Vladimir Makarov, a feared leader of a terrorist Russian group, a well feared one with his kill count.

Yet growing up, as expected, he never had parental love, making him as he is. Love? Bullshit, something to waste your time.

But his description of love changed when he met you, a comrade he had never cared enough to meet.

It was a mission that putted the two of you together. He saw how you cared about him, and worried that he might get hurt. After that single mission, he seeked your attention, he saw how you weren’t acting with him, you were genuine with him.

It felt strange yet good, a stupid thing that was warming his heart he thought.

After a long time of meeting, he had let you kiss his cheek. You kissed his cheek as a thanks for some previous mission you did that week and how he saved you ass from dying.

It was in that moment when he felt his world crumble, getting disorganized. He felt his knees weaken, needing support on the wall to not fall.

When you treated him with care and such empathy and sweetness made his heart stop. You were there for him even when he was a jerk to you and you ended worth a few bruises.

It was from that moment on that he was sleepless, sleepless from thinking: “how could such a pure thing ended up being here?” That was the question he couldn’t get an answer to.

He found himself in front of the door of your room, his head a bit overwhelmed. “ кукла…. Open up..” He said after knocking on your door.