Angelsworks Replies

Robby wanted it to be known that he really, really, really did not want to like you. 

You, who was headstrong, stubborn and particular. You were a Presby transfer, one of their prized senior residents who just didn’t get along with their team. It was hard and impacted your ability to work and after one too many cruel schoolyard jokes, you jumped ship. You took to the teaching hospital’s ways and its momentum quite quickly. You didn’t hesitate to correct an intern or med student. You never gave a second thought to questioning an attending or fighting a call someone made that you didn’t agree with. 

You, who was also patient and kind. You took extra time with struggling interns, calling them into labs to practise sutures or to go over procedures they couldn’t seem to crack after your shift - time you knew you wouldn’t be paid for. Any mistake a student made during procedures was gently amended, be it by putting your hand on theirs to guide them or just by giving additional verbal instructions.

This was all mostly fine to Robby. Really, he told himself he could handle it for someone Presby was borderline crying over losing.

It was all fine until you walked in on him absolutely whaling on Samira Mohan.

You stood at the door, expression changing immediately. You gawked at him when he told you he was busy, and to ask Dana if you needed something.

Mohan’s case was not too complicated, all things considered. A lady came in after being hit by a car. The car wasn’t going all that quickly, so she wasn’t too badly injured. You had overseen Whitaker doing some of her sutures and knew they had it handled. No internal bleeding, great GCS level, maybe a minor concussion at most.

Nobody had accounted for her general melancholy throughout the procedure. She was lamenting about how late she’d be for work. There wasn’t much anyone could say to that, she needed treatment and she was getting it in a very busy, very understaffed ER. Mohan ran it by you afterwards and you approved the discharge.

She was back in maybe an hour later. She had jumped from a three-storey height. It was hopeful when she first arrived, but things turned complicated and she never even made it to surgery. Time of death, 6:12PM.

Robby’s brows were so furrowed they were pretty much touching. He was going on and on about missed signs and how the car accident had clearly been a suicide attempt. You stood up and argued back - how could she possibly have predicted someone would do that? Her sadness was chalked up to the adrenaline leaving her system, and why wouldn’t that have been the answer? She was just in a car accident!

You sent Samira out, and he reminded you that you had absolutely no authority to do that. You told her to go, anyway. The two of you went back and forth and back and forth until he finally relented. This wasn’t anybody’s fault. You’re doctors, not mind-readers.

After that ‘blatant disrespect’ he had suffered, he was doing everything he could to try and find fault with you. He needed something to write you up, to ride you about. He needed to even the score, and remind you he was top-dog around here.

He followed you from case-to-case, watching how you spoke to everyone and did everything. This was when he noticed something about you.

You were very, very quick to dole out praise.

Whitaker assisted you in a really clean intubation? “Good man, that’s exactly what we want.”

Javadi catching a small symptom that could have turned fatal? “Amazing catch, we’d be lost without you.”

None of it was sarcastic or felt over-the-top. It was warm and fond and real. You loved teaching them, you loved seeing them gain their confidence.

You were shy, too. Not usually, but sometimes. When you got a taste of your own medicine with a ‘good save’ or a ‘nice job’, you got so bashful. All red and quiet, for once. He filed this information away, although he really didn’t know why.

You weren’t warm to him. You were strictly professional after you caught him with Mohan. You seemed to be good friends with her. He liked Samira, he really did. She was talented and could be brilliant if she applied herself like he wanted. Maybe he pushed too hard, she seemed to perform perfectly with you.

Abbot really liked you as well. You worked a double in your first week and you - unsurprisingly - got along just as swimmingly with the ‘night crawlers’ as you did with the day shift. It was starting to piss him off at this stage.

Every time he and Abbot met up at home, you were the first topic of conversation. He ranted and raved about what you did and what you didn’t do and why it annoyed him and why he didn’t think you were gonna be a good fit in the long run.

His husband listened, of course, and empathised with him. It’s hard to work with someone you don’t seem to like at all. But days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months. This time, when Robby started, Abbot had to intercept.

“Mike, baby. This is becoming an obsession." When Robby opened his mouth to argue back, Abbot couldn’t help but take notice of the slight flush on his cheeks. The same flush he had had every time he brought her up recently.

At first, he had assumed that he was just getting worked up about you, but now…

“Honey, I think you might have a little crush.” Abbot said softly. Robby scoffed in response.

“Well, I’m hardly gonna leave you at this stage.” He put his palms on his eyes and pressed hard. Abbot leaned over and gently lowered them before he hurt himself.

“She’s fake as fuck, brother. You should hear how she talks to the others. It’s like a fucking kindergarten.” He groans, squeezing Abbot’s hands.

“What, all this ‘cause she won’t call you a good boy?” He joked, but he smiled when Robby blushed harder.

“Ohhhh, brother.” He laughed, scooping Robby up into his arms and squeezing him. “You got a crush, it’s okay.”

“I’m married.” Robby whispered into his shoulder.

“Yeah, I know, champ. I was there.” Robby raised his head to glare at him.

“I can’t avoid her. She’s fuckin’ everywhere.” Robby moaned, sounding genuinely displeased.

“I wouldn’t want her to be anywhere else. I mean…” Abbot looked down at Robby, wiggling his eyebrows emphatically. “I wished she’d have preferred nights for a while.”

Now, Robby’s head flew up.

“You’ve thought about her?” He asked.

“Not as much as you, hon. But, yeah, I have.” Abbot squeezed him gently again.

“W- why?” Robby’s question was fair. They’d swung for a bit, yeah. But Abbot didn’t go for women. Not after his late-wife. Robby fiddled with Abbot’s blackened out band, resting underneath their matching ones.

“Well, she’s pretty. Seems like she’s a good girl, too.” Abbot said, shrugging off his concern.

“Don’t tell her that.” Robby huffed, rolling his eyes. “It fucks with her flow.”

“Does it now?” Abbot intoned. He found that very, very interesting.

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It had been a few weeks since you last ran into Jack Abott. Robby was off and Shen had covered the day. He did a hand-off and ran for the hills. Abbot is secretly glad he doesn’t prefer the days. He’s a pretty vital part of his crew. Abbot met you just as you were surveying the board for the last time.

“Anything you need to warn me about?” He asked. You laughed, this guy was a sucker for gossip.

“Nothing too interesting. Central 12’s a biter, though. Relative distance is recommended.” You supplied, lips thinning even with your smile.

“Doin’ anything for the night?”

“Nothing, just sleeping.” You responded, sighing. This little tell was the closest to complaining he’d seen you. Abbot nodded. You looked like shit.

“Eat something nice and go straight to bed.” He didn’t quite order you to do it, but it definitely wasn’t a suggestion either.

“Sir, yes, sir.” You gave him a mock salute, standing up straight.

“Good girl.” He said, patting your shoulder and walking away. He looked back after a moment to look at you and sure enough, you were short-circuiting.

Very interesting, indeed.

—------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Like Robby had been doing for you, you very much actively tried to avoid him. Which didn’t typically work. You couldn’t seem to stop running into him.

Your frosty demeanor didn’t waver with him, but his had softened greatly with you. He had taken to sticking around for your procedures again, nodding affirmatively when you did the right thing, or offering a gentle “ah-ah” when doing something he thought wrong.

He often went to you after a tough patient, asked if you needed anything or if you wanted to talk. You tried to be open to it, you really did. But he got under your skin. You were waiting for the other shoe to drop.

You had spoken to Samira about how Robby was when first started, kind and encouraging. How quickly he turned cruel and empathetic when he found a new ‘star student’. You didn’t want to be his star student, but you seemed to have had most of his attention recently. 

You knew he’d turn on you again, and when he did the others would follow. It happened at Presby, and it’ll happen here. You could feel it in your bones, you wouldn’t let them get the leg up on you like that.

The day finished up and like always, you searched the board. You wanted any reason to stick around for a bit, to chat to someone, to be useful to someone else. Robby walked over and prattled on about his weekend plans. Him and Abbot were both off, something that almost never happened.

“C’mon, you got here early. I’m not gonna let you do any overtime.” Hands on your shoulders, he gently steered you towards the exit. You hadn’t brought in anything other than your worn hoodie and your phone, both of which were in your possession, so you had no excuse to not follow.

“You got a ride?” He asked, eyeing your lack of keys.

“Car’s at the shop.” You admit sheepishly. “I’m walking today.”

Robby frowned.

“No, you’re not. I’ll give you a ride.” He shook his head, hand going to your shoulder to hold you in place before crossing the road. He used the same hand to lead you across the road. You couldn’t help but relax a little at the action. You liked just following along with whatever people wanted at the end of the day. I mean, your whole job revolved around making choices to save lives, who would want to make a decision about themselves after that?

“You really don’t have to, Dr. Robby.” You murmured.

“He’s not, I am.” A gravelly voice caused you to look up. Jack Abott stood by their car, dangling the keys until they made a jingleing noise. You clearly weren’t the only one surprised. Robby’s eyebrows shot up. He went over and kissed Abbot on the cheek.

“We actually had a question for you.” Abbot spoke, hand rubbing Robby’s back.

“If you don’t have plans tonight, would you have dinner with us?” Your brows shot up this time.

“But- you…” Your eyes shifted between Abbot and Robby several times.”

“Want you to have dinner with us? Yes.” Robby finished off what he assumed your sentence would have been.

“I- I’d hate to intrude.” Was all you could think to say, because one part of your brain immediately wanted to say ‘yes!’.

“Good thing you wouldn’t be, then.” Abbot smiled at you, winking. “Look, if you don’t want to, you don’t have to. We want you to, but your word is final. We won’t be offended.”

“We can pretend this never happened. We drive you home and we don’t talk about it again.” Robby confirmed softly.

“No, I- I don’t have any plans. Dinner would be nice…” You admitted, stomach starting to grumble. Robby’s did too, causing Abbot to laugh. 

He ushered both of you in the car and drove to what you could only assume was their house. A real nice, big townhouse a little ways outside the city. It was quiet, but thoughtfully decorated. The lawn was stunning and the colour pleasing to the eye. You were invited inside to see the gorgeous interior. The kitchen was a mix of modern furniture with retro colour schemes - reds, blacks and blue used interchangeably. The house seemed to be lit according to mood, with the kitchen lights on full whack and the dining room a little dimmer.

“I actually have it all ready, just sit down anywhere.” Abbot instructed, not caring that he admitted he assumed you were going to say yes.

“Can I help?” You asked.

“Yes, by sitting down.” Robby replied, pointing to one chair in particular. Right to the head of the table.

Abbot’s voice rang out again - “Do you drink wine?” - Upon hearing your affirmative, his head popped through the doorless frame.

“White or red?”

“Red, please. Will I help set out the drinks?” You asked for the second time.

“You can stay right where you are, please.” You are told for the second time.

After what feels like an eternity (it was 5 minutes), a small bowl is placed in front of you and your wine is topped up just slightly. Robby took the seat in front of you and Abbot beside you, at the head.

All three of you ate in relative silence, before you broke it to compliment the soup. It was potato and leek, so creamy and starchy that you didn’t even feel the crunchy onion-y texture.

“Thank you, you’re very sweet.” Abbot smiled at you. You tried to control your blush, ducking your head modestly.

“Isn’t she just?” Robby agreed, as you hurriedly spooned another mouthful of soup into your gob.

The first course passed quickly after that. Robby collected the bowls, pushing you down in the chair when you got up to help him. He disappeared into the kitchen.

“You don’t know when to give up, do ya?” Abbot asked, laughing slightly.

“I’m not good with being idle.” You admitted, laughing along. He stared at you for a bit.

“You can relax, you look so tense. Did you have a bad day?” He asked kindly.

“No, no. Everything went very well. I’m just… I’m just like this.” You laughed again, albeit a bit more nervously this time.

“Uh-huh, well, I want everyone who walks in here to feel better when they walk out. Is there anything I can do for you?” His gaze followed yours, ducking his head to look you in the eyes. It’s hard to ignore the husky undertone in his voice.

“Look up at me, please. It’s not good to slouch.” He gently corrected and you rushed to remedy yourself.

“Sorry, Dr. Abbot.”

“You’re okay, I just don’t want your back to get sore. And, call me Jack when we’re not working.”

“Yes, sorry Jack.”

“Good girl, you’re okay.” He doesn’t miss the way the tension leaves your shoulders. You stare at him for a moment, your eyes almost glazing over before Robby returns.

“Roast should be ready in 20.” He murmured, squeezing Abbot’s shoulder as he passed him. Him and Abbot exchanged a few looks before Robby began again.

“You’re a very smart girl.” He stated simply, you couldn’t help but whip your head over to him.

“Settle.” Abbot huffed a small laugh.

“I’m sure you can see we didn’t call you just to eat with you.” You didn’t know what to say to that. You simply hummed and nodded for him to continue.

“Jack and I have a particular… void that needs filling. And you seem to be the perfect candidate.” Robby continued, watching your face very closely. He saw your brows furrow.

“We aren’t asking you to have sex with us.” Abbot spoke very quietly, “That isn’t what we want.”

“Then what is this ‘void’?” You asked cautiously, not sure if you felt relieved or disappointed you attendings didn’t want to have sex with you.

“We’re old men, who make a lot of money and don’t have family to look after. We want someone to take care of.” Robby informed you.

“You want me to be your sugar baby?” You asked, a bit incredulously.

Simultaneously, you heard a ‘no’ and a ‘sort of…’. Abbot glared at Robby.

“Are you familiar with BDSM dynamics, honey?” You tried not to react when Abbot called you honey but judging by the way he looked at you, you failed.

“I-yes, I am.” You mutter, looking down again.

“Ah-ah, look up.” Abbot couldn’t help but remind you. Robby gawked at him, but you looked up automatically. Abbot tipped your chin encouragingly.

“Have you had any experience with it?” He asked and Robby turned his attention back to you.

“Uh, a bit, yeah.” You admitted in a whisper. God, this was so fucking embarrasing. Robby reached across the table for your hand, which had clenched around itself. He unwinded your fingers and placed his hand on top of yours, rubbing circles onto it.

“Can you tell us what you were doing?” He asked softly. Suddenly, it was hard for you to remember why you didn’t like Robby.

“I was- I was a submissive. Sometimes for sex, but usually domestically.” You murmured, feeling a bit lost in his gaze.

“Thank you for answering. You had a regular dom then?” He asked. You blinked up at him slowly.

“No, I was a part of this, like, group. You texted in and someone usually responded. I knew a few of them well but not all of them. I just… I just needed to be out of my head.” You shared, feeling a bit like a common whore. You went to look down again, but Robby clicked his tongue.

“I believe Jack asked you not to do that.”

“Sorry, Dr. Robby.”

“Michael, please.”

“Sorry Michael.” You murmur automatically.

“No apologies necessary, sweet girl. That must have been hard to tell me.” You nodded without thinking. Abbot piped up again.

“That’s exactly what we want. A submissive. You don’t have to fuck us. We want to feed you, bathe you, dress you up. We want you to listen, and do as you’re told, and to feel free.” Abbot took your other hand, thumb rubbing up and down your wrist.

“You don’t have to even try it. If you’re not interested, we eat dinner, drop you home and pretend none of this happened.” Robby promised, squeezing your hand.

“No pressure. If you want to think about it, then same thing.” Abbot assured.

“I… I do want to try. I haven’t done it in a bit, I might be a bit shit at it.” You admitted, feeling a bit exposed.

“You have been doing absolutely wonderfully.” Robby reassured you quickly.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about a thing, we’d do that for you.” Abbot added.

“Okay, I’ll try it with you. But if I don’t fall deep, don’t be upset.” You warned

“Stop getting in your own head about this, we’ll take it as we go, babe.” Robby brought your hand to his lips, kissing each finger between words. You revelled in the attention for a moment, and you knew they knew. You felt yourself settle down, the weight rolling off your shoulders.

You didn’t notice Abbot getting up beside you, so you jumped when a plate was placed in front of you. Abbot petted your hair soothingly.

“Hush, it’s only me. Here, Mike…” As he passed Robby his own. He placed his own down and quickly plucked the cutlery from your hands.

“Would you like it if I fed you, hon?” Abbot asked quietly, waiting for your response. You nodded slowly.

“Brave girl.” He noted you must have been wrecked to give in so easily.

The plan had initially been to just ask you tonight. Talk to you a bit about it, get to know you. You’d talk about expectations and fears and all of you would set a schedule. Which would still need to be made, but tonight was not the night. Abbot really hadn’t meant to start domming you before you’d even discussed it, but you were plain irresistible. It irritated him how you couldn’t see it. He could see you needed it tonight, Robby could too. You were barely hanging on.

“Do you like to try everything separately first or do you usually go straight in with your meal?” Robby asked before Abbot began.

“Separately, if it’s not too much trouble.” You disclosed, reaching to take the fork from Abbot’s hand preemptively. Abbot gently lowered it.

“Hands on your thighs or on the table, please. Thank you for telling me, I’d like to feed you.” They had a feeling you would need more than a simple instruction. You seemed to be a lot more insecure in yourself than they originally thought.

Clear instructions, easily-won praise often, and many reminders of the initial order or rules. They could remedy that, if you would let. They could only hope you would.

Abbot handfed you every bit, stopping every few to take some himself. When he was eating, Robby took the opportunity to feed you some of his own.

“You are taking this so very well.” He murmured, rubbing your cheek after a bit.

You had cleared the plate before you knew it, and Abbot smiled wide.

“Very, very good. Do you want anymore?” You shook your head lightly, muttering a small ‘no thank you’.

“Thank you for being so polite, sweet girl. You are doing so well. It’s hard to let someone take care of you, isn’t it?” Abbot asked empathetically, taking both of your hands in his own and kissing them. He turned to Robby, who was only watching.

“Mike, could you…” He asked Robby something, but you didn’t quite catch it. You watched him stand up and walk around to you.

“C’mere… That’s a good girl.” Robby spoke, bringing you into the living room. He plopped himself down on the middle of the couch and when he went to pull you into his lap, he was surprised to find you on the floor. You knelt between his legs, not needing to be told to get into position and falling into total habit for the first time tonight.

“Aren’t you a high achiever?” He crooned into your ear, petting your hair. He grabbed a pillow from the end of the couch and quietly ordered you to move for a moment. He could see the panic in your eyes and dropped the pillow. He brought his hands to your hips and looked up at you.

“I just wanted to move this underneath you so you’re not in any pain. You’re not in trouble, we’re all okay.” He assured quickly, thumbing circles onto your hip bones. You nodded and lowered yourself onto the pillow when he had it placed.

“Is that much better, honey?” He cooed at you from above.

“Mhm-hmm. Thank you, Michael.” You instinctively leaned against his left leg. He continued cooing at you until Abbot came back in. They said something to each other, but you weren’t listening. You didn’t feel like you needed to. You weren’t told to pay attention to anything.

“Feeling okay, baby?” Abbot looked down at you, gently tugging your chin upwards to meet his eyes. He was sitting on Robby’s left side. You nodded slowly, eyes glazed over. You smiled softly at him and he released his hold, letting your head fall back to where it was.

“Best girl.” He said, scratching your scalp, while Robby’s leg supported your body weight.

“Take it you dumb slut,” James groaned out as he hit another slap on your already burning red ass.

The slap had you jolting forward, Remus’ cock hitting the back of your throat causing you to gag.

Your hands were tied behind your back and held up by James as he rutted into you - you were absolutely out of control in this situation.

Beside you Sirius was pulling at his own cock, his lips connected with Remus’s as they lazily made out, chasing their releases.

Your body was aching, your stomach pulled tightly together as another orgasm approached, the pleasure had long ago subsided, the only thing you felt was pain. Your cheeks were red and marked with handprints from the countless times the three boys had slapped you.

You had never told them that you didn’t enjoy it quite as rough as they did - it was fine sometimes, but most of the time you loved praise and soft sex, but that was obviously not something they wanted, so you pushed through despite yourself to please them - not wanting to lose them.

With a loud groan and without warning Remus’s cum shot down your throat, prompting another gag to surface.

He pumped a couple of times, riding out his high before he pulled out and leaned down to be level with your face. Grabbing ahold of your cheeks and squeezing them he scowled, “go on, swallow!”

You didn’t dare to disobey, so you swallowed and stuck out your tongue to show him that you indeed weren’t to be punished.

“Good,” was all the scarred boy said before gently tapping your cheek and moving back to make out with Sirius.

Moans were spilling out freely, now that Remus’s cock was out of your mouth, and you had an opportunity to breathe.

Your enjoyment didn’t last long as another hard slap was delivered to your ass and then one on your face - one from James and Sirius.

You whimpered, tears pricking at your eyes.

“Please, I can’t take it anymore,” you whimpered out, your lips turned into a pleading pout.

Sirius leaned down, his face stern, “yes you can, and you will… no more complaining, dumb little slut.”

Your heart stung at the name, but you made no move to go against them; it was all for them.

James’ cock twitched inside of you, and he quickly pulled out and came on your back with a loud groan. The hand that was holding the restraints let go and you fell forward into the mattress with a dry sob.

Your break was minimal as not even ten seconds later you were being flipped around, laying uncomfortably on your tied hands. Sirius was between your legs and didn’t even give you time to comprehend anything before his cock was buried deep within you, his hips moving quickly to achieve his release.

Another slap, hips snapping into yours painfully, your hands bound tightly and painfully behind your back, and your orgasm not even close to feeling good – it was all becoming too much.

You were trying so hard to keep it together, only Sirius needed to cum and then you’d be done.

You were being so good, keeping everything in; that was until Remus’s hand was around your throat, Sirius’s hand landed another painful slap on your cheek and James’ thumb was rubbing fast circles on your clit. The pain and emotion were too much, and you finally snapped, tears of pain flowing freely down your cheeks.

“Red! red, red, please, red!” you exclaimed, chanting your safeword like it was the only word you knew.

As soon as the word hit the boy’s ears Sirius had pulled out and stepped back awkwardly on his knees. Remus was quick to find the knife they kept to cut your ropes. James had pulled your body up so that Remus could free your red and aching wrists. You threw your arms around James’ neck, and he pulled your body onto his lap, holding you tightly against him.

Your mind was fuzzy and sobs escaping from the back of your throat, small pleas leaving your lips as well. ‘Please, no more, I can’t’.

A pang of guilt hit all three boy’s chests as they listened to you sob into James’s chest, your entire body shaking.

Remus was the first to speak, his soft voice trying to calm you, “shh, it’s all right, it’s over now, Bunny.”

You pulled your face away from the safety of James’s neck, your face streaked with tears and your eyes red and puffy.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry… I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry… we can keep going if you want, I’ll be good,” you rambled out, scared that they would be upset with you for stopping.

Sirius grabbed your face, his thumb wiping away the tears, “Stop apologizing, we don’t want to continue since you obviously weren’t enjoying yourself.”

“We always want you to use your safeword if you feel the least bit uncomfortable, that’s why it’s there… you did so good for us, such a good girl for using your safeword,” Remus continued on from Sirius, leaning forward to kiss your forehead.

“But… Siri didn’t finish,” you muttered meekly, looking down, which was quite hard since Sirius was still holding your face.

“That doesn’t matter, Puppy… you’re way more important than a stupid orgasm,” Sirius said, lifting your face so you were forced to look at him.

“Can you tell us what happened?” James asked, needing you to tell them what caused you to cry out your safeword for the first time.

Sirius let go of your face, giving you room to tell them what had happened.

“I don’t really know how to say this… uhm… I love you all and I really enjoy it when we… uhm… you know… have sex… but I know you all like it quite rough and even though it’s fun most of the time… I kinda like it when you’re gentler… I’m sorry, we can still do it like this, but just a little less rough,” you mumbled out, not really knowing how to properly formulate what you wanted to say. Your eyes were downcast again, your fingers were pulling anxiously at one another.

“Oh, bunny… why haven’t you said anything before? If you don’t like something you have to tell us… sex is for all of us to enjoy and it’s not fair for you if you’re the only one not enjoying it,” Remus said sadly, having had no clue of your unenjoyment.

“I’m sorry, I just… wanted to be good for you, but this time it was just too painful.”

“It shouldn’t ever be so painful that you’re not enjoying yourself… please, please, please always tell us – and stop apologizing, you were being good for us, you’re always good for us,” Sirius said moving so he could hug both you and James, Remus following not long after.

“You want to take a bath and cuddle, pretty girl?” James asked softly, to which you nodded enthusiastically, causing a light chuckle to leave each of their lips.

You had bathed, your body washed, and well taken care of thanks to your boys insisting that they “had to” wash you, to make sure that all your pain was gone.

You were currently laid in-between Remus and Sirius – James between your thigs, insisting that they were the best pillows and that it was mostly for your comfort.

“You’re so pretty, baby,” Sirius whispered, his thumb caressing your cheek. You turned your face to look at him, a smile on your face as you leaned in to kiss him.

“I love you.”

Turning to face Remus the same sentence was voiced and lastly said to James, who was falling asleep as your fingers carded through his hair and massaged his scalp, soft snoring noises escaping his slightly parted lips.

“We love you too,” Remus whispered before moving closer to mush you against him and Sirius.

He, alongside your two other boyfriends, probably thought it was because of you slacking off, but it was almost the opposite. You had studied so hard for that test and the subject of Arithmancy, but no matter what you did or how long you studied for it never sank in properly, leaving you frustrated at your lack of understanding. Numbers had never been your strong suit and it clearly showed, you were mentally slapping yourself, beating yourself up.

‘How could I have been so stupid!? Getting a ‘poorly’… what are they going to do with me?’

Your thoughts were all jumbled, which is why you hadn’t noticed the class being dismissed and James packing away his own things and then packing yours as well, taking in the distracted look on your face. He grabbed your bag and slung it over his shoulder, on top of his own, before he reached a hand out for you to take. “Come on, baby… let’s go.”

You were snapped out of your thoughts, looking dumbfoundedly at James’ hand causing James to chuckle a little, but in the end placing your hand in his, letting him lead you towards their dorm.

Arriving at their dorm, James opened the door letting you enter before him and shutting the door softly after himself.

“Hi! How was the Arithmancy test?” Remus asked, getting up from the bed to greet you with a kiss.

“Well, I think our little darling has been slacking off… the grade she received was less than stellar,” James said disappointedly crossing his arms before he walked over to his bed, dumping both his and your bag on it.

Sirius’s head perked up, no longer paying attention to the book in front of him. “Oh? And what grade was that puppy?”

You fiddled with your fingers, not wanting to meet their eyes, feeling stupid and small under their intense gaze.

“Uhm…” you didn’t want to say it out loud, knowing how much they pestered you to get good grades and keep up with your schoolwork… it being a part of your rules.

Though, you knew you wouldn’t be able to hide it since James had seen the grade in plain view.

“Come on, bun, what was it?” Remus pressed, growing impatient knowing by James’ disappointed face that it was bad.

“I-I… uhm… got a ‘p’,” you finally let out, voice small almost a whisper.

You finally looked up at them and your heart dropped taking in the way Remus’ face fell in disappointment.

“That wasn’t very good, was it bunny?” Remus looked down upon you, a stern look replacing his disappointed one.

You just shook your head, unable to answer without breaking down in tears. Your fiddling fingers turning to knuckle cracking, your eyes glassy with impending tears.

“Answer him,” Sirius said sternly, also abandoning the bed and walking to stand in front of you as well.

“n-n-no,” you replied shakily, all your energy being used to keep the tears at bay.

Remus shook his head, “well, bun, it’s very disappointing… I hadn’t even realized you were slacking off, but you know what happens when you do.” He was hinting towards a punishment, those reserved for when you were being a brat or slacked off on purpose, but now it didn’t feel like you deserved one.

The threat of a punishment finally causing the tears to fall, your knees wobbling weakly and quickly giving out on you causing you to fall to the floor as sobs left your mouth. Your face was buried in your hands as tears leaked out of your eyes.

“I-I’m so-sor-ry, I di-dn’t mean to… I t-tried so ha-rd,” you sobbed out, voice breaking and hiccups interrupting your sentence.

The three boy’s stern faces fell into those of soft ones, their tough demeanor leaving them as they watched you break down before them. They looked between each other; sympathy was written in each of their features.

James was the first to kneel down at your level, using his right hand to pry your face out of your hands forcing you to look at his face. His heart dropping at your tear-stained face, feeling your pain.

“It’s okay, darling… c’mere,” James opened his arms for you; you immediately fell forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in the crook of his neck, letting out some more tears and sobs.

His arms were wrapped tightly around you to comfort you until you were ready to talk about it.

Remus and Sirius shared a look, and both kneeled as well, engulfing both you and James in a massive hug. You let out a breath of contentment, your tears ceasing and your breath evening out.

“Can you explain to us what happened?” Remus asked carefully, not wanting to push you in your fragile state.

They all leaned back so you could look at their faces when speaking to them. When your face was out of hiding Sirius took your face in his hands and used the pads of his thumbs to wipe your tears, causing you to lean into his touch, his heart swelled, and he smiled softly.

“I have been studying for that test for weeks, I just can’t seem to grasp the subject… it’s so frustrating and I don’t know what’s wrong with me… I just feel so stupid,” you rambled, airing out your thoughts and frustrations.

“You’re not stupid, puppy… you’re so smart, but you can’t be good at everything,” Sirius said, still holding your face and kissing you softly.

“Bunny, you could have asked for help… I’ll gladly help you study for the next test; I’ll make sure you get a good grade,” Remus offered.

Your face left the warm touch of Sirius’ hands to tackle Remus in a giant hug, kissing him all over his face. “Thank you, Remmy!” you squealed.

The three boys chuckled at your excitement for something as dull as studying for arithmancy.

“I love you all,” you sighed.

“We love you too, darling, even if you are bad at arithmancy,” James said with a small smirk earning him a smack on his arm.

James dramatically grabbed his arm, “oi! Watch it, I play quidditch with that arm.”

Jack’s bald head was hidden beneath a knit beanie, and he was spread in the armchair, wearing his usual sweatpants and sweater. With at least six feet three and a large build, he always seemed off among the furniture, like a giant desperately trying to hide inside a human’s house. “The lady from the grocery store wanted to know about us,” he moved another pawn. “Asked when you’re going to give me a child.”

You almost spit out the tea, choking on it as the man chuckled. “First of all, don’t change the subject. And what did you say to her?” 

“Why bother asking? It’s not like you are going anywhere.” He took away another one of your pawns. “I told her you’re too busy working on your next book.”

You shrugged and captured your first piece. “I like to speculate. And I hate to break it to you, but children aren’t in our foreseeable future, Jack bear.”

The sarcasm was a big part of your neatly built relationship. It started as a way of coping with your weird situation, but as time went by you took it to another level, turning it into a competition of inventing ridiculous pet names for each other, which Jack was more than happy to comply with, always calling you the most cringeworthy things.

By that time, you had discovered he spoke five languages, including Russian, and was indeed a cybersecurity engineer, among other things. He was also a terrible cook, but you were glad to have the kitchen to yourself. Baking little threats and cooking the meals kept you on your feet. It was easier to forget about the whole witness-slash-hostage situation, if only for a couple of hours, while kneading sourdough. Staying busy was always better, especially when you didn’t have your medication.

The first few months were absolutely shit. The night fevers, the shaking, the unceasing thirst. All symptoms of withdrawal from your usual feel-nothing and go-to-sleep pills. The insomnia hit you the hardest, like you couldn’t sleep without a chemically programmed reaction to shut down your brain. Yet, in every sleepless night, Jack was by your side, either telling old stories from when he served in whatever miserable war or simply joining you in silence. That’s when you decided he wasn’t that bad after all.

You became like old friends, even though you tried to remind yourself of the circumstances that had brought the two of you together. He shouldn’t be your friend. He was a bodyguard; a dog trained to protect and serve. 

“Should I call checkmate, my little pickle?” He pulled your attention back to the game.

“Ugh... No need, I surrender,” you tipped over your king, earning a playful boo from him. “Better make us some supper before the nosy lady starts saying I don’t take care of my husband.”

He laughed, reorganizing the pieces on the board just out of habit.

・・・・・

A big hand covered your mouth like a boa constrictor, instantly jolting you upright in the bed. 

As your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room and your heart caught in your throat, you tried to focus on your aggressor’s face. Jack had his other index finger pressed to his lips and as soon as you nodded his hand left your mouth.

With furrowed brows, you shook your head, silently asking him what the hell was going on.

“Someone’s here,” he barely announced and moved carefully to the side of the window, slowly pulling back the tip of the curtains. 

You hadn’t seen him like this before, on edge. This wasn’t the lazy, easygoing man you knew. This was the soldier, the bodyguard. Dark gaze, hands quickly checking his gun, senses hyper-alert to the surroundings. At that moment, it was uncanny how much older he looked, like the weight of war had worn him down in the snap of a finger.

“Who?” You mouthed.

The air was still. Even concentrating, you couldn’t listen to anything. Not the slightest shuffling of footsteps. Nothing. But you trusted his words nonetheless.

“We better go before finding out,” his tone was sharp and rough, no hint of his usual easiness. 

You nodded, searching for your boots as you shoved your arms through the sleeves of a coat that was hanging nearby. The bedrooms were on the second floor, and the house only had two main exits: the front door and the kitchen’s side door.

He took the lead but instantly stopped before reaching the stairwell with one hand splayed out behind him, silently motioning for you to pause as well. You painfully held your breath, teeth locked against one another, not daring to move an inch. Abruptly, your eyes caught two dark figures outside passing by the window of the living room. 

Jack began walking backward and you mimicked him, both of you ending up in the bedroom again. He locked the door and turned around to face you. 

“Tell me we have a plan.” Your stomach dropped, nervous laughter threatening to emerge.

Tucking the pistol into his waistband, he surveyed you with anxious eyes. Zipping your coat up to the end, he took off his beanie and adjusted it on your head before tapping your shoulders.

“You’re not gonna like it,” he moved around the room and pulled both the flat and the fitted sheet from the bed.

“What do you mean?”

Quickly twisting and tying the sheets together, he secured one end around the bedpost, not answering you.

“Jack?” Your voice cracked.

Moving to the window, he carefully pulled the curtains aside, mutely analyzing. Then, he opened the window, letting the cold air rush in and wipe away the warmth from the bedroom. All the hairs on your arms stood up.

“We can’t make it to the kitchen,” his tone was clipped. “And they won’t expect us to go into the forest.”

You started to hyperventilate. “Of course not, we’d fucking freeze to death out there.”

“Still better than what they’d do to us.” His hands gripped your arms with such strength that it would probably leave bruises. “Trust me.”

He dragged you to the window, tying the other end of the improvised sheet rope around your chest. “That’s the North star,” he pointed at the sky at something you just couldn’t recognize or track. “Follow through the woods, keep it in front of you, and you’ll find a small town ahead. Call them.”

“You are coming with me, right?” Panic began to dig its claws on you.

“Climb down.”

“No, I can’t,” your head shook uncontrollably.

“Listen to me.” His brown eyes were almost entirely black, pupils dilated. “These men are gonna kill me and take you. But they won’t kill you, they’ll keep you alive. You understand?”

Before you could even process what he’d said, both of your heads snapped toward the door as the rusty door knob turned with unnervingly slowness.

He grabbed your wrists, forcing you to hold the fabric. “Now.”

You held onto it praying to every known god that it wouldn’t tear, as you perched yourself on the window’s frame, swinging one leg out and then the other. Vision blurred, you could barely look down without feeling your head spin.

Jack’s voice echoed steady behind you. “Trust me, I’ve got you.”

With a deep breath, you shifted your weight, moving away from the window frame into the cold night. Jack was strong and held you steadily, but the sheet wasn’t long enough and ended before you could reach the ground. You looked up to ask him what to do, only to catch the exact moment his head turned away, hands letting go of the fabric.

No. No. No.

Bracing yourself for the fall, the sheet buckled under your weight, lowering you toward the ground, yet not completely there either.

Thank God he tied it to the bed. 

Heart racing, you glanced down just in time to feel the knot around your chest slip loose, making you land awkwardly on cold, damp earth. 

Eyes glued to the window, you waited for Jack to follow somehow. Instinctively, you got up and your feet started to move backward on their own. You heard incomprehensible grunts before a bright light briefly illuminated the room, followed by two muffled pops.

NO! You screamed in your head, hands immediately covering your mouth as horror flashed across your face.

Then, your body reacted before your mind could. 

You ran.

・・・・・

The small house was yours – or at least you temporarily claimed it to be. Just until you figured out a plan. Any plan.

Right now, staying alive was your main priority.

The snow had been falling heavy and silent, covering the forest in a white blanket. Good. It would hide your tracks. The cold settled deep in your bones, but you didn’t dare to light the fireplace, not yet.

It wasn’t much, the little house. But after running blindly through the woods for hours, it emerged like a fucking haven in the middle of nowhere. 

・・・・・

Present

Even after the call, Mikhail didn’t leave your side, no matter how many times you insisted he could go home. You quickly discovered he was as stubborn as a mule. Likewise, the moody elderly woman who had lent you the phone insisted on serving hot tea, despite your protests that it wasn’t necessary.

Irina was her name.

She wore an extravagant head scarf with floral patterns firmly tied under her chin, and a necklace adorned with small, rusty coins. Her light brown eyes peered at you with great curiosity. 

“Your Russian is not awful...” She moved around with ease. “For an American.”

“Thank you.”

“Did your boyfriend teach you?” She asked with suspicion, putting a little too much emphasis on the word.

“Yes.” You tried not to extend the conversation without sounding rude.

Mikhail was silent, but the woman kept going.

“He is Russian, then?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

She kept dancing around the small place, dusting a few products on the shelves, constantly apologizing for her nosiness, but not stopping to shoot questions either. And even though you deflected as much as you could, it always ended in awkward silence. You could tell they did not believe your story.

It was hard even for you to believe the version you told them, let alone the truth. An American all by herself in a foreign country with no money, being chased to death. And for what?

The knot in your stomach started to grow bigger, untamed.

You barely registered the woman by your side before an old hand gripped your chin between her thumb and index finger. Irina tilted your head to both sides, sharply noticing the scratches on your cheeks from running by trees during your desperate attempt to flee. Not an attempt, you fled, you tried to reassure yourself. Another failed effort to bury deep down the uneasiness that told you he was coming for you.

“My grandmother used to tell me,” she released your face, turning back to wipe one of the tables, “that a man won’t hit you twice if you kill him after the first blow.”

Mikhail promptly scolded her in a dialect you couldn’t fully comprehend.

With furrowed eyebrows, you shook your head, a small laugh bubbling up your chest, and immediately tried to explain that he had not hit you. The thought was absurd. Nikto would never hurt you.

Not in the past, at least. But now? He had every reason to. You had betrayed his trust, drugging and abandoning him in those miserable woods. Shivers went down your spine, a restless chill suddenly crawling under your skin as you tried not to picture what mercenaries do to traitors.

“There’s a tale...” Irina suddenly trailed off, interrupting your thoughts. “I’ll tell you a simpler version, for you to understand.”

The woman sounded strangely serious, making your stomach drop. 

“Yes, of course,” you acknowledged with a weak smile, swallowing the lump in your throat.

So, sitting down and crossing her knobby hands over the table, she continued.

・・・・・

In a small village, lived a beautiful maiden. She was radiant like the sun and sang angelic melodies that echoed from the village up to the forest. Wisely, the elders warned her:

“Do not linger by the river at dusk. The Vodyanoy watches, and he loves a young bride.”

But, just like you, she was young, beautiful and free-spirited. The innocent woman loved to sit by the river, dipping her toes in the water and collecting wildflowers for garlands. Distracted, she did not notice the pale eyes hovering barely above the surface.

So, one evening, she did not return home. Nor the night after that, or any night after. Fear took over the village, and the rumors spread:

“Dedushka Vodyanoy has taken another bride.”

Indeed, the young lady was deep beneath the river, but little did they know she had not drowned. Like magic, the water caressed her silky skin as she swam surrounded by strange creatures that might have been human centuries ago but were merely soggy shapes with scales and gills.

The river flow led her to a great hall adorned with multiple stone columns and shells. Seated on a throne made of shiny rocks and weeds, she spotted the Vodyanoy. The water spirit was covered in moss and slime, his long green hair floating around like seaweed down to his feet.

“You are mine now,” his voice thundered through the palace like the current of a wild river. “Here, you shall be my queen.”

But the maiden was clever. She sang for the Vodyanoy, threading sweet spells into her melodies. When she was certain the spirit had grown fond of her, she requested charmingly: 

“My lord, if I am to be your wife and queen, should I not have a wedding gift?”

The Vodyanoy, amused by her audacity, asked what his queen desired.

“I wish for a feather from the Firebird, so no one shall doubt that I am the brightest flame that has ever burned in your heart.”

Enchanted by the idea that his bride had accepted her fate, the spirit slipped through the currents, heading to the distant woods where the Firebird lived.

The moment he was gone, dozens of outlandish water nymphs circled the young woman, pushing her in the direction of a hidden path where the river met the land. As soon as her feet touched the shore, the spell was broken. 

She was free.

When the Vodyanoy returned, he was empty-handed and furious. Not only had he failed to steal the Firebird’s feather, but his perfect, sweet maiden was gone.

From that day on, the river ran colder, always violent and cruel. Not a single villager dared to linger by its edges, for they knew Dedushka Vodyanoy was waiting to claim his revenge.

The maiden refused to speak of her time underwater and never again set foot near the river.

Yet, sometimes, when the night was completely still, the young lady swore she could hear a distant voice viciously calling her name.

・・・・・

When Irina finished the story, everything was quiet. 

Heart racing, you expected Nikto to burst through the door with perfect timing to claim his revenge, just like it happens in the movies. But the place continued eerily silent.

Releasing a shaky breath, you didn’t know what to say to both strangers who peered at you with cautious eyes. You could almost hear them saying with their gazes: 

You understand the story, right? You got away, now keep going and don’t look back.

“You and the... thing can sleep with me tonight, child,” Irina broke the silence, rising from her chair and nodding toward the back door.

After saying your goodbyes to Mikhail, who insisted you take care of yourself properly and even dared to tap the cat’s head a few times, you followed her to a small spare room. Not long after, all the lights were out, and the only sound was the chirping of crickets outside. Exhaustion pulled you under and you collapsed in the modest bed, the cat instantly curling at your side. It was peaceful.

As darkness blanketed your mind, you began to dream about the submerged palace deep down in the river.

But when you spotted the ghostly figure who stole maidens, the Vodyanoy, he didn’t look like the spirit from the tale. 

Even though you could only see dimly in the darkness, one thing was certain:

He had Nikto’s steel-cold eyes.

・・・・・

When the black SUV arrived the next day, Irina suspiciously eyed Peter from head to toe.

“Are you sure you know him?” She whispered to you as the blond man entered the store.

“Yes, he is a friend,” you reassured her.

She squinted in his direction. “To protect you from the Vodyanoy, girl,” she said, placing something cold in your hand, the old woman chanted words you didn’t recognize, but felt like a blessing.

“Thank you for everything.” You meant it truly.

“Speaking Russian now, are we?” Peter casually interrupted your farewell, earning several hushed curses from the Russian lady, who ducked behind the counter and disappeared into the back.

“Something like that,” you shrugged with a genuine smile.

“Can’t wait to hear everything, sugar, but we gotta move,” he urged you.

With one hand firmly placed on your shoulder, he led you in the direction of the SUV. The ragged cat was trailing at your side, its tail twitching with each step.

“You’re joking.” Peter stopped. 

You blinked at the man. “What?”

He gestured at the cat with a gloved hand. “You’re actually bringing this monstrosity?”

“Yes,” you scooped up the cat and held him tightly against your chest. 

He pushed his fingers through his hair, and breathed a rough sigh. “I swear to God, if that rat even looks at me wrong...”

Ignoring him, you slid into the SUV. 

Two other men you didn’t recognize awaited inside in absolute silence. Apparently, Martinez didn’t consider you relevant enough to come along, and it was for the best. It would be easier to hide the truth just from Peter.

Now that you were no longer alone, it felt foolish to have Nikto’s handgun tucked between the folds of clothes in your duffel bag. It was almost laughable, this last resort of a much more desperate version of yourself who didn’t even know how to shoot, yet had been bold enough to steal the very weapon he had first used to threaten you in that cabin.

You even considered handing it over to Peter, terrified of causing any kind of accident. But the fear of anyone discovering Nikto’s involvement in the situation haunted you much more. Explaining why you were carrying the cat was already hard enough. And even though you were reasonably confident that his pistol was untraceable, there was no way to confirm it. So, you kept your mouth shut. Not because you cared about him, you tried to convince yourself, but because it was easier this way.

There was no need for Peter or anyone else to know about it. You would get rid of the pistol at the first chance you got, leaving it behind like the rest of this twisted chapter of your life.

All you needed to do was wait for the perfect moment to discard it.

You were safe, that was all that mattered. 

Opening your hand, you examined what Irina had given you.

A necklace. A rounded iron pendant engraved with a delicate flower at its center. Twisting branches and leaves intertwined with a serpent, its head crowned by a single star.

Slipping it around your neck, you traced the cool metal with your fingertips, wondering if you would ever see these people again.

・・・・・

After countless hours of driving, the car stopped at a cheap hotel. The two men stayed outside the door, leaving you and Peter alone in the bedroom. You knew there wasn’t a single reason to be afraid. They were here to protect you. Yet, a strange, suffocating feeling hooked your chest.

“The winter,” you fidgeted with a loose string from the bedspread, answering his question. “It was too harsh.”

The cat was apparently tired of exploring the room and decided to rest next to you, curled in a small, uneven ball that rose and fell peacefully with steady breaths.

“Well, I’m just glad you’re okay,” he said, clapping his hands with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Speaking of which, how did you survive?”

You rehearsed the story in your head, holding onto it like a lifeline.

There were men after me. They killed Jack. I ran away and found a cabin in the woods. Alone. Endured through the winter and left once it was over. Found the cat on the road. Called for help. 

Your mind trailed, “I found a cabin deep in the woods. Abandoned. Had just enough supplies to last through the winter.”

“Bloody Russians... Always expecting the next Cold War,” he laughed dryly. “But ain’t that convenient? Poor thing, I’m just happy to see you in one piece.” His hand stroked your shoulder awkwardly, more rehearsed than reassuring.

Peter had made you repeat each line of your story several times, pressing for inconsistencies. He even went back to the past, constantly insisting on knowing more about Connor and other information you had no idea. You were exhausted, mentally and physically, but the worst part had been reliving the night you ran. 

You had spent so many months in survival mode with Nikto, locked away in the cabin, that your brain had never truly assessed the damage and the reality of Jack’s death. Now, all the memories and feelings were hitting you like a tsunami. A dark, twisted mix of sadness, anger and hopelessness flooding you from the inside out.

A tense silence stretched across the room, as if he expected you to say something.

Suddenly shifting his tone, he glanced at his wristwatch. “Wow, look at that! Guess our little chit-chat just made time fly.”

You smiled politely, trying to mask your emotions.

Then, he patted your back. “How about you take a shower so we can discuss the details of your return to the land of the great?” His expression was too polished now. “What do you say? Ready to go home?”

Home. A strange feeling rushed through your body. It had been your biggest craving since the moment you stepped on that plane all those years ago. You had dreamed about it more times than you could count, missing the best and even the worst of your homeland.

Yet, now, something felt strangely off. You couldn’t quite place it, but a part of you knew it had everything to do with Nikto and all the feelings you were so desperate to bury. It was for the best, anyway. A safehouse in America sounded better than staying in Russia, where he could easily track you down.

Stick to the plan. Go back. Seek therapy. Rebuild your life.

“Yes,” you inhaled deeply, nodding. “Yes, I am.”

Peter smiled and leaned back, giving you some space to move around. Grabbing the duffel bag, you crossed the room with the weight of both men’s eyes pressing against your back. Shaking off the weird feeling, you shut the door behind you, leaning against it as a shaky breath slipped from your body.

The bathroom was small and smelled of cheap soap. A single flickering light cast strange shadows around the tiny space. The tiles were dull beige, their grout darkened with age. The mirror had a crack in the corner, but when you finally met your own gaze, it wasn’t as bad as you expected. Your hair was messy, and a few scratches marked your cheeks, yet, you looked almost healthy. Alive.

Opening the bathtub’s faucet, you removed your dirty clothes. As you were about to test the water, the door was suddenly scratched. That damn cat. Cursing under your breath, you wrapped yourself in the white towel and yanked the door open.

The cat brushed through your legs at the same moment all the oxygen was stolen from your body.

Holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder, Peter spoke to someone as his hands moved with ease, swiftly attaching a black cylinder to the barrel of his handgun. A silencer.

Widened eyes, adrenaline kicked in and flowed through your veins like a shockwave. Without thinking, you slammed the door shut and twisted the lock in a single desperate, fluid motion.

Then, all hell let loose.

“Fuc—”

Before you could reach for Nikto’s pistol inside the duffel bag on the sink, partially muted gunshots rang in your ears, like party balloons being popped far away. A frantic, involuntary scream escaped your mouth as the door was vigorously smacked by gunfire. Abruptly unbalanced, you arched under the impact, stumbling through the small space until your body collapsed into the bathtub.

Gut-wrenching terror invaded your body. Everything was quickly being painted red.

You were shot.

A moment later, pain ignited through your body like wildfire. Hands instinctively pressing to your abdomen, a copperish taste flooded your mouth. It looked bad. Really bad. Panic made it impossible to tell precisely where you had been shot, and there was blood everywhere. More shots were fired through the wooden door, and you instinctively screamed, shutting your eyes closed, body painfully curling into a ball inside the bathtub.

Suddenly, there was silence. Footsteps grew closer to the door, and a faint shadow crept underneath it.

The world seemed to freeze as the realization settled heavily in your body: you were going to die here. In a cheap, ignored hotel in the middle of nowhere of motherfucking Russia.

Looking around, your gaze desperately darted to the window, even though you already knew it was too small for an adult to fit through it. Bursting into tears, you struggled to concentrate. You were trapped. You had to escape. You had to do something. Anything. You couldn't die. Not here, not like this. God, the cat. Frantically searching for the creature, you spotted it right next to the tub.

The cat was more than alive, every strand of its fur was raised, bristling like spikes. Back arched high, double-sized puffy tail, ears glued to the skull. With a feral stance, its hiss and growls filled the air mixed with the awful sound of a body relentlessly striking the door.

Over and over again. 

Your own heartbeats thundered erratically in your ears, an incessant ring hammering against your brain. A continuous cold started to fill your pores as your blood pressure dropped. Bile started to chase its way up your throat, but you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Your chest heaved, each breath more excruciating than the last. The walls were closing in, and a blurry mess of colorful dots invaded your pupils.

No, Nikto’s voice protested in your mind.

When the door finally gave in, a dark figure covered in black tactical gear entered the bathroom with purposeful strides.

Blinking heavily, you tried to stay awake, but it was already late.

The world was slowly fading away and the darkness felt too powerful to resist, shadowing your vision.

“Nikto?” You murmured through one last breath, light-headed and open-hearted.

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