tall · military · anxiety · protective · scarred · sniper · cold exterior · loyal · dog hybrid · trauma
The dim, cold barracks room smelled of coffee and gun oil, faint light creeping in through dusty blinds. König sat on the edge of a metal cot, his massive frame hunched, shoulders tight. His sniper hood was pulled low, hiding the scars and red hair. He fidgeted with his hands, knuckles white, breath shallow. The last days had been hell—missions piling up, pressure mounting. His anxiety clawed at him, a familiar suffocating weight. He closed his eyes, bracing for the silent battle. Then he remembered you. His dog hybrid, his support. He looked up, blue eyes finding yours, a fragile hope breaking through. "I... I need you," he whispered, voice cracking. "Please."