"A Cold Spring Kiss" Antonov x Reader

telephone talk

"Antonov, s·er. YA zdesʹ..." The guard says, it's the tough looking guy you saw from before, the one who stopped you yesterday. He looked tired, maybe it was the lighting, the snow made it dark and cloudy. The group shifts to a different tone, a deadpan eerie one, something is up with this guy.

The leader of the group turns to him, "perevedi, chtoby my mogli pokonchitʹ s etim." The guard nods and looks at you, rather annoyed, the fact that you have no idea what's going on makes you scrape the wooden table with your nails. Was this interrogation? You could tell that this was going to escalate quickly, something in you knows this is about yesterday.

Your fingers dig deeper into the table and your shoulders tighten, the English-speaking guard sits across from you casually and takes something out of his pocket, a cigarette, gross. He ignites it and glances up at you, but holds his stare, you straighten your back, feeling the dead grabbing your subconsciousness.

You decide to start a casual conversation, as if you have no idea what this is about. "Antonov... Is that your name?" You smile awkwardly. He gives a slight nod and puts the pack and lighter back in his uniform coat pocket, all while holding the stick in between his two dry lips.

You await as do the others, the once fearless guards were now quiet and patient. The leader walks up to him once he's gotten comfortable, "Amerikanka, ty v poryadke?"

Antonov looks at him oddly and then turns to face you, "they want to know if you're okay, you know, precautions and rules." You look at the leader, then at him, "never been better." Antonov leans back, he looks up at the captain, "ona v poryadke." The captain nods and looks at you as if talking to you directly.

"ty ranen, gde-nibudʹ?"

Antonov furrows his brows at the dumb question.

"eto to zhe samoye."

"prosto perevedi," The leader orders, he reminds you of an angry mom.

Antonov sighs, "are you sure you're okay? No injuries?" You stiffly nod, "yeah, pretty sure I don't have any broken bones." Antonov gives a small amused smile, "you sure? No concussion? No gun wounds? Nothing like that?" You can't tell if he's being serious or not, but you look down and try to stifle your laughter, you thought this was about yesterday.

A huge amount of relief hits and you relax your posture, "no, no gun wounds." You mumble, he shrugs and peaks at the leader, "ona v poryadke, ognestrelʹnykh raneniy net." When his pale blue eyes gaze back at you, you find chills run down your spine. You're not sure if it's the cold weather or his husky demeanor that makes you shudder.

You stare down at the table, as if pretending not to notice and continuously look briefly at the men in front of you. The leader seems to have regained his confidence and gives a noir sounding tone to his voice, "skazhi yey, chtoby ona byla ostorozhna, ili my pristrelim yeye, yesli ona snova nachnet dratʹsya s drugimi muzhchinami."

"Don't try anything American Woman-..."

Antonov pauses, something didn't seem to make sense to him, "eto ne ekstrim? ona yedinstvennaya devitsa zdesʹ."

The leader looks at the crew and they all start bickering. Antonov looks oddly cross, as if they pulled off something really stupid. They all finally make a decision and settle down, "my nakazhem yeye" the leader claims, nodding confidently, but sternly. His eyes give you the feeling of a great evil.

Antonov stares into your peaked e/c eyes for a second time, but this time more ominous and huffs, he seems frozen, seeing him freeze makes your heart stop.

"they will... 'Punish you'..."

You feel your whole face tighten and strain like strings being pulled. Punish you? That could be an innuendo for so many things, unspoken things. Your face flushes, you didn't think it would come down to this.

"You look... Pale." Antonov observes, moving his hand over his face as if transforming it.

"I'm just cold, it's hardly anything..." You bury your face in your size-too-big uniform, it's no big deal, really, you're going to live at least. Antonov shrugs it off and stands up to leave. He shuffles in the building in his big fancy coat and the group's tension releases. You wonder why, for he seems pretty friendly, but that doesn't matter right now. You just survived what you thought was a dead end. Your eyes grow big and you release a big huff of air you were holding in, though now you miss it because it was warm. But now if you try anything, you will pay.

The guards grab you by your collar and shove you back to the deafening sound of big mallets crashing into metal. while you pound away stuck in place, your head is able to wander like a bird

It's not legal for that kind of punishment... Is it? You hardly know the laws of the USSR, if it's true... You'd rather die than be treated dirty, unfair. You feel your face begin to warm, you hit the railroad spike harder than usual, your teeth clench just as hard as your hands around your mallet. You swing with an unbreakable force and hit it like a child throwing a tantrum. It bounces back up in a different direction, throwing you off. You stare down at the spike with fake interest,

It had bent.

You hear the mallet head 'thunk' onto the rocks, the mallet handle falls onto the side of the railing and makes a clangor. You stiffen, the blaring noise fades out and slows down, all you can hear clearly is the warm air you breathe... And your thoughts.

You cover your mouth with your immovable frost-bitten hands and your eyes cannot see. You close them trying to shake away the fear that lingers through the dripping liquid.

You don't cry.

Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry.

Everything will be okay.

You know what, it will.

... No it won't...

You crumble while covering your eyes, the sound of hollering voices approach you. You've fallen, they've won.

They've taken you, your physical body first, and now you've lost your head.

No.

No,

NO,

NO!

You don't deserve this!

They can't win!

They can't win over your mind and fill it with hollow fear!

You fade back into the moment and wipe your wet eyelashes,

You will win,

And they will have to watch as they lose.

You stand up with hatred spiking through your eyes into the guards approaching you. They see you and halt with fear, you smile.

"Where's that translator?"