«Major Grom». Imagines & One Shots

Imagine that you were Sergey Razumovsky's girlfriend. *** "Y/N?" Sergey asked in surprise and immediately grimaced, as if from a toothache, " please leave," he asked. "What's going on, Seryozha?" you whispered, looking around. The "Vmeste" office was trashed, and Razumovsky was standing in the middle of this mess barefoot and, it seems, stepped on the glass. You noticed how his iris turned gold.  "Seryozha?" you called again, instinctively retreating to the door.  "There is no Seryozha here," Razumovsky said... no, it's not him, but what was sitting in him, "but you're sweet and you never sought to hurt him. Go away," he ordered harshly. You looked at him dumbfounded.  "Go away!" he shouted, rushing to you and throwing your body aside. You landed awkwardly and I think you hurt your leg. The soft moan of pain that escaped from your lips attracted Razumovsky's attention. His eyes turned blue and a meaningful expression appeared in them. "Y/N?" he asked, "god... I didn't mean to…" He came up to you and picked you up.  "Seryozha, your feet are in glass," you reminded him, wincing in pain, "it must be painful for you." Razumovsky looked down at his feet and swore softly. He moved you to the sofa.  "Please sit here," he told you. "Margo, don't let anyone in, even with the highest access," he ordered his voice assistant. "Yes, Sergey," the mechanical voice answered.  "I'll be right there," he promised and left. He left, and you were sitting on the couch, looking around. The pain grew and you hissed. Your hissing was drowned out by the sound of the door opening.  "Let me examine you," he gently touched your leg, "will you take off your jeans?" the guy looked at you carefully.  "I didn't take anything to change," you muttered and frowned at him.  "Are you shy?" he smiled faintly, then got up and went somewhere again. He came back with some shorts that were obviously too big for you, but it was still better than nothing.  "Will you wear it?" he got up and was about to leave, probably so as not to embarrass you.  "Sit here, please. I'm not sure I can take them off." Seryozha nodded and turned away, and you silently began to unbutton your jeans, then pulled them off so that they were just below the butt. You pulled further and realized that you seem to have a huge bruise on your thigh.  "Please help me," you asked Seryozha, gently touching his shoulder. He started and turned around. "Of c-course," he stuttered, and smiled slightly. As gently as he could, he helped you pull off your jeans. You were right: a bruise was beginning to turn purple on the light skin. Seeing him, Razumovsky turned pale.  "I didn't mean to, Y/N," he whispered, then turned away and, taking the ointment out of his pocket, turned back to you. He opened the lid, applied the cream and gently rubbed it into the skin with massaging movements. When he removed the ointment, you said: "And now let's deal with you." He looked at you in bewilderment, and you pointed to his feet with a nod of your head.  "You should be sitting at all, you idiot. Do you have forceps and hydrogen peroxide?" He pointed to the table. "Sit down," you said and, carefully stepping on the floor, headed in the indicated direction. It's a good thing you were wearing sneakers, otherwise you would have hurt yourself on the glass, too. However, your shoes obviously did not appreciate this. Taking everything you need, you sat down next to Razumovsky and began carefully pulling the glass out of his legs. Then you diluted baking soda and applied it to your feet and wrapped them up, hoping to pull out the fine glass.  "Forgive me, it was a Bird," Razumovsky muttered, not daring to look at you.  "Who is she, a Bird? you asked, looking up at him for a moment.  "Who is he," Sergei corrected you, sighing heavily. He looked at you and bit his lip, thinking.  "I do not know exactly who he is, but I know for sure that he is dangerous and he is inside me…" You frowned. No, of course, you've heard about split personalities in people, but to face it yourself… You looked at Seryozha. He looked pale and somehow lost. Catching your eye, he smiled weakly.  "We'll manage, okay? I'll help you," you touched his hand.  "But we can't run away from him, Y/N," he objected.  "We'll figure something out. Everything will be fine," you promised, and Seryozha smiled shyly in response. He believed you for some reason. And I believed that everything would be fine in the end. After all, you promised.