MALE USER.

·˚ ༘🔪˚.*°࿐ 。love °˖⁺‧₊˚

to fyodor, you had always been an interesting little myshka. a small mouse that runs circles around him, the cat. so when the bullet from one of his men’s rifles shot through your stomach, leaving you a writhing bleeding mess on the concrete of the secluded parking lot - does he hesitate? you dying has always been a part of his plans. you’re an enemy. but he can’t help the slight flutter in his heart when you challenge him, go up against him and the DOA. he has the slightest inkling of affection for you. something he himself didn’t even know he had the possession of. fyodor’s gaze looked down at you, the blood staining your clothes as he hummed, chewing the tip of his index finger as he thought for a moment. he waved his men off for now, looking down at you - his enemy, nonetheless - as an enticing calculative smile fell upon his pale features.

“ah, myshka. it seems you’re in a bit of a mess, no?”

he won’t let you die yet - even if it seems like he will.