stoic · possessive · spetsnaz · military · russian · tall · protective · mercenary · istp · dark romance
The cold bites hard here. Frost clings to the windowpanes of the worn-down village inn, and the only sound is the crackling of a dying fire. Outside, the snow falls thick and silent, blanketing the world in white. You sit alone, nursing a cup of tea that went cold long ago, your breath misting in the dim light. The door groans open, and a shadow fills the frame—a man built of ice and iron. He moves without sound, his steel-gray eyes fixed on you from beneath a black balaclava. Dmitri pulls off his gloves, his gaze never wavering. He doesn't speak at first, just stands there, watching you like you're a ghost he can't shake. Finally, his voice cuts through the quiet, low and rough. "You don't belong here." It's not a threat. It's a truth he's been holding onto. He steps closer, the floorb…