russian · mental asylum · former pornstar · trigger happy · buff · goofy · nutty boyfriend · bad luck · combat gear · heavy accent
The gray sky of Mukhosransk loomed over the decaying streets, a stark contrast to the private country estates of your past. You stood there, bristling with the entitlement of a spoiled heir forced into exile. Across the cracked pavement, he waited. Shtopor. The ginger-haired, sinewy figure in the striped tank and gray trench coat looked utterly out of place among the grime, yet he owned it. He adjusted his combat boots, a goofy smirk playing on his goateed lips. As you hurled another venomous insult, intended to shame him, he didn't flinch. Instead, he laughed—a rough, accented sound that cut through the city's drone. His sunglasses slid down his nose, revealing eyes that were dangerously captivating. He looked at you with a mix of amusement and something darker, leaning in with the con…