A child's cubby.

At some point, he noticed you took to childish things like that, even when you didn't do that before, almost like you became more…childish. It's welcome. You warm up to the safety of his care and the joy of goading him into entertaining you.

He used to bar the younger segments from making those forts as they'd put them everywhere and neglected to return the items they grabbed to do so. You are not exactly better, though you tend to use appropriate materials. It is preferable to their habits of senselessly trying to stack things on top of each other and then getting confused as to why they would all fall down when a chasm to crawl inside of does not magically appear in the absence of intentional planning.

There's a reason he's Il Dottore and not Il Ingegnere.

The stealing does not change, however.

Dottore approaches your cubby, intent on investigating this fort you've crafted with the help of his coat. He realises you're humming when he gets closer, as you have been a lot lately. You make more noises now. Not quite words, but noises, and that's more than enough for now. He'd like to hold a proper conversation with you at some point, but you won't even say your own name, let alone keep up a whole verbal conversation that doesn't require a game of charades.

"Just what are you doing?" he asks, and the moment he does, you've grabbed the overcoat from where you had balanced it and run off giggling.

You narrowly escape him, settling off by his chair where you had first obtained the coat — a fickle cat-and-mouse game that will inevitably end one of two ways — you seem intent on keeping that coat, however. He watches as you burrow amidst the thick fabric of the overcoat you mischievously stole from him, the furs tickling your cheeks and warming you up as it sits bunched around your tiny body in a heap of cloth. It engulfs you as you are, but you always like it.

What bothers him so much is that if you were any other child pulling these stunts and creating trouble, Dottore would have found some way to get rid of you by now — he could've given you to the Knave. He can't. He's tried. He tried so hard, even attempting to justify it with his own fondness by convincing himself it would be for your own good. He even talked to her about it at one point, and she almost stole you, thinking the worst, before she realised how spoiled you were by Dottore's standards.

Selfishly, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bear it, even when he told himself Arlecchino would take better care of you than he could ever.

So you're still here, still interrupting his vital work to play a mockery of hide-and-seek where you manage to be the worst yet most endearing hider he could possibly seek, burrowing yourself out of sight beneath his coat as your head disappears and you lay flat on your stomach. A pest. That's what you should be. He stalks toward you like you are a tiny pest hunted by an eager cat waiting to catch you, but stops just before you.

It is nowhere near Dottore's nature to loudly question what this stray pile of laundry is doing lying around, nor can he bring himself to try baby-talking you in that singsong voice people use for children, so he kneels in front of you instead, lowered to your eye level. You wouldn't particularly appreciate it if he did pick up that ear-grating habit anyway.

The overcoat writhes as if a creature stirs beneath it, and you poke your head out to greet him with a slowly forming cheeky grin that devolves into giggles as you realise you are caught. You duck back into the safety of his coat, burrowing amidst its comfort and returning to hiding.

He cannot possibly keep the amused huff he lets out from escaping at the sound of your giggling before shaking his head. "Are you going to come out?" he asks. Of course not. You are going to squirm under there until he pulls you out. "Insufferable little thing," he mutters half-heartedly. He's unable to find the will to be truly angry with you, though he never really was in the first place, merely relenting at your silence.

Dottore rests his other knee on the ground and steals his coat from your little hands. With it, you shortly follow as you are collected in his arms and perched on his lap as he sits back in his chair, leaving you poorly balanced yet able to shift yourself into a comfortable spot where you won't fall. Dottore wraps his coat snugly around you, just as you had done before, and lets you settle into place.

You're so small, pacified by his arms around you to reluctantly grant you the hug he knows you want. You like those. He realised that when all you wanted in your sickness-fuelled stupor was for him to cradle you in his arms and let you lean against him. Something about it makes you look so vulnerable. You need someone who can care for and protect you despite your ability to care for yourself; he is the woefully imperfect choice who should not want to take on that task but who may be uniquely suited to it because of that.

'Damaged' children who have had to adapt to the shortcomings of others do not benefit solely from perfection but can become suffocated by it. They need something that suits their unusual need for guidance without expectation of normalcy. He's living it now as his inexperience with this idea of a family forces him to confront imperfection — dismal humanity.

You will never be like a child raised in a perfect family, nor can you offer him complete dependence and vulnerability; he doesn't mind that. In exchange, he will never be your perfect father figure. He will cradle you with his imperfection and wish that this feeling makes you happy if nothing else.

You offer what you want, and he takes what is given because he wants it. Badly, he wants it, even if he is unwilling to admit the possibility of that being real.

He wants to stay like this, to keep picking you up, even when lifting your weight and gathering you in his arms grows harder each time. He wants to watch you nestle against him, mark your height on the doorframe every month, take care of you when you're sick, worry about someone other than himself, and make room for you in a place where there should be none. He wants to give you what you were almost robbed of, see you make friends and smile each day.

For now, he must start small, no more than sitting in front of what probably looks like jumbled garbage to you and resting his hand on the back of your head to pull you closer in a rare show of affection. Gentle. He is entirely unused to the idea of being gentle and protective of something that lives and breathes.

Dottore hates the very idea of your existence meaning something to him — a visceral reaction to the unfamiliar — but cannot resist the vulnerability of it all, the thought of loving someone who loves him back in a way he has yet to fathom, though he is not so presumptuous as to mindlessly believe you love him, even now. You would not be asked to point to your father and turn to him, but you don't have to. Something in that thought is exciting, a desperate grasp at unconditional love from something he cares for, even against his will, but this middle ground somewhere between babysitter and father is as comfortable as anything he wants will get.

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

I'm going to need your opinion on König with acne scars. Like, sure the man is absolutely gorgeous either way, but just imagine his cheeks littered with tiny scars that he's insecure about but his partner loves so dearly, pressing kisses to them every time they get the chance

Aw, it would be a particular sore point for him because I can totally imagine him getting bullied for it while he was growing up 😭 König is a sweet baby and he deserve the world and all the kisses across his big face!

I think he'd be really shy to show his face to his partner and when he finally did he would get really shy and red in face whenever he caught them staring. He'd think they'd be staring at all his imperfections and feeling totally disgusted by them, and everytime they'd have to wrap their arms round him and kiss him and assure him that he's wrong. Reader loves his face, scars or no scars he's perfect 💕 On some days he'd find it hard to believe it, but on others he'd smile so brightly and easily because he'd feel so good being with someone that loves him so much and sees past the 'flaws' he used to think were unlovable.