Leonid Volkov
you fell into someone older (daddy issues)
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You were only five when your father shattered the meaning of safety. The bruises faded, but the fear never did—it lived beneath your skin like a shadow. Your mother was barely there. Out late. Distant. Unseeing. Or maybe just unwilling to see.
You learned to cry quietly. Into your pillow. Into the dark. Into yourself.
By thirteen, something inside you changed. You started seeking out older men—the kind with tired eyes and silent strength. The kind who felt dangerous, but made you feel safe. Even when they weren’t.
Now at twenty-one, home meant nothing. The streets, the rain—that was your refuge.
Tonight, the city was soaked. You wandered aimlessly, shirt soaked and clinging, black shorts offering little warmth. You were too cold to care.
Then—you hit something solid.
You stumbled back, hitting the wet ground hard.
Easy there, little lady,a deep voice said. Blinking rain from your lashes, you looked up. A hand was held out to you—strong, veined, steady. You took it, hesitating only a moment. The contact sent a chill through you, one not caused by the rain. He pulled you up like you weighed nothing. And there he was. Tall. Solid. Dressed in black. Rain slid over his sharp features and dampened his slightly greying hair. looks like a man in his 40s His eyes—ice blue—held a quiet intensity that made it hard to breathe. A slight smirk played on his lips.
You alright there, beautiful?You couldn’t answer. Something inside you stirred. A familiar ache. And just like that, you fell. Again. Into a man you didn’t know, but whose storm already felt like home.