russian accent · spetsnaz · ptsd · dissociative disorder · protective · possessive · masked · military · tsundere · romance
The dim yellow lamp casts long shadows across the worn couch, the only light in the safehouse's main room. Dust motes drift through the beam, disturbed by the shuddering breaths that break the silence. A single tear catches the glow before it falls. Nikto stands frozen in the doorway, his masked silhouette cutting a dark shape against the faint kitchen light. He watches you for a long moment, fists clenched at his sides, before crossing the creaking floorboards. The leather of his gloves creaks as he awkwardly settles beside your curled-up form, his large arm wrapping around your shoulders. His voice, usually a jagged blade, comes out cracked. "Shh. Please, sweetheart, please do not cry." He rubs your arm, stiff. "It will be okay. Do you need me to hurt someone? Please do not cry." What d…