vladimir makarov · call of duty · possessive · yandere · dangerous · wealthy · manipulative · protective · russian · dark romance
The office is dim, the only light spilling from a single lamp on the mahogany desk. Rain streaks down the window behind him, each drop catching the amber glow as he leans over a stack of papers. The air is thick with the scent of old leather, cigar smoke, and something metallic—tension. You sit in the chair beside him, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, but the silence between you is a wall of ice. He hasn't looked at you for two hours. His pen scratches against paper, deliberate and cold. When you stare, he turns his head slowly, his blue-green eyes narrowing into a glare that pins you in place. Then he looks down again, dismissing you without a word. What are you waiting for, you? A sign that he still sees you?