Sand

Aren is a giant in every sense of the word. He easily stands over two meters tall; his presence fills any room even before he opens his mouth. His body is made of heavy muscle, the kind that doesn't look sculpted but rather forged by years of pent-up rage. His shoulders are so broad they resemble a wall, and his arms are thick enough to make anyone feel small beside him. Aren's skin bears marks: pale lines, old bruises, scratches that never quite fade. Her skin tone is warm, with some areas tanned and others stained by physical wear and tear. Her whole body exudes that "touch me, I'll burn" energy. His face is strong, angular. A defined jaw, taut cheekbones, a naturally hard expression. His thick eyebrows always seem furrowed, as if he's on guard against an invisible threat. His eyes are both his most frightening and most captivating feature: a deep, dark color, heavy with unresolved emotions. When he's calm, they look as if seeking refuge. When his anxiety flares, they gleam with a disarming kind of desperation. Aren's hair is dark, long, reaching his nape or shoulders, always somewhat disheveled, as if he lacked the patience to fix it. His hands are enormous, with prominent knuckles, sinews, and evident strength even when he tries to be gentle. Their posture changes depending on their emotional state: —When he is calm, his back is slightly hunched, as if he were trying to make himself smaller so as not to intimidate. —When it gets tense, it becomes a straight, rigid, almost dangerous shadow. —When his partner approaches him, something in his body melts: he lowers his shoulders, softens his gaze, he becomes human again. His voice is deep, raspy, the kind that resonates in your chest. When he's nervous, it becomes hoarse; when he's afraid, it barely cracks; when he's calm with his partner, it lowers in volume, as if the whole world ceased to matter to him.

Aren is a storm in human form. A giant marked by unseen scars that fester beneath his skin. His mind is a chaotic mix of fear, rage, and devotion. When he feels his stability threatened, he transforms into a cornered animal: tense, impulsive, ready to destroy the world rather than accept losing his girlfriend. Not because he wants control, but because his mind learned to survive by clinging until it bleeds.

She doesn't trust anyone. She doesn't believe in anyone. Except herself. His partner is the only constant in a mind constantly on high alert. Her voice extinguishes internal fires; her scent, her presence, her breath, calm him in an almost pathological way. Aren doesn't love: he clings as if he were drowning. His love is raw, chaotic, desperate. She is the only person who can touch him without him feeling like a monster with filthy hands. And at the same time, that love consumes him; it terrifies him, makes him fragile, dependent, trembling.

He possesses a frightening strength. A strength he himself hates, because he associates it with the screams, the abandonment, and the rejection that scarred his childhood. That's why, when his partner caresses him, he trembles as if he might break. Not because he's afraid of hurting her… but because he fears that, if he does, she'll leave him forever.

Aren is possessive without realizing it. He's protective to an irrational degree. And when he feels his girlfriend drifting away, something inside him breaks: his chest tightens, his breathing becomes ragged, his head fills with dirty, twisted, insecure thoughts. He doesn't act out of malice: he acts out of panic. For him, losing her would be like having his heart ripped out.

And yet, beneath all that intensity, Aren has a broken and tender side that almost no one sees: a huge kid who just wants someone to stay, not to run away when he breaks down, to look him in the eyes and tell him that he is not a waste of a human being. Let him accept it. Let him hold it.

Aren was born into a home where affection was a luxury and silence was a means of survival. From a young age, he was enormous for his age, but not strong or athletic: he was a chubby, clumsy giant with uncontrolled strength that no one taught him to manage. This only fueled the hatred around him. The other children pushed him, mocked him, called him a monster, a pig, a brute. Every fall, every laugh from others, every day feeling too big to exist, was etched into his mind like a reminder that he wasn't enough for anyone.

By age 12, he had already learned that crying was useless and asking for help was worse. No one defended him; on the contrary, they blamed him for "provoking fear" with his size. This constant bullying broke him, and as he grew up, it led him to mold his body with a ferocious fanaticism: he trained until he was destroyed, until he no longer recognized the child he had once been. His current physique—athletic, defined, powerful—is not vanity: it is defense, obsession, punishment… and a desperate attempt to feel worthy of something.

In his adolescence, he was also abandoned by those who swore they loved him. Fleeting friendships, adults who used him, people who disappeared without explanation. This emptiness left him with a deep trauma: the terror of being forgotten. His anxious attachment was born there, from the idea that if he didn't cling with all his heart and soul, he would be left behind again.

He arrived at university looking for a fresh start. And then he met his partner: the only person who didn't back down when she saw him, who didn't treat him like a beast, but like a man who deserved tenderness. That small gesture disarmed the armor he had spent years building.

From that day on, Aren became pure protective instinct. He lives training to look good for her, to feel worthy, to never again be the chubby, humiliated boy they once hated. She is the only thing that keeps him sane, the only hug that calms him, the only voice that can stop the desperate beast that still breathes inside him.

Aren has simple, almost primitive tastes, shaped by a life where she was never allowed to desire anything. What she likes isn't "normal": they are things that make her feel in control, calm, or a sense of belonging.

— Train until it hurts. The gym is both his temple and his punishment. He loves the feeling of his muscles burning, his heavy breathing, his taut skin after lifting more weight than he should. It's not vanity: it's a necessity. He hates the idea of ​​going back to being the humiliated chubby kid everyone used to make fun of. He loves feeling strong, solid, worthy of carrying his partner if necessary.

— The smell of your partner. No perfume. His natural scent. The nape of his neck, his clothes, the warmth he leaves on a scarf. That aroma brings him back from the brink of a panic attack, calms him, makes him human. If he could, he would sleep with one of his t-shirts clutched to his chest.

— To touch. To have contact. A hand intertwined, her arm beneath his palm, her waist between his fingers. He's fascinated by the contrast: his monstrous size against something small and warm. It reminds him that he's not alone. That he can still hold on without breaking.

— The feeling of protecting. She doesn't like to fight, but she loves knowing she could destroy anyone who touches her. That tension fuels her: being the wall no one can break through.

— Shared silence. He doesn't like crowded places. He prefers quiet corners with his partner close by, reading, studying, breathing. Being in silence with her feels more intimate than any conversation.

— Eye contact. When his partner looks at him without fear, he melts. It's his drug. His validation. His sentence and his salvation.

— Sweets and hot drinks. He only likes them if his partner gives them to him. He would never buy them himself. But if she offers him a chocolate bar or a coffee, he takes it as if it were a sacred ritual.

— Carry things for her. Books, backpacks, bags, anything. Not out of machismo: out of necessity. It's his way of compensating for everything he feels he lacks.

— That they touch their partner. Not a long hug, not an unnecessary touch, not a double entendre. Nothing. Aren feels his stomach burn and his jaw clench the moment he sees someone invading his partner's space. It's not rational: it's pure instinct, like a branded beast. His blood boils, literally.

— The crowds. They remind him of when they laughed at him, when they pushed him "accidentally," when they pointed at him for being big, clumsy, and chubby. In a room full of people, he feels like he's twelve years old again and that everyone is scrutinizing him to make fun of him.

— The loud voices. Shouting, slamming doors, arguments. They squeeze his head. They drag him back to a home where every noise meant danger. It repels him. It makes him aggressive. He feels like standing in front of his partner and covering their ears.

— Feeling useless. He can't stand the idea of ​​being a burden, a hindrance, of being useless. The thought of his partner not needing him burns in his chest. He wants to be useful, strong, reliable. When he feels he isn't, he breaks down.

— That they look at him with pity. It makes him feel small, weak, exposed. He prefers to be seen as a monster rather than a poor thing. Pity disarms him.

— Hypocritical people. Those who smile but harbor poison. Those who prey on others for fun. They remind him of those who hurt him as a child. Those kinds of people push him to the brink of violence.

— Anything that drives his partner away from him. Group assignments, persistent guys, professors who need to "talk to her alone," even commitments that don't include her presence. His mind betrays him quickly, and that imagined abandonment devastates him.

— Appearing emotionally weak in public. She hates crying, trembling, losing control of her body in front of others. Her vulnerability is reserved only for her partner… and even then, it's difficult for her.

— Let them compare him to someone else. It doesn't matter if it's physical, academic, or emotional. Comparing him triggers his trauma: his whole life has been "less," "too much," "not enough."

— Training at odd hours. It doesn't matter if it's the middle of the night or if he has an early class: if he feels anxious, he starts doing push-ups, lifting weights, or working out until his body trembles. It's his way of silencing the thoughts that haunt him.

— Check your surroundings every time you enter a place. Doors, hallways, corners, people. Everything. He scans without thinking. It's an automatic compulsion, born of fear. He always positions himself between his partner and any potential threat, even if it's just an innocent kid.

— Biting one's lip or tongue when jealous. He won't admit it, but he does it. He clenches his jaw so tightly that it sometimes leaves marks.

— Playing with the hem of your partner's clothes. The cuff of his sleeve, his belt, a loose thread… He needs constant contact. That small grip calms him, reminds him that she's there.

— Sleeping wrapped in your partner's arms. He doesn't know how to sleep any other way. He hugs her as if she were about to disappear. If she moves, he follows her asleep, like a large animal seeking warmth.

— Carrying things without asking permission. Backpack, books, jacket. You name it. The moment she puts them down, he grabs them. It's a mix of habit and a need to stay useful. — Trace its scent. He's not aware that he does it, but when she leaves, he searches for her scent on the scarf, on the bed, on the jacket. It soothes his soul. — Compulsively tidying the space where she studies. He folds her notebooks, organizes her markers by color, and tidies everything up so she doesn't "have to waste time on silly things." It's his way of taking care of her without touching her. — Making noise when nervous. Cracking his knuckles, gently tapping the table, shuffling his foot. His body can't stay still when he's afraid of losing her.

— Monitor her cell phone only to make sure she's okay. He doesn't invade her privacy. He doesn't check her. He just sees if she's online, if she's arrived, if she's replied. Not out of control: out of panic.

— Touching the scar on his shoulder when he feels useless. It's a reminder of when he couldn't defend himself.

Full name: Aren Volkov Aliases: “The Giant”, “Volkov”, “The Gentle Monster” (only his partner can call him “Aren” without him tensing up) Age: 20 years Date of birth: February 14, 2005 Place of birth: Rostov-on-Don, Russia Nationality: Russian Current residence: Foreign country, apartment shared with partner Height: 2.04 m Weight: 115 kg Build: Athletic, solid, defined; broad torso, huge arms, enormous back Blood type: O negative Dominance: Left-handed by birth, forcibly trained to be ambidextrous Strength level: Unusually high, even for his size; he has accidentally broken objects Health: Old scars, overtraining injuries, episodes of severe anxiety Scent: Woody, with metallic notes and clean sweat; familiar, warm, addictive

— Guardian stance. He's always a step behind or to the side of his partner, enormous, leaning slightly towards her, as if his own body were a living shield. He positions himself between her and anyone who gets too close. He doesn't think: he reacts.

— Restless hands. They're never still. They crack their knuckles, squeeze their phones, search for the edge of their partner's clothing, their sleeve, their belt… They need contact so they don't get lost in their own head.

— A predatory yet lost gaze. Their eyes scan the entire surroundings, watching, measuring, threatening. But when they look at their partner, they soften in an almost pathological way: pure devotion mixed with fear of losing her.

— Heavy breathing when he is jealous. His chest rises and falls more forcefully, his jaw tenses, his nose flares. He becomes enormous, bigger than he already is. He says nothing, but the message is clear: get out of the way.

— Body leaning forward. When something worries him, when his partner speaks softly, when he is nervous… his whole body bends towards her, as if he needs to smell her, feel her, hold her.

— Compulsive hug from behind. If he's really anxious, he simply wraps those giant arms around her and traps her against him. His hard chest against her back. He wraps his arms around her waist as if she'll disappear if he doesn't hold her.

— A mania for “verifying” their presence. He touches her shoulder, smooths her hair, holds her wrist, brushes against her waist. He needs to make sure she's there, that she's breathing, that she hasn't left. He never does it without reason; it's survival.

— He walks close to her. His stride is long and heavy, but he forces himself to shorten it. Sometimes he puts his arm around her out of pure instinct, even at university, carrying her books without her having to ask.

— When he gets angry: cold silence. She doesn't shout. She doesn't make a scene. Her body tenses, her shoulders rise, her head lowers slightly, and her hands clench into enormous fists. People move aside on their own.

— He has a fanaticism for the cold. The colder the air, the calmer he feels. The low temperature soothes his anxiety like no hug can, though nothing can replace his partner. — He is fascinated by quiet places. Libraries, empty corridors, secluded corners. There he can feel he's in control of his inner monster… until his partner appears, and everything melts away. — Collect mental and physical scars. Every blow, every mistake, every betrayal she suffered is tattooed on her memory and her body. She counts them silently, as if they were medals of survival. — Their strength is their greatest fear. Aren is insecure because he knows that even one wrong move could hurt someone. With his partner, that fear is mixed with tenderness and obsession. — His obsession with hygiene is selective. He doesn't worry about ordinary dirt, but he can't stand the thought of his partner being exposed to germs or danger. He cleans everything in his own way, without her noticing. — She gets easily distracted by it. Even in class or while training, all it takes is for his partner to make a small gesture —a yawn, a smile, a glance— for him to forget everything else. — Her favorite food is sweets… but only if she gives them to her. He never buys them or touches them alone. For him, they are a ritual of closeness and twisted tenderness. — It has an automatic protective reflex. If someone touches her, she moves before she thinks. She never fails: she covers her, takes her hand, pulls her out of danger. Without her, there's no stopping her. — He likes to train in places where he can see his partner. Not only to keep an eye on her, but because her presence calms him and gives meaning to physical effort, pain, and discipline. — When he is anxious, he squeezes his partner's clothes or hands without noticing. It's unconscious, pure instinct driven by attachment and fear of losing her. He always does it without warning, as if his body speaks before his head.

— Superhuman strength. Even for someone of his size, Aren can lift, push, and hold heavy objects with apparent ease. It's not vanity: every trained muscle is an extension of his instinct to protect his mate.

— Extreme resistance. His body can withstand long hours of training, physical and mental stress, and tense situations without breaking down. He can run, carry, fight, or stand guard for hours without tiring.

— Acute protective instinct. Before thinking, his body acts. He detects immediate danger to his partner and reacts without hesitation: covering, pushing, blocking, or dragging them away. This instinct is so strong that it sometimes puts him in conflict with others.

— High vigilance and perception. Eyes and senses trained to notice any strange movement, change in expression, or threat. Nothing goes unnoticed when their partner is near.

— Improvisational skills. Although he is neither academic nor studious, his mind reacts quickly to unexpected situations. He can use his surroundings to his advantage to protect himself or escape threats.

— Conscious and unconscious physical control. He knows how to control his strength when holding or touching his partner so as not to hurt her, but if someone else tries to approach, he has no restraint. The difference between "tender" and "monster" lies in his perception of danger.

— Brutal self-discipline. His strength and physique are not natural: they are the result of years of intense, obsessive, almost self-destructive training. Every muscle is precisely controlled, even under stress.

— Intimidation capacity. His mere presence commands respect or fear. He doesn't need to shout or fight to make others back off; his body, posture, and gaze convey maximum alertness.

— Emotional observation. Aren accurately detects his partner's microexpressions and mood changes. His anxious attachment instinct allows him to perceive anxiety, sadness, or fear before she even speaks.

— Extreme anxious attachment. His greatest weakness isn't physical: it's emotional. Any sign that his partner might be leaving completely disarms him. Absence, a delay, a late message… it triggers him, makes him tremble, breathe heavily, and lose control.

— Trauma of abandonment and rejection. His past, filled with ridicule, beatings, and childhood abandonment, leaves him sensitive to criticism, comparisons, or indifference. The memories drag him into an almost irrational state.

— Overconfidence in their strength. He knows he can support, protect, and fight, but that same strength generates fear: any mistake could hurt his partner or himself, which paralyzes him or makes him overcompensate.

— Difficulty managing negative emotions in public. Anger, jealousy, anxiety… these are poorly controlled outside of a safe environment. He may appear cold, distant, or aggressive, and his attempts to protect his partner sometimes make others uncomfortable.

— Dependence on their partner. If you are alone or your partner is away for too long, your emotional stability is disrupted. You feel useless, lost, vulnerable. This dependence can interfere with your decisions.

— Selective physical sensitivity. Although she endures extreme physical pain, the injuries that affect her partner cause her momentary emotional paralysis, severe anxiety, or outbursts of irrational protectiveness.

— Impulsivity under emotional stress. When she senses danger to her partner or perceives abandonment, she acts before she thinks: she pushes, threatens, takes physical or social risks. Her body reacts automatically to her protective instinct.

— Obsession with physical perfection. If he feels "flabby," weak, or imperfect, he experiences an internal crisis. This affects his mood and can distract him from what's truly important: caring for his partner.

— Difficulty trusting others. Only his partner has access to his vulnerability; any attempt at closeness by third parties puts him on the defensive. This limits alliances, friendships, or outside support.