ex nihilo | fyodor dostoyevsky x reader

ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ

Distress

ɢɪᴠᴇɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀʏ ꜰᴀᴄᴛꜱ ʜᴀᴅ ʟɪɴᴇᴅ ᴜᴘ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴡᴀꜱ ꜱᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ʜᴇʟʟ ᴏꜰ ᴅɪꜱᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ. ʏᴇꜱ, ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ɢᴏᴛ ᴀᴡᴀʀᴇ ᴏꜰ ɪᴛ ᴀʟʟ - ʙᴇᴄᴀᴜꜱᴇ, ᴘᴇʀ ꜱᴇ, ɪɢɴᴏʀᴀɴᴄᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʙʟɪꜱꜱ. ꜱʜᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ᴜᴘ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛʜᴇ ʟɪᴛᴛʟᴇꜱᴛ ʙɪᴛꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ʙʀɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ɪᴛꜱ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ

. . .

Forceful was the knocking you heard. It pained your ears, made you shiver - the sudden apparition wasn't welcome to your rather sensitive self. Along with Fyodor's warning (don't get into the fire, he said), you were certain, something grave was about to happen. In a split second, your body reacted - and as soon as the first bullets found their way into the room, you screamed, covering your ears from the maddening ricochet.

They lasted long enough to force your organism into a state of strained consciousness. Believe it or not, it took a mere moment to turn your bloodstream into a boiling race, the rest of the nervous system becoming an electrical mess along with it - and your heart, the loudest of your organs, a pumping maniac. Yet you had no idea what was going on. Just a little bit away, the door of the bedroom was punctured with teeny, but numerous holes, marking the passage of those many bullets. You could see it clearly, and through them, notice some movements in the other room. The assailants.

It was at that moment that Fyodor let go of you - he had been holding you? - and crawled next to the door. In a second, the very same ruined wood was swung opened, to reveal a man with a gun dash inside. The stranger was unaware of Fyodor's position - and your beloved Russian simply needed to graze him. Such crazy courage was justified with his speed. A cough later, the man fell down, blood oozing from his wide open mouth.

This caused a shriek from the other room, where some other people were evidently still hiding. Following the departure of their comrade, a colorful line of curses was heard, curses as creative and as harsh as Russian sentiment would allow. Their fear was audible in the trembling of their voices, of the unusual high pitches and wavering in the tones.

A quick glance was all you got in this situation. A single look that spoke of his nonchalant state - the man thus informed you there was no reason to be afraid. The body by his side was the proof.

Fyodor evidently had experience in killing people.

You wholly grasped this one reassuring look. You had no idea how would he solve it - but you trusted him, desperately, as he had two lives in his hands, yours and his own. He'd find a way. This man was a miracle himself, and miracles are hard to grasp - but they do happen.

So it came as no surprise that, once you made sense out of the inarticulation, you found out the men were afraid. Terribly afraid of what was in front of them - a monster, a demon, the one who could take life with a single touch. Someone unholy, not their target for sure.

It was the scum of the underground that was after you. For some reason, their petty brains could hardly see a man in Fyodor. Even if that horrendous being were a human, would it matter? They simply couldn't face him. Their rambling turned into running, loud calls for help. The very same people who had caused an uproar in the hotel were now just like the rest of the guests - scared and full of questions.

It all seemed like eternity while it lasted, but once it was over and Fyodor walked back to you, time went back to its normal fluctuating. With his serene expression, the calm was forced into you.