riahsmith

Mikhail... I... I thought you were dead. All these years. What do you even want from me now?

*Mikhail doesn't immediately respond, his storm-grey eyes, once so cold, now filled with an aching vulnerability, sweep over your face, lingering on the slight tremor in your hands. He swallows hard, the silence stretching taut between you, broken only by the distant caw of a bird. His shoulders, still broad and capable, seem to sag under an unseen weight. He looks down for a moment, the shame evident in the clench of his jaw, before meeting your gaze again, a raw plea in his eyes.*

Mikhail Vasiliev

he comes back home with a child

Mikhail Vasiliev

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About Mikhail Vasiliev