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A LIGHT NOT FAR AWAY FROM US

synopsis: it's a restless night for both you and nikolai, which makes room for late night talks—maybe the two of you have more in common than initially thought.

content: ch. 5 of icarus falls - main navi / wc: 8.1k

Restlessness is not what you thought would accompany you tonight.

The sound of your bedsheets rustling was becoming increasingly tiresome at this point. It feels like the hundredth time that you are shifting to the opposite side, hoping that, this time, it would be the more comfortable spot—though you're sure you already have your answer.

You don't usually have trouble sleeping at night, but something unseen is bothering you, like an invisible force compelling you to stay awake.

Frustrated by your futile attempts to fall asleep, you reluctantly leave the warmth and comfort of your bed, dragging your feet on the wooden floor as you head to your front door to seek solace in the calming night air. You put your slippers on and open the door, expecting an empty balcony at this hour—only to see a certain someone already standing on the balcony with his arms folded on the railing, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular.

"Nikolai?"

Startled, Nikolai turns to face you with a flicker of surprise in his tired eyes.

"I'm sorry for spooking you," you say, the corners of your lips turning upwards at his reaction. "What are you doing up so late?"

"I could ask you the same thing," he replies with nonchalance.

Taking in Nikolai's exhausted appearance and red eyes, it becomes evident to you that maybe he was also struggling to sleep.

"I couldn't sleep for some reason, so I just wanted some fresh air," you explain to him, moving closer to stand beside him on the balcony, mirroring his stance and resting your hands on the railing like he's doing.

He seems taken aback at your response as if he didn't expect that to come out of your mouth. "I couldn't sleep either."

It's like your presence is making Nikolai feel on edge, evident from how he isn't facing you and the tight grip of his hands on the railing. Wanting him to ease up, you place a gentle hand on his back. “Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah! Don't worry about me," he reassures with a laugh, finally meeting your eyes.

There was a magnetic pull, the way his eyes locked onto you and your appearance. It's hard for him to tear his gaze away like usual when his eyes trail and notice how you look this flawless, even when you're just wearing a simple loose t-shirt and pajama pants. He loathes that even for a second he liked seeing you like this, your bare-faced look with tousled hair.

Stop it.

He scolds himself internally and forcefully turns his head the other way, realizing it's too risky to keep staring.

You pull your hand away from his back, returning to rest on the railing when Nikolai shifts away from your touch. "Don't you love the smell of summer night air? There's just something about it that's unique and refreshing," you say, looking at him. "I guess it isn't really summer anymore though.. since fall is practically here. The weather changes so quickly, don't you think?"

He nods and remains silent but listens as you continue to speak aimlessly, your voice filling the void.

"It's still summer in my heart, though," you add, a grin forming on your lips as you run your fingers through your hair to smooth it a little. "I find it hard to decide what my favorite season is. As much as I adore summer, sometimes the heat gets to me and I can't wait for winter to start. Every season is charming and unique in its own way, so I can't pick one over the other."

A soft, almost wistful smile forms on Nikolai's lips while he listens to you sharing your thoughts. "I like winter," he confides. "I personally think it's the best season."

"Oh, I never would've guessed that!" you laugh with surprise at his unexpected response, your hands retreating close to your chest again in delight. "Do you like the cold?"

He nods almost immediately. "It's familiar to me. Where I'm from, it's always cold, so winter feels especially comforting."

A grin pulls at your lips with his choice to concede. It encourages you to go on. "Now I can't wait for winter to arrive, just so I can see the pure joy on your face."

Your remark elicits a laugh from Nikolai, a sound that quickens your heartbeat and brings a subtle warmth to grow in your cheeks. It felt like a rare chance to talk to Nikolai like this, so you made the most of it with what you could. These infrequent moments of connection were precious to you, and you wanted to seize every one of them and hold them close.

"Maybe we can go ice skating when winter comes around," you propose to him impulsively, heart racing with spontaneity. "I've always wanted to learn how to ice skate."

"And what makes you think I know how to skate?" he retorts, a teasing edge to his voice. Yet, there’s a flicker of curiosity in his eyes, his expression softening a bit at your suggestion, momentarily replaced by one of intrigue instead.

"I just.. thought it would be fun if we could try it together, that's all." you giggle, warmth blooming in your chest at the mere thought.

"Yeah, thought you would say that," he slyly says before his gaze returns to the starry night sky.

Your eyes follow his. "Aren't they pretty?" you ask him, referring to the stars that twinkle like tiny beacons in the dark, tilting your head in fascination.

His attention shifts from the sky to his own hands in front of him, which rest on the balcony railing. "Yeah.. whatever," he shrugs with disinterest.

A thought pops into your head, nearly making you laugh out loud. "Do you think wishing on stars makes dreams come true?"

"Are you kidding? Of course, they don't. Maybe if you're five," he responds, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"I was just curious to see what you would say," you giggle lightheartedly at his skeptical reply. "It doesn't hurt to hope though, right?"

That couldn't be more false.

He thinks you must be blissfully unaware of the double-edged sword that is hope. The emotional investment, the attachment that is linked with hope—they all contribute to and amplify the hurt and heartache of unfulfillment that follows. It's a painful reality he's already come to face, though he supposes you wouldn't know anything about that.

"What's your biggest wish?" Nikolai asks you, deterring the current topic.

You ponder for a moment before answering, reflecting on his question in the stillness of the night. "To be wanted.. no, needed. To have someone in my life who understands and loves me unconditionally," you reply, looking at him with a smile. "I think we can agree that everyone wants that, right?"

Nikolai nods half-heartedly as he absorbs your words, more so as a tepid response rather than an earnest sharing of sentiment.

"What's yours?" you ask him.

"What's my what?" he shoots back at you, confused by your question.

"Your biggest wish?" you pout jokingly. "I told you mine, so tell me yours!"

"Oh," he sighs, slightly overwhelmed by your encouragement and the playful spark in your eyes. He felt as if he'd been detached from society for years and didn't know how to interact or talk to people like a normal person anymore.

Actually, he isn't sure if that's ever been easy for him anyway.

"I don't have one."

Your lips press together at his response as disappointment flits across your face. But you change the topic, feeling as if he'd appreciate that. "Nikolai, I saw this park nearby on my drive back from work today.. and I think it would give us a great view of the stars," your voice turns quieter with nervous anticipation as the next words leave you. "Do you want to come with me?"

Nikolai shakes his head.

He doesn't really feel like going anywhere right now, not with you especially. So when he hears shuffling beside him and sees you stepping back inside your apartment, a lightweight sigh of relief escapes him as he realizes that you probably went back to sleep.

But a few minutes later, he hears your door creak and open again. He sees you emerge, changed out of your previous sleepwear.

"Where are you going?" he asks you, confused. A sense of curiousness swims in the depths of his light-colored irises, shadowed by a hint of something deeper.

"I want to go myself," you respond to him, your voice growing fainter with each step you take toward the stairs.

Panic.

"Are you crazy? It's not safe for you to be out alone this late at night," his voice turns stern with no care for the other sleeping neighbors as he watches you walk further down the steps, half-expecting that you will turn back at any second.

Seconds turned into minutes, and minutes piled into a mountain of dread that turned more unclimbable as time continued to pass. It was uncomfortable—the sensation of a certain unease that claws at his chest the longer he waits. Yet amid this feeling, an opportunity opened up for him. He realizes that if anything were to happen to you, it would no longer be of his concern—it wouldn't be his problem anymore, and he would be free of the burden that has begun to weigh so heavily on him.

But just as quickly as that surfaces, another hits him like a cold wave—you aren't coming back. A sort of alarm washes over him, so in a sudden rush, he hurriedly heads back into his own apartment to put on his shoes. He feels the roughness of the soles beneath his fingertips before he frantically pulls on a jacket, snatching up his keys and wallet just in case as an afterthought.

"Fuck.." His frustration was clear as he made it down the stairs, the irritation manifesting in the furrowed lines above his brows and the tense clench of his fists. He didn't have to follow you, but if he didn't, that didn't feel right either—the idea of letting you go out alone gnawing at his conscience.

He wants to be strong and unyielding, to resist the pull of his feelings and the impulses that guide him as an insurgence to rid the soul of its hell. But it's as if his heart and mind are engaged in a relentless tug-of-war, each vying for control over his actions and decisions. His want to stand firm and resolute seemed futile when his own emotions betrayed him at every turn, leaving him feeling ambivalent and astray from his own self.

He reluctantly follows you, scuffling with internal clashing desires, torn between the urge to resist and the unknown fervor brewing within him.

Like a moth disoriented by a flame, he follows.

— ✦

The moon embellishes the dark velvet sky with nothing but the rhythmic tapping sound of footsteps against the pavement echoing in the air, a slight breeze caressing your face as you stroll.

"I didn't tell you to come, you know," you turn to Nikolai who is now walking beside you, accompanying your walk with his hands buried in the pockets of his black jacket.

Honestly, you were thankful for his sudden change of heart and that you hadn't made it that far before he caught up to you. You were glad that he had decided to join you in the end because even if you didn't want to admit it, you didn't want to venture out alone in the first place.

"I didn't think you would actually go out by yourself." A low grumble comes from next to you, breaking the peaceful quiet.

You bit the inside of your cheek at his words, teeth bitterly pressed down to stifle a reaction and hold back a response, even if you weren't completely sure of how you would respond to that either.

So what if you did? Why did it matter to him if you went alone?

It made little sense to you. You couldn't understand why he would be irritated over this when he made the decision to follow you himself, a swirling mix of frustration and confusion brewing within you at the thought. It feels like no matter what you do, you are blamed for only doing what you want to do. He was under no obligation to accompany you. Yet, you still think he was kind for doing so anyway, even if it feels tainted by the unspoken tension.

Most of the walk was spent in silence, which surprisingly suited you just fine this time. Silence as in no words were being spoken, only the sound of the dead fiery-colored leaves that had started to fall from the trees crunching beneath your feet.

However, the silence did bother someone else.

It didn't go unnoticed to Nikolai that the look on your face was the same one from earlier in the day. It didn't go unnoticed that this silence was just like before, and he didn't understand why it bothered him despite it being a good thing for him. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to listen to you rambling nonstop. If you don't speak to him, he doesn't have to go through hell and back trying to decide whether or not he should respond to you or not. All of these are good things that he should want.

But he can't focus on anything when that same feeling of suffocation arises within his chest again, and it drives him to do something about it quickly to alleviate it.

The two of you came to a stop by a vending machine, its bright light casting a glow that illuminates both of your faces in the darkness.

"Do you want anything?" Nikolai asks you while he's reaching to pull out his wallet from his pocket.

You get closer to the vending machine and peer at all the drink options offered, a strawberry fizzy drink catching your eye. "This one please," you request as you point towards the glass.

He inserts a bill into the machine, the acceptor buzzing as it eats his money. He then pushes a button for the strawberry drink you chose, along with a melon cream soda.  

You smile to yourself when you notice his choice of drink. You don't know why, but you find his drink options cute. He could pick something like coffee or something bland, but he seems to prefer sweeter flavors.

Nikolai collected both of the drinks once they fell, handing you yours before continuing to walk along beside you. But he notices how you look at the can in your hands instead of cracking it open like he does.

“What’s wrong?” he asks before bringing his drink to his lips.  

“I feel bad,” you confess to him.

“Why?”

“Because you bought this for me, and I want to pay you back somehow..”

He doesn’t understand how you could feel guilty over such a simple thing. And he couldn’t decide whether it was admirable or pathetic either, though he was leaning towards the latter.

He is just confused. You always manage to find a new way to confuse or shock him, and he found it amusing above all. It wasn't like he hadn't ever felt guilty about money either, although for very different reasons. But he couldn't be concerned about something so insignificant anymore when there was a bigger issue at hand, standing right next to him.

“You don’t need to feel bad, just drink it. I already bought it for you, ‘kay?” he reassures you, an uncertain look swimming in his eyes.

A smile crept onto your lips.

It felt like a gift.

— ✦

"Guess what kind of flower this is!" your cheery voice fills the air.

"Let me take a wild guess. A white one?" Nikolai's monotone voice responds as a contrast while you're eagerly pointing to a bloom you happened to come across.

"No! Well, you're not wrong.."

Nikolai's arms are crossed while you're fascinated by the flowers that decorate the bushes. He finds it amusing that you can be so interested in something so ordinary, so trivial.

"You like flowers a lot," he states, his observation unable to stay confined in his mind, almost wanting you to say something to satiate his hidden curiosity.

"I like to care for and look after things that are delicate, that need me. It gives me a purpose," you turn to look at him as you both start walking again. "I find that whenever you have a purpose, life is more bearable."

If he was being honest with himself, Nikolai is at a loss for words. You seem so put together and have everything set in stone compared to him. You seemed to have achieved everything you wanted in life without grueling difficulty compared to him. You seem to have everything so easy compared to him.

You seem content. He wishes he could be the same.

He envies you.

The glow of the lamp lights illuminates the bench in the middle where you both return to, each footstep echoing softly in the quiet air before the two of you sit down, across from each other.

"When did you start working at that flower shop anyway?" Nikolai asks you with genuine curiosity before taking a sip of his drink, feeling a slight chill from the cold metal against his lips.

It probably wasn't a good idea to drink something this late at night, especially something sweet. But the drink wasn't as sugary as he expected it would be. Moreover, he was already awake anyway, so he found little to no harm in doing so.

And besides, this was certainly one way to kill some time.

"Only a year ago," you answer. "I was really unhappy about where I was in life but I ended up finishing my degree and graduating anyway, only to end up where I am now."

"Parents probably weren't pleased about that, I'm guessing?"

"Of course not, but why do anything at all if it doesn't make you happy?" you say, tapping your nails against the aluminum can.

Happiness.

Another putrid emotion. Why not choose freedom of the soul?

However, you seem much more open-minded compared to many other individuals he has ever met in his entire life. He had to wonder about something—if he were to enlighten you about his goals, would you accompany him on his journey? Would you understand him like he did?

No, nobody does. Nobody has before or since then, and nobody will.

He is a fool for even thinking so. But he had to admit, he was a bit astonished by your bold statement.

Extremely envious, even. Because you're stronger than him.

The words start to come out of his mouth, thinly-veiled. It didn't help that it was late either—his head getting fuzzier with each passing hour, the words flowing from his mouth with little inhibition.

"I think you're brave."

A subtle flush creeps up your cheeks, taken aback enough to stop your tapping when you hear the sudden words come out of Nikolai's mouth. "What?"

He freezes after seeing your reaction, a profound realization of what he just told you immediately settling in. It feels like time has paused for him—a moment suspended in disbelief at his own words, knowing it's too late to take anything back. There was no taking back what he had laid bare, no taking back the words that continued to come out of his mouth with no stop.

"For wanting to do your own thing, to follow your own path no matter what others around you say or think. That's a very brave thing to do, you know," Nikolai finishes off quietly, his gaze averted elsewhere as if searching for something else to direct his focus on.

Your voice is barely above a whisper as you let the sincerity of his compliment soak in. "Thank you," you shyly tell him while fiddling with your fingers before finally resting your hands in your lap. "That's the first time someone's ever told me that."

It’s impossible for him not to shift his gaze back to you as you speak softly, your voice mellow. "You weren't scared at all?" he asks you, resting his elbows on the table and crossing one of his arms over the other.

"I felt lonely, that's all," you admit in a voice more hushed, bottom lip pulled between your teeth as you nervously gnaw at it.

You still do, but you didn't want to admit that to him out of shame. The humiliation that would come with doing so was something you feared, his reaction to the knowledge of it.

What would he think of you if you did?

Although recalling the events of earlier in the day, you think it's a little too late and even pointless to be worrying about that now. However, you still didn't have your answer, and you weren't sure of why you wanted it so badly either—why his opinion held so much weight.

Your eyes drift back to the star-studded sky above, which looks like a vast canvas painted with shimmering diamonds. But it's something you can't fully enjoy when a small chill creeps up on you, an elusive beauty dulled by a brisk breeze rustling the trees and passing by the both of you.

Nikolai notices you shiver. He knows you're cold.

But all he can do is grip the jacket on his frame and hold it closer to himself while looking down at the ground, where the earth seems more interesting than the unfolding situation.

He would not surrender to these feelings.

"You should tell me something about yourself too," you say with excitement bubbling in your voice to catch his attention again, but your gut signals you to back that sentence up with something else. “Only if you want to..” your words come out deliberately and carefully so as not to overstep boundaries that stretch between you.

Hesitance. Nikolai was practically hanging by a thread here.

What is he doing?

This was precarious. He should know better not to speak any further, to step further into this dangerous territory he knows he shouldn't explore. Still, he can't seem to stop himself like he normally would be able to when an unfamiliar urgency grips him to unravel his usual self-control.

"I do have one wish," he tells you, his fingers unconsciously curling around the now-empty can as if seeking comfort in its solidity, something he wishes he could possess in this moment.

Your eyes widen a bit in surprise, but you nod to let him know that you're listening, undoubtedly interested in whatever he is about to admit to you.

"Freedom."

Freedom.

The word rings in your mind. It was so simple, yet it seemed so ominous.

"Freedom..?" you repeat in a way that makes it seem like a question directed back at him.

A nod confirmed it once more. "To be free from any attachments, and everything that bounds me," he reveals.

Nikolai's sudden seriousness took you by surprise. He was never one to open up about his feelings or his past, but now he’s telling you something that seems to hold importance to him, so casually at that. Maybe the two of you have reached a new level of closeness.

You've wondered about Nikolai's guarded nature and hesitance to open up about his emotions before, more times than you would like to admit. However, you never thought it would be because of such an unpredictable reason. His reluctance to share anything about himself with you could be a reflection of a deep-rooted apprehension due to this so-called freedom he was referring to. It's the earnestness with which Nikolai shares with you regarding his wish for freedom that alludes to something, but you try not to ponder on it for too long.

"Like a bird?" you ask when the thought flits across your mind like one.

He looks up at you, almost confused that you caught onto him so quickly. A hint of admiration imbues his tone as he begins to speak. "How did you know?"

"Cause birds fly freely, and that was the first thing that came to my mind when you mentioned freedom," you explain, a lilt in your voice.

"Yeah, that's precisely what I mean," he acknowledges and smiles, visibly content that you could comprehend it from his perspective.

"Aww, Nikolai, I know you so well!" you exclaim your happiness, catching the small glint in his eyes when you do so.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but I didn't expect you to understand where I was coming from," he tells you, unable to control how the corners of his lips turn upward.

"Why wouldn't I?" you sulk playfully to feign offense, causing a giggle to escape from Nikolai.

Nikolai shakes his head like he isn't sure how to respond. This whole thing was definitely a change of pace for him. Someone attempting to understand the way he thinks wasn't only rare—it was something completely unexpected.

"When did you first know that you wanted freedom?"

He feels his throat tighten at your question as if the words resisted escaping. In truth, Nikolai was far too young to be thinking of such things. But it wasn't like he had a choice given his circumstances at the time.

"At a young age," he replies regardless, his voice tinged with an unshakeable uneasiness as each syllable spills out like a reluctant confession.

What does he mean?

You had no choice but to contemplate why he felt so strongly for freedom since a young age, as he had just admitted to you. You were forced to wonder what blossoms such a strong desire in the first place.

How long has Nikolai been fighting for freedom? What exactly lies beneath his calm face?

More and more questions swirl in your thoughts, each one tugging at your curiosity and swelling an urge to understand him more deeply, to sift through his layers.

"But.. don't you think it's difficult for a bird to fly if it's been confined in a cage its whole life?" you ask gently, an ache growing in your chest at the thought of him dealing with hardships.

He feels as if everything around him crumbles when your words reach him, leaving him unsteady. "What are you trying to say?" he replies, a steely bite sneaking into his voice.

"The bird only knows what it's been surrounded by its whole life," you explain further. "You're striving to reach freedom, but what will you do when you get it? What if it's not what you had hoped for?"

In a heartbeat, Nikolai is speechless, his expression a mixture of different emotions. Your words cut deep, carving into the layers of his mind through his convictions and inscribing new ideas into it that he'd never entertained, unfurling deftly and intertwining with the beliefs he had cultivated for so long.

How dare you.

How dare you force him to rethink everything he's ever known.

To him, your innocent appearance was such an intense contrast to how effortlessly you could rake your fingers through layers of defense he'd hardened over the years, cutting into a wound that he doesn't think will ever heal. You look at him like you're peeling back each layer one by one, exposing the tears underneath that aren't meant to be seen by anyone other than himself.

He's convinced someone or something has sent you here to him to contest everything he stands for.

He doesn't know what it is, but he's afraid.

He felt like he was being cornered while clinging onto his idea of freedom, no matter how small he felt with your question that was like a dagger to his soul. Yet by feeling this way, he was only prolonging his stay like a bird stuck in its cage, the sharp, cold metal confining him inside with no release in sight.

The lack of response from Nikolai signals that maybe you said something you shouldn't have, your hands falling to grip the sides of your thighs in anxiousness. But rather than him being irritated like you expected, you notice that he only looks sad. Noticing this makes you feel so bad because it wasn't your intention to make him feel upset.

"So, you wish to be free from everything.. does that include your emotions too?" you ask, intrigued to know more and to ease some tension that started to cloud over.

"Exactly," he affirms, humming in agreement. "The mind is a cage. You'll never be truly free as long as your emotions tie you down and keep you captive," his tone softens while his eyes are still avoiding you.

A certain dread suddenly fills you, sensing something unsettling lying beneath the depth of his words.

"I guess so.." you respond, trying to understand it from his perspective for something he clearly cares a lot about. "Sometimes I wish my emotions didn't control me so much either.. I wish I didn't have to feel hurt or pain or anything like that," you breathe out, releasing a soft sigh to collect your thoughts while also making sure not to spill too much. "It's hard, isn't it?"

His head shoots back up, eyes widening as they meet your face as you continue to speak.

"But I think it's all right to feel like that occasionally because we're only human. It's natural to feel emotions and I shouldn't push myself too hard to resist against that." Your gaze trails over to him, observing the subtle shift in his demeanor.

Nikolai is still looking at you, his expression changing to one of astonishment at your words and the fact that you didn't judge him at all for what he deemed important. He wasn't sure that you could fully understand him or the complexities of what he felt. However, the absence of such judgment in regard to his goals and the thoughtful attempts you're making to try to understand him is what strikes him most, as it's something he doesn't think he's ever encountered to such an extent before in his life. Instead, you embrace the very facets of his existence, ones that he doesn't even bother to explore much himself.

You lock eyes with him, allowing you to notice a sparkle flickering in the depths of his trembling irises that you haven't seen before. Maybe it's the faint shimmer of the stars reflecting into them, or perhaps it was something else—it doesn't matter, because either way, his eyes have never looked prettier as you found yourself unable to look away from him like a pull is holding you in place. The way shadows dance across his features only accentuates the sharp lines of his jaw and the softness in his usually intense eyes, giving him an aura of fragile strength. There was something deeply evocative about his stunned expression, a depth that pulled at your heartstrings—a raw honesty that takes your breath away for a second.

It felt like you said something that changed his whole rhythm.

You don't know what comes over you, but you're so overwhelmed by an inexplicable urge that the words tumble from your lips before you can stop them, soft and earnest.

"I like your eyes.."

Thump.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Nikolai's mind begins to whirl. It's hard to ignore the heat crawling up his neck and the erratic pulsing of his heartbeat, each thud echoing in his ears as the weight of your words settles around him. The moment hangs heavy as you're disrupting fragile boundaries, unknowingly pulling at the strings of something he'd carefully constructed for his own protection. He tears his eyes away to rest his head on his arms, which are folded over each other on the bench, giving zero mind to the discomfort of the metal. He couldn't be bothered by it when it granted him a reprieve from whatever you just stirred in him, taking the chance to escape the intensity of your gaze.

God, why did he have to be so fucking pathetic?

As if his former jester persona hadn't tattered him completely, he'd soon quickly donned a mask of a different type, one more draining than he could've ever imagined being. This facade of pretending to be unbothered and emotionless was one very different from the eccentric one he'd taken on years ago—an exhausting never-ending performance that lasted years.

But he's tired. He couldn't take it anymore, so he abandoned the former.

It was so easy to wear a mask of laughter then, easier in comparison to the one he was wearing now. How such a thing was possible was beyond him, but the difficulty of maintaining his present condition only rose when you appeared in the picture. Now, standing on the precipice of something real with you, the confusion and conflict only sharply twist deeper within him like a knife. 

What would it mean to let you in?

That thought terrifies him.

Fear grips him tightly—fear of vulnerability, fear of disappointment, fear of losing himself as his sanity as he knows it is slipping through his fingers like sand. 

Being around you only fed into such things, as well as the anger that came after the realization of it. It was a matter of time before he'd regret his actions again. He really does try to control his resentment, but his patience is wearing thin. He'd already unraveled too much that day he spent with you, and he wasn't going to unravel anymore. For obvious reasons, of course—but there was one that flits into his mind and out just as quickly, the ache in his chest persisting.

“Nikolai?” you ask, your voice breaking into his turbulent thoughts.

But he doesn't raise his head even after you speak up.

It alarms you, your lips rubbing together in nervousness due to this troubling situation you're put in. You decide to take matters into your own hands and channel some bravery—bravery you didn't even know you possessed yourself until tonight.

His words ring in your mind again, louder than the initial time.

You rise on your feet and walk over to his side, taking a seat next to him while also keeping in mind to not get too close to bother him. His braid fell over his back in such a way you considered far too perfect to be candid, far too perfect for someone who was struggling with sleeplessness. You had to take a second to admire him—and maybe it was wrong to do so while he seemed troubled, but you couldn't help yourself.

Your hand moved on its own, fingers sliding against the cold metal of the table. "Nikolai," you begin softly. "We can go back now.." Your hand reaches to his shoulder, gently kneading it with heedfulness.

One could mistake the caution instilled in your movements as fear, but that couldn't be further from the truth. You weren't scared of him, not at all. Your main focus was to keep the atmosphere light, to maintain what you had right now—fearful that anything you did could push him away at any moment, leaving you to face the silence in your life that felt all too heavy. You didn't want to upset your friend in any way. That was truly the last thing you could ever want.

"No.." he groans softly and shifts away from your touch.

"Hm? You don't want to?" your rubbing comes to a halt, just barely feeling the material of his jacket underneath your fingertips. You try to avoid touching his hair since you don't think he would welcome such closeness, but with a subtle movement from Nikolai, his braid falls and brushes against the backside of your hand, sending a shudder to course through you from its silkiness.

He lifts his head slightly, immediately prompting you to move away from him so he can have the space he most likely wants. You're very aware of the need to respect his boundaries and space, but when he looked so distressed you couldn't help but want to comfort him and soothe whatever was troubling him.

Nikolai's eyes are still avoiding you, looking in the opposite direction as he feels your hand move away from him. It wasn't your touch that he was so bothered by, but rather the feeling he gets when you do so and the ache that lingered in the absence of it. Not to mention, the words that came out of your mouth were dangerous. It's like you knew where it hurt the most and purposefully pushed his buttons, intentionally pressing those raw, aching spots of vulnerability. Yet, beneath the surface of that impression he wanted to believe, he was painfully aware that couldn't be farther from the truth.

He recalls the events of earlier in the day, those gentle, unintentional touches shared between you both that kindled something in him. The way you looked at him while he was in your apartment, the playful banter and laughter shared. The way you treated him with so much kindness despite him not doing anything for you. In a weird way, it felt like a dirty secret—one that not even he was supposed to have knowledge of.

"Are you okay?" you ask again, feeling concerned for him.

"Of course I am," he fleers as if it was ridiculous that you were even asking him such a question. He presses his lips together and relaxes his eyebrows, returning to his usual, placid expression. He slowly gets up from the table, slipping a hand in his pocket to feel for his keys.

You're momentarily a little startled by the sheer strength revealed to you when he takes both empty cans and crushes them with no trouble before tossing them in a trash can near the bench.

"Come on, let's go," he tells you before walking back in the direction of the apartment complex, pretending as if nothing ever happened.

Maybe it was for the better.

— ✦

1:54 a.m.

Your phone makes a click noise as you turn it off after checking the time, the brief glow of the screen diminishing in the darkness.

The walk back home was silent too, for the most part, momentarily broken by crispy leaves falling apart as the earthy scent of decay pervades the air.

"We should do this more often.." you smile at Nikolai who's walking a little ahead now. But he doesn't turn to look at you, the silence wrapping around the both of you like a blanket. The unresponsiveness makes you turn your head down, eyes drifting downward to look at the ground you're walking on instead. They trace the uneven pavement as you walk, examining each crack and stone after another.

As Nikolai navigates each step, he can feel the subtle heat rising over him again. It seems to worsen whenever he tries to distance himsel—a smoldering intensity that gets hotter and hotter, threatening to swallow him. He glances back at you, your figure slightly blurred by the fog of his unease. Each time he meets your gaze, it's as if you ignite something within him, a flicker of vulnerability he desperately tries to douse out. The last thing he wants is to be burned by whatever he's feeling right now—it's a flame that could easily turn to ash if he allowed it to grow.  

When you raise your head back up, you notice his gaze and quicken your pace to catch up with him so that you can walk side by side. You peek at him with a look of concern etched all over your face, a silent invitation for him to share what weighs on his mind.

“Stop, I'm fine,” he replies with an edge to his words, but even to his own ears, the words sound unconvincing and hollow. The reassurance falls flat, yet he presses on as if trying to not only convince just you, the uneasiness simmering just below the surface.  

Regret already started to settle in.

It was only now that he noticed there weren't many people out at this late at night, which gave him a strange sense of relief—that maybe you would've been alright by yourself. But, at the same time, he would've never known if he never came along either.

The image of you wandering alone in the darkness was one he couldn’t shake despite outwardly convincing you—and perhaps someone other than you—that he’s indifferent about the choices you decide to make. As much as he didn't want to admit it, each option felt equally as worse than the other and caused him to suffer a great deal, like a blade slicing into his skin no matter the direction he took. He feels trapped, resenting this reality where these new blooming desires collide with his autonomy.

As you both reach the apartment complex, he steadies himself. Just a little longer—he tells himself, to keep holding tight to that mask. He swallows hard, trying his best to suppress the intimidating heat slowly looming over him. He can’t afford to let himself get scorched. Not now, not again.  

Reaching the last step of the stairs, a hand slides into his jacket pocket to pull out his key to return to his apartment—something that needed to happen more than anything, but his fingers freeze in the process. Instead, he turns on his heel, drawn back to the balcony rather than his own door.

He can't help but sense someone's gaze fixated on him, confirming his suspicion when he turns his head to see you looking at him.

"What?" he asks you, his voice caught somewhere between the lines of curiosity and sensitivity.

"You're not going to bed?" you ask while following his movements as if tethered to him, reluctant to return to your apartment yourself.

He shakes his head as if he's not feeling tired. You, on the other hand, do feel weary, but you didn't want to leave him alone just yet.

"Nikolai.."

He listens as you begin to speak, your voice soft, your lashes fluttering like delicate wings. It's so difficult to ignore everything that he should, the ache in his chest growing sharper with your presence.

"Yeah?"

Even though the sun had already gone down long ago, he still felt its warmth right beside him. And with every passing moment, he feels drawn closer to that warmth, yet instinctively pulls away.

"Do you believe in fate?" you ask him, your voice carrying a sweet curiousness.

Fate? Why would you ask?

He isn't sure what he even believes in anymore.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t even know what to think, his head clouded and fuzzy in a haze, his stomach twisting with warmth. He only shakes his head as his eyes are still peering into yours before quickly glancing away. On second thought, perhaps it would be better to stay outside for a little longer until his thoughts turn void and senseless.

There wasn't anything stopping you from retreating to your apartment yourself right now, yet you felt determined to stand in this spot until the both of you went to sleep. The silence hung heavy, a comforting yet laden awkwardness in the air. You don't know what to do but to look at Nikolai in this moment while your fingers twirl the ends of your hair, wrapped up in the shared silence.  

"Go to sleep, I can tell you're tired," his voice slices through the silence, breaking your trance as you blink repeatedly to expel some heaviness weighing down on your eyelids.

"But what about you? You need some sleep too," you tell him, a fine thread of concern weaving through your words. It feels important to you to let him know that he's not alone in this exhaustion.

"I'll sleep in a little bit," he reassures you, standing still in his place.

You don't have much energy left to muster up a protest when drowsiness slowly starts to overtake your senses, causing you to yawn and rub one of your eyes. "Alright, alright.. whatever you say," you reply with a smile and reach over to pat his shoulder lightly, taking his word for it.

"Don't stay up too late, okay?" you chide, your finger moving to give his shoulder a little poke. When you tilt your head up to meet his eyes, he looks back at you with a bit of surprise at your touch. The innocence of the gesture feels like a shared secret, and a grin breaks across your face at his adorable reaction—so infectious that it makes his lips twitch slightly upward as well.

Whether or not he was naturally shy was a mystery to you as it was difficult to read him—but you found these moments where such behavior was present endearing nonetheless, beautiful even.

Nikolai turns around and watches as you walk to your apartment door, gulping when you turn to him and flash him one more coy smile that somehow sparkles in the dim light.

"I hope you get your wish soon, Nikolai. Goodnight."

His mind blanks for a moment, overwhelmed by his surroundings, by everything.

Too overwhelmed.

"Goodnight.." he returns a fragile smile to you and watches as you close the door, the creak of the wood failing to bring him some solace like he thought it would.

"I hope you get your wish soon."

He would've. That was if you hadn't made it a hell of a lot harder for him, dragging him back on this earth to be shackled another day. His longing to escape the ground from below, his refusal to be consumed by the intense heat of his emotions again—they've all become increasingly difficult to preserve with your mere presence. What was he supposed to do? How was he supposed to explain to you that you're the very hindrance to his path to freedom, the bane of his existence?

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to difficulty, though. No—that's something he's something he'd come to terms with a long time ago, to the fact that true freedom was never easily attained. But when the weight of such difficulty relentlessly pressed down upon him, he feels lost in the end. It feeds into hidden doubts, places in his mind where he doesn't want to wander.

Nikolai is nothing without his goal of freedom. Yet, tonight, you had torched a fear he dared to never confront—a paralyzing dread of inadequacy once the chains were removed.

What would it feel like? When would he know? What would he do?

Is freedom even real?

But amidst all this, the strange sense of security and comfort that also came with your presence was unforeseen. This mixture of emotions was something he couldn't quite solve, much like an intricate puzzle with pieces that refused to fit together. That overwhelming, unidentifiable ache for something unknown he's experienced in the past is slowly creeping back into his core, but it seems more intensified around you for some reason—something both thrilling and terrifying.

He's getting too comfortable. He needed to save himself before it was too late.

But it was as if he couldn't help but get closer. To be able to see your face and hear your voice again was something he'd never find himself to be relieved over. He's never felt more pathetic and weak in his life over this very fact. It's like he turns into someone else when you're near him, awakening a dormant part of him—someone he had tucked away many years ago. He feels like a child again when he's with you, lively and unguarded, free from the weight of his burdens. Yet, he wasn't. He was exceptionally far from that reality.

You're making things unbelievably worse for him.

He doesn't think he's been this miserable in a long time.

Since..

Since...

How difficult things have come to be since his whole world had twisted into something indiscernible, burdened by troubles that seemed insurmountable. He doesn't want to believe that the light will evade him again, leaving him clinging to nothing but empty promises.

If only there was a way to reach the light without the danger of getting burnt.

He tries to distance himself from that lingering heat, but he knows deep down that avoiding the fire won’t extinguish its glow. It’s there, alive and threatening, every time you look at him with those gentle, unassuming eyes. And despite his best efforts to maintain his composure, he knows the blaze will one day demand to be felt.

© kolyasangel 2024 - no reposts. do not copy, steal, or translate. reblogs are appreciated.

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 9: ʏᴏᴜ, ꜱᴀɴᴄᴛᴜᴀʀʏ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ mature content, fluff, angst, death, slice... of life | words: 7.8k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu | discord (18+)

Three days without talking to Viktor feels like a crime.

No news, no updates. 

Nikolai is slumped on the couch with the Eyes of God laptop at his side. The notebook on his lap is filled with scribbles of words and numbers. The hot mocha you made an hour ago has gone cold and the ashtray at his feet is filled with cigarettes. 

“Is he angry at me?” Nikolai mumbles to himself, lips pouting. His thumb has been hovering over the call button on Viktor’s contact page on the screen of his phone for five minutes now. He wants to talk to Viktor about your father but he does not have the courage to start the conversation. 

That night, he told Viktor that your father was near the border between Russia and Belarus. A clear attempt to flee the country alone, obviously. Viktor also told the middleman to the loan sharks about it and Nikolai wondered if anything had happened to your father yet. 

What if they caught the man? Will you still be used as a hostage, despite the many times you have said that you are useless to be used against your father? What if he does pay his debt? What will happen to you? Will you return to your home? Will you leave him? 

Nikolai is already uneasy. He has been uneasy for a while. He needs answers. He needs the events to happen right now. He does not think he has the patience to play the waiting game any longer. 

“Kolya…” 

Nikolai turns to the side and sees you holding a broom and leaning against the wall with a solemn expression. He frowns. He sees the broom you are holding. You are practically the unpaid maid of this house. Nikolai does not even know what the hell are you cleaning because he does not think his apartment is a big mess. But he just lets you do your own thing. Maybe sweeping bacteria is one of your favourite hobbies. 

“What’s wrong?” He asks. “What’s with that face, hm?” He says, surprisingly, a tint of gentleness is apparent in his voice that it even shocks him. 

You grumble something and put the broomstick against the wall before you approach him. Right at the other spot beside him, you plop down onto the couch. You tilt your head, resting it on his shoulder. 

“I’m bored…”

Nikolai blinks confusedly. For one reason, he is quite baffled by the sudden closeness but this is the girl who happily hugged his arm on the first day of her kidnapping. His bafflement does not last long. He is used to this. He is so used to this. 

“Well, what do you want me to do then?” Nikolai sighs. He watches your naughty hand trying to take the notebook off his lap in curiosity. Quickly, he slaps your hand away. “Hands off, dolly.”

“What are you scribbling? Mantra?”

“Mm-hm.” He just approves your wonder. You glance at him and then huff. Nikolai snorts, teasingly tugging your hair. “Don’t stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I’m just curious.” You sulk before pointing your finger at the page of the notebook. “Besides, I can’t even understand any of these! Anyone from afar will think you were trying to draw spaghetti.” You whine, poking your finger on the page. 

“Thanks for calling my handwriting ugly as fuck, darling. Appreciate that.” Nikolai grumbles before he seizes your hand and tosses it aside. “Even if I explain it to you, you won’t understand.”

“Does it have something to do with your Peters plan?” You ask and Nikolai silently nods. He closes the notebook before putting it aside. 

“How will you go there? By car?” You ask again as you lift your head from his shoulder. Nikolai sighs before he finishes the cold mocha he has abandoned for a while now. 

“Train. I’ll sell the car before leaving this city.” He replies. 

“And what about this house?”

“Sell it.”

“Your clothes?”

“Bring it along.”

“Viktor?”

“Mm, he doesn’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Me?”

Nikolai halts. He turns his head at you, staring with an unreadable gaze. And your eyes are returning that gaze with glimmering hope. His heart tickles and Nikolai quickly breaks contact with you, even placing his palm right on your eyes. “Hm?” You mumble adorably. 

“I’m thinking about it.” He replies shortly. Taking his hand off, he takes a glance at you. You are smiling now, soft lips curving up special just for him. He is silent for a moment. “You’re bored, dolly?”

You nod.

“Wanna go out to Olga’s?”

Your eyes beam sunshine immediately. Like bunny ears perked up in excitement, you jump slightly. “Out? We go out? Is that okay?”

Nikolai shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know. Police are doing police things. Aren’t you supposed to be excited that efforts are being made to save your ass?” He says.

“I like it here. I told you.”

“I know. You’ve been saying that for over a month now.” He mumbles. “I don’t even fathom what is actually happening. After I get you in here, everything goes to—” He swallows his word. No, that is not right. He does not think that way. It is just that his lips are quicker than his brain, sometimes. 

“You… You don’t actually hate me, right…?” You ask carefully. Hands clasped together, Nikolai notices that you are fiddling with your fingers—nervous, insecure, perhaps unsure. “I don’t think I can live with ease knowing that  you hate me.”

He purses his lips. “I don’t have a reason to hate you.” He says softly. His own fingers are now itching to be fiddled too as he can feel the nerves are touring every inch of his system. “I don’t…”

I don’t hate you. 

Nikolai takes a deep breath. “I don’t have a reason to.” He repeats again, despite knowing you surely heard his answer. Nothing to worry about, little bird. He is just trying to convince himself of something unknown. Something hidden. 

“Really?” You say before you chuckle lightly. “I appreciate that… You make me happy. You always do.”

“Mm-hm, I do, huh?” Nikolai replies, returning your smile as well. “Go get ready. I was planning to go to Olga’s diner anyway to get some dinner. We are already out of canned soup this noon.” He says. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Don’t call me that.”

“What? ‘Sir’?”

“Yeah. I don’t like it.”

You tilt your head. “Why?”

He clicks his tongue, pushing you by the shoulder lightly. “Reasons, okay? Go. And don’t wear that blue dress and get your makeup and stuff. I don’t want attention.” He orders. You huff—seeming to have planned to wear your beloved dress. But you know you have to obey anyway, so you dress yourself up in casual attire. 

Snatching one of his jackets, you leave the room, already seeing Nikolai waiting by the door. His outfit is simple. A black fitted turtleneck is perfectly copying the shape of his body. The high-waisted pants he wears only make him look like he is eighty-percent legs. Over his top, he wears a white leather jacket. 

You notice the extra sparkles on the jacket. Silver zippers, silver decorative chains, silver buttons. As he bends to wear his boots, you tug one of the chains curiously. 

“This looks very expensive for a jacket.” You remark. Nikolai stands straight and your hand slides down his back before it drops to your side. He looks at you with a smug smile.

“Stole it.”

“Huh?”

“I can do magic, remember?” He grins proudly before he steps out of the house, followed by you. After he locks the door, he slips his hand into his jacket and—magically—takes out a quite big ushanka hat. Wordlessly, he puts it on your head. 

“Just enough to hide your face.” He says, ignoring the confusion on your face as you see what he just did. Perhaps you are too puzzled by it that you start feeling the insides of the jacket you wore. 

“Don’t bother, dolly. It is only I who can do that.” He brags with a smirk before he grabs your arm and pulls you along. Your feet just follow his steps, despite you having to match his pace a little faster. Sometimes Nikolai likes to make big steps when walking and although you do not mind following him everywhere, you do prefer a relaxed walk. 

The journey to Olga’s diner only takes about ten minutes. As it is already dinnertime and the sun has drowned in the twilight horizon, night owls also come out. It is not rare for you to see the liveliness of the nightlife. Men and women mingle with each other as the television above the bar is broadcasting some sports event. Trailing Nikolai closely from behind, you two step inside, taking the table at the corner. The dark ambience of the diner manages to let your face slip—those who may recognize a missing girl might recognize someone else.

“Oh, hello, darling. Been a while.” Olga approaches your table, tickling your chin with an affectionate smile before she glances at Nikolai. “Hey, Kolya.”

Nikolai grunts. “What’s with that tone…” He murmurs. Olga huffs, placing her hand on her waist before tapping Nikolai’s head with the notepad she is holding. The thick part of the notepad hits Nikolai’s head hard, causing the man to even flinch. 

“You know what you did.”

“W-What I do?” He says, pouty. 

“Tell me why Viktor came here the other day, all sad and depressed because you’re angry at him.” Olga crosses her arms, glaring sternly at Nikolai. You look at each of them, enjoying the unprompted entertainment. 

“I’m not angry at him,” Nikolai mumbles. “He was just being stupid.”

“He was trying to be helpful, as your friend,” Olga replies. “You shouldn’t just shove people away like that. You two have been friends since forever. You don’t even have a lot of friends and colleagues and you are getting angry and grumpy over some drunk conversations.” She nags, shaking her head exasperatedly. 

Nikolai sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry, okay?”

“Don’t apologize to me. Go make up with Vitya himself.” She says. “Now, order.”

“As usual…” He mumbles, still sulky. 

“Uhm, I’ll take the mushroom and chicken pie. Ooh, and iced chocolate.” You grin at her. Olga nods before she stares at you.

“This boy doesn’t do anything weird to you, right?” Olga asks. “Vitya told me about your… situation. No wonder the police have been around the town lately.” She says as she peeks to the window. 

“Hm? Police are still searching in this town?” Nikolai’s head jerks up. Olga shrugs her shoulders. 

“Yesterday, none of them appeared. Probably have moved to other spots. Or they gave up. I mean, the police are corrupt anyway…” She explains. “Regardless, I don’t think this little lady right here wants to leave you, right, Kolya?” She cackles, glancing at you teasingly. You smile sheepishly, feeling heat travelling all over your face. 

“I really like it here…” You say. 

“This is a very strange turn of events for someone like him and someone like you.” Olga nods to herself. “But if you are really going to stick around, my restaurant happened to be in need of one more staff, you see. Not to mention, tonight is pretty busy and I don’t have enough hands!” She grins as she bends a little to be near your eye level. 

“Huh? O-Oh! Oh, are you…” You look at Nikolai who is just staring before you turn to Olga. “Are you offering me a job? Now?”

“No,” Nikolai sighs. “No, Olga… Olga, you crazy woman. I have important things to do with her! She’s not going to help you for this diner.” He protests as he glares at the lady with a sulky face. Olga only chuckles before she playfully messes with Nikolai’s hair. 

“I know, I know. But, if there is another strange turn of events, I don’t mind having an addition for my restaurant.” Olga says before she walks away to go to the kitchen. Your eyes trail her before you turn quickly to Nikolai. As soon as you open your lips, he covers your mouth with his hand. 

“No.”

Your nose scrunches before you grip his wrist and pull his hand away from your lips. “Why? It’s not like I do anything in the house? I don’t even know what I’m cleaning anymore.” You say, hand still gripping his. “Even the bacteria are getting cleaner. They don’t even need to shower but I showered them regardless…”

“You think I’ll allow you to walk around in this premise with chances of other bad people seeing your face? No way. You need to know, my love. This diner is not as innocent as it seems.” He says before he pulls his hand away from you and rests his elbow on the table. He props his chin on his palm. You cross your arms on the table, leaning forward. 

“What do you mean by that?”

“People exchange information here. Illegal information. By ‘people’, I really mean criminals. Olga often gets bribes or ‘hush money’ to keep her mouth shut. How do you think this diner is still maintained even with few customers?” Nikolai explains before he shuts his lips as a waiter comes to the table with your ordered drinks.

He waits for the waiter to leave before he looks at you again. “Look around you, little bird. There are too many people here. So… no, you’re not going to work here. Lowly criminals may get caught but a lot of experienced ones have broad networks, you see. Your face is most likely known for those who tune in to the news. What’s easier than kidnapping an already missing person and using them for other benefits, right?” He tells you. You purse your lips as you sadly stir your iced chocolate. It is just a simple drink with whipped cream and cherry on top. 

“Besides, I don’t want anyone to take you away. You still have a debt to pay, figuratively speaking.” Nikolai says before he steals the cherry from your drink. You whine, trying to stop his naughty hand but he already eats the whole fruit and puts back the small stem on your drink. 

You wince. “Nikolai! Why are you being mean?” You quickly pick out the stem, dropping it on the table. Nikolai only cackles playfully as he chews the cherry. His smile is smug, scoffing at your sulky face. 

“Relax, dolly. I’m the one paying so technically what’s yours is mine.” Nikolai grins as he picks up his hot tea, sipping it. He frowns slightly at the bitterness. His hand reaches out to the small bowl of sugar packets at the edge of the table but you quickly grab the bowl, pulling it away from him. 

“Hey, give that back.”

“Nope!”

You laugh, almost so proud at your little revenge. You put the bowl at the spot right next to you. Pointing at his hot tea, you say, “Why don’t you drink it, hm? Hmm?” You giggle. 

“Oh, I’m about to, sweetheart. Hold on.”

“What the—”

At that moment, Nikolai slips his hand inside his jacket and he takes out the exact same bowl of sugar packets from it. Deliberately and calmly, he tears open a few packets of sugar for his tea, as you watch, stunned. 

“What did I say to you, sweetheart? Tricks don’t work with me.” He snorts before he pushes the bowl of sugar packets towards you. “Now you can put it away as far as you want. I’ll just enjoy my sweet tea right here.” He chuckles before he sips the drink. 

“Hmph.”

You rest your chin on your palm, gazing at him. Irises trail all over his figure—scanning from his hair, white as snow, to his hands, big and rough. Your other hand creeps over to his hand, tracing your fingertips on his skin. As if it has a mind on its own, you glide your finger over the little pattern of tattoos that peeked out from his sleeve. 

“What, are you interested in getting a tattoo?” Nikolai suddenly asks. You halt, right when your finger is over his wrist. You look up at him before you shrug. 

“Seems scary.”

“The needles?”

You nod. “It pokes pokes pokes your skin, no? It bleeds you. But, I think it won’t hurt so much if it’s like… on certain parts of the body.”

Nikolai smirks. “Definitely. I guess if you are used to getting hurt on certain parts of your body, it doesn’t hurt much when tattooing the skin. For me, my arms only feel ticklish.” He says before he tilts his face, slyly grinning. “Maybe you should try one. On your face. It doesn’t hurt.”

“I guess it won’t hurt because my dad always hit me on it.”

“Fucking hell.”

— ♡

Mismatched eyes reflect the light from the screen of the television. People are in high spirits as the team they are cheering for is attempting another goal. Football is not something Nikolai tunes in. But there are times when his spirit also flows together with the people around him. People cheer and he will cheer too—even if he does not know who wins or loses. 

However, that is perhaps only applicable to the twenty-four-year-old him.

“Do you play sports?” 

He turns his head towards you. But your eyes are also fixated on the television, like everybody else. He wonders if you will even hear his answer because your question does sound like it is just a thought passing through like a breeze from the night air. “I supposed I don’t.” He says, his tone is just as careless as yours.

“Really? Then, how are you so strong?”

“Many reasons…” Nikolai mumbles, twirling his glass of vodka. His hot tea was already finished an hour ago. He finished eating way before you. “My tendency to get into fights in prison is probably one of the reasons too.”

“You fought in prison?” You finally pry your eyes away from the television, fixing your attention on him.

“I got bullied for the first few days…” Nikolai mumbles before he lets out a broken cackle. “But any man would tremble at the sight of a gun in front of their face. Unless they have the fangs of a tiger, then that is a different story. Well… a tiger can still be fought against with a falling telephone pole, so that’s that.” He says.

You tilt your head, confused. “You fought a tiger?”

“Not a literal tiger,” Nikolai snickers. “I think pure strength is not enough even for the strongest being in mankind. Creativity and versatility are important too. Strategies, plans, schemes… What’s scarier and stronger than a man who manipulates humanity to do his bidding while he sits back and enjoys the show from the crook of his library?” His eyes trail back to the television. “Even a sport requires strategies and manipulation, not pure stamina. Do you think the managers and those behind the players are not pulling the strings too?”

That’s why I must kill him.

“I mean, sport does have a long history of having bribe issues.” You murmur.

“That’s what I don’t understand either,” Nikolai nods to himself. “What’s fun with watching something that is most likely predetermined?”

“Not all sports are predetermined.”

“And not all are fair.”

You look away, staring at the table. Nikolai is also silent. He returns to watch the sport. Two players have fallen, and now one of them is going to protest at the yellow card. Next, arms open, provocation erupts to the stoic referee. The camera will pan to the spectators in the stadium. Some with hands on their head, some shout words and words that will only drown along with the cheers from the opposing team. Expectable, this show is too expectable—Nikolai sighs.

“Hey…”

Olga approaches your table again. This time, she looks visibly tired and worried. “I’m sorry for bringing this up again, but we really need a hand for tonight. One of my staff needs to go home because he has exams tomorrow. There are only three people in the kitchen, one at the bar and me.”

Nikolai frowns. Seriously? He does understand the circumstances but he could not find it in his heart to allow you to go and assist Olga for the restaurant, mainly because he does not want you to go roam around as a waitress, flaunting your pulchritude to the customers as you suggest them the most expensive food and drinks to order.

But your pleading eyes at him are certainly gleaming with hope right now.

Pinching his temple, Nikolai nods hesitantly. “Keep her in the kitchen only.”

Olga gasps and nods quickly. “Thanks a lot, Kolya.” She pecks his cheek appreciatively. “Her work is gonna be washing the dishes. You don’t mind that at all, right?” She asks you.

“No, I don’t! I’m a professional dishwasher.” You reply with a cheeky grin. As you stand up to follow Olga to the kitchen, you give Nikolai’s hand a squeeze and mouth ‘Thanks,’ to him. He just nudges his chin, shooing you. You giggle before you happily jog your way to the kitchen.

“Dummy.” Nikolai snickers, shaking his head as he checks his phone. It is past 10:30 PM and the diner will not close until twelve, he thinks. Or perhaps it will close when the sport has concluded. Because of the busy and crowded nights, your dinner time took two hours because you two also just lounging around in the diner watching the sport as well as he keeps ordering more vodka. He learns something new too—you eat later than usual when you are watching something, compared to when you only have him to stare and look at.

Bzzz!

As if the sender knows that  Nikolai is holding his phone right now, he receives a message—from someone he expects will not talk to him for another five business days.

Viktor: Hey, man. You busy?

Me: no. why

Viktor: Our marriage argument can wait. But I want you to come to Nastya’s studio now.

Me: now?

Viktor: Bitch, fucking read.

Me: can i go to the mart first? i need to get groceries

Viktor: Fine. But just come, alright? You must come. Tonight. Now.

Viktor: But go get your grocery first, fucker.

Nikolai gets up from his seat and gathers his belongings. He walks to the kitchen and wordlessly barges inside without caring for the strange look given by the bartender who is busy making drinks. He slips between the chefs and gets to you who is already washing cups and beer mugs.

He gently calls your name, poking your shoulder. You turn your head. “Oh! Hey, Kolya. Are you going to join me in this adventure of washing dishes?”

“Keep your talent in words, dolly. I need to leave for a moment. Viktor wants me to go to see him. But I might be late because I’ll stop by the mart to buy some groceries. You want anything?” He asks. You hum, thinking, as your hand is brushing the cup with a soapy sponge.

“Coco pops cereal, please.” You grin. Nikolai snickers as his hand cannot help staying still. He reaches to your cheek, playfully pinching it and shaking your face as he grits his teeth.

“Alright, you cheeky gold-digging girl.”

You whine and he lets go with a chuckle. “If the diner is closed, wait inside. I’m sure Olga won’t go home until I fetch you. And don’t run away— Gah, you know what, nevermind. You won’t leave me alone anyway.” He rambles as he turns around and leaves. You watch him disappear out of the kitchen and finally turn your focus to the dishes.

The lingering touch on your cheek still burns. You smile to yourself.

Your work increases tenfold when the clock strikes midnight. The sport that was broadcasted has concluded and the customers are leaving. You and two other staff are left along with Olga to clean the restaurant for closing. It seems that there are never-ending dirty dishes to wash.

“You okay?” Olga asks after you have not seen her for a while. “Come, you can stop washing the dishes. We have no need to rush to close the restaurant.” She says as she gestures to you to come to her. You leave the sink and wince at the sight of your strained arms. Your fingers are extremely wrinkled after being in the water for so long.

Once you are by Olga’s side, she takes out a clean napkin from her apron pocket and starts to gently wipe your wet arms. “You know, compared to Vasya and Alyosha, you don’t even complain about the amount of dishes you have to clean.” She says.

“I’m kinda used to it…” You smile before peeking out from the small window that allows the chefs and the staff outside to interact. You do not know which is which but one guy is sweeping the floor while the other is wiping the table. They do not even talk to you when you enter the kitchen other than changing a quick greeting upon seeing an addition to the team.

Olga smiles. “That one, who’s sweeping the floor is Vasily. His friend—or boyfriend, considering that they always spend time in Vasya’s bedroom like boyfriends would—is Aleksy.” She says as she continues to dry your fingertips and massage your arms gently.

“How do you know that?” You ask.

“Vasya rented a room in my house. He’s a university student near here. Worked here too for extra allowances and rent discount.”

Your eyes sparkle at the new information. Interested, you ask, “Oh, you are also a tenant?”

Olga chuckles and shakes her head. “No, not at all. I just have a vacant bedroom in my house. It belonged to my son.” She replies, Strangely, her tone lowers and her eyes droop darker at the last bits of her words. You notice the tone, certainly and you do not think talking about it is right at the moment. Vacant bedroom, belonged, son. There are only a few conclusions that can be drawn as long as the answer is not definitive.

“They are not trying to be cold towards you, you know? Both of them are introverts, compared to your… man. The younger version of him, that is.” Olga smiles before she reaches to your cheek, nudging your skin with her knuckle. “You’re flustered.”

“Uhm… He’s not my man.”

“Not yet.”

“Olga…!” You pout before she laughs. 

“I’m just joking,” She smiles, patting your head. “I love the guy, you know? He was a cheerful one and to be honest? Don’t tell this to Vitya, but Kolya is definitely more fun to tolerate.” She says. “But I love them both equally. Though, my life was much safer before I knew them.”

“Oh?” You look at her. “I am aware that your restaurant also does… not-so-good things… But did both of them cause you to involve yourself in such matters?” You ask carefully. Olga huffs and nods.

“They used to smuggle stuff. And my storage room was proven to be the best place to hide stuff, according to Kolya anyway. I don’t even get his logic. But, I guess words travel faster than light itself because one by one, suspicious people start to come here and pay me to keep quiet about their bad behaviour.” She explains. “I accept the money, of course. I cannot afford to let this diner be sold or discontinued.” 

You take a look around and you can see the traces of the past on the flakes, the rusts and the dirt. Old. Historic.

“This is my family’s restaurant. I’ve been working here since I was eleven. I cannot just simply leave this place. It holds nostalgia.” Olga says. Her eyes are vacant, staring ahead and yet towards nowhere. “If this restaurant is gone, I’m gone. And if I’m gone, nobody could take care of Vasya. That boy is not from this country and he travelled this far just to pursue his studies.”

She whispers, “My boy would do the same too, if he had the chance…”

“You’ve worked here for a long while…” You remark before looking down at your hands, fingertips grazing against each other, feeling the wrinkles from your yet-to-be-paid hard work. “I started working around your age too.” You tell her. “When I was… twelve? Thirteen? My first job was in a very small store in the neighbourhood. I was not really good at being a cashier, so my boss lady assigned me to arrange stock.”

“Oh? Was the job worth it?” Olga asks back, still smiling warmly at you.

“I wouldn’t say that but it was fun. I got to do things and meet many people from the neighbourhood and I… got to live my life out of my house…” You mumble. “I learnt a lot of things too.”

“I heard about what happened with your father. I’m sorry for what you’ve gone through.” Olga says, taking your hand and holding it tightly. “No kids should ever live a life like that. You deserve so much more, darling. You really do. Never stop being kind, alright? Kindness is so needed in this kind of place.”

“Thank you, Olga…” You smile at her.

Olga grins before she taps your shoulder. “Kolya does not seem to be coming back any sooner but I’ll wait until you’re safe and home with him. Vasya and Alyosha do not mind waiting too. I know they don’t have any schedule tomorrow.” She says before she bends a little to look at the two boys. You also take a peek. They are laughing at each other, seeming to have delight in the small world they created.

“They’re going to come back to the kitchen for other chores. Can you go and mop the floor?” Olga asks. You nod and ask for the mop and the bucket, which Olga shows you before she calls for the boys to come into the kitchen to help her. 

As you bring the mop and the bucket of soapy water to the dining area, you pass by both Vasily and Aleksy. They give you a smile and a nod before getting into the kitchen. Once again, you are left alone. You dip the mop in the water and start mopping. The channel on the television has changed to a midnight news channel, presumably by the bartender who left as soon as the cleaning started. You do not understand why the bartender and one of the kitchen staff left early but you want to try to assume the best—they probably have important work tomorrow.

Accompanied by the sound of the compiled news from the previous day coming from the television, you keep mopping under the table and the chairs. You keep stealing occasional glances at the outside world, trying to see if Nikolai is coming to get you or not. The snow is falling lightly, coating the earth with a layer of solitude.

You have been mopping for five minutes now and you finally stand straight, stretching yourself. You take a seat at one of the tables to rest. Your knees feel a little strained, probably because you have been standing for a while. Your eyes roam around the diner before they stop at the television screen. 

And then the world stops.

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“A dead body was discovered in Mckinlay Motel at the Russian-Belarusian border…”

“Fuck.”

Hand on his face, Nikolai’s eyes are fixated on the news shown on Viktor’s laptop. His heart is beating fast as he digests every word uttered by the newsreader. Dead body, motel, a gun, Russian-Belarusian border, your last name, his blurred identity card, his blurred face, the zoomed-in footage on his hand showing his wedding ring—

“Suicide,” Viktor finally speaks and Nikolai deliberately turns to him. Viktor looks grim and agitated. His right leg cannot stop shaking as he stares at his lap. “He shot himself.”

“Are we entirely sure this is not pseudo-suicide? The loan sharks did not orchestrate this?” Nikolai asks before he swallows nervously. He does not realize how heavy his tongue feels when he tries to talk more about this. 

“No. No, I don’t think the loan sharks were aware of his… suicide. When this was first reported, the middleman even called me to confirm it. Which means… They did not participate in his suicide either. They want money, not a dead body.” Viktor explains before he sighs. “Fuck, fuck, everything is going to shit. It's all complicated now. Bloody hell…”

Nikolai purses his lips before he leans back. He is at a loss for words. Your father is dead. He shot himself. He was already at the border and he could leave anytime. He wonders why your father killed himself when the chance for freedom is right in front of him. 

An issue with the passport? Official document? Money? Was he blacklisted? Was he denied by the authorities? 

Hell, does any reason even matter now? Your father is dead and there is no way he is coming back to live to tell the tale of his suicide unless he can magically metamorphose himself into another body. He left you alone in this city and he left you alone in this world, forsaking you with his abundance of debt and problems. 

“Kolya… I’ve… I’ve been thinking for a while about this.” Viktor suddenly speaks. He buries his face into his palms, groaning foully into them. “How do I say this… You know, you’re not the only one who’s drunk that night. That night, after I fetched Nastya from your place, I felt jealous because she basically just got out of your place and it’s like—how dare you have my girl in your place but I know it was because of our agreement to have her look after your girl too.”

Nikolai frowns at his ramble. His eyes travel around the table and finally catch the sight of half-emptied vodka on it. Viktor—or Nastasya, considering they are in her office—has been drinking, perhaps. He is probably tipsy. 

“Anyway, anyway. When I saw Nastya, I noticed she had three nails polished with a light blue colour. Yeah, that’s your girl’s nail polish, maybe. Most likely. Defi-fucking-nitely. I told her to get rid of the colour because I know Nastya doesn’t like pastels. But she didn’t want to because that girl was too sweet to her. Nastya also said she would like to make hot chocolate just as how the girl taught her for me. And and and— fuck, Kolya… I know you’re smart and all, so can you tell me why I feel like this?” Viktor finally lifts his head, turning to Nikolai with his lips curled as if he is trying to pout—or was it even an attempt? 

Nikolai sighs. “Vik, we are talking about… her dad right now. Can we not talk about Nastasya or her?” He says. “Right now, her dad just killed himself and I’m pretty sure the loan sharks were on their way to pursue that man before the suicide too.”

“No, that’s exactly what I wanna say, Kolyushka!” Viktor exclaims. “I wasn’t thinking straight when I immediately reported her daddy’s coordinates to the middleman. As soon as you told me his whereabouts, my mind went zoom— Ah, I should tell them loan whales.”

“The fuck are you talking about—”

“I feel guilty, Kolya.”

Nikolai halts. 

Viktor inhales a sharp breath. “I feel guilty because I felt like I took away Nastya’s new friend. Zoya met her once and already wanted to fuck the girl. I think she’s cute too but not as cute as Nastya. And I took your happiness— Ahh! Why do I feel like this? I feel so… so fucking bad. She is just like any other victim we kidnapped and traded and sometimes killed. The only difference is that we did not spend over a month with them!”

Nikolai stares at his tipsy friend for a moment before he turns away. His eyes are fixed on the news again. This time, it is showing some interviews with witnesses from Mckinlay Motel. 

“We detected a very strange smell from the room.”

“We tried to knock but no one’s answering. Even the calls from the reception are not answered.”

“Yeah, no one around here has seen him. But he occasionally visited the convenience store. No, he did not buy a lot of things. Only a lot of cigarettes.”

“Viktor… What do you think of the loan sharks’ next move since their debtor is dead now?” Nikolai asks, voice slow and sullen, thundering deeply from his throat. Viktor sniffles before he sits straight. 

“He had a lot of debt with them. Ain’t no way they will simply let the money burn, especially with how much they have spent on trying to catch that bastard.” Viktor says. “They can probably sell his assets to make a profit but can it be enough to cover all the debt? All the expenses? Nobody even wants to rent that ugly house.”

“Certainly not,” Nikolai grumbles. “The debt may default but I don’t doubt the loan sharks will—for the lack of a better word—get revenge for all the expenditures he caused them.”

“Yeah. And one of his assets is his daughter. The girl. You know the mind of horrible criminals, Kolyushka. Money lenders or not, by law or not, this group is ultimately a crime syndicate. They’re going to get her for sure.” Viktor adds, sighing loudly as he throws his head back.

“Are you two going to let the loan sharks take her?”

Both Viktor and Nikolai look up to the door, seeing Nastasya leaning against the frame. Her eyes darken as she steps further into the room. 

“Hm?” She addresses the men again. “Let her be taken? Let her take responsibility for something she did not do? What do you think will happen to a young girl with no one left and nothing left?”

Nikolai’s eyes scan her, finding her knuckles turning white as she grips the edge of the table. 

“That’s why I feel guilty… At first, I wouldn’t be much, knowing she was going to be just a hostage or a bait. But now… It’s like something shifts.” Viktor mumbles. His brown irises trail up to his lover before the latter also share the same look—a sentiment that is unspoken but understood. 

“No…”

Nikolai finally gets up. He takes a quick look at his watch. 12:27 AM. The diner must be closed by now. You are probably waiting for him. 

“No, what?” Nastasya asks. 

“You guys want to keep her, then keep her. I’m going to Peters. I have more important things to do than babysit a child.” Nikolai says, firmly. His tone is hard and rough as he fixes his jacket. Viktor bolts up from his seat, grabbing his friend’s arm. 

“Are you serious? You’re gonna give her if the loan sharks ask for her? She’s gonna get trafficked!” 

“Let me go.”

“Answer me, fucking coward.”

Nikolai yanks his arm away from Viktor’s grip. “I’m not gonna dwell in guilt like you, Pavlovsky.”

With that, Nikolai walks out of the studio, making haste of his steps towards his car. He enters it and starts the engine. The radio is not even on, he does not bother to do it as he drives to Olga’s diner—fast. The car runs through the falling snow that illuminates the night sky and the street lights. The world has gone quiet and will only go quieter as the hours pass. 

But his mind is never quiet. Each thought produces a monster, standing by to devour his head. Words from the news are buzzing in his ears like flies, and Nikolai worries that all of those monstrous thoughts and buzzing words are leading to one person. 

Oh, you… 

Nikolai is not sure whether you saw the news or not. He hopes you did not. The television in Olga’s place was dominated by a sports channel, no? It was on with sports and shall be off with sports. If you are aware of what happened to your father, he will be quiet. If you are not, he will be quiet too. He will keep his mouth shut about it, silence just like the winter night. 

Any mention of this will rigorously affect his plan to leave this town. 

Although, deep down, Nikolai knows, his plan to leave is already plagued with doubts and worries. 

He arrives at the diner in less than the expected time. Usually, it takes about fifteen minutes from VIY Studio to Olga’s place but due to the lack of people and cars on the street, especially at the hour, he manages to arrive in just ten. 

The diner is already dark. The light on the signboard is off, as well as the inviting ‘OPEN’ neon at the window. From the outside, the dining area is totally sombre. There is only the white light from the kitchen area, which is visible through the small window connecting the bar and the kitchen. 

Nikolai steps to the door—unlocked. He pushes it open and it rings. Two boys who are slumped at a table woke up from their sleep upon hearing the ring. Nikolai recognises them, but he doubts that they recognise him. 

“Where’s Olga?” He asks one of them. One of the boys, shy and timid, points at the door leading to the kitchen. Nikolai nods, mumbling half-hearted thanks as he steps towards the kitchen. He enters it, finding Olga is cleaning the stove. 

“Olga,” Nikolai calls and she turns. Her eyes widen and a tint of panic waves over her face. 

“Kolya, oh my God, you’re here.” She says as she rushes to him. Nikolai frowns, ignoring the old lady as he scans the whole kitchen area, trying to find you. The panic in her voice raises concern over his heart—once again, reacting to bad thoughts flooding his mind by hastening its beating. 

“She’s been in the toilet for a moment now. Told me she got a stomach ache and she needed time. Can you go and check her?”

His sixth sense tells him that there is no stomach ache. 

Reluctant yet feeling compelled to go, Nikolai nods. He makes his way to the toilet area. Two wooden doors—one for female and one for male. He approaches the one with the female symbol, knocking it a few times. 

He calls your name. 

No answer. 

Sniffles, yes. He does hear sniffles. 

He calls for you again, this time a little firmer. Knocks again. 

“S-Sorry, I need time…” Your muffled voice responds back. “Kolya…? C-Can you wait outside? I-I’ll see y-you outside…”

Nikolai stays still in front of the door, staring at the fake carving on the wood. He hangs his head low as his eyes stare blankly at his knuckles. “… I am outside. Not going anywhere.” He says. 

“… I’m not going anywhere.” He says again. 

Silence. Just as he wishes. Yes, you know about your father, that is crystal clear and obvious. And he prays that this silence will be forever—your father’s death shall never be mentioned, never be thought about. 

The fiddling noise of the lock breaks Nikolai’s focus on his hand. The door is pulled from the inside, open. 

“N-Nikolai…” Your glassy eyes gape at him, surprised. Your lips tremble as they try to crook for a smile. One attempt, two attempts and you finally manage to force one—unnatural and uncanny. “You’re b-back from Viktor.”

The air is tightening, choking his words from leaving his mouth. Hesitation—he can feel the heaviness in his heart to even reply to you. But for the sake of clearing the awkwardness, he nods. “Y-Yeah, I did. Come on.”

He turns around and walks off. He does not even know whether you are following him or not, for his gaze is only on his car in front of the premise. He leaves the diner first and once his boots step on the pavement, he realizes he is alone. He does not hear yours behind him. 

Nikolai takes a deep breath and faces up. He huffs slowly and the cold air trails out of his orifices. Heaviness is still lingering in his heart, despite he is alone out in the world. When he hears slow footsteps approaching him, the heaviness grows more, taking over his insides. With such a burden, he turns his head around, only to see you walking towards him with a gloomy gaze on the ground. 

One of your arms is hugging the ushanka you have taken off earlier. Without any word, Nikolai offers his hand and you—sensibly—put the ushanka on his hand. He then opens his jacket, slipping the big hat into the unknown. 

The baby blue girl who would often cheer at the tiniest sight of his ability is only carrying a deeper shade of blue right now. 

You are just standing there, so lost in thoughts that the glimmers in your eyes are lost too. The smile you once forced back at the toilet is not even trying to attempt anymore. Delight has flipped itself over, overcasting you with misery. 

“Hey.”

“Nikolai…” You finally speak. Your fingers clutch at your sides, fiddling with the fabric of your clothes. Then, accompanied by a quivering breath and hoarse voice, you ask;

“Can I have a hug?” 

Nikolai is silent. Oh, he really does wish to be silent. But wishes rarely ever come true. 

“Uhm…” He knows it—you want to be touched, to be held. You wish for solace and comfort. But Nikolai does not want it. If his wish to be silent cannot come true, yours cannot either. 

His eyes are everywhere but you. However, his body does turn towards you. His hand does reach out to you and with the most awkward voice he can muster, he offers, “How about we just shake hands?”

You stare at his hand. You nod. “Okay.”

You grab a hold of his hand before you slowly pull him and push yourself to the centre—closer. Nikolai’s body too moves on its own, subjecting itself to your whims. Your arms around his body as you bury yourself deeper into his warmth. 

And he embraces. 

His arms around yours, warmer and tighter. Your face against his chest and his face against your head, lips touch your skin briefly. One of his hands trails up, cupping the back of your neck as he caresses gently. And you let go. The cries and the sobs—you pour out to him and as he wishes, he stays silent and accepts it. 

“My dad’s dead, Kolya…”

Sniffles.

“I don’t know what to do…”

Hiccups. 

“I don’t have anyone left…”

You hug him tighter, and you press your cries harder against his chest. 

“Please don’t leave me too…”

©cherikolya 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

if you like my works, consider buy me a ko-fi!

₊˚.༄ hide + seek

spooktober 2024 masterlist

☾₊‧⁺˖pairing: asylum patient!nikolai gogol x asylum attendant!fem!reader

☾₊‧⁺˖genre: angst + fluff; slightly suggestive

☾₊‧⁺˖content warnings: manipulation/mind games, infidelity, nikolai's a bit of a meanie in this one lol

☾₊‧⁺˖notes: meant to follow the events + be a side story of the get free series (between pt 1) just pretend it's still halloween okay

☾₊‧⁺˖ word count: 5.3k

"Happy Halloween!" You chirped happily, handing Nikolai a pumpkin-decorated gift bag with his favorite Ukranian candies and sweets. There was an assortment of minky binky, roshen, and ABK chocolates inside⎯which you'd learned were his childhood favorites.

Your patient paused before opening the bag and observing the treats inside. He looked...melancholic almost? He took the candies out in his hand and turned them all over to look closer at the packaging, silent.

You opened your mouth to speak but closed it, unsure if you did the right thing. Your husband had warned you not to bring gifts for any of the patients⎯and especially not Nikolai⎯because it would promote unwanted feelings and attachment, but you brought them behind his back anyway. You hated how strict all the protocols in place were, and how they treated the patients like they were evil monsters instead of normal people that just needed help. After all, Nikolai wasn't a monster. To you, he was⎯

Arms wrapping around your waist and warm breath hitting the shell of your ears forced you out of your thoughts, and you yelped as you felt Nikolai's toned body pressing into yours, "Thank you, dove~" He patted your head affectionately and you felt some loose strands of his white hair tickle your face. "Halloween is actually my favorite holiday, y'know?" He hugged you closer, and you felt your back hit the wall of his holding room.

"When I was a kid, my neighbors and I used to go around the nearby houses and say 'Varyatyky or sweets!' It was meant to be a a tradition to 'overcome' evil spirits!" You nodded and tapped on his chest to tell him he was crushing you, and he finally released you from his grip.

When he pulled away, his once sad eyes were now sparkling with excitement, and you gave him a questioning look, which he seemed to catch on to, "Ah, I was a bit sad earlier because the candies you gave me reminded me of my past life," He solemnly took your hands in his, "And I've been trying to escape the old cage I was in for a long, long time. I guess it made me feel weird..."

You tilted your head in curiosity⎯you swore that every time you thought you understood Nikolai, he always threw you off again. He giggled suddenly and spun you around, catching you back in your arms and embracing you again so your back was against his chest, and you shrieked from the slight dizziness, "You make me feel all sorts of weird emotions, ptashka, but I don't hate it."

For some reason, that made you smile softly as Nikolai rested his chin on your shoulder, his heterochromatic eyes still trained on you. You placed your hands over his, which were wrapped around your waist, and paused momentarily before peeling them off of you as usual. Your eyes caught your reflection in the steel mirror off to the side. Although distorted, you could clearly see Nikolai's body wrapped around your smaller one and how relaxed you looked. It definitely didn't look like an attendant and their patient.

It felt nice. Being held like a lover felt nice.

This was bad. He was being too affectionate, and you were playing along a little too complacently. Were you really this touch-starved? Wouldn't letting another man touch you⎯a married woman⎯like this be bad in any other situation?

Your doubts and uncertainties were interrupted when Nikolai whispered into your ear.

"Love, can we go play in the courtyard later today?"

₊˚.༄

The crisp autumnal air hit your skin, but it was nice. The orange and red foliage contrasted the stark white asylum you were in all day, and the tan trench coat you threw on helped keep you cozy and warm in your short dress. Well, that and Nikolai, who was connected to you with linked arms. He would stop every few steps to squeeze you in his arms, claiming he was "too cold and needed heat" even though he refused to put a coat on.

The patients had just finished their midday snack, so he smelled like the powder-mix apple cider that was served in the cafeteria. The scent of sour apples and cinnamon was comforting enough to you, so you didn't complain much about his antics.

You exhaled, watching your breath materialize in the chilly air, "This weather...it makes me wish I could give out candy to the trick-o-treaters," you smiled sadly to yourself, "I always like decorating the house during this time of year and seeing their happy faces when they come to our door..."

Nikolai paused, stopping your steps briefly and walking in front of you, holding both of your hands now. He walked backwards, crushing leaves under his feet, "Why don't you do it tonight, then? You get off work before they start to come out, right?"

You shook your head, "No...it's been four years since the asylum opened, and in those four years, my husband has always forced me to work the night of Halloween, so I can never celebrate." You paused, looking up to see some doves flying in the sky, but Nikolai pulled your head back down to him.

"That's a shame, dove. If you were with me, we could dress up in matching costumes together and surprise all the kids," He started skipping frantically, pulling you away from the main area of the courtyard, "Oh! I could do your hair and makeup, too, I'm pretty good at that sort of stuff, y'know? I could even make you a custom costume!" You squealed as he started to skip faster, spinning you in circles and making you dizzy. You were both getting farther away, the fountain no longer in sight.

He pulled you close to him again, his blue and green eyes wildly piercing into your shaky pupils, "If you just left him, we could make that a reality, myla." His hands grasped your arms tighter and your lightheadedness was making his words feel hypnotic, "Why don't you just leave him already? You don't even love him, do you? He hurts you; you hate him. And I hate him even more. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him. I fucking ha⎯"

"Ahh⎯Ow⎯" You gasped sharply from the pain of Nikolai digging his nails into your arms and pulled away from his tight hold, mind still a bit hazy. "S-Stop it, just stop it, Nikolai..." He gave you a disapproving glare, but you continued, "He's my husband and my boss, so I have to obey him. I can't just up and leave him whenever I wan⎯ack⎯!" You stepped backwards and stumbled on a stray boulder, and time felt like it went slower as you lost your balance and toppled onto the ground, your back and head hitting the dirt.

You groaned in pain, feeling the ache in your skull. Your patient, however, didn't seem too concerned and only sneered when he watched you hit the ground. You narrowed your eyes at him and felt his presence as he crouched down to assess you for any injuries. Nothing too serious.

He giggled manically while picking some dried leaves out of your hair, "Say, dove, if you really miss the kids, why don't we play a childish little game?" You grunted and tried to swat his hand away, but the dull throbbing in your head prevented you from being successful.

You tried to glare at him, but a chill ran down your spine when you glanced over to see a wide grin on his face and the same dark, unreadable look clouding his eyes, "Hmmm, why don't we play hide and seek? It's a fun game, right, ptashka?" He gleamed brightly at you again but barely gave you a chance to object, "Yeah, that sounds fun, doesn't it? How about you count to thirty and then come look for me?!"

You winced again, placing your hand over your head to try and alleviate some of the pain. How desperately you wanted to scream at Nikolai to stop and help you, but the constant pang blocked you from doing so. He tilted his head innocently, "Oh, a prize, you ask? Well..." He pondered mockingly, "What about winner decides? And no cheating, okay?" He took your phone and walkie out from the pocket of your trench coat and shut down your phone so no one could track or contact you. You whined when he threw a part of your coat over your eyes to blind you.

His presence left you as he dusted himself off and stood up again, "Thirty seconds, okay, myla?" You tried to reach for his foot, but he was long gone, and all you could do was listen to the distant crunching of leaves and hysterical giggles grow farther away from you.

Thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven...

₊˚.༄

The sun had set by the time you opened your eyes again, finally mustering up the strength to get off the ground. You rubbed your back and looked around⎯it had probably been closer to thirty minutes since Nikolai had ran away.

Internally, a tick set off in your head telling you to look for him. You checked your empty pockets and decided that you should try and catch him first before reporting anything. After all, he was technically your responsibility, and the thought of your husband hounding you over losing a patient hurt your brain more than the spinning pain.

You tried to think rationally⎯if you had woken up on the ground, then surely no one had noticed both of your absences or caught Nikolai. Just calm down and try to find him.

You looked around, trying to guess where he'd ran off to, but the ground didn't give you any clues as to which direction he'd gone. Not that you were surprised, though, since he had plenty of experience running away.

It's fine, it's just a silly game⎯he didn't really run away or escape. You tried to calm your mind and think of a plan to get him. Deciding that treating this as a game would help your sanity, you cupped your hands around your mouth, "R-Ready or not, here I come!" You squeaked out, your shaky confidence showing through your voice.

You ran towards the fountain, hoping Nikolai would be there since he was always drawn to the koi fish and rose garden. You walked towards the direction of the structure, the crisp air filling your lungs as you frantically looked for him. Calm down, he's definitely there. You smiled to yourself, envisioning him playing with the fish or tossing rose petals into the water pools of the marble fountain. It was a ten-minute walk, so you tried to enjoy the fresh breeze blowing through your hair and massage the knots in your strained back.

What you weren't expecting was...nothing. There was just a maintenance worker tending to the garden and pulling out weeds. No sign of your patient. You walked around, looking behind every bush and up into each individual tree, but you still saw nothing. The gardener would glance at you occasionally, but you kept searching tirelessly, trying to go beyond the bounds of the elaborate labyrinth to see if he was hiding in a more inconspicuous spot. Still no luck.

You mustered up the courage to go up to the worker and see if he'd be any help. Maybe it was cheating, but you were starting to get impatient and doubt was beginning to sink in.

You cleared your throat, "Ahem," the worker turned around, "Excuse me, but have you seen anyone pass through here recently?"

The old worker smiled, the corners of his mouth crinkling upwards in a smile, "Well, yes, actually⎯lots of people. Anyone in particular you were looking for?"

You breathed a sigh of relief, "Have you see a tall man with white hair? It's probably in a braid, and he has heterochromia⎯one eye is green and the other is a bluish-gray with a vertical scar," The gardener only gave you a confused look, "...he's pretty young and fit..." You trailed off, concerned by the look you received.

The elderly man scratched his head, "I haven't seen anyone like that around." He paused, recognizing your attendant uniform, "Is he your patient? We can get security involved if it's a serious problem. Actually, let me radio the bos⎯"

You grabbed his hand apprehensively once you saw him reach for the walkie on his belt, "O-Oh, sorry, I just remembered I handed him off to another attendant." You let out a fake laugh, trying to reassure him no action was needed. No matter what, you couldn't get your husband involved.

The worker eyed you cautiously but then shrugged, "They really overwork you attendants so much you start to forget things, huh? I've heard you're understaffed."

You forced out another laugh and nodded, "Haha, yeah, they do..." You perked up, smiling as another precaution, "Thank you for your help, though, sir! I-I'll be on my way now, so please resume your work." You waved to him and started walking back towards where you fell.

"Young lady! Where are you headed off to? The asylum's back there!" Your eyes widened at his voice calling out after you, but you turned again, feigning confidence.

"Just taking a walk to clear my head!" You waved again, and he shrugged and tipped his hat to bid you farewell. You turned around and cursed yourself silently, both for acting suspicious and still not finding Nikolai.

As soon as you couldn't see the old gardener anymore, you started sprinting, hard, back towards your starting point. The fall air was now burning your lungs and your heart was beating violently fast, swelled with anxiety about the whole situation, and the fact that Nikolai could very well be gone by now. And it would all be your fault.

A pit formed in your stomach as you thought of all the potential repercussions you'd have to face, but also at the thought of never seeing Nikolai again. Of knowing that was your last interaction. Somehow, the thought made you want to run faster. It felt like you had to find him.

₊˚.༄

The forest. You hadn't checked the forest yet.

It was darker now, the once coral sky had turned navy blue, and the sky was much dimmer. Almost two hours had passed, but you still hadn't found Nikolai.

Despite the cold, you were sweating from anxiety. There was no way you lost him. Maybe if you called for him, he would come out of hiding? He did seem to have some sort of obsession with you. You looked around again before stepping closer to the mass of colorful trees.

"Miss, is everything alright?' You whipped your head around to see the second-to-last person you'd want to encounter at the moment⎯Lacey.

Her blonde bob was swaying from the light breeze and her emerald eyes shined with fake concern, "Where's your patient? Gogol, right? Nikolai Gogol?" She ran up to you and tried to reach for your arm, but you stepped away before she could touch you.

Somehow, you felt strange. No one had ever said Nikolai's name before, as they were too scared to acknowledge him because of all the crimes he'd committed. The way his name flowed off her tongue in such a tender way irked you for some reason.

"He's fine." You mumbled, forgetting to add a nicer tone to your voice. You coughed suddenly, remembering that Lacey was likely there for a reason, and that she'd run off to the boss immediately if she caught on to the situation at hand. "Ah, did something happen? You should be done with work by now, right? It's late."

Lacey shifted, peering over your shoulder like she was trying to look for your patient; you felt your palms getting clammy. "Well, you and Gogol have been gone for two hours, and your walkie and phone both aren't able to be contacted. The boss sent me to look for you because he was worried about you both..."

Worried, sure. Definitely not just because he was a control freak that needed to know your wherabouts all times. She gasped dramatically, bringing a hand up to her mouth, "He didn't run away, did he? He isn't with you⎯" her brows furrowed and she looked around, "Should we call security? They can deploy helicopters and dogs to search from him!"

You felt a lump in your throat when she said that, fearful of her taking action and exposing you. You reached for her shoulder reassuringly, "Oh, well, there's no need for that," you raked your mind for any sort of plausible excuse, "Nikolai's just...um...using the bathroom! He's in the woods right now, so I'm just waiting for him to finish." You tried to laugh to throw in some emotion, "Sorry I didn't tell you in the first place. It's kind of TMI and embarrassing!"

Lacey stared at you suspiciously but nodded slowly, "Oh...I see." She grimaced at the thought, "Men are really gross, aren't they? For a patient to do that...how uncivilized..." You forced another painful laugh and agreed with her, wrapping your coat tighter around yourself to shield your shaking body. You couldn't tell if she was dumb enough to believe you or not.

Lacey smiled at you, "Why don't I wait with you, then? Once Nikolai comes back, we can all walk back to the white ward, and then I'll go home!"

Your mouth felt dry. Shit, you were really going to be caught now. You couldn't tell her that you still didn't know where your patient even was. For all you knew, he could've successfully escaped the asylum premises by now. You tried to open your mouth to object, but you didn't know how to do so without making yourself look more suspicious.

Think. Think. Think, damnit.

Lacey's humming made your head hurt, but you suddenly thought of another excuse, "Oh, Lacey, could you actually bring me a new walkie? My old one and my phone died earlier, so I gave my walkie to a guard and asked him to bring me a new one, but he never did." You clasped your hands together, "They should be in the break lounge, and you can ask IT for help configuring it. That way, I can radio in, and you can head home!" You hoped that convinced her, and luckily her eyes lit up at your suggestion.

"Sure! It's honestly a little cold out here, so I'll go back inside to get you a walkie." She pouted, "I kind of wanted to meet Gogol. He's stuck to you all the time and hates all the other attendants...I'm sure we would get along, though!"

Lacey flashed the brightest smile at you, and you had to restrain yourself from throwing a rock at her sly face as you adjusted your coat. Certainly she didn't think Nikolai would make an exception for her⎯she was way too irritating and two-faced. "Well anyways, I'll head back. I'll come back to this spot afterwards with some guards to get you and Gogol." She waved goodbye to you in a childish manner before skipping away, and you watched intently until she became a small dot in the distance.

Your palms got sweaty again as you realized you had thirty minutes at most to find Nikolai. Your heartbeat increased as you ran into the forest and looked up into the branches, hoping to catch sight of him.

Still unsuccessful, you started to panic. "Kolya!" You cried out, cupping your hands over your mouth to project your shouts, "Kolya, where are you?" You ran deeper into the woods, dirtying your clean shoes and getting scratched by branches along the way. It was dark and the foliage covered the light, so you couldn't see very well.

The hairs on your neck stood up, and you heard some distant rustling. Looking up, all you saw was a dove in a tree, feeding some of the babies inside its nest. You stopped to stare for a bit before moving on, going deeper into the mess of shadows. Anxiety kept creeping up on you as you continued shouting Nikolai's name.

"Kolya, please! I give up, so you can come out now! Please, come out, please⎯" You kept running, and your throat felt dry as everything started to dawn on you. You'd been wandering for ten minutes. It was getting late, and beads of cold sweat stuck to your skin. Your body still hurt. Lacey and the guards were going to be here soon, and when they were here, they'd find out you were lying about everything, and Nikolai was actually nowhere to be found. You'd lose your job and very livelihood. Your husband would get angry and take it out on you and your family. You'd be locked away for aiding a global criminal in escaping one of the most secure places in the world. Or even worse, you'd be declared mentally insane and be stuck here, as a patient for your husband and Lacey to look down on. It was all your fault for believing you could trust Nikolai or be his friend.

Your back hit a tree trunk, and you slid down slowly, curling up into a ball. Tears flowed out of your eyes, and you whimpered to yourself. You felt ashamed and alone. For a moment, you felt used. You cried, feeling desperate. You couldn't believe you were about to ruin your life over conflicted emotions you had over an insane man. You should've just been a good, compliant wife and not follow your heart. You should've never tried to seek freedom.

"K-Kolya," you sobbed silently, "I just wanna see you...one more t-time. Don't leave me please, you..." You're all I have. You're the only person in this world I can really talk to. You couldn't speak the words out loud, in denial over your forbidden feelings. You closed your eyes as you sobbed, only looking up when something small and hard got crushed under your shoe.

You wiped your tears and nose with the sleeve of your coat, eyes focusing on a white and red striped circular object on the ground. A minky binky⎯one of the candies you'd gifted Nikolai. You got up slowly upon seeing several more leading deeper into the woods, resembling a trail of Ukranian candies.

Your feet started to pick up their pace as you followed the trail, stopping when you got to a clearing, where a short stump was surrounded by an assortment of dried leaves.

Your teary eyes widened when you finally saw your patient, glowing from the moonlight and with a dove perched on his hand. Nikolai released the bird into the night sky and smiled at you in a melancholic way. "Oh, you found me. Took you long enough, ptashka. You really are terrible at hide and seek."

Without hesitation, you ran into his arms, wrapping yourself around his frame. You helplessly gripped onto his sleeves and dug your face into his shoulder, not wanting him to see any evidence of your tears from earlier. "...I didn't think you would run away so far...I thought I lost you..."

Nikolai only laughed. "Dove, honestly," he said cheerfully, "You were never going to find me, I'm far too clever for that!" He pulled you away from his shoulder, but what he didn't expect was your face, illuminated in the moonlight, with tears clinging to your eyes and your lips and nose swollen from your earlier weeping.

"K-Kolya, please don't leave me again," you wiped your eyes and sniffled, "I was so s-scared⎯"

Nikolai's faced softened and he embraced you in his arms, stroking your hair gently and trying to comfort you. This was...strange. He'd never seen you display such strong feelings of emotion or sadness. And to think you were crying over him of all people...he didn't hate the fact he was making you cry, but it bothered him that it wasn't because he wanted you to cry. A small frown appeared on his face and his heart felt...slightly heavy from seeing you in this state.

He spoke in a soft voice, trying to reassure you with his presence. "Hey, dove...I didn't mean to make you cry, really…I was just trying to make it a little harder for you to find me, I wanted to surprise you." You continued sniffling and Nikolai used his thumb to wipe away more of your tears, trying to make them stop. "Why...Why are you so sad?"

You covered your face in embarrassment, ashamed of breaking down in front of your patient, "I⎯", you started, head screaming at you to shut up and step away, but your lightheadedness made you more vulnerable, "I thought I was going to lose my job, and I didn't want my husband to find out about us," Nikolai's head perked up, but he rubbed your back.

"Was that the only reason?" He stared into your eyes sympathetically, but also like he wanted to hear more from you.

"No...I also...was scared I'd never see you again." You exhaled shakily, "Your mannerisms, our conversations, you always holding my hands or hugging me, I don't...I don't hate it...They've made my dull life somewhat more interesting." You looked away, "If I lost that...if I lost you, I would feel so empty again. You make me...happy for some reason."

Your patient's eyes widened. Nikolai made you...happy? But he wanted to make you free. Or was he just using you to alleviate some of his boredom? Wasn't making you happy the same as him committing himself to you, and you tying him down by making the two of you codependent? But that was what he was trying to escape from...he wanted to be free from the control and ideals of others.

You went on, talking about how Nikolai was the only person you could talk to about your personal life, how he made you feel special at times, but Nikolai's own inner thoughts drowned out your words. Stop. Stop it. Stop your babbling. He fumbled a lollipop out of his pocket and stuck it into your mouth, silencing you like a baby with a pacifier. His eyes brightened, overwhelmed by you. Your eyes wavered, not being able to handle the intensity of his stare, and the same thought plagued both of your minds.

Were you catching feelings for him? Was he more attached to you than he thought he was?

Nikolai caressed your cheeks, drying the last of your tears with his dampened sleeve. He slowly kissed your eyelids, catching the saltiness of your teardrops. "Myla, the words you're saying and the game you're playing...you could make a sane man mad."

You blushed, suddenly being hyper-aware of the fact you were both alone. The thought made you shudder. Anything could happen and no one would see.

"Are you cold, dove?" You yelped when Nikolai's strong arms pulled you into his lap, so you were straddling him. You placed your hands on his shoulders and squirmed awkwardly to try and get off, but he firmly held you in place. He dug his face into the crook of your neck, "Oh, your skin's freezing. Should I warm you up?" He smirked playfully before biting down lightly on your neck, making you jerk up and gasp. He started kissing the mark, simultaneously holding your legs open and rubbing circles on your thighs. A small moan left your throat, which you instantly regretted, and you tried to close your legs, but it was no use.

You squeezed his shoulders, "H-Hey, what are you doing⎯s-stop⎯"

Nikolai giggled mockingly, "I technically won our little game of hide and seek, so this is my reward. Winner got to choose, remember?" He continued littering your neck with kisses, "I want you to treat me like your lover for ten minutes, or until we get caught." His dark eyes cut into you, "Otherwise, I'm really running away. And you won't be able to stop me." You whimpered as he licked down your skin, baring his teeth against your sweet spot, about to leave a hickey.

You mustered up some strength to push him away, "W-Wait, you can't leave a mark then." He frowned, staring up at you. You sighed, feeling defeated but knowing you didn't have any other option but to comply with his wishes, "Kiss...lower instead. The marks won't be visible..." Your cheeks flushed as you threw off your coat and slowly undid the buttons on your uniform, the dress falling down your shoulders and stopping right under your collarbones.

Nikolai watched as the fabric dropped and nuzzled into your exposed skin, "So soft..." He kissed down your collarbones, dragging his tongue with each kiss. You moved your hands up to tangle in his white messy hair, pulling him closer as he made his first mark above your collarbone, the feeling of his teeth biting down making you jolt and press down farther into his lap.

One of his hands left your waist to pull your dress down further, and you gasped as the cold air hit your chest. You tried to instinctively cover up, but Nikolai was already palming one of your tits through your lace bra and kissing the other. He groaned from finally being able to explore your body more, and you could feel the tent in his pants pressing against your panties.

"S-Seriously, Kolya..." Your skin felt hot, the feeling of being this desired feeling foreign to you since you and your husband barely got intimate...and when you did, there wasn't any real love or passion to it. Having someone worship your body like this⎯it made you want more.

You pulled on Nikolai's hair and gently rolled your hips to press down more on his bulge, drawing deeper groans from him. "Myla, a-ahh, you're so pretty..." He kissed in between the valley of your breasts and looked up at you, "You should just be mine and mine alone." He sucked on the exposed part of your tit and marked another spot there, kissing it afterwards. He repeated his motions on the other breast, his touch making you whine, the sound being absorbed by your lollipop.

"Mmm...your skin is so nice...I wonder how sweet you taste, ptashka." His other hand was still caressing your inner thigh, and it was dangerously close to slipping inside your lacy underwear. He could just⎯

"Miss! Mr. Gogol! Are you in there?" You both stopped as you heard Lacey's shouting voice and saw cut-up rays of light through the tree trunks. She had come back as promised with guards, evident by the heavy footsteps coming towards your direction.

"Ah, I guess our time's up, then? Too bad..." Nikolai sighed disappointedly, teasing you with one more bite over your bra, earning a surprised yelp from you, and you hurriedly re-did your buttons. Nikolai looked upset, wishing you could've gone further, but deep down, he knew this little back-and-forth game between the two of you wouldn't end anytime soon.

He got up slowly from the stump and swiped the cherry-flavored candy from your mouth, savoring the taste of you on it. You pouted, but he only laughed at you in return, slowly walking away as you picked the twigs and leaves off your trench coat. He stuck his tongue out before licking the lollipop, "Don't be sad dove, I'll taste you someday~"

You ran up to meet him and tried to get the blush off your cheeks, already trying to think of a lie to tell everyone on the long walk back. He intertwined his hand with yours, giggling to himself as Lacey and the guards finally came.

He was sure you'd scream when you saw the hickeys at home, which he'd purposely left in a diamond formation, like the ones on playing cards. That way, you wouldn't forget he was the one who marked you, and that your heart belonged to him.

Day XII Cage.

People don't get free. They merely change the nature of their chains.

-Nix🌙

Are you truly free as a bird?

Sometimes i forget that Nikolai still doesn't know Fyodor is alive :D

draw a doodle of dad kolya, in pajamas or something like that, anything from him 💕

Oh yeah, night time bed stories with papa Kolya

Personally, one of my favorite aus, but I’m just a sucker for turning any character into a dad 👨

The Gogoling babies belong to @doukeshi-kun. Lil munchkins

The Two-faced Secretary.

I completely forgot to post here...so...Jellyfish Sigma i guess!!!!

Happy Halloween everyone!!

clementine

synopsis: this time of the year isn't the easiest for you, but nikolai is here to take care of everything when you lose sight of the sweetness in life...

content: fem!reader, comfort, fluff

Nikolai knows you haven't been sleeping well.

So when he saw you bundled up on the couch, wrapped up in a blanket akin to a caterpillar in its cocoon, he couldn't control himself or help the way his heart rate picked up.

He's already kneeling to your level while you’re still sleeping on the sofa to push back some of the hair falling over your face with one hand, the other swimming through the sea of softness to search and take hold of your hand in his. He didn’t mind you were taking a nap in the afternoon—getting to see your peaceful face and knowing that you’re finally able to get some rest after days of difficulty was enough for him to stay content.

He’s patient, not rushing you to wake up like how he would do sometimes in the mornings. You’re not feeling well, so he keeps all his antics stored and locked away for a time not so dull. He tries his hardest to control the urge to coddle you because he knows you need your space, but his heart aches for you anyway, and it is almost unbearable.

You just look so adorable.

He does have to admit, that he feels a bit bad thinking these kinds of thoughts while you're like this, but he can't help it.

A huff of air leaves you when you feel someone plop down next to you, their weight making you sink into the couch further, their hands trailing down your arms, finding their abode on your waist. You'd regained consciousness a few minutes ago, and heard him while he was walking around the living room, but couldn't bring yourself to open your eyelids yet when they still felt so heavy.

But he seems to catch on anyway when he curls up closer to you, his fluffy hair tickling you and his thumb running across the soft skin of your cheek when he becomes aware that you're awake.

This small couch was barely big enough to fit the both of you. He thinks he'll go furniture shopping with you soon, only if you feel like going out, of course.

He notices how you struggle. The way your energy levels dip, and the way your usual sparkle fades as the days grow shorter and darker.

That's why he'll gently suggest going for a walk in the crisp autumn air at times, hoping that exposure to natural light can help alleviate some worries off your mind and lift your mood. He'll offer to wrap you up in layers of warmth and accompany you on a stroll through the colorful foliage, providing his unwavering company as a source of solace and strength. And he'll wipe your tears away when you cry to him, telling him that you can't bring yourself to. He'll reassure you and tell you that everything is okay, pulling you into his comforting embrace, determined to hold your hand and walk by your side through the darkness while holding onto the belief that you can weather this storm.

Nikolai thinks you're too hard on yourself.

He thinks you don't treat yourself as nicely as he does to you and it makes him deeply upset—breaks his heart, so to speak. But he knows how difficult it can be. So, he feels the least he could do was be here for you when you're at your lowest, just like you always are when he's at his.

“Nikolai,” you call out to him, keeping your eyes still shut, aware of his presence close to you.

"Dove," he responds, his eyes glistening when he hears your voice. "How about we go out today? You need some sunshine," he suggests to you in a gentle voice accompanied by a signature dorky smile spread on his face.

Your eyelashes flutter as you open your eyes to find him leaning over you, one look at his face being enough to dispel some fatigue, always bringing you back down to earth when you’re floating.

"But you're right here," you say, your hands finding themselves in his hair to play with the braid that falls over his shoulder.

Nikolai is and has always been caring towards you, and moments like these serve as a reminder of who you're truly in a relationship with. His tough exterior was something you’ve always been aware of but never been afraid of. Not after he's shown you that beneath that exterior was hiding something soft, buried underneath layers and layers of faux fortitude.

Nikolai himself wasn't able to conceal his bashfulness. No matter how resilient he pretended to be and tried to appear, you always managed to shatter him with the right words laced with such potent fervor that never failed to permeate his mind.

He pulls away from you momentarily and rises to his feet to slowly draw back the curtains, making sure to do so with deliberate care in his actions so the light doesn't hurt your eyes. As he steps back, he nearly loses his footing as he slips on something but manages to steady himself in time before sparing a glance at the ground to see what the culprit is. The playing cards are still scattered across the floor, remnants from the impromptu dramatic performance he put on in the living room yesterday, all in an attempt to see your precious smile that he hasn't gotten the opportunity to catch a glimpse of as of late. A part of him wishes he had tumbled, for the chance he would get to hear your laughter again.

When he returns to you, he helps you sit up and drapes the blanket around you and over your shoulders. Although the sunlight streaming through the window gives you an ethereal glow, he finds the paleness of your skin as a result of insufficient sunlight and nutrients hard to ignore.

Nikolai knows you haven't been taking care of yourself as much as you should be.

He waits for you to notice it—the fresh bowl of fruit he prepared and placed on the table just for you. The clementines he'd bought from his grocery run this morning because they were finally in season and he knew you'd been wanting to have some.

But when you don't move, he picks up a slice of the citrus himself and holds it up to your lips. With tired eyes looking up at him, you part your lips, letting him feed you the fruit. The sweet juice bursts on your tongue, and you press a kiss on the pad of his thumb, relishing in the way it lingers for a moment before he pulls it away. For some odd reason, you feel like it tastes sweeter when he feeds it to you.

As if you weren't already feeling warm from his affection, he sets your cheeks ablaze with a flustered heat when he cradles your face with both of his hands while you chew the fruit. He waits for you to finish before playfully squeezing your cheeks in his hands to make your lips pouty, placing the most gentle of kisses upon them, only then releasing when he feels warmth slowly crawl up from your ears to your face.

Your eyes close to savor his adoration, absent of the knowledge of unimaginable tenderness swimming in the pair of eyes staring at you right now. Your fingers loosely wrap around the wrists connected to hands that are caressing your face so softly, careful touches on your skin followed by lips ghosting over the crown of your head before coming to a stop.

Oh—right. He wasn't supposed to be doing this, not now. He shouldn't be bothering you in this way, not until you feel better, at least.

Taking this into consideration, Nikolai reluctantly lets go of you and moves intending to rest against the pillow next to your lap—where he originally would've placed his head. However, on second thought, he decides not to after a thought pervades his mind of how you might not want his weight on you when you're already carrying so much burden.

It wasn't until he felt fingers trailing up his own, seeking his touch again, that the thought quickly diminished and made him halt his movements. Raising his head to see you looking down at him with that gleam in your eyes that he missed oh so much confirmed it for him, that look that always revealed the want to have him closer to you.

So he fulfills that wish for you, moving over to your lap and shifting to a position with heedfulness where the both of you could feel comfortable, but mainly just for you.

Nikolai never wants to be a nuisance. He just wants to make you feel better, no matter how long that takes.

Because in the end, he always knew that sweetness would follow up the bitterness.

Your presence in his own life was living proof of that.

Final Fantasy VII fic recommendations

(Reader inserts) Recommendations of my favorite headcanons/imagines/fics/scenarios (I don’t own any)

・・・・・・

Cloud Strife

fluff / shy kisses

fluff / sparring

fluff / I wouldn't mind holding your hand

fluff / beside manner

angst fluff / suavium

fluff / night

fluff / chocobo

angst fluff / scars

・・・・・・

Updated:06-October-2024

Sorry there's only Cloud fics, I'll search more character fics soon

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 8: ᴘᴀʀᴀᴅɪꜱᴇ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: suggestive, angst, mild fluff | words: 5.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu | discord (18+)

Soft.

Something feels so soft, so comfy—warmth.

Nikolai frowns as his consciousness is slowly fading in. His body is strained and heavy but he fixes his arm, hugging the pillow a little closer as he leans his head back against the warm cushion. The quilt is strangely velvety this time, as if he is not lying on the floor, but rather a mattress.

Hold on.

He does not remember laying on a mattress. He does not remember having another pillow to hug and cuddle with. His sleep for the past several weeks has been uncomfortable—he is practically training himself to be mummified and prepared for a coffin sleep.

His eyes snap open. What he sees is the fabric of one of his sleeveless shirts covering a body—a female body. His face is directly in front of a mound. Faint pink bleeds onto his face when he starts to realise what is happening. Panicked, Nikolai gets up from his position.

A gasp. Maybe two—coming from both of you.

“A-Ah—!” You wince slightly, flinching at his abrupt movement. You rub your eyes, lifting your body a little bit from the mattress. “Kolya… good morning…” Your voice is dreamy and Nikolai finally has a good look on you. You are wearing his sleeveless shirt, with a pair of shorts—that he had to buy two weeks ago for you since you cannot fit his pants—and your body is draped with his sweater jacket.

Nikolai swallows hard as he feels scorching hotness crawling all over his insides, coating his heart with flusters.

“Are you okay? You’re…” You scoot closer and although his heart is shouting at him to lean back, to avoid you, Nikolai stays. Your hand reaches up to his cheek. “You’re red… Are you still tipsy?”

Tipsy, yes! Foggy memories come rushing in and Nikolai can vividly remember drinking with Viktor last night. He can see the vision of him chugging whiskey straight from the bottle. This is embarrassing—very shameful on his part! He thought his blood basically runs on vodka as its gasoline and yet he got too drunk to even control himself from laying down next to you for the night.

“No, I’m…” Nikolai holds your wrist, eyes gazing at your figure fast. He feels his saliva choking his throat when he sees the shape of your breasts—and he finds his breath to be hitched away when he catches a glimpse of your nipples through the fabric of his shirt.

God… Your body sweat is practically seeping into his clothes.

Nikolai swallows hard as he tries to look away. He averts his gaze but somehow the image is still lingering as a fading vision in his eyes. He scrambles to grab the blanket close to his crotch, hiding his stiffening boner. 

This is so not a good time at all. But his body is betraying him—as always. 

He takes a deep breath. “Did I do anything to you last night? Inappropriate things?”

You shake your head.

“Don’t lie to me. Did I do bad things to you?” His voice hardens. 

“You… You, uhm, just laid down and then you started to talk about killing Viktor—”

“I’ll really do that.”

“No, no. Let’s not kill him. He’s your friend.” You reply quickly. “And then you talked about this… Fedya guy. Said he’s the one putting you in prison.”

Nikolai shuts his lips. He brings his hand to his face, regretfully gripping his head. His Pandora’s box has shattered, ironically from his own conflicted mind. He holds his riddles close to himself, they were not meant to be figured out and yet he hands them to you when his sober mind is barely steering himself.

“You said you wanna go to St. Petersburg too…” Your hand slowly trails to hold his, thumb rubbing his fingers, seeping little ounces of comfort. “… to kill him.”

Nikolai’s irises shiver, as if they are also seeking the right path to focus on—everywhere but your body, that is. He returns your grip—the coldness of your hand is not enough to harmonise his tense fire. Fire in his heart, the fire of his loins. He needs to hold more, like last night. Nikolai attempts to speak but all that leaves his mouth is just a mangled string of ‘I’ and ‘uh’. His tongue is pushing back against his heart’s desire to tell you, to spill everything that has happened to him for the past eight years.

He continues to stare at your face—your presence is strangely illuminating, or perhaps that is his tipsy thought. Perhaps his eyes are still seeing things, as you are contrasting this dull and sombre bedroom. It is not your skin or your clothes that mimic a flower in the middle of a graveyard. It is just your tender touch on his skin and sugary whispers of ‘Hey, hey, it’s okay.’ while your gaze is beaming sympathy towards him.

Sympathy—Dear devil, he hates that.

“I…” Nikolai grasps your wrist. He rambles quickly, words uttered without his brain scrutinising them. “I need to talk to you. Viktor won’t understand it. Maybe you would. I don’t even trust it. You don’t look like you would understand me. But… I don’t know, I just… really, really need your… opinion, sort of. Listen. Hear me well. Freedom—No, that’s not right. My life— life— I’ve been trying to— to free— Fuck, shit—” A sharp inhale. “I-I wanna be—”

“Nikolai, Nikolai, calm down.” You are holding his arms now. Nikolai bites his tongue, halting. His eyes roll up in frustration as his hand scratches his hair. He can feel his braid is already loosening and tangled through his fingers. He laments this—he is a mess, physically, mentally and sexually. His face is starting to redden as shame is omitted away, replaced by a sense of humiliation.

God, I’m pathetic.

He is over thirty years old. Anyone who is over thirty is already figuring out their life but not Nikolai, it seems. He groans lowly—utterly pathetic.

“Kolya, how about you take a shower first?” You say, tilting your head as you offer him a smile. “Go refresh your head and clean up. I’ll make breakfast for you. Hot chocolate?”

His lips open slightly before he nods slowly. “Right… You’re right… Hot chocolate is good too… I should… um, take a shower…” He mumbles. Your hand travels to his back, sending tiny shudders onto him, and you pat him lightly. Then, you get up from the bed, tugging on his arm as if you are trying to drag him to the bathroom. The turmoil on his face dissipates as he starts to chuckle.

“Come on, go shower!”

“I’m offended, doll. Am I that smelly?”

“You smell like an alcoholic.” Nikolai snorts a chortle at your response before he gets up, sighing defeatedly. “I’m gonna make breakfast, okay?” You say before you walk out of the bedroom happily. He just watches you until you disappear into the kitchen, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He looks around—the room is indeed dull and sombre. It is as if you also drag away the sparkle that makes this place bearable for him. He purses his lips—disliking this feeling that is bubbling inside. 

He shakes his head, making his way to the bathroom after grabbing his towel. He takes off his shirt, tossing it on the floor—he will wash it later anyway. Nikolai stands in front of the somewhat cracked. His nimble fingers fiddle with his braid, untying the strands before he reaches for the hairbrush on the cabinet. He brushes his hair, untangling some of it as his eyes wander around the sink and the mirror mindlessly.

He stares at his reflection.

Misery.

— ♡

You are humming in the bathroom.

After he had dressed up, Nikolai made his way to the kitchen but halted when he passed by the bathroom. You got in while he was in the bedroom after his long shower. He stops and stands in front of the bathroom door upon hearing your faint melody accompanying the rushing water from the shower.

He does not know why he stops. The rest of the house is awfully quiet, except for this small spot in the bathroom, where you are in. There is no radio or television in the house that could bring some sort of noise to uplift the gloom clouding this space. Before he kidnapped you, this place was nothing better than the prison—except, the prison was stricter and noisier. It has been weeks since you are practically living with him and he does not think he could get used to the same silence.

He pouts, scratching his damp hair in frustration. “What am I doing? This is so perverted.” He thinks. He is about to step back and leave but the door is pulled open abruptly from the inside.

“Woah! H-Hey—”

Nikolai wonders if he is subconsciously digging his own grave. Maybe the grave has already been dug and it is just he who refuses to submit to the earth. His eyes blink profusely, irises travel anywhere but your figure that is only covered by a towel. The fresh scent of his body wash is emitting from you dangerously. His tongue sticks out slightly, licking his own lips when he takes a good look at you.

Droplets sprinkling your skin, the small hairs at your nape are dripping with water, naked and soft thighs are close to each other, upper chest is exposed, a tiny drop of water is dripping to your cleavage.

That’s the breast you slept on last night— What the fuck.

He would be very glad to grab the shaver on the cabinet by the sink to shave every layer of his own brain right now. It really does not help at all when he starts to recall the mementos of his sleep. He still laments at the fact that he was drunk and could not control his own mouth to blabber his past to you while clinging to your body.

“Are you policing my path?” You suddenly speak with an adorable pout. “Get out of my way, please. It’s cold, it’s cold.” You say as you playfully bump your fist on his chest as if he is a wall—well, he is, frankly, a tall man.

It’s cold? I think it’s very hot right now. 

“I-I gotta use the toilet. Go away.” He attempts to make his voice harsh but it just sounds shaky. He holds your bare shoulders, pulling you out of the bathroom before he steps in and slams the door closed.

“Hey! Rude!” He hears your whine but he just stays frozen behind the door, with his hands rubbing against each other.

The feeling of your cold skin is still lingering. He brings his hands to his face, palming his cheeks.

Nikolai does not need to use the toilet at all. He just needs an outlet to sulk about his own mind. He glances at his reflection, finding the skin on his face is already reddish. He shakes his head—No, no. I am not blushing. This is because of the cold air. The breeze! The prickling cold is making me red! Darn the winter, not the girl!

He forms a fist and hits his head, grumbling. Why is he acting like a teenager who just saw boobs for the first time? Nikolai is much better than this. He has slept around multiple times—he is almost reaching his mid-30s for fuck’s sake. Once he feels his libido is peaking, he would have just gone to any red light district and had his fun there—he can just do that right now if he is this sexually frustrated.

But it does not feel right. He does not want to sleep with any other people. He surely does not want to sleep with you, for a multitude of reasons. You are supposed to be his victim, darn it. You are supposed to cower in fear, begging for your life to be spared. You are supposed to feed into his sadism, not turn him into a mush of flustered flesh. If he were to have a basement, you should’ve rotted in there. But no, you are not. You are roaming around his house freely now, sleeping on his bed, wearing his clothes, using his things, touching him, holding him, hugging him.

What kind of victim does all that? To a horrible man, no less. Are you the one who is being imprisoned or is he?

A few knocks shock Nikolai out of his thoughts. Your voice is calling him out from the outside. 

“Kolya? Kolya, are you alright in there? Do you want laxatives?”

“N-No. No, what the hell?” Nikolai replies back, swallowing a chuckle from erupting. “G-Go away. Sit at the table and eat your breakfast.” He says, shooing you.

“Okay, okay. But don't be embarrassed with me if you need anything—”

Nikolai opens the door, jolting you upon seeing him. You grin at him heartily. He snorts scornfully. “You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?” He says.

“Are you implying that you do need laxatives?”

“No! I don’t need shit pills.” He groans, making you spew a short laugh. He shakes his head before walking to the kitchen as you trail him closely.

On the dining table, there is already a stack of pancakes being served. Nikolai nudges the stack with a fork that you have prepared, amazed by how fast you could make them. Or perhaps it was him who took too long in the shower. Nikolai sits at the table, across from you. He watches you take two pancakes and drizzle them with honey. He thinks it is quite a waste of time to put sauces and toppings on the pancake, so he just eats his own portion plain.

“Is it good?” You ask and he nods. You smile before you continue eating. Your head is tilting left and right, a clear image of your joy.

“Why are you so happy?” Nikolai asks grumpily.

“A lot of things.”

“Such as?”

“You.” Nikolai’s eyes glance at you for that answer. Your hand shyly slither on the table, reaching his own. And his fingers wrap around you instinctively.

“What do you mean by that, doll?” He murmurs and you lean forward a bit.

“Well, for instance, you finally sleep on the bed.” You say and those words once again bring crimson to his face. “I know how uncomfortable you are sleeping on the couch. I mean, you did change your place to sleep on the floor. It does not make it better and I feel a little guilty to see you go through nights like that. So…” You exhale, finding the correct words as your thumb is rubbing against his hand. “So, even if you were drunk last night, having you slept on the bed comfortably made me happy.”

“About that.” Nikolai quickly replies. “I-I won’t do that again. Even if I’m drunk, I’ll try not to sleep with you—”

“No, I don’t mind.”

Please don’t do this to me.

You tilt your head, gaze glimmering. “I don’t mind having you on the bed with me. You’re not liking the couch and you're a very… tall and big guy. The bed is the best place for you to sleep on. Besides, it is yours.”

Nikolai sighs, throwing his head back. “No, you’re not understanding. It’s not the bed I worry about. It’s you.”

“Me?” You blink confusedly. “You did not do anything weird to me last night.”

“Yeah, but I…” Nikolai purses his lips. Damn it all—why is it so hard for him to talk about it? His other hand reaches to his lips, caressing his lower face. The one that is holding yours is still refusing to let go. He takes a deep breath.

“Fuck. Listen here, doll. I know you think that I didn’t do weird things but I hugged you and touched you. And you’re okay with that because—” A pause. “Because you like me.” He stares at you. “But I don’t like you back. Not in that way, not in any way.”

“But… you said otherwise last night.”

The whole world can crumble onto him and Nikolai would be thankful for his death. His heart is beating so fast that it will leap out at any second. The realisation comes to doom him even deeper.

“No, that wasn’t me speaking. I wasn’t sober. I wasn’t thinking.” He defends himself quickly. He could not even remember what things he had confessed to you and he only hoped that his mouth did not jabber too much for his own sake. He catches a glimpse of your sorrow across your face. His molars clash with each other, biting his own tongue.

Guilty.

“I don’t mean that,” Nikolai says, gripping your hand tighter. You frown slightly.

“You keep hopping from one opposing sentence to another… Which one is it?”

“I don’t know.” He mutters. “Everything has been a fuckin’ mess since forever.” He sighs before he palms his face, lamenting. As he is staring into the nothingness of his hand, he suddenly feels your hand retracting from his grip. A desperation tingles within his fingertips when each of his fingers is clenching the air, hoping to feel your skin again. He lifts his face, seeing you sipping your drink.

His lips utter a silent word, pleading to you to hold him again. But you could not hear his silent plea, so he swallows his wish—just like how he always does.

Nikolai stares at the table.

Silence.

Silence.

He takes a deep breath.

“Several years ago, I joined a global terrorism organisation.”

You halt, eyes widen.

“I didn’t know the true extent of the plan. I knew all of us in the organisation were manipulated by the founder itself. I knew that reaching the main goal of the whole plan would bring death to a lot of people and nations. It was pure evil and I thought that it was worth supporting.” He purses his lips. “Such evil will separate a man from normality and morality. It will push him to his freedom. That’s what I thought.”

“I killed so many people. I caused so many deaths. And I understand how wrong they were. I am very well aware of the evil I commit, and I feel just as guilty as any sane human would. You are probably wondering why would I kill if I know very well I will feel guilty about it, despite morality telling me how wrong I have lived. Morality, my love, is a mere conditioning. We are bound to it, the moment we are born. It is only a matter of time before the bird realises itself to have lived in a cage. It is up to the creature itself to stay living in it or pry and break free.”

“What are you talking about..?” You mutter.

He grabs your hand, gripping it. His mismatched eyes bore straight at yours.

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself from yourself, without influences from all over. I am not going to live like a poor secretary who is merely a tool for the system that is utterly meaningless, nothing good to live for. Morals, empathy and feelings are nothing but hindrances.” His grip gets tighter. “Viktor said that I’m gonna end up killing myself but that’s—” He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “That’s exactly what it is. The free will to make a choice to live is also to die. And you know what? I seek the freedom of my soul more than any kind of joy—and death, little dove, is the only option for me to be truly free.”

“You’re harming yourself—”

“I fucking do! Don’t you listen to what I said?” He suddenly says loudly, surprising you.

“I listen, I listen!” You reply with the same tone, higher. “Don’t get angry with me, please.” Nikolai presses his lips together, murmuring an apology. “If happiness isn’t something you want, wouldn’t that be more painful for you? You are already trying to reach something so… high.” You say carefully.

“What’s the difference? My pursuit is true.”

“I know. But you do say that free will is the power to make a choice without any influence… So while you are trying to seek it, why not… Why not be happy as well? Why torture yourself? You can freely make a choice about it, yes?” You say. “Sometimes joy can make people forget about their misery. It’s true for me.”

“I am not indulging myself in such shackling feelings like happiness.”

“But you are miserable, no?”

Your words are quick to shut him down. You offer him a solemn smile. “Have you ever felt happy, Nikolai?”

Nikolai looks at you and then his eyes travel elsewhere. He tries to dig through his memories. Yes, he does feel happy sometimes—when he broke into Meursault with ease, when Olga gave him free food for his birthday, when he received extra payment from Viktor, when his target did exactly what he expected, when he made you carry his heavy laundry basket, when you wear his clothes, when you made him hot drinks as he was about to work late at night, when you were visibly surprised at the amount of debt your father owed, when you squeal cheerfully after he bought you Olga’s chicken pie for dinner, when you—

Yes. He does feel happy about small, unimportant things.

Nikolai frowns, trying to think again. No, there is no way he just convinced himself to feel pleased about such events. He is better than that.

“Maybe… when my, um, friend… understood what I meant when I talked to him about this.” He says.

“Fedya guy?” You quickly figure out the ‘friend’ and Nikolai cringes before he hesitantly nods.

“His name is Fyodor Dostoyevsky. He was… the founder of the organisation I joined. Basically a terrorist like me but worse.” He pauses. “Ironically, he also understands me. He understands what I seek. But… I knew that the short conversation we shared was merely manipulation. What I did during… the last phase of my part of the plan was controlled by something else. It is complicated but I wasn’t exactly… doing things fully of my own free will.” Nikolai sighs loudly. “Recalling back feels pretty dumb to me. I was supposed to die during the plan. But I used my ability to escape death. And now I’m looking at the tragedy from different views. I wasn’t ‘dying’ with the scream of my free will. I ‘died’… being controlled by something else somewhere. It’s pathetic. A little part of my heart knows that I was not free when I supposedly ‘died’ that time.”

“And you want to go to St. Petersburg to kill him…” You mutter. “You said he put you in prison. And now you just said he had manipulated you… Is it revenge that you seek?”

Nikolai suddenly bursts out a laugh. “Revenge? No fucking way.” He pants slightly before sighing. “No, no. It’s not something as cheap as revenge. No. I’ve always wanted to kill him. I think that this… attachment I have on him will be a doom on my part. My feelings are hindering me. It's brainwashing. Killing him will prove myself to be truly free. I just want to set it right. I am setting it right. It’s not revenge I seek. I’m freeing myself—is a better description.”

You shake your head. “Are you sure?”

“Sure of what?”

“Are you sure you’re not seeking revenge?”

“No.”

“Nikolai…”

“Fine! I’m angry, okay?” He huffs. “He literally shoved me into prison and when I left, everything I owned was stripped away and I only have my overcoat. I don’t have a house, a car or even a fake ID card. Can you imagine being free for once from a literal prison and then getting shackled again by this fucking system?” He groans and throws his body back to the chair.

“Now that is a little confusing, no? You said emotions are a hindrance and yet you are driven by anger…” You reply with a strange smile on your face.

“Some little sacrifices have to be done to achieve greater things…”

“Then, why not make an exception for joy as well?” You finally say as you hold his hand, your fingers link between his and his eyes wander towards them.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, huh? You don’t even know me.” He grumbles, voice shaky and uncertain.

“I think I know you better now. Maybe I cannot understand you as much as that Fyodor person understands you. But I think your pursuit of freedom is unique. And yet, it’s very… tragic. Perhaps you can call me brainwashed for thinking like this but I feel pity for you. I feel pity that you have to suffer internally like this. I don’t think I like seeing you being miserable either.” You pause before you lift your hand that is holding his. “But Nikolai, if you think that the answer to total free will is death, why not… die with a smile? Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

“You are basically suggesting that I pursue happiness. The thing I don’t wish to dwell in.”

“No. I am suggesting you to be kinder to yourself. You can try to reach freedom with… however method you are trying to do. But you can definitely do it in a less painful way, no? I care for you. I like you.” You say softly. “And… And I understand why certain things are decided by you. You don’t have to… um… return my feelings. All I want is for you to be well, even if your end goal is inevitable.”

Nikolai stays silent and both of you are left with no words exchanged. But the hands are still linked and Nikolai is starting to feel uneasy. He wants to pull away and push you out of his sight, but his body is not cooperating with his thoughts as his fingers are reluctant to let go of you and his mouth prefers to stay quiet than to yell at you to leave him alone.

He despises your response—really, he just said he will seek the freedom of his soul more than happiness. And yet you want him to pick the less painful path—enjoying the little joys. He wants to scream at that kindness, at that positiveness. But he cannot. He will not.

Screaming at you will only push you away. Anger will make you fear and you might retreat yourself into a cocoon. He has done that. He has gotten angry and yelled at you before. And he feels horrible about it.

Horrible, guilty—death is much better than seeing you sleeping in complete darkness on the couch.

His heart and head are rarely on the same page. Conflict has become a norm in his own existence. He knows what you said is right, in some ways. Happiness does decrease his pain but indulging in it will only make him betray his own codes. However, not indulging in merry is only encouraging him to submerge in his gloom. He will escape a feeling to jump into another, and what will be the end of it? How many emotions and empathy does he have to flee and dive in until he reaches liberty?

“Kolya,” Your voice breaks the silence and he looks at you. “Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

His eyes immediately pace towards your lips.

“Maybe.”

You beam. “That’s great. Why don’t you follow them then? You know, scientifically, your body will always try to help you.” You wiggle a finger and Nikolai cackles bitterly. The heavy atmosphere is slowly fading away with that sweetness from your voice.

“They’re dangerous thoughts, that’s all…” He replies before he finishes his lukewarm chocolate drink. The poundage of discordance in him is shrinking—perhaps all the things he always wanted to say to someone have already been poured earlier, to you. Your words are much better than Viktor’s, that is for sure. Perhaps he does not really hate your response. He just hates how it adds to his own quizzes.

“You’re pretty good at listening to rambles, aren’t you?” He remarks. You giggle and it automatically tugs a tiny smile on his face.

“That’s probably because a lot of my customers rant to me, especially when they are drunk.” You reply. Nikolai scoffs, crossing his arms.

“Huh, so you’ve been treating me like old men in the bar this whole time?” He says coyly.

You gasp. “You’re not that old.”

“Uh-huh, I’m pretty sure we have about a little more than a decade of differences. It’s honestly amazing how you can keep up with whatever conversations we had earlier. I’m pretty sure you’ve been listening to worse things at the club.” He says.

“Well, I’m mature enough to know what’s right and wrong!”

Nikolai refutes back. “Now that’s exactly what a manipulated and naive young girl would say. You shouldn’t follow and interact with old dudes who are indecent and filthy in nature. Stick to the youngsters and good guys, yeah?”

“Mm-hm! Got it. I’ll stick with you.” You salute at him, jovial.

“That’s really not what I meant…” Nikolai sighs before he props his chin on his hand. “Hey, I just wanna say again, I’m sorry about last night. Whatever I talked with Viktor messed me up.”

You smile. “I told you, it’s fine. I really don’t mind if you want to sleep on the bed. I just want you to feel comfy.” You say before you grin teasingly and get up from your seat. You place your arms on the table as you bend over, leaning towards him. “And you were really comfortable last night. Especially when I play with your hair like this.”

Nikolai’s words are stuck in his throat when he feels your hand tenderly caressing his head. His hair feels soft against your fingers, albeit a little dry as he just blow-dried them earlier. The warmth is slowly coursing up to his face, down to his groin when his nose picks up your scent again. His eyes trail up, catching the sight of your lips just close to him. A small nudge upwards and he can taste them.

His head slowly tilts up. His trembling pucker ever so slightly.

“You know,” Your face turns serious as you pull away from him and walk to stand behind him, hands still on his hair. Nikolai lets out a very shaky exhale. He wants to turn, confused by your sudden move. He tries not to think of what he almost did just now.

“What are you doing, doll?”

“No, I’m really curious about your hair. Like, it seems unnaturally white but your roots… Your roots are not showing any other colour.” You say, amused and awestruck by his hair. “And it’s so soft too… Though it seems that you have some unique cut over here,” You pat his neck. “And then the hair behind it is long. You get what I mean?”

“I guess so, sweetheart.” He says.

“Is your white hair a part of your superpower?” You ask curiously.

“Not at all. They’re natural.”

“Can I ask something a little sensitive?”

“… Keep your curiosity to the hair on my head and not anywhere else, little doll.”

“I don’t mean that!” You protest, hitting his shoulder. “I just wanna ask if they’re a result of stress…! Not— Not… your other hairs…”

Nikolai muffles his laugh but ultimately fails when he cackles, entertained by your panicked voice. He coughs a bit, trying to stop his chortle. “No, I don’t think they’re from stress… I’ve had them since I was a kid.” NIkolai replies as he looks up at your flustered face. “There are weird, unnatural things happening all over the world, doll. My hair is nothing compared to them.”

“Right… Right, that’s… um… good to know.” You say as your hands drop to his shoulders. Nikolai smiles warmly at you, bringing heat to your inside as you look away. “Can I clean the table?” You ask meekly.

“Yeah, go on. I have to do some work anyway—”

“Hey,” You hold each of his arms with your hands. “What about… taking a rest today? You’ve been working on God Eye—”

“Eyes of God.”

“Same thing. Anyway, you’ve been working on it for nights and days. And I don’t think you should stress yourself with those things today. Just for a day, relax yourself.” You say. “Maybe you can do the dishes? Or read some books? Oh, I know! What about a trip to the laundrette?” You ask with a broad smile.

“Laundrette, huh? You’re draining my pocket.” He pouts. “But alright…”

“Great! Give me ten minutes to wash the dishes. You can go gather your dirty clothes, especially last night’s clothes.” You order and Nikolai just nods, watching you gather the dirty plates and mugs and walk to the sink. He just observes you doing the dishes while he is sitting like a statue at the table, leering at your figure and face.

Savour each moment, he is going to lose this anytime soon.

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Starting this account fresh with him.

Flavor: Wild berry cheesecake

Toppings:

"will you stay the nigth" and "calling them in the middle of the nigth",

with Nikolai (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)♡

wild berry cheesecake order two — calliope’s confectionary

content. gn!reader. hurt/comfort (mostly fluff), cuddling. notes and translations at the end. not proofread. 1.2k+ words. ⟶ features nikolai gogol.

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The resident jester of the infamous Decay of Angels preferred to fill his day with entertainment—unprompted and unplanned, of course. No itinerary could tie him down. He would do whatever popped into his mind whenever it popped into his mind, whether it was a harmless prank or an egregious crime. His run-ins with the city's municipal police were stories he would treasure forever. They were such a fun group to mess with.

But after a trying day of freedom, or at least as much freedom as he had been able to achieve, he would settle at the highest point of the city, amongst the shadows of Yokohama's skyscrapers, eyeing the fast-moving cars below with only mild interest, the breeze blowing through him. A bird lured to slumber by the din surrounding it.

He was fidgeting with the knife in his hand with a yawn, having sliced a stolen piece of fresh fruit from a locked vendor stall, when his phone chimed with an obnoxious tune. It managed to startle him from his perch. He didn't have many contacts in his phone—just one, but one was all he needed. Without another beat, he answered the call, letting the sounds of the not-so-slumbering city melt away.

"Любий!" he exclaimed, taking a quick bite from the apple slices settled on his lap. "To what do I owe the pleasure of a call at this hour?"

"Hey, Коля." The static of the phone speaker was harsh, a testament to the many trials it had been put through, but even then, he would be a fool to miss the raspiness of your voice, as if you were moments away from breaking apart. It was unusual for you to call at such an hour since you were usually asleep. That, or you were slaving away on something for work—you were far too invested in your job for his taste.

"What's ruffled your feathers, зяблик?"

You sighed. "It's nothing."

"Nothing!" You could practically make out his exaggerated gestures through the phone. It almost made you smile.

"Well, I need to get my ears checked. Because if I didn't know any better, and I think I do," his cheerful voice melted into something sour, "I'd say you were about to cry."

You laughed, but it wasn't the light-hearted, unrestrained laugh he not-so-secretly adored and longed for. It was this heavy sound, despondent and frail, like all life had been drained from you. He wouldn't have been surprised if you had been crying and were just doing a somewhat decent job of covering it up. In any other scenario, he would be impressed.

"It's stupid."

"Oh, I highly doubt that." He hated when you said that. For there was nothing your captivating mind could dwell on that could ever be considered stupid. Not to him, at least. "And besides, you know I'll always take the opportunity to pick at your brain."

"It's just—" His face softened immensely at your defeated tone. "I just miss you."

His eyes widened. "Miss me," he uttered breathlessly, unable to believe the words yet knowing you would never lie to him. You could, easily so, but for some reason, he was sure you never would. He held the phone away from his face as if it would burn him if it got too close. His mind had created an echo chamber out of that little phrase, and he was too focused on ruminating to realize that he had yet to actually respond.

"Коля?"

He startled with a yelp. "Yes!"

"I know this is last minute, and you're free to say no, but…" he hung onto every word as you trailed off, trying to anticipate the next one with owlish fervor. His heart had picked up to an unbearingly fast pace, and he didn't know if he would survive another hit. "Will you stay the night with me?"

And there he was, out for the count—but he quickly recovered, jumping to his feet as he started to pace across the rooftop's platform, inching so daringly close to the edge that he would have fallen with another step. You always seemed to have such an effect on him.

"Of course! I'll be there in five minutes."

"Five minutes?" You voiced your confusion. "But doesn't your ability-?"

"Can't answer, gotta go, bye!"

And with a swoop of his coat, he disappeared into the night.

The knock on your door rang through your empty apartment, somehow making the silence that followed even louder. You had established a deal with Nikolai months ago that he had to enter through the front door after a particular incident when he walked in on you in the shower, and sometimes you regretted making such a ginormous deal out of that at the time. It took all your energy to get out of bed and drag yourself to the front door.

But you had forgotten the most essential motto when interacting with Nikolai—expect the unexpected. He held many items—snacks, candies, plushies, face masks, card games—and you had no clue how he carried it all in his arms. You wouldn't be surprised if even more were stored in his overcoat, and you tried not to think about how these items were retained.  He was practically bouncing at the seams, practically cooing at the sight of you. So disheveled and cute.

"I've got everything we need for the perfect sleepover!" He burst through the entryway without question, piling the stuff onto your formerly uncluttered countertops as some spilled to the floor. "Enough snacks to feed an army with some of those cute, slimy animal masks you buy from the one fancy store."

He whipped around with a grin. "Quiz time! What movie are we—"

You didn't realize it until he started to stare as you still stood at the doorway, but the dam behind your eyes had finally broken, and you just sobbed. The tears kept coming down as you tried to wipe them away, profusely apologizing for the emotional display under your breath, but it was to no avail as sobs continued to rack your body. Your breath hitched as his thumb brushed your cheek, his expression contorted into uncharacteristic concern.

"You're crying."

You resisted the impulse to snark out a witty remark, smiling through your tears, laughing.

"I'm just happy to see you. That's all."

He softened, relieved to hear your authentication laughter, even when it came with such an unusual display. Without another thought, he brought you into his arms, and it felt so natural to burrow yourself into the warmth of his overcoat as he held you, humming an unfamiliar tune as he swayed back and forth, his presence bringing life back to your cold apartment.

"How about we watch that one movie, hm?" he hummed, pressing tickling kisses across your face. "The one with that man in the ridiculous shorts and long haircut."

You sniffed loudly, able to wipe away most of your tears. "Can we quote the wedding scene?"

He grinned from ear to ear. "You'll have to keep up with my performance, зяблик! Not that I doubt your abilities."

Your laughter was so delightful to hear. You both cuddled up on the couch for the rest of the night, watching bad American comedy films as you playfully quoted the stupidest lines. It didn't take long for you to doze off with a not-so-subtle snore, and he had to hold back the impulse to draw on your face, instead leaving a kiss on your forehead before snuggling in closer, ready to join you in sleep.

любий = darling зяблик = little bird

TAGLIST: @yonseibananamilk @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover @vnk91t @dazaisms @v4mpash3 @quaao @coffeeofsamu @chyozai @number1morihater @justcallmesakira @mxxny-lupin @little-miss-chaoss @himikoslove @osameowdazai @justanotherjester @thesilvernight0wl @deepseafragments @tirasamu @s1eepybunny @kelperspelt @squigglewigglewoo @lovesick-fairy @zyilas @ishqani @solandiss @imhandicapableofmath

i finally picked these requests back up! yes, i do intend to finish every single one of them, and hopefully i can wrap them up before the holiday season :D (p.s. if anyone can figure out the movie that i described at the end, you get a gold star.)

© MUSAMORA 2024 — do not repost or modify my works for any reason. do not steal graphics w/o explicit permission. reblogs are appreciated.

old Nikolai doodle (from yesterday)

CW: SUGGESTIVE

Kidnapper!nikolai and Stalker!nikolai from @cherikolya / @doukeshi-kun 's Nikolai fics 💕💕

(really really love your work!)

Day 23 of squab September is the dusky turtle dove ft. Nikolai from bungo…. Bsd is one of my friends fav shows so this is for her <3

He/they

20 y/o

rpgs and analogue terror fan

'Cause my love is mine, all mine...★

here we love Nikolai ( ≧ᗜ≦)♡

@/cafekitsune divider

@/nikosaki header

⋆₊ ♱ perv!ghost!nikolai

spooktober 2024 masterlist | divider creds adornedwithlight

ཐི ♱₊ཋྀ pairing: ghost!nikolai x fem!reader

ཐི ♱₊ཋྀ genre: smut headcanons; 18+ only!!

ཐི ♱₊ཋ content warnings: shameless smut/nsfw, mentions of size kink, alcohol + drug use, lowk dubcon, slight angst at end, nikolai’s pov（＾ω＾）

ཐི ♱₊ཋ notes: experimenting with something new lmk if u guys like it or not 😔 kicking off spooktober as an apology for delays; babusya = ukrainian grandma

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who haunts an old apartment near a local circus; who still retains his maniacal trouble maker personality as a ghost

he settled on the apartment after an old babusya let him in and allowed him to stay there, offering his favorite piroshki in exchange for protection from other spirits. he messes with her, but doesn’t do anything too harmful—just some silly pranks

who gets bored after babusya passes away and new tenants move in

he’s really done everything he can to scare the shit out of all the tenants, but they keep coming and leaving—some even having the audacity to try exorcising him (it didn’t work)

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who has an insatiable urge to kill until he sees you, a sweet heartbroken girl, come to the apartment your ex was supposed to live with you in

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who decides to have some fun with you—he hasn’t seen anyone close to his age yet, and no one as pretty and cute as you

he starts small—moving things around, making noise + randomly braiding your hair at night, stealing things from your bags, switching lights on and off, etc.

he gets pissed when you take no notice, only drinking and crying over your stupid, ugly ex—seriously, nikolai saw the pictures of them and thought you could do way better

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who can’t look away from you while you undress before showering, admiring your perfect ass and tits and the soft curves of your body

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who switches your medications/supplements with aphrodisiac pills and waits until you take them while drunk, telling himself he just wants to see a reaction from you, but he has ulterior motives

he watches intensely as you suddenly feel hot and slip your fingers in your bra and panties, touching yourself in a lust-consumed frenzy

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who can’t stop himself from watching you whimper helplessly since the sensations aren’t enough—of course he has to help his little dove out by materializing both hands

he uses one to rub circles around your pretty clit and puts the other one in your mouth, training your throat for his big cock

you're too lost in the drug-fueled lust to pay any mind to the fact his hands appeared out of nowhere—you probably think it's just a sex dream

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who loves how you choke on his fingers, tears of pleasure streaming down your heated face as he inserts his long fingers in your wet pussy, watching your eyes roll back in pleasure as he hits the spots inside that you can’t reach without toys

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who savors the taste of your sweet release on his fingertips before replacing the fingers in your mouth with his cock, pushing it in with little warning

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who gets so fucking turned on by the way you adjust to his size and take him so well, using your hands to pump the length you can’t fit in your mouth

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who rewards his good little girl with his cum, shooting it down into your throat as you swallow every last drop and lick him clean, still aroused

deciding to help you out, he materializes fully and lines his tip up with your entrance, panting because he’s so close to being inside you, his latest obsession

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who pushes himself in your warm cunt, inch by inch, admiring your fucked-out glossy eyes and the arousal stuck on your thighs

he smirks when you suddenly get shy and cover your face, flustered by how attractive he is and how much pressure he’s causing in your insides

who whispers sweet nothings as you whimper from the uncomfortable stretch and assures you that you can take it all, licking the pricking tears from your eyes

he moves your hands away from your face and drags them across his abs and long white braid, occasionally peppering your body with kisses, and braiding stray strands of hair to calm you down while you adjust to his size—he can tell how full you are from the big bulge in your stomach

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who starts moving once you give him a cute nod, moving deep and slow at first until you're more used to his size

he litters kisses around your chest, kitten licking your swollen nipples which he knows are sensitive

he loves the way you slightly buck your hips up to meet his thrusts, occasionally pressing against your stomach and groaning when he can feel himself inside of you

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 breathes heavily against your smooth skin, his large hands around your waist to keep your squirming frame in place

who burrows himself into your neck as his strokes get slower, who tells you to say his name as you chase your own orgasm

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who cums when a soft i love you, nikolai rolls off your tongue, as you mess up his once neat white braid

he collapses gently on top of you--he doesn't remember the last time someone's addressed him so adoringly

he listens intently to your heartbeat, reminding him that you’re alive and he’s dead; his cold figure hugging your warm body

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who strokes your hair and rambles about nothing until you fall asleep, telling himself he's just using you for entertainment, despite the tightness in his chest

𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯!𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭!𝐧𝐢𝐤𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐢 who disappears in the morning but still watches you intently, waiting for another lonely night where he can touch you

I don’t think he’s handling it well guys…

Nikolai Comic :))

commission for @/nikkigogol on twt

6:09 a.m.

synopsis: after nikolai insists, you and him both spend a very long and passionate night together...

content: fem!reader, dom!nikolai, nsfw, aftercare, a bit of fluff, mdni

One more round.

One more round is what Nikolai had promised a few hours ago. Yet here he was, thrusting deep into you relentlessly like there was no tomorrow. However, you didn't mind, for you allowed him to do so with a weak voice after he begged you for another every time. He was just that good at getting everything he wanted. Missionary was what he decided for this supposed last round, wanting to end it off with a romantic position, as he put it. You and Nikolai had been at it for hours now, trying different positions, taking time to explore each other's bodies, basking in the glow of all the overwhelming pleasure. It was exhausting, sticky, and sweaty— all of the above times two. Nikolai's endurance was no joke, though, after many hours, his signs of tiredness were finally starting to show through.

This didn't happen often, where you would stay up all night loving each other like this, a rare occurrence, actually. But Nikolai's dramatic tirade last night of claiming he would die without a goodnight kiss was what started this in the first place, and things escalated rather quickly from there, fueling his hunger to indulge in you.

"Fuck, harder!" A loud moan elicited from Nikolai as you pulled on his hair, his deep tone sending a shiver up your spine. It was one of his favorite things you did during sex, and he even encouraged you to be rougher and harsher with him. It's not like you could hurt him easily, at least not physically, anyway.

You felt bad for your neighbors who had to hear the lewd noises coming out of Nikolai's mouth at the ungodly hours of three to four a.m., most likely disrupting their sleep. You wouldn't be surprised if you got a noise complaint sooner or later today, even though you tried your best to tame him. You smacked him, clawed at his back, and harshly pulled at his hair too many times to count in an attempt to get him to be quiet, but that was an obvious mistake on your part because your actions only made it worse, eliciting louder moans and harder thrusts from him like he was a dog in heat. It shouldn't surprise you that Nikolai is a fucking freak, that he already alluded to a long time ago.

“Kolya, I'm.. I'm almost—”

Nikolai's face was buried into the crook of your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your skin that was invading his senses, his hot tongue making its way through slightly parted lips to drag along raw bite marks and hickeys that littered your skin, all while his throbbing cock drove deeper into you. His big hands were on either side of you, gripping the sheets with glistening fingers still coated in slick.

"Yeah, baby? Just a little bit more, 'kay? I'm close too.." he cooed.

The backs of your hands were on your face covering your eyes, unwilling to meet his gaze while you looked like a vulnerable mess, shuddering from the blissful yet almost unbearable pleasure he graced you with. Nikolai noticed this and pulled your hands away from your face, making you look right at him as he intertwined his fingers with yours. Your glassy eyes and red face were so so cute to him. He loved how you looked in this moment, even if you felt embarrassed and didn't want him to look at you. He was the one doing this to you, making you feel so much pleasure that you were unable to string a sentence together. His face didn't match his brutal pace at all, every roll of his hips sending you into complete ecstasy.

One more thrust and you felt like you would unravel.

“A-Ah— Mmh!” He covers your mouth to muffle your noises.

"You're being so loud you know, wouldn't want to get you in trouble, now. Would we?" He removed his hand, returning to hold yours while eyeing the small pout on your lips that formed from his words.

"You're the loud o—Mfh!"

Nikolai latched his lips onto yours as he pounded into you, those last few pumps sending both of you over the edge and making you finally release for the nth time.

"F-Fuck yeah.." Nikolai moaned into your mouth as he rode out his high, his voice making you even more dizzy than you already were.

Once he opened his eyes again after ravishing in his high, his fingers swept some hair that was sticking to your forehead aside. Despite being absolutely drunk in pleasure, he was still being so sweet to you, checking up on you every hour or so to make sure you were holding up from the tiring activity. It was obvious he had taken a toll on you, taking the hints of your fucked out state and panting as signs of clear exhaustion. He chuckled a bit and slowly pulled out of you, groaning in the process as you were still clenching around him.

You fell back on the mattress dramatically as soon as he was out, closing your eyes.

"I think I wore you out completely." he laughed.

"What time is it?" You ask as you rub your eyes, your vision still blurry from tears.

Nikolai reached for his phone on the nightstand, checking the time. He held out his phone to you, pointing at the screen while wiggling his eyebrows. "My my, we spent so long together."

"Just read it, I can't see clearly right now."

"It's 6:09, very fitting time don't you think?" He smirked, giggling at his own joke.

You lightly hit his chest and turn your head to the window, noticing how the sun started to rise. Light seeped through the curtains, the sun finding its grasp on your skin, the subtle rays making themselves visible on the creases in the sheets.

He rubbed the spot where you hit him and laughed. "Feeling feisty, are we? I like this side of you."

"I can tell by the way you wouldn't shut the hell up."

"Aww, are you cranky? Want me to fix it?" His hand trailed up your thigh again before you slapped it away.

"Kolya, I'm tired.." You whined, feeling too disoriented and tired for his antics.

He only smiled before grabbing your face to plant a huge smooch on your lips, followed by multiple forehead kisses.

"I know honey, I'll take care of you. I'll go get you some water, okay?" He got off the bed and left the room, and you shamelessly stared at his bare state while he did so. He returned a few minutes later with a cool glass of water for you. Bringing the glass to your lips, he helped you sit up and drink, making sure you down the water carefully.

"Need anything else?" He asked, sweeping some hair that kept falling over your face behind your ear and planting a sweet kiss on your cheek. You shook your head, placing the glass on the nightstand before your eyes trailed, watching him put his boxers on.

Nikolai leaned back to stretch before reclining onto the mattress, his toned arms relaxing above his head, revealing the marks you left and the sheen of moisture glistening like diamonds on his body. Scratches covered his whole back and arms, and a wave of heat washed over you, realizing that you were the one who did that to him. He looked so pretty lying in bed like that, his eyelids fluttering closed. Not to mention, he had the cutest bedhead and a raspy voice from being so vocal.

"I'm exhausted.. let's stay in bed and sleep for the rest of the day." He said as you moved lower to press your lips on his arms to soothe any discomfort you may have caused him to endure, causing a smirk to fall upon his lips. You took all the more severe repercussions, but you're still taking the time to kiss him better. He moved his arm around to rest on your thigh instead, kneading the flesh to ease the soreness in your muscles.

After a few minutes of massaging you, Nikolai shuffled closer to wrap his strong arms around your waist, resting his head on your chest. The gentle heave of his chest relaxed you after what had just ensued— it never failed to, always bringing you back to your senses. You ruffle his fluffy hair, running your fingers through his soft locks and caressing the nape of his neck, resting your hand there for a bit to feel the warmth of his skin and his sweat.

"Do you want to shower?" You ask him in a softer voice.

"In a bit, I just want to stay like this right now." He hummed contently, looking up at you with a playful grin painted on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing. You're pretty." He says before laying his head back down, his fingers tracing patterns on your heated skin.

"Go to sleep, you're tired too."

"Can't, dove. I feel so awake now after seeing you so I wanna stare at you instead."

Nikolai doing some circus tricks!!

So, I've been taking circus classes for about seven years now. The aerial apparatus shown is called a lyra, basically a big hoop attached at the top with one or two spansets (I prefer two). The reference images are taken from a performance I did a couple months ago to the song Bernadette by IAMX, and I wanted to draw nikolai doing some of my favorite tricks from it.

Please don't use the reference pics without my permission. Also, lmk if I should do more of these :>

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 5: ᴅᴇꜱɪᴅᴇʀᴀᴛᴜᴍ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ cw: past abuse, violence, psychological drama, angst, light fluff, mature content, very suggestive | words: 6.5k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

Unknown place, many years ago.

The bus was late.

You sat alone on the bench at the bus stop, eyes watching the people in the park just across the street—a group of friends which you recognised to be from your school as well. They were having their time together, joking around, being loud, uncaring of how the others perceived them—in this case, no one really was looking at them other than you.

How lucky.

You had forgotten what it felt like to have such a tight group bonded together. Sure, you knew a lot of people—but they were never reaching beyond your line, always staying where they would be considered as colleagues or schoolmates.

You wondered how fun it would be to experience such things. Do they have a group chat only with them? Do they go out every weekend to catch up with each other? Do they know each other's parents? How many secrets do they know about each other?

How do they even make friends?

You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to remember that you possessed no smartphone of your own. Your father did not allow it—as he did not want to pay for your internet services. Besides, there were more traditional ways that can you do to achieve so many great things—or at least that's what he told you to kill your small ounce of hope.

The bus arrived.

You got into it and tapped the metro card you hardly tried to get. But you still needed to top up the amount of the card and that just meant you had to work more hours tomorrow in the local convenience store.

You took a seat and once again, you observed your surroundings. You saw a pair of father and daughter sitting in the row next to you, just a few seats ahead. The daughter was chattering—something about a new bookshop she wanted to visit, and the father was nodding and listening intently, with a soft smile on his face.

Annoyance somehow was boiling in you.

You did not realise you had been clenching your skirt as you watched their interactions. And when you turned away, your eyes were fixed on the small television on the bus. It was broadcasting a mourning event for government officials in Yokohama, Japan who were mass-murdered brutally by a terrorist a few years ago. It seemed that the government officials were cut in half with some kind of circular saw.

Scary world we live in… But it must be nice to have people mourn for you.

The ride on the bus took about fifteen minutes and you walked for another five minutes to finally get to your house. You opened the door, entering the house after you took off your shoes.

“I'm back.”

You saw the sight of your father getting ready in the living room. He was wearing his watch, looking somewhat fancy.

“Are you going out?” You asked but he said nothing other than reaching for his keys and wallet. He was going out indeed. He looked like he was going to have a formal meeting with someone and perhaps it was far away because you saw him taking a backpack from the couch.

Why do you always leave me alone?

“Where are you going? Can I come?” Again, no answer. He only glared at you and you already flinched, shutting your mouth before something else got thrown in your direction. You silently made your way to your room, but you paused when you passed by the calendar.

You turned to your father who was wearing his boots. Gulping nervously, you opened your mouth, asking, “Today's mom's birthday,” He was already sighing and standing up. “Could we—”

Your words were halted when your father stomped towards you, grabbing you by your hair. He yanked your head, shouting things you could barely process due to the shock.

“SHUT UP! Can't you just shut the fuck up! Stop asking so fucking much, stupid bitch!”

You shriek, trying to get away from his hold. He shook your head by your hair roughly before shoving you back, causing your head to bump against the wall hard. You winced, holding your spinning head.

“I was just asking about mom! She was your wife! Don't you care?”

“I fucking don't! It's been fucking years and you're still being a fucking child!” He shouted before he angrily turned away to leave the house. “I'm not gonna be back for a few days. You make sure this house is clean or I'll fucking sell you, bitch. If only that's possible because nobody wants your worthless ass!”

The door slammed closed. Your lips quivered.

Tears did not come out. There were no more of them left.

You slowly nodded to your gone father—he would not see it but you just felt the need to respond to his command. You quietly got to your room.

It was great to be alone—you now were left with a bit of freedom. Solitude, after all, is your closest friend.

Today was your mother's birthday. Perhaps you could make a run to the convenience store you currently work at—usually they have those staff discounts—to buy some sweet foods.

Your mother loved sweet foods. Or so you thought. Your memories of her had become clouded and you did not know which one was real or unreal, for your brain might as well have created fake memories to fill in your desire to experience such joy again.

You did not even remember how and why she died.

But it did not stop you from celebrating her birthday and mourning for her. Wouldn't it be lonely to have no one mourning for you? You could not just imagine how scary it is to be so lonely after death—and to have no one to mourn you, it would be a crueller punishment.

You truly pray you will not be lonely—but it seems inevitable at this point in time.

You got to your room, ignoring the lingering pain on your scalp due to your father's pull on your hair. You put your school bag on the floor and open your closet to get your savings box. But your face ashened when you noticed the clothes were all messy and unorganised. You dug your arms into the closet, reaching for the savings box.

Light.

You opened it—empty.

— ♡

“Yeah, I'll wait at the usual place. Okay, 4AM. As usual, yeah.” Nikolai says with a low voice, a phone is held close to his ear. He occasionally takes a peek at the living room, making sure you are not doing anything stupid.

“Is there any update about this girl, Vik? It's been like a week now.” He asks and he hears Viktor sighing from the other side.

“Not at all, bro. I've sent messages to the loan sharks and they only say that they're still working on their part. My best guess is that they are actively trying to figure out where her dad is before using her as a hostage. ” Viktor replies with a grunt. “Have you asked her about her daddy again? Maybe she tells ya? ”

Nikolai purses his lips. It has been a week after he abducted you and the only time he had asked about your father's whereabouts was in the first few hours you woke up from your soundful sleep. He actually has not asked you more about it, not even when the chance presented itself. Matter of fact, he does not even remember thinking about asking you whenever the chance presents itself.

Has he gotten soft over you? No… No, that's impossible. Nikolai would not let himself be vulnerable again. He would not let a small fracture for anyone to see through him. He has learnt that the hardest way already. And he will not repeat it again.

But it feels like your fingers are digging in that fracture, prying, clawing, creaking open his heart—those innocent gazes are the devil, he thinks.

“Kolyushka?”

“Huh? O-Oh. Right, yeah… about that… Uh, she doesn't tell me…” Nikolai quickly says. Viktor hums suspiciously and Nikolai already dislikes the tone in his voice. He tries to compose himself. A single thought about you has his mind wobble and the grip he has on his ideal is starting to loosen.

“She doesn't tell you… or you didn't ask her? ”

“She doesn't tell me.” Too quick to lie.

“Right… Uh-huh. Something tells me that you two—”

“Wait.” Nikolai is about to respond to him but his word is stuck in his throat when he catches an array of smacking noises coming from the living room. “I'll talk to you later.” He says shortly to Viktor before ending the call abruptly. Nikolai rushes to the living room, stomping.

“What are you doing?”

He sees that you are smacking the broken television multiple times as you rapidly press the buttons on the remote control. Nikolai gets to you, purposely groaning loudly in annoyance. He wraps his hands around your body, pulling you back. His nose takes a short whiff of your scent—it is already getting similar to him due to you using his soap and shampoo.

If you are his lover, he would tackle you right there and then.

“Fuck.” He takes a short breath. Now really is not the time to think with his dick. “Get up. You crawl from that fucking couch just to smack this TV?” He says as he yanks you and practically drags you back to the couch. You whine at the force of his rough hold and the straining rope around your ankles.

Turning your head to him, you pout. Your hands are on his strong arms and your newly polished baby-blue nails are grazing lightly against his skin. Nikolai swallows nervously before he shuts away his thoughts and tosses you onto the couch.

It has always been like that for the past several days. You can sleep and wake up whenever you like, eat whatever Nikolai gives to you for lunch, clean yourself while he guards the door and for the rest of the day up until past dinner, you are just sitting in the living room with your ankles bound to the couch leg, accompanied with little entertainment Nikolai provided for you. Old books, old magazines and outdated newspapers. And oftentimes, you are just chattering with him and him only.

“I am bored! I have read most of these… old reading materials you gave me.” You complain, trying to raise your body for whatever agenda you have in mind. Nikolai frowns, lightly tapping your cheek as he pushes you to sit on the couch. He holds your shoulder, pinning you to lean back as he towers over you.

“Know your place, little doll. There's nothing here to satisfy all your demands.”

Your shoulders drop in disappointment, but your eyes are lingering on him for too long—and Nikolai notices that. He has been noticing the way you look at him and he hates it. He hates the way you observe and stare at him, especially the way you say his name.

No, he is not denying anything. He wants to convince himself that this is a trick. It must be. It must be, it must! His heart will not betray him anymore, will it?

“… Sit there.” He commands and you nod slowly. Nikolai purses his lips and sits on the floor instead. He takes out his phone and texts someone mysterious as you only watch him quietly.

“You are always on your phone… What are you up to?” You ask and he only glances at you. He knows that ignoring you would just spike up your curiosity. Every question you bring up will end up with a full-on conversation. Even if he looks away, a sweet call of his name is enough to make his irises slide towards you.

He does not really have anyone else to talk to other than Viktor. Even so, he does not trust Viktor one hundred percent. He does not trust others as well. Nikolai is an avid liar—a trait he still keeps as long as he remembers. He lies so much that he distrusts so much.

“I have a job, darling. How do you think I can still afford shit in this economy?” He replies. You open your mouth to say something but Nikolai raises his hand, stopping you. “I know what you want to ask. What exactly is my job, right? I do dirty work. Including… this.” He grabs your ankle, nudging it up before he drops it.

“Is it rewarding?”

“Depends.”

“What's the most expensive one you have ever gotten paid for?”

“Eating humans.”

You gasp and shake your head. “That's… not funny…”

Nikolai scoffs—a smirk curves on his lips as his thumb slides around his phone screen again. “You don't wanna know, dolly. If all of my crimes were actually presented during my trial, I would get a death sentence. But, luck was on my side. Sort of. The laws have been so weird.”

You are not saying anything back and Nikolai's eyes trail up to you. And he takes a moment to appreciate your appearance—you are wearing your baby blue dress again today after days of wearing his clothes to compensate for your lack of clothing. When you sit, the hem of the skirt is just short enough to reveal more of your thighs.

Cute.

No. No no no, I did not think that. Not again. Not again.

“I find it weird.” You suddenly say.

“What weird, darling?” He asks back and he swears he could hear your little flustered noise which you submerge desperately with a small cough. He holds himself back from smiling but quickly straightens his expression—God, how he dislikes how easily his lips curve.

“Uhm… Well, you have been doing dirty jobs for a while after you got out of prison… But you aren't caught again. And… when you said 'If all of my crimes were actually presented', does that mean you were convicted because of a few crimes?” You ask, leaning towards him. Closer, closer, closer that you might as well rest your head against his arm. Nikolai squints his eyes—aren't you supposed to be afraid of him? You are getting too comfortable to be so close to him right now.

“Obviously.”

“But, see, see! That doesn't make sense, no?” You are getting a little too enthusiastic about this topic, clasping your hands together. “You are roaming freely in this country, because you leave no trail of your crimes, right? I'm sure you are! I mean, you are very skilled.” You say with a strange admiration. “Surely, you are very careful to not leave shreds of evidence of your crimes so the police won't get you. But how did the police manage to arrest and convict you for a few of your crimes? It's hard to believe that you would be careless like that.”

Nikolai's throat is getting drier—his heart is tugging downwards as his mind is expecting a lot of bad things that you are about to say.

“Were you really careless?” You mutter, as if it is a question to yourself instead of him. “Or was it because of someone else? Did you work alone before prison? Or did you have a friend—”

Friend.

“SHUT UP!”

You physically flinch and your smile drops instantly, only to be thundered with a strike of fear in a matter of seconds. Your hands automatically raise to shield yourself—as if a manifestation of anger is about to hit you.

But Nikolai is pale.

His tongue is numb and his eyes are shaking—not because of anger, but the pang of a certain realisation that he was attuned too well is returning to eat his heart alive. The fangs of that old instinct are tearing it. It grows and grows, and once, it has managed to devour him whole.

I thought I had abandoned it.

Guilt.

“I'm sorry.”

Sorry? For what? Why? This isn't supposed to happen. This is NOT how I want to be. She is scared of me now, isn't that a good thing? That is what she is supposed to do. She is supposed to be scared of me, fear me, dread me. There is no need for an apology or a mea culpa.

“No, I'm not sorry— Wait, no. No, I am. I am. I… I don't… I mean, I'm…”

He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “Fuck me.”

In less than ten seconds, Nikolai grabs his keys on the coffee table and his coat that is hanging on a row of hooks by the door. He leaves the house, without even sparing a look at you, without even another word to you. He knows he is not a good actor by now—and you can definitely read his face if he turns to you. He shuts the door, hoping he can shut away his guilt and you altogether.

His heart will get devoured more if he sees your face.

— ♡

“Kolya, are you not going home?”

Nikolai looks up from the folds of his arms, turning to Olga who serves him a cup of water. He has been in the diner since evening and now it has reached past 11PM, the time when the diner is officially closed. But Olga has not kicked him out yet.

“Uh… I am.” He says as he takes the water and drinks it. Olga shakes her head, resting her hands on her waist.

“Did you argue with your girlfriend?” Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance and gives back the cup to Olga.

“No, she's not… my girlfriend. Stop saying that.” He sighs. Olga tilts her head, and one eyebrow perks up.

“Do you swing that way?”

“I swing in multiple ways.”

“I see. Well, maybe you could swing out of my restaurant as well because I want to go home now.” She taps the table in dissatisfaction. “You have been sitting at the table in the corner, sleeping and asking for more vodka after your fourth cup. I hope you are not too drunk to drive.” She says.

“Nope, I got this. I got this.” He says as he stands up, stretching himself with a groan. Olga scrunches her face and just flat out her palm, asking for his payment. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he takes out several crumpled notes he does not bother to count and places them on Olga's palm. “Geez, give me some slacks already.”

“I'm poor too, Kolya. I can't treat you all the time.” She says before she gestures her head towards the door. “Now, go home and reconcile with her.”

“I am not arguing with her.” Nikolai pouts but he leaves the diner regardless. The night is darker, approaching midnight. The snow is falling slowly, forming some icy clouds on his head. They are not heavy but it is still cold. Nikolai gets to his car quickly and checks his phone one last time before driving home.

Every step he takes to get to his unit is heavy. As he gets closer to the door, the desire to turn around and sleep in the car instead is getting stronger as well. Nikolai does not like how his chest feels right now—so tight, so caging. He is well aware of his own head and for the umpteenth time, he wishes he would never be gifted with this kind of mind.

“It's okay. Just ignore. Just ignore her.” He whispers to himself as he opens the door and enters his house. The whole interior is dark. The lights are not turned on at all.

He does not see you though.

Nikolai takes off his boots and he treads slowly further into the living room. Then he finally sees you, lying on the same couch, sleeping. He moves around the couch, noticing that your legs are still tied. He unsettles.

He realises he left you bound to the couch like this, for a lot of hours, in the dark alone.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucked.

“Hey, doll…” He kneels beside you by the couch and calls for you softly. His shivering hand traces your chilly arm and he can definitely feel the subtle trembling from you. He shakes your body slowly, attempting to wake you up.

“Mmh…” You mewl but you are not opening your eyes. He decides that it is not the best time to bother you anymore so Nikolai quickly unties your ankles and carefully places both of his hands under your knees and back. He swoops you up and walks into the bedroom. He puts you on the bed and covers you with his slightly torn blanket.

His hand rests on your waist as he stares deeply into your face. His fingers are itching to hold you—and they are clenching on your waist as his hand trails to your hip before it moves up slowly. Very slowly, as if he is trying to feel the way your side curves. His hand then rests on your head. Something is pulling the strings of his fingers, urging him to caress your head. But he pulls away quickly.

He leaves the room, back to his new sleeping place.

— ♡

Beep! Beep! Beep!

Nikolai's eyes jerk open when his ears catch the sound of his alarm going off. He groans at the pain in his back after laying on the uncomfortable hard couch for hours. He squirms—and even his movement is too limited. The couch is small and he is such a tall man—his legs are propped up on the armrest of the couch.

“Good morning.”

Nikolai turns his head to the side, jumping slightly when he sees you are kneeling by the couch, facing him. You are wearing one of his bomber jackets over your baby blue dress and he does not even want to question that anymore.

“M'rning.”

You give him a small smile and Nikolai wonders if you want to talk about his outburst yesterday. Or do you want to pretend that nothing happened? Because if that is the case, Nikolai would gladly take the chance. He does not want to talk about it at this moment.

He gets up, groaning while he is at it. His shirt is crumpled and he feels very uncomfortable. He leans to take his phone and looks at the time—8:06AM.

“You woke up early,” Nikolai says to you as you move to sit on the couch beside him.

“I was very hungry. So I helped myself.”

Guilt. Again.

“Right… Right, glad that you're… uhm… independent.” He says, rubbing his face and hiding it behind his palm. He sighs internally but not for long when he feels a tug on his arm. He turns to you.

“I made you breakfast too. As… As for my apology for being too invasive yesterday… I'm really sorry.”

Well, shit. Now I have to talk about it, huh?

Nikolai does not plan to apologise back to you. His outburst is justified. And he does not owe you anything—even a shimmer of kindness. Yes, yes, no need to be sorry about it—he is supposed to be mean and you are supposed to dread him. He is your captor and you are his temporary property to be traded to greater greatness. There is no need for sympathy.

“I'm sorry too.”

“Hm?”

He wishes he was dead.

Oh, dear me, why haven't you killed yourself when you had the chance in prison?

He wants to protest—he desires to tell you that he does not mean any of his words. This chord of apology does not come from him. He wants to make it clear to you about that, and yet, he knows he is convincing himself to another fruitlessness.

Nikolai does feel sorry.

Why do you lie to yourself? Again? —His head mocks. Mockery. Jittery. Pathetically judging his own heart he somehow is holding a sense of humanity he wishes to cast away.

“Apology accepted,” You say with a nice smile—the smile that comes from a naive heart that blinds themselves from perceiving gloom. Or perhaps you did see his gloom, which is why you accepted his awkward apology. “Now we are even, right?” You add as your hand carefully touches his.

“Yeah… I suppose so.” Nikolai swallows nervously. His chest tightens as if his heart is trying to make a flip out of his system. He pulls away his hand from you swiftly before he looks at you, scanning your figure from head to toe. And he now realises that you have been moving freely in the house when you are supposed to be in bed.

“How are you walking around? Did you—?” He bends and grips your ankle. No sign of a broken rope or anything.

“Uh… You didn't tie me last night…”

“I didn't?”

“Mm-hmm…” You nod adorably before you sheepishly say, “And… I wanna say thank you for carrying me to the bed—”

“Keep that away, I'm not gonna hear it.” Nikolai stops you immediately. If you sweetly appreciate him verbally again, he will have a harder time following his logic. “I'm gonna… take a bath before breakfast…” He says as he gets up. Your eyes follow him—like a curious cat and he only curses to himself when he finds himself staring into your irises longer than they should.

“I'll wait for you.” You say, smiling at him. You keep throwing sugars at him—Nikolai despises it.

He says nothing and leaves you alone on the couch.

— ♡

“Is it good?”

“Decent. Can't beat Olga though.”

“Well, we don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

“We? You're in my house, doll. Know your place.”

“Mm-hm. You don't have the same type of bread as hers.”

Nikolai snickers as he sips his water. He reaches for his phone at his side and scrolls the screen again. You observe him carefully, curiosity perks up when you notice he gets more serious when he spends his time on his phone.

“Why are you always on your phone?” You ask.

“I do all my work on this phone. I invested a lot in this device and gladly it worked better for me than having a complete computer set. This house will crumble if I ever get a computer. The tenant is stingy with electricity.” Nikolai replies before he puts away his phone to eat peacefully. You tilt your head—this behaviour of being tightwad to one's self reminds you of someone.

“You said my father is a cheapskate but you're kinda like one…”

Nikolai clicks his tongue at your comment. “At least I spent my money on your ass without you having to work your ass off.” He grunts and you chuckle. Upon hearing your chuckle, Nikolai could not help but smile as well—what a symphony, he thinks. However, he does attempt to hide his smile by stuffing more bread into his mouth.

“That means you're better than my father, then.” Your grin but a shadow of disappointment is casting over your face. Your grin falters as you stare at the table. “Well, that is… ironic, isn't it? My father does not even want to lend his jacket to me when it's cold… What's his is his, and what's mine is his.”

You look at him but Nikolai is just fixated on the plate, as if he does not even want to look back at you. But your piercing gaze on him does not go unnoticed. In fact, you staying silent when staring at him makes him feel more uneasy.

“Honestly, I don't know what I did for my father to treat me like that. I thought he blamed me for my mom's death but he doesn't care about her birthday either. So I don't get why he did things to me…” You say, slowly. Even though Nikolai is not looking, you have the strongest feeling that he is listening intently to you.

“You know, yesterday… Yesterday, when you told me to shut up, I truly thought you were about to hit me and pull my hair and slam me to the wall… Like he often did. Those thoughts were instant. I had a hard time trying to get rid of it even after you left. And… And then I was stuck in the dark for hours because my ankles were tied to the couch. I couldn't move to reach the switches.” You take a deep breath. “It was so scary. I hated it. But the dark isn't the worst thing. It's the solitude. I hated being alone the most and somehow… Somehow I feel like I am always with the thing I hate the most.”

Your hand is mindlessly stirring your hot tea in a plastic cup. You press your lips together before continuing with a solemn smile, “My life is pretty boring. I am a bit envious that you have an interesting background for yourself. You have a tale to tell. And I… Well, I don't even have a story to tell about myself… It always somehow circles back to my father. I don't even think my life is about me at this point.”

Your lips quiver as you find your chest beginning to tremble—a sob is about to burst out of your throat. You quickly sip your tea, swallowing and burying your sobs away although your eyes are already brimming with tears—it is only a matter of time before the droplets stain your cheeks.

“Sorry— I'm just… getting emotional.”

“If you aren't interesting enough, you won't get kidnapped. This whole thing is gonna be your own tale.”

You sniffle and look up at Nikolai. He is gazing back at you with an unreadable expression. You try to form a smile, although you are thinking hard about what he meant by that. He looks troubled and his eyes rapidly avoid yours. But his mouth seems to have a mind on its own.

“Like… Not everyone can tell a story about how they got kidnapped and lived with their kidnapper for days. And, and, and you know, have you thought about how many people can say 'I share clothes with my kidnapper' or 'I eat dinner with my captor every night' like, like that's fuckin' ridiculous, right? Fuck, what the hell am I saying…” He grumbles lowly, palming his face. But his ramble does bring a faint smile to your face.

“Y-Yeah… Maybe you're right.” You say defeatedly but the fact that Nikolai does listen to your chatter solaces your heart—reciprocating a longing in you.

“Right… Yea, so… uh… don't cry… Yeah, don't cry. You sound like a squeaky duck.” He says as his lips form a thin line. “Or whatever. I don't care.” Nikolai is anxious, you can see. He awkwardly gathers his dish and cup before going to the sink.

You only watch him washing the dishes and the pan you used—you left them there, planning to wash them later yourself. But Nikolai does it instead without any complaints. You expect he would give you an earful about your mess.

You notice how he does not raise his voice at you at all today. Does he feel guilty about yesterday still? You do want to ask about his confusion and short rambles when he 'accidentally' says sorry to you right after he shouted at you.

Come to think of it, you have been observing him for a while now. You take notes of his subtle quirks and you do notice a certain similarity in some of his expressions with his confused apology yesterday.

Conflict.

Nikolai sometimes looks conflicted about things.

Annoyance is quite easy to detect—it is evident in his tone. But when he is conflicted, his eyes bear no anger or irritation. Rather, he looks lost. Too lost. As if he is thinking a lot of things at once. As if he has many voices in his head talking to him at once. As if a lot of invisible hands are trying to reach him at once.

“I know I tell a lot of things about myself…” You speak and he turns his head to you. “I just find it easy to talk to you. I like talking to you and I like hearing you talk as well… I would like to know more about you.” You smile cutely.

“Might as well, might as well. Maybe then you'll fear me properly like a captive would.” Nikolai snorts before he continues cleaning the dishes as fast as he can. He finishes the task after three minutes and he goes to dry his hands with a napkin.

The heaviness that loomed earlier is lifted—the air is no longer tense. You open your mouth to converse more about your curiosity about your kidnapper, only for him to suddenly pull your arm, forcing you to stand up. As soon as you stand, he wraps his arm around your torso, holding you close and tight. Nikolai says nothing other than dragging you out of the kitchen and to the bedroom.

“Hm?”

“I'm going out. Got a job to do. You're gonna stay here, tied. I'm not taking risk.”

His sudden roughness triggers your fight-or-flight. You harden your footing and Nikolai looks at you, shocked actually. He stops and you nervously ask, “W-Wait, Nikolai… C-Can I come with you? I-I don't wanna be alo—”

“No, you can't and you will stay here with food and warmth. I'm not tolerating your demands. This is an important job.” He cuts you off, yanking your body. You yelp at his force and you whine, struggling against him—whining, whimpering. But he is not even affected by your thrashing as he drags you to the bed. He pushes you to sit.

Nikolai sighs as he stands right in front of you, looking down at your pleading gaze. Your pouty lips are muttering his name as your hand is tugging on his shirt. He inhales deeply and has to look away—as your hand is just too close to his belt.

Mind is going wild. Your pleading eyes and the way you beg for his sympathy are tickling a side he has put away when he thought his lust was nothing but a hindrance. Lust is so unimportant, he thought, but now he has an intense desire to satisfy it.

“Hey, Kolya! Don't just leave me!” You whine, tugging on his shirt again and again, causing his body to sway forward and closer to you. Nikolai feels his heart beating faster when he leers at you. He can feel his face getting immersed with crimson when his eyes—like a magnet—trail down to gaze on your chest and then thighs. You are not even wearing your white stockings along with your dress today and the lower part of the dress is already short enough. Even if he closes his eyes, he already sees the lines of the dress. Even if he closes his eyes, he can already imagine you. And his hand is still blazing with the memory of when you placed it on your thigh at the laundrette a few days ago.

Days—and he still wants to touch it, feel it in his hands.

Touch it, hold it, kiss it.

“Nikolai..! Don't just ignore me!” You speak again, seizing him out of his mind, but not too far out since he is partially thinking with his dick now. Nikolai sighs and stares into your eyes, trying his best to not pervertedly look at your body any further.

“No, doll. I won't let you out in the public's eyes.”

“But you know that I don't like being alone…”

“And you don't know what I'm dealing with internally, doll.” He mumbles, holding both of your wrists with each of his hands.

“Then tell me. Aren't we—” You gulp, searching for his eyes. You bring your hands closer to your chest, unintentionally making Nikolai's hands closer as well. He bites his lips and mutters your name slowly in frustration.

“Aren't we friends already?”

“Stop. Please, just stop.” Nikolai groans and jerks his hands away from you. He sighs loudly, repeatedly saying 'Fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath. He groans once again with his hands resting on his neck. He is clearly very agitated and unfortunately, he could not hurtle out that agitation other than letting it boil in his head—you can see that.

And he is also conflicted.

He takes a long inhale and throws his hands into the air. “Fine. Fine, you know what. Sure, you can come. I'll bring you with me.” He says and you gasp delightedly. Nikolai turns to his closet, rummaging to find something in it. He also takes the chance to wear a black coat over himself.

“R-Really? I'm coming as well? Then… Then I should get ready too, right?”

“Wait a second. I need to give you something. This job is dangerous and you really need this.” He says, though, his tone does not sound right. It is mischievous somehow, mixed with a good pour of sarcasm and deceit. But perhaps it is just your imagination—you do tend to overthink your observation as well.

“Okay… I'll wait.” You reply and sit nicely on the bed as you watch him. Nikolai then turns to you, with a white napkin in his hand.

Oh.

You certainly remember that very napkin. The one that he used to force you to inhale chemicals that knocked you out. Your face pales as you scoot back on the bed.

“Niko— Mmh!”

Without even having a second to react, Nikolai already presses the napkin onto your nose and mouth. One of his knees is on the bed, putting weight as he pushes you to lie down on the mattress. You are frantic but you feel his hand pressing down hard on your neck, blocking your airway to force you to breathe through the inhalation drug.

“Shh, shh, be nice, dolly. Be nice.”

Through your gradually blurry vision, you see Nikolai hovering over you and you are beneath him. Your hands are gripping his arms, nails clawing on his tattoos. Your body arches as you find it harder to breathe. You try to shake your head, but it is futile when Nikolai presses harder, receiving a painful whine out of your throat.

You find your body getting weaker and limp. Your legs jerk upwards and tremble between his thighs. Nikolai lowers his hand that is on your throat to your chest, brushing lightly against your mounds before it slips into the bomber jacket. He takes out something from inside it—from somewhere, as you remember that there is no hidden pocket inside the jacket.

But there it is—a syringe in his hand.

Where did he get that?

“It won't hurt, little doll. I'm an expert.”

You wince when you feel a sharp prick on your neck and your consciousness is slowly fading. Your body feels lighter as your mind is disconnected from reality. With your little last effort, your hands grip Nikolai's body before you surrender yourself to inhale the drug, in addition to another dose being injected in you.

Your eyes are just too heavy to even keep them open. Your breathing is slow. You see him getting off your body and you try to squirm to get up, but you are overcome with intense sleepiness and dizziness. In the midst of cloudy vision, you feel a pair of hands gently fix your dress, especially on your upper thighs.

The last thing you see is Nikolai pulling a long rope out of his overcoat.

Drawing him so he comes back next chapter (he's had over a hundred days to mourn over a hand)

ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ · ɴɪᴋᴏʟᴀɪ ɢᴏɢᴏʟ ༉‧₊˚

content. f!reader. fluff-ish, (hilarious) threats of physical violence, flower metaphors, love at first philosophical debate, flower shops, nikolai treats reader like a puppy. might turn into a second oneshot. not proofread.

author's note. i'm back .ᐟ and surprisingly with a little nikolai. i've been working through some extreme writer's block, but i actually really like how this turned out. it's my first time tackling nikolai's character like this, so hopefully it's good .ᐟ

would you like to see more? fill out the updated taglist or comment here!

He never knew where he would end up whenever he had free time. A mall, a park, a zoo—didn’t matter too much to him. Nikolai bounded in-and-out of these places, delighted by the varied expressions of his unsuspecting victims, whether they were the tail-end of a harmless prank or something far worse.

An unlocatable humming accompanied the orchestra of fans that kept the space cool, and the bountiful stock almost made his jaw drop. The store was filled to the brim with luscious flowers that put the market stalls he had seen earlier to shame—sad that someone’s hard work was about to be wasted.

He pretended to be the average customer, humming the harmony to that distant voice as he perused the aisles, tearing leaves and plucking petals whenever he felt like it. It was a tranquil prologue to the sick pranks that formed in his mind.

He stopped at a cluster of daisies, which blossomed in various bright colors, allowing them to stand out between the exotic plants that flanked them. So, as predicted, he ripped a couple at the stem, chuckling to himself as they clumped onto the dirty store floor.

“Get the hell away from my daisies!”

Nikolai thrived in the unforeseen—though he certainly did not expect to be met with a trowel pressed dangerously close to his jugular, nor did he expect the cute Chihuahua-like woman attached to his handle. If this was his demise, he couldn’t say he’d mind. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She snatched the flowers from his reach, cradling the pot like an infant as her voice sweetened. “I’m sorry the mean man hurt you.”

“You’re like a little puppy! How adorable!” Her snarl did not help her case. “I’ve heard about people talking to plants, but you take it to a whole nother level, lady.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why did you do that?”

“That wasn’t your question, though.” The glint in her eyes could melt icebergs, so he decided to cut his losses before she committed second-degree murder and mashed him into fertilizer. “But I’ll answer both, don’t worry! For the first, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m completely sane!”

“Sane people don’t have to say they’re sane,” she retorted as she hooked the tool onto her belt.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He turned to a patch of lovely black irises, their ribboning petals outstretched under sunshine that threatened to shrivel them, but they remained firm. His thumb brushed against their surfaces, careful not to tear one off while under a similarly threatening gaze.

“Rationality dies at the hands of complacency, like those so-called witches in Europe.” She eyed his hand when he removed his glove, contemplative as he cradled the flowers with a care she hadn’t seen. “We’re gifted with knowledge of the past—those accusers had to be fanatical or greedy. Possibly both! And because everyone else was so comfortable being complacent, rationality died, and those who opposed them were sent to the gallows.”

“In the end, those considered sane are no better than anyone else.” His one unconcealed eye struck her, overflowing with complexity veiled behind a villainous facade. She took to his words with a familiar hum, allowing Nikolai to look closer at her. He had to assume she owned this quaint little store; if her protective nature didn’t clue him in, the several layers of dirt stains on her overalls did. His eye trailed upward, lingering on her lips, which were pursued in contemplation. It made his heart leap—it would be so exciting to have such a reactive test subject.

“You’re right,” she sighed, then hit him with a pointed look, telling him she had noticed him eyeing her. “But what does that have to do with destroying my flowers?”

“Ah, yes!” He exclaimed. “Your second question. The answer to that one is simple. I did it because I can!”

She stared at him, bewildered, as he switched from the tone of a prankster to a monster, like a predator who bared its claws at unsuspecting, idiotic prey. But instead of running tail, she took a deep breath—she was obviously about to scream. That was okay with him, though he was admittedly disappointed at the idea of such a predictable reaction.

“I would usually say just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, but I have a feeling you already know that.” So she wasn’t screaming. She was more composed than ever, not angry or upset—her eyes were so focused, and he felt himself drawn in. “But I’m confused. Why are you doing something bad simply because you can?”

He raised a brow. The answer was obvious, but a part of his mind felt that her question was only surface level. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve appointed yourself as someone who stands against society, correct?” she prodded, her fingers absentmindedly circling the rim of a pot to push the dirt inside. 

He assisted her, albeit poorly, as he overfilled some pots. “Correct! It’s what I do.”

She paused. “If you’re going against society, then doesn’t that mean you’re adapting your behavior around society?”

He stopped, frowning.

“You’ve claimed that you're above society, but what you’re actually doing is acting parallel to it. You’re not doing things because you can. You’re doing them because someone told you not to.”

Nikolai swallowed hard, trying to focus on her hand as she took it out of her glove to brush back her hair. “Society needs someone to play the monster. You’re right—the complacent are no better just because they fall in line—but that doesn’t mean your actions are effective. You’ve just fallen into the opposing line of thinking.”

He couldn’t find the will to look at her anymore. This strange Chihuahua-like woman, in only a couple of sentences, unraveled his entire purpose. His connection with Fyodor no longer felt personal—had he always been that easy to read? A part of him wanted to pretend he had never heard her words, to walk out the door and pretend she never existed. Nothing was stopping him, so why didn’t he? When he met her eyes, he remained speechless.

“I-I majored in philosophy in college,” she stammered, her hands returning to her plants as she sunk under the conversation’s sudden weight.

“...I underestimated you.”

His every action had been to spite society, but was that any better than conforming to it? He was no closer to freedom; his strings remained intact due to ignorance. Was that why Fyodor only acknowledged him for a moment before filing him away as another “fantastic” person he had met on his journeys? He slipped from his glove, prickling his finger on a leaf. He thought that someone understanding him was enough.

But no. He wanted, no—he needed someone to oppose him. Transformation requires a catalyst. He thought he could bring about change by himself, but someone equal and opposite to him—they would be his catalyst.

“You’re easier to read than you think,” she said, breaking through his thoughts. “It’s just that most people would rather stick with their shallow, first perception than dig any deeper. It’s how the world keeps spinning.”

Before he could find the words to implore her to speak, to tell him about anything and everything, the sound of a bell cut through the air. 

“Good afternoon, (Name)!” an older woman exclaimed, eyeing Nikolai before she glanced at the aforementioned—at (Name).

“Good afternoon, Yamaguchi-san. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

His hands fiddled with his overcoat. “Your name is (Name)?”

“It is.” He stifled his smile at her unamused expression, almost a pout. “What’s yours?”

“Hmm, not telling!” He poked her nose. “You’ll have to earn that when we meet again. Toodle-loo!”

But she caught him by the hand before he could exit in a grand spin. Her hand was warm, with a warmth that threatened to thaw at his frozen heart. “Hey! You’ll have to promise you won’t mess with any more of my plants. Got that?”

He should’ve said no; he should’ve said no and left. It had to be how she held out her pinkie or the twitch of her brow. He intertwined their fingers without a second thought, bringing the tip of hers to his lips as he delighted in her yelp. Another connection. Another string to tie him down. 

But this one would be okay.

“It’s a promise.”

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Yandere Nikolai sketch.

I'm practicing sketches these days ^w^