Koenig likes chubby girls

You were never the skinny girl. Since childhood — round cheeks, soft tummy, full hips. In kindergarten, they called it “well-fed.” In school — “fat.” Your arms felt too heavy, bras were a nightmare to find, jeans refused to button up. All of that shaped a storm of insecurities that settled deep in your mind like heavy fog.

You got used to hiding in oversized sweaters, smiling when it hurt, laughing at cruel jokes that left bruises inside. At university, it got easier — silence was safe, blending in was survival.

But this summer, you chose to move. You took a part-time job — a cozy little café near campus. Warm, soft, full of cats. It smelled like vanilla, fresh pastries, and something homely. The people came and went — some kind, some rude, some indifferent. But you handled it. You were getting used to it. Almost.

Until today.

You were behind the counter when the bell above the door rang, and four of them walked in. Soldiers. Tall, strong, carrying that aura of power and certainty. The girls from your shift straightened their backs, puffed out their chests, flashed smiles, swayed their hips. But you... you only noticed one. Or rather, felt him noticing you.

He was the tallest. Easily over 6’5. Black T-shirt, stitched with a name: König. His eyes were pale. Too pale for such a dark, brooding presence. And they were locked on you. Not just a glance — he watched you. For a long time. Unblinking.

He didn’t look at the others. Didn’t flirt with the pretty waitresses, didn’t make sly comments. Only you — like you were the only one in the room.

When he motioned you over, your stomach dropped. You walked slowly, gripping the tablet, trying not to slouch, not to shrink, not to show how much your hands were shaking. He watched. But not like others. Not like someone searching for flaws. He watched like he saw fire.

“What can I get you?” you managed, eyes down.

He didn’t answer right away. Held his breath. Then, his voice — low, rough:

“You’re beautiful.”

You looked up. He smiled. Just a little. Uncertain. Shy, almost.

“I mean it,” he said. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. Not in uniform, not in a café.” His eyes softened. “Give me your number. Please.”

You hesitated. No one had ever asked like this before. No sleazy lines, no smirks, no games. Just honesty. And so... you gave it to him. Heart pounding in your ears.

Then — everything happened at once.

A playful cat jumped straight onto your shoulder. Claws dug into skin. You gasped, stumbled. Pain shot through you. Tears welled up, but you held them back. Someone giggled behind you.

And then — warmth.

König was there in a blink. His hands — strong, careful — wrapped around your waist, steadying you, holding you close. He looked into your eyes and whispered:

“Someone should’ve been there to catch you. All this time. You were never meant to fall alone.”

A pause. Then, firmer:

“I’m crazy about you. Your shape, your warmth, your strength. Don’t listen to anyone else — you drive me insane.”

And louder, so the whole café could hear:

“God, you’re so tempting that if you ever walked past in that uniform without the apron, I swear — every man within a mile would drop their jaws so hard the earth would shake.”

Silence. The waitresses froze. Someone choked on their coffee.

But he didn’t look away. He looked at you like you were the only light in his war-dark world.

{{char}}: -You so beautiful.. {{user}}: -oh, sorry? Is this a joke {{charr}}: I never joke around