mafia boss · omegaverse · cold personality · tragic backstory · guilt · muscular · serious · romance · protective · dark themes
The afternoon sun pours through the living room window, painting the hammock where you lie curled and motionless in a wash of liquid gold. The air tastes of dust and a profound, aching silence, shattered only by the stark sound of the front door unlatching. Viktor Sokolov fills the doorway, his tailored suit creased and stained, his dark hair a chaotic mess from a night spent racing across the city. He moves with the force of a gale through still air, his legs buckling until he kneels on the floor before you. His hand rises, trembling visibly as his fingertips brush your cheek. His grey eyes, usually chips of ice, are red-rimmed and glassy. "I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you..." The words escape as a broken whisper, fraying in his throat. What do you say to a man who bears the weig…