Bsd X Reader - Blog Posts

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 11: ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ ᴜʀ ʙᴀʙʏ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ fluff, slow burn, mild smut, dubcon, explicit content, slice of wink wink | words: 10.1k

➛ ao3 | spotify (note: dinner @ brasserie zédel is recommended) | main menu

“I feel cold…”

Nikolai sighs as soon as you say that once he gets back inside the car after filling up the gas. “I told you not to just wear a cardigan.” He replies before he starts the engine again. You pout, hugging your body as your fingertips caress the soft fabric of your white cardigan. 

“Yeah… But it looks sunny and I thought it wouldn’t be as cold.” You say. Nikolai only glances at you, giving you a frown. 

“In what world do you think the weather will stay warmer for a degree during a snowy winter?” He only watches you increase the temperature of the heater as he starts driving again, leaving the petrol station. You are clearly restless because it does not get any much warmer, considering that his car is barely decent in condition. In an attempt to preserve your heat, you try to pull the sleeves of your cardigan to at least cover your hands. 

“Hold on, darling. We’re almost there. Jeez, can’t even handle a bit of cold, huh?” Nikolai says, his tone is slightly mocking. You only pout and shake your head. 

“Maybe your car is too old to get the heater functioning.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” Now Nikolai is the one who pouts. You once again reach out to fiddle with the buttons in the car but you retract when Nikolai slaps your hand away, lightly. “Stop.” He says and you huff, leaning back with your arms crossed. 

It takes about several minutes until both of you arrive at Olga’s diner. The parking lot is empty and the sign is still showing that it is ‘CLOSED’. It is not even noon yet, so you figure that you two are here for important business rather than a lunch date—not that it is still impossible. 

“Come on.” Nikolai leaves the car and you follow after. You wheeze as soon as the harsh cold breeze hits your face. Hugging yourself tightly to keep warm, you jog your way to Nikolai, bumping into his body. His hands immediately reach to hold your shoulders. “Goodness…” He sighs. 

“I’m so cold!” You whine as you push yourself closer to his body and his arms instinctively wrap around you. 

“Well, it’s not my fault that you didn’t take my advice earlier!” He grumbles before he deliberately takes off his winter jacket and hovers it over your body. “Arms.” He commands and you obediently put your arms into the sleeves. It is heavy and big on you—disproportionate but warm. 

“What about you?” You ask, eyeing the beige sweater he is wearing. It does not look like it can provide better heat for this weather but Nikolai does not even seem to be affected by it—or at least he pretends so as his nose twitches a couple times. 

“I’m fine,” He says. “Let’s go.” He walks off first and you follow after. Before Nikolai could stuff his hands into his jeans’ pockets, you quickly grab one of them, wrapping your fingers around it. Nikolai only glances, but he does not pull away—instead, he holds your hand back, just as tight as how you are holding his. 

It feels warmer. 

When you two step in, Olga is already waiting at the bar, with Vasily by her side. She waves at you and you beam happily, waving back at her. You give a greeting nod at Vasily but the boy only smiles at you awkwardly as a response. He disappears into the kitchen without a word. 

“How are you, my dear?” Olga suddenly asks. “Are you well? Have you eaten?”

“I’m good. I have eaten but I don’t mind some more snacks.” You grin cheekily. Olga chuckles before nudging her chin towards the kitchen. 

“Help yourself, then.”

“Hm? What do you mean?”

“Kolya and I are having a private talk, as he told me in the text. But you can go into the kitchen and get some snacks from the staff pantry. Just give us a moment for two, is that okay?” Olga says. Your head turns to Nikolai who is already looking at you. He does not say anything other than pouting his lips towards the kitchen, shooing you away. 

“Mm… okay.” Slightly defeated that you are being left out, you reluctantly let go of his hand. You get to the kitchen and peek at the bar through the small window, watching both Olga and Nikolai talking in a slow, whispering voice. Nikolai then goes to sit at a table before Olga approaches him with two drinks for both of them. 

You pull your gaze away, knowing that whatever they are talking about, it does not involve you or it is not even a matter that you have to be concerned with. You can try to ask Nikolai later but for now, you will enjoy your time alone. 

Or perhaps not. 

Because when your eyes meet Vasily who is silently preparing ingredients, you are perked with curiosity and interest. You have never spoken with him, only exchanging friendly nods and smiles. But you have the strongest desire to do what you are best at—bothering people. So, you approach him and Vasily seems to be noticing you as well because he is fidgeting on his spot but makes no move to avoid you. 

“Vasily… is it?” You say, adorably smiling at him. He looks at you and nods. You offer a hand, introducing yourself to him. He hastily wipes his hands on the napkin hanging in his apron’s pocket and shakes your hand.

“I heard that you’re a student at a university nearby.” You strike up a conversation. Vasily still looks apprehensive but he swallows his timidity, trying to respond to you with the same enthusiasm, or at least a chunk of it—as he feels quite uncomfortable with your sudden chatter, like a songbird. 

“Yes, I am…” He replies. “And you don’t… really look much older than me. Are you a student yourself, maybe?” He attempts a question and as if your bunny ears are perked up in the excitement of getting someone asking about you, you quickly answer him. 

“I finished high school several years ago. Couldn’t afford university, so I work.” You say. 

“At a bar, right?” His words leave his mouth like a bullet as if his thought does not even register the sensitivity of his question. You are surprised at the sudden fact about yourself being thrown at you like that but you have to remember—your face and name are already broadcasted in the news as a missing person. 

“Y-Yes, I work— well, worked, at a bar. I was an escort.” You say, your voice tender as you notice Vasily’s guilt is creeping in. His conscience is probably hitting a little too hard and you do not want him to get uncomfortable around you—although your friendliness might already give you the wrong headstart. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” He mumbles. “Olga’s always dealing with shady people and I just saw your face in the news and… and… I-I’m sorry, I think I should shut up.” He bites his lower lip, holding himself back from saying more insensitive nonsense. 

“I don’t mind.” You say. Vasily’s eyes are frantic as they try to divert elsewhere but you. 

“Uhm…” He glances at you. “So… you’re really a missing person?”

You nod. “It appears so.”

“Are you in trouble? Right now?” Vasily asks. His tone is low and careful. Your eyes widen a little in surprise but before you can reply to him, he nudges his chin towards the window. You look at it and you can only see Nikolai from this angle. “The man you’re with. Isn’t he with you? Do you need help?” He hardens the tone in his whisper, emphasising the seriousness of his attempt to help. His eyes occasionally glare at Nikolai, as if the man could hear your conversation. 

“N-No, not at all. He’s with me, yes, but I… don’t need help…” You reply quickly. Vasily flashes you a suspicious look as if he does not buy into your excuse—well, to his defence, for a girl who looks his age hanging around with a man in his 30s is not really a pleasant sight, especially when you are definitely a missing person. A kidnapped person. A victim of a crime.

“Are you sure?” Vasily asks again, holding your wrist. “I can really help you. Nobody in this town dares to mess with Olga because she has protection from a lot of shady and dangerous people, as this diner is the perfect nest to make deals.” He says. “If that man coaxes you to say no—”

You pull your wrist off his grip. “No, Vasily. He doesn’t… I mean, yes, he kidnapped me but… But I do not want to leave him. I want to stay. With him.” You say, firmly. Vasily stares at your face for a moment before palming his face, muttering something in a dialect you do not understand. He then nods to himself. 

“Sorry. I misunderstood. It’s— uh, one of those kink things, right?”

“What?”

“Roleplay.”

“Oh… No, no. Not at all.”

You can only watch the confusion in Vasily’s face brew deeper. 

— ♡

“Well, isn’t this a confusing situation…” Olga murmurs behind her palm after she listens to the whole story that Nikolai just told her—from his drunk and desperate aspiration to your father’s death. He feels slightly nervous at the stern glare Olga gives to him as she ponders over the question he just struck her. 

“Could you take care of her?”

“Well, Olga?” Nikolai asks again. “What do you say?”

“I don’t really understand what you mean by ‘taking care of her’,” Olga replies. “If work is what she wants, then yes, I can grant it. But there is more to this, isn’t there, Kolya? Be clear with me. Be honest.” She taps the table in front of Nikolai, urging. Nikolai purses his lips and grumbles. 

“I want you to shelter her. Give her a place to sleep and stay. Let her work as your staff or something. Anything. Your house surely can fit one more girl, right?” He says. Olga hums and nods before she silently sips her warm black coffee. 

“Why don’t you?”

“What?”

“Why don’t you do that for her? I know you adore her, Kolya. Ever since you first brought her here.” Olga smiles, almost like a tease but Nikolai feels extremely humiliated by that remark. Was he that obvious? Were his feelings too upfront than he thought? Were his emotions engraved too deeply into his soul? 

“Well, Kolya?”

Nikolai clenches his fists, sucking the air through his teeth. “I can’t. I just can’t. It’s not like I haven’t thought about it. I thought about that every day. I think about her every fucking day. I just can’t let her stay with me. It’s dangerous. It’s more dangerous in Peters and I don’t want any loose ends. No loose ends… especially not in front of Fedya…” His words are like bullets, blurting out of his mouth without a pause—though the last bits are nothing but whispers of comfort for himself. 

“But you must understand that it is no less dangerous if she stays with me,” Olga replies solemnly before she finishes her black coffee. 

“It will be fine.” Nikolai leans forward, his tone hardens. “I don’t care what you plan to do with her. If you don’t want her to work here for the sake of your safety, that’s fine too. I just want you to give her a place to stay.” Sensing that Olga is already frowning again, Nikolai quickly adds, “It’s not like I will disappear tomorrow right there and then. I am still here for the next few weeks, so you can still think about it. And— And I’ll help her move in with you. Seriously, it will be one simple task. I really— I just— I—”

He finds himself stumbling upon his words, and he groans slowly. His gaze lowers to the table. He shuts himself up before he goes to say the wrong thing again.

Olga only stares at Nikolai, God only knows what she is thinking and although he tries his hardest to not return the gaze by watching you roaming around the diner with the staff boy, he does feel restless. Jittery even, for numerous other reasons. 

“Alright, Kolya.” Nikolai turns his head towards Olga when he feels her rough hand—that is carved with half a decade of life—touch his. He feels her tenderness and pity on him. Though the comfort is nothing better compared to when you are the one holding him, Olga’s smile tells him what he wants—which is more important at this time. 

He nods. He nods again. “Thank you… I owe you one.”

His eyes divert again towards you, who are now playing with a jukebox. The boy is talking to you, with a friendly smile on his face. He seems to be around your age. The smile he gives you is returned full—with the same kind from you. Upon seeing the sunshine you gift to the boy, warmth creeps up into Nikolai’s heart. 

Not the nice kind of warmth. 

It is something else. Warm, warm—nothing cosy but scorching. That warmth soon broils to an uncomfortable heat that makes him frown deeper at the sight of you giggling at whatever that boy just said. 

What’s funny? 

“That… is Vasily.” Olga suddenly says and Nikolai once again turns his head fast towards her. He tries to relax the frown on his forehead but he certainly could feel the grimacing pout formed on his face. 

“Can’t he pick another name?” He grumbles before he takes his cup of coffee. Ignoring the heat, he swallows the hot coffee, further fuelling his own warmth. 

Olga chuckles. “What about his name? It’s just any other usual name a lot of people in this country have.” She says. “Ah, you cheeky guy. Don’t worry. He is just being nice. And I think it's her that makes friends with him. She’s pretty good at that, you know?”

Nikolai hums half-heartedly. “I know. Whatever, I don’t care anyway. Just don’t have that kid get too close to where he doesn’t belong.” He says. Olga grins, tilting her head as her eyes pan towards you and Vasily and then Nikolai. 

“Oh, why? I think they look great with each other. As friends, of course. Besides, Vasily is a university student. He is around her age, so she is definitely going to enjoy being with him. As friends, of course.” Olga teases again, amused by Nikolai’s little quirks he does when he is visibly annoyed—scrunching nose, twitching eye, rolling eyes, sulking pout. 

“Well, you don’t have to worry about him. He has his eyes on someone else already.” Olga clasps Nikolai’s hand, offering him some reassurances. But Nikolai’s focus is still on you, who is watching Vasily closely as the boy manoeuvres the old jukebox. 

He then abruptly stands up from the chair and his hand trails away from Olga’s. Nikolai makes his way to you and stands between you and Vasily—who yelps slightly upon being shoved by Nikolai’s taller body. 

You gaze up at him. 

“Are you done, Kolya?” You ask sweetly, giving him the same type of small smile you gave Vasily. Nikolai does not know what possesses his mind when his hands reach up to your face, and both of his index fingers lift the corner of your lips. 

“Hm?” You giggle, holding his wrists. The smile grows brighter—turning to one that Nikolai is familiar with, something he wants to steal and keep inside his coat forever. 

“Why, is there something wrong?” You ask. 

No, nothing is wrong. Nothing is ever wrong. 

“Nothing,” Nikolai says. 

“Are you done talking with Olga? Do you wanna go for a lunch date? I’m pretty hungry.” Your lips twinkle, bringing a tint of smirk to Nikolai’s face as well. He drops his hands to his side, eyeing your figure. You are still dressed in his jacket—not that he wants to ask it back. Rather, he thinks you look cute in it. 

And the thought of you smothered with his scent is sending tingles somewhere down there. The thought is eroded away as quick as it flashes in—Nikolai does not want to lose control of himself, not even a little. He has lost himself a lot already. 

“No… No lunch date— No dates…” He mumbles. “I have to leave the town for a while. There is an errand I have to do and you’ll stay here with Olga and… him. I’ll come fetch you when I’m done.” He says, his voice is veiling regret. 

“Oh…” You nod, understanding. “Okay, it’s fine. I don’t mind waiting here. Besides, I made a friend already!” You hold his arm and turn him towards Vasily who is standing awkwardly by the jukebox. Vasily is trying his best to not look at Nikolai in the eyes—as if the older man is emitting a strange ambience that, unfortunately, you do not comprehend. 

For Vasily, he is a menace. 

For you, he is a solace. 

Perhaps the strange ambience has driven Vasily to a point of dread as his words are staggering to form coherence. “M-My name i-is Vasily, sir. I-I work h-here…”

Nikolai ignores the boy before he turns his attention to you, not even sparing a smile. But his gaze softens when he lays his eyes on your innocent face—either you completely miss the awkwardness you created or are totally enamoured by your kidnapper, who knows. 

“I must go now. And take this,” He gives you a few crumpled cash notes. “Get yourself something for lunch. I’ll see you later.” He says before he deliberately leaves the diner in haste—he must have gotten an important job from Viktor. 

“Ah, he forgot his jacket.” You grip the jacket you are wearing as you can only watch Nikolai’s car leaving the area from the window. You feel slightly guilty that you did not remind Nikolai to take the jacket. 

“Jesus, that man is so terrifying…” You hear Vasily whisper. You turn to him with a playful pout, as if you are offended that he thinks of Nikolai in that way. 

“He’s not bad. Well, he was rough the first time I met him but he is very, very nice!” You say and Vasily’s eyes widen as his face contorts into genuine bewilderment and concern. 

“Are you… genuinely okay?”

— ♡

“Damn it.” Nikolai grips the steering wheel hard as his foot presses the gas pedal. His car moves faster as they travel the highway. The clock is already past twelve o’clock and the night is getting darker. He did not mean to stay out of town for long—but there were mishaps. 

He went to a certain bank to finish a couple more documents now that he has a new identity. It took about three hours for him to be done since the bank was filled with people. Then he had to leave the town to finish a job tasked by Viktor for extra cash. When he was finally done, he had to deal with horrible traffic. A supposed one-hour journey multiplied and he was already out of curses to spout when Olga texted him that the diner was closing. 

Twelve twenty-five—Nikolai finally arrives at the familiar suburban place he barely considers home. He makes a turn to reach the street where Olga’s diner is located and as he approaches his destination, he realises that the entire premise is totally dark. 

His heart drops.

Olga would not just leave you in the dark like that, right? 

He parks his car abruptly by the side of the road. He rushes to the diner, looking through the window. He sees no sign of people. The entire restaurant lacks lights and life. He rattles the door to the restaurant, only to find it locked.

“Shit.” Nikolai bites his lip as he frantically looks around, calling for your name. There is no way you have disappeared. Olga is a nice lady. You would not betray her motherly kindness, would you? 

Hearing no response, Nikolai’s frustration grows. His feet cannot stop pacing around the premise and his eyes are straining as they refuse to blink, in fear that he might lose sight of you—his little bird. He does not want to think the worst—because you have promised him. You promised to stay. 

Or perhaps you’ve fallen into the same trap again. 

Nikolai shakes his head, raking his hair at the unwanted thought intruding into his mind. But as more seconds pass, he fears that his heart is agreeing with his head, blaming and mocking him for falling and accepting his feelings, repeating the same mistake he had made years ago—Now look where it got you. It got you the same way with him. 

He stomps through the snowy pavement, thinking that he could get in from the back door. He could not use his ability—for his jacket now belongs to you and only a sweater is covering him from the intensifying cold wind. 

He calls for your name again, this time louder—angrier.

“Kolya?”

Nikolai turns quickly to the back door of the restaurant upon hearing the melodic rhyme of his name. His eyes fixate on the sight of you peeking through the gap between the door. His lips part open, and he is about to gore your heart with malicious words—but the fire begins to ebb when you walk out from the building and waddle to him with his jacket still hugging you. 

“You’re late. The diner is closed already and Olga and Vasily went home first.” You say. “How long have you been out here? I thought of waiting for you at the front but Vasily said it was dangerous and told me to stay inside. He gave me the spare key to the back door.” Nikolai blinks profusely before he throws his head back and sighs loudly. 

“You okay?” Your hands reach up to touch his face, caressing his skin. Nikolai tilts his head towards you, breathing heavily as your thumb rubs his cheek, so tenderly, so softly. He nods. 

“Yeah, sorry. I was… uh, distracted.”

“Long day?”

He nods again, subtly leaning his lips against your palm. They pucker, planting just the slightest tint of a kiss on your skin. Nikolai then feels your hands leave his face, replaced by each of your index fingers arcing the corner of his lips upwards. 

He chuckles—the panic he felt has dissipated and relief courses in. “What’s this?” He asks. 

“I like it when you smile. You look handsome.” You say with an adorable smile—the kind of smile that only a dewy girl would have.

“I look handsome, little dove?”

“Okay, I will rectify. Ahem. You are handsome.”

Nikolai snickers, pride beneath his beam. “Well, isn’t that the most correct thing you have ever said…” He then gently takes your wrists, pulling your hands away from his face. “Come on. I’m cold and it’s already past midnight.”

Nikolai pulls you by your wrist and walks off. However, as his focus is on his car, he feels your hand shake itself off his grip. Before he could even take a look behind, he feels your hand holding his properly, and he gladly wraps his fingers around yours as well. 

You two get into the car and as soon as he starts the engine, he hears something grumbling lowly beside him. He jerks his head towards you, noticing that you are looking at him like a pathetic wet cat as your hand is on your stomach. 

“Seriously? Did Olga starve you?”

“There were a lot of customers during dinner time and we were rushing. I kinda forgot to eat dinner…” You say shyly before suddenly you gasp happily. “Vasily told me something about a supper date. Like, like… eating at a 24-hour convenience store. How about we go to supper?”

Nikolai hums. “Good idea. But unfortunately, I’m pretty tired. We have food at home.”

“Aww, please?” You shake his arm. “You are not going to let my tummy grumble all night, right? Please~?” You clasp your hands together, pleading to him. Nikolai stares at your face—relishing in the way your eyes reflect the orange street lights outside. 

“Okay, okay. Whatever you want.” Nikolai shoves your face away lightly, receiving a giggle. He starts driving with a destination in mind. Before you come into his life, he often finds himself at a bar to have supper, but he very rarely ever visits a convenience store. He does not even think there is ever a 24-hour store. The latest those stores stay open is only up to three in the morning. 

He finds a store. It is empty but it is still open. There are a few empty tables outside, presumably for customers. Both of you leave the car after he parks near the store. You get out of the car first, looking around with excitement glistening in your gaze. Nikolai follows after and locks his car. He huffs as soon as he is out of the car, shivering at the chilly breeze brushing his neck. 

“Kolya,” He turns to you, seeing that you are giving him his jacket back. You tiptoe and he bends his knees a little, allowing you to drape the jacket over his shoulders. He smiles. 

“Are you sure?”

You nod eagerly. “I know you’re cold as well. And it’s your jacket, so…” Your words trail off as he wears his jacket properly, adjusting the clothes on his body. Nikolai snickers before he himself puts on the jacket properly. 

“Don’t come crying when you’re freezing later.” He teases before he takes your wrist, tugging you close beside him. Both of you make your way to the convenience store, entering the empty premise. The cashier looks sleepy and barely awake—he does not even spare a glance at either of you. 

As soon as you are inside, you wiggle your hand out of Nikolai’s grip and make your way deeper inside, looking through the snacks on the shelves. Nikolai only glances in your direction before he grabs two cans of beer and a packet of sushki. He goes to you, seeing you are carrying a basket and still choosing things to buy. 

“Hey,” He calls you before tossing his stuff into your basket. You look at him as he gives you his wallet. “I’ll wait outside.”

The speed of your hand snatching his wallet like a thief makes him raise his eyebrow in amusement. The naughty grin forming on your face as you hold his worn-out leather wallet brings a jeer on him. “Okay, beggar. Make it quick.”

He leaves you to sit outside at a table. He takes out his phone and replies to Olga’s spamming text—he still has to explain to you about your future in living with Olga. Most of his preparations for St. Petersburg are almost done. Two weeks left—two weeks and he will be gone from this town, catching the train to go on a twelve-hour journey. 

But still, he has to keep working on Eyes of God—the duplicated one, that is. Fyodor’s location is ever-changing as if the man is waiting for him and knows who is coming for his life. One thing that is consistent with all the coordinates he has noted from his work is that Fyodor is in St. Petersburg. Nowhere else. 

His routine is unpredictable though. One day, the surveillance camera caught him walking into a church. The next day, he was seen in a library and left after thirteen hours of staying in that building. Sometimes, the surveillance cameras do not even catch sight of him—which could be because Fyodor is also actively trying to avoid authorities.

Does he even want to get into Meursault again? This time, Nikolai will not go and jailbreak him. Nikolai is also pretty sure that the authorities on Meursault have amplified and strengthened the security in that secret prison. How could they not? He literally broke into Meursault by killing a lot of guards, released two dangerous ability users with his ability too easily and toyed with the whole system in the building like a dollhouse. A single person who does not even possess a world-destroying ability can bring so much chaos—it would be a dumb move for authorities to not amp up their game. 

Nikolai sighs. He feels exhausted. Part of him wants to stop this pursuit. Yet, he is still unsatisfied. His heart craves for a closure that does not end with a conclusion to his raison d’etre. The closure he wants is the spilling of blood—a grandiose ending for an unbound performer to his puppeteer. 

He puts his phone down and finally lifts his head to assess the place he is in. He sees that you are by a counter—not the paying kind, but rather, a counter where people get hot water and have access to the microwave. You are heating up your food, it seems. He watches you for thirty more seconds before looking away. 

However, his eyes then catch the sight of a weird car parked not far from the building. The car is parked directly under the street light. From afar, people may not see a single lone masked man sitting inside it. The plate number is even stranger, specifically, its region code. 

Seven-seven-seven. That is the code for Moscow. 

Whyever does a car from Moscow travel so far here? 

Nikolai stares at the car, hard. His hand slips into his jacket, digging into the void before his fingers wrap around a solid metal. He raises his body a little and perhaps the person in the car realises the situation he is in—the lights from the car brighten up and Nikolai watches the vehicle leave the place, fast. Hasty. 

“Kolya?” 

Nikolai turns his head, seeing you carrying a cup of instant noodles and a plastic bag full of snacks. You blink at him confusedly before you look around. “What’s wrong?” You ask. 

“Nothing. Just thought there was a thief.” Nikolai replies before he sits back down and releases his grip on his gun, letting the weapon fall back into the unknown. You walk towards him and pull your noodles and the snacks on the table before pulling a chair close to right beside him. 

Nikolai says nothing of your effort to be close to him. He does not even move an inch to give himself some space, letting you intrude however far you please. As you are stirring your noodles, he takes the beers and sushki from the bag, receiving a curious look from you. 

“Are you not eating?” You ask. “I grabbed a beef sandwich for you here.” You show him the rest of the snacks you have bought with his money. Nikolai only shakes his head. 

“Not hungry.” He says. 

You grin mischievously. “Well, the sandwich is mine then—” 

Before you can touch the sandwich, Nikolai quickly slaps your hand before snatches the sandwich away. “I am not hungry, for now. Doesn’t mean I don’t want it. All of these are mine. It’s my money.” He grumbles. 

“It’s not like I have any money of my own!” You huff.

“That’s why you will work with Olga. Or something.” Nikolai says before he opens a can of beer and sips the strong alcohol. He does not really want to get drunk so much, so he decides to not drink the whole thing in one go. 

“What do you mean?” You ask as you eat your noodles. “What were you talking about with Olga earlier?”

“A week or two from now, Olga will take care of you. She agreed to let you stay at her house.” He says while he thoughtlessly nibbles on a piece of sushki. His eyes are staring deeply at the table. “I told you before, you cannot and will not come with me to Peters.”

You are silent for a moment. Your small voice creaks out timidly. “Does that mean… I only have a few weeks with you?” His heart tugs downward when he feels your desperate grip on his arm. Nikolai refuses to turn his head towards you, so he looks away, staring at the nothingness in the sky instead. 

“Will you come back?”

“I don’t know, love.”

“Why?”

“I just… don’t know.” He murmurs. His thought is only to find his old friend and return a favour—to claim and experience freedom. He can only plan so far—and he knows planning against one such as The Conjurer himself can only get him to a certain point of success. 

Frustrated, he takes a few chugs of his beer. “I feel like I’m going to die in a way.”

Your eyes widen, gawking at him. Fear casts over you as you shake your head slightly. “I don’t want you to get hurt…”

“Too late to say that, isn’t it?” He sighs before he takes out a cigarette, lighting it up. He turns his head, blowing the smoke away from you. “I mean… if it wasn’t because of Fyodor, I would be dead right now.” He pauses, taking another smoke. “I was supposed to die during one of our schemes. Getting chopped in half with a saw—scary thing, isn’t it?”

You cringe—just imagining the thought of shooting someone already makes you feel extremely uneasy. You wonder how brutal his past could be. You knew he was a terrorist—which is weird because any terrorist would be deep in the dungeon for the rest of their life. Yet, this particular one is sitting right beside you, enjoying his beer and cigarette—he looks beautiful, although his eyebags may suggest otherwise. 

In your (perhaps, wrong) gaze, he is beautiful. 

“Was that a plan… created by Fedya guy?” You ask carefully with disgust on your face. Nikolai nods silently. At that moment, a brief memory passes by in your brain when you remember the news you saw on the bus all those years ago. 

“Was he inspired by that one terrorism event in Japan?” You say. As if you catch his interest, Nikolai looks at you. “Do you know? The one where a lot of government officials got killed? I heard that they were… sawed in half.” You frown as your gaze lowers to your food. 

“Oh…”

“Mm-hm. I don’t know the details but it sounds like what Fedya guy intended to do with you is similar to what happened to those people. Poor them… It must have been so painful for the families to mourn. Because, you know, they’re like… half…” You murmur as you continue eating the noodles that are no longer hot—the weather helps cool it down, maybe too cool. 

“Right…” 

You turn your head at him, with cheeks puffed out as you just stuff a big chunk of noodles in your mouth. “You— don’t— mm, look like you’re— hold on— bothered by it.”

Nikolai snorts before he pokes your cheek. “I, have, seen, worse.” He says. “And to say that I am not bothered by it… No… I guess I wasn’t. But that sentiment turned into something else that actually bothered me.” His finger stops poking your cheek before his thumb gently caresses your skin, trailing down to your lips before his hand pulls away. 

He leans back. His heart becomes heavier the more he talks about his little agenda—the thing that drives his passion to achieve something in life. In an attempt to submerge his thoughts that might go havoc later on, he stuffs more pieces of sushki into his mouth. 

“Are you thinking of something?” You suddenly ask. “Your agitation… is kinda obvious, if one has spent so much time staring at you enough.” You smile teasingly. 

Nikolai scoffs, crossing his arm. “And here I thought I am enigmatic enough.”

“You are! In a way. I mean, Nastasya told me before, like before you got to prison and all, that you were very… how to say this in a nicer way… Hm…” You tap your chin in wonder. “She said you were… chaotic and obnoxiously scary.” 

“Ouchie, that hurts.” Nikolai places his hand on his chest, acting surprised and shocked, though his tone suggests otherwise. 

“But I think you have become softer now,” You lean closer to him, tilting your head adorably. 

“Mm-hm, and what makes you think that I will not pose myself differently to you?” 

You sit straight as if you are baffled by his sarcasm. “You have been drunk in front of me. And I have heard a lot of drunken words from others. A lot of times, they rarely lie.”

Nikolai swears his heart drops to the floor and runs away, nowhere to be found. Shit, he forgot about him being drunk and sleeping on the same bed, head resting on your breasts so comfortably. He still does not recall what he has said to you that night and the fact that you bring that up now makes him nervous about whatever confession he has laid down to you. 

It must be something embarrassing. What else could it be? I laid on her chest and slept for the whole night in her arms like a baby! Not that it’s a bad thing— No, no, no, shut up. She’s weird. No, she’s actually very nice. Too nice. Should I ask about what I have said? She would not lie to me, right? She never lies to me. She would rather lie to herself, so long she satisfies her love. 

To me. 

No. 

“Y-You gotta get rid of that observation s-skill of yours, perhaps.” He says before he drinks the rest of his beer. Then, your hand grips his wrist, gently pulling his beer away from his lips. “W-What?” His voice sounds slurred. 

“Don’t drink too fast. You’re gonna get more drunk. You’re already tipsy.”

Ahh, that explains it. 

No wonder he feels agitated for no reason. Nikolai obediently nods and puts down the beer on the table. He is indeed tipsy and he needs to stay focused because he is going to drive later. He does not want to get too intoxicated.

But his hand refuses to let go of the can. “There’s half left…” He poutily mumbles. “It’d be a waste if I stop drinking it.”

“Let me finish it then,” You say. “I know how to drink without getting drunk so fast, you know?” You wink playfully and he reluctantly lets you take the beer from his hand. 

“Oh, yeah? What’s your secret, baby?” Nikolai rests his chin on his hand. You bite your lower lip but it does not help a joyful squeal leaves your mouth upon hearing his soft yet sultry voice. 

Your heartbeat is faster—you can feel the drumming of it travelling through your veins as you shakily grab your apple juice cup and open the lid. “W-Well, we usually drink watered-down alcohol… or just mix it up with other drinks. Sometimes we served them… but the customers never know.” You grin. 

Nikolai watches in horror as you pour the rest of his beer into your apple juice. “You’re gonna burn your liver quicker than me if this is your way of drinking.” He says. Shaking his head in slight amusement and more perplexity, he just watches you drink your combination of beer and apple juice. 

He is pretty sure you are going to get drunk much sooner. 

“You know, girls like you should leave as soon as possible if their captor cannot think properly.” He blurts out another one of his jumbled thoughts before he snacks on the sushki. You giggle as a response—somehow your pitch is higher, as if you are slowly entering euphoria. 

“You’re not the first drunk man I have to deal with.” You smile. Holding his arm, you say affectionately, “And you’re much much much nicer than anyone else.”

Nikolai hums, pleased. “Mm-hm? What’s the worst thing that has ever happened to you?” He asks.

“Uh… hit me?”

“I’m not talking about your daddy. I mean, the customers.”

“Oh!” You suck the air through your teeth, thinking. “Well, there’s this one time where this man got so wasted that even when I tried to stop him, he kept drinking. He started shouting because he wanted to lay his head on my lap—”

“And you allowed him?” Nikolai cuts you off. 

You nod, fast. “Yeah. I had to. He laid his head on my lap and then… um… He kinda asked me for his pacifier—” Nikolai bursts out laughing. “D-Don’t laugh! I mean, he’s old, so he’s probably feeling nostalgic. But anyway, I had no choice because he was starting to cause a scene, so… I let him suckle on my—”

“Wait. Don’t tell me…” Nikolai cuts off again and you shush him. 

“Can I speak, please?” You pout. “I let him suckle on my fingers. It was weird. Very very weird!”

“Oh, thank God,” Nikolai whispers as he watches you staring at your hand in disgust—maybe those were the fingers that had to feel the slimy tongue of an old drunken man. “That’s pretty tame, in my opinion.” He comments before he continues eating his sushki. 

“That’s like… the second worst thing.” You reply as you resume drinking your poisonous—as Nikolai thought it—alcoholic juice. 

“What’s the worst of the worst?”

Your gaze is blank as you scour through your memories, lips still clamping on the straw as you continue sipping little by little. Nikolai’s gaze is blank too—though they are not due to reminiscing, rather they are hypnotised by how alluring your lips look right now. Pouty and wet—or glossy, hell, he does not even know. You are quiet and still for a moment, allowing Nikolai to stare and scan your body as he pleases. 

His mismatched irises land on your lap. A familiar heat he felt this evening when you were roaming around Olga’s diner with that boy comes barging in again. His fingers clench as he bites his inner cheek, remembering that an old disgusting man had the chance to lay on them. 

He despises the thought. He despises the image his mind is forming based on what you have described even more. 

Should have been me…

His hand grabs the beer can, intending to swallow his jealousy with another rush of ecstasy, but upon lifting the empty can, he angrily puts it on the table. 

“I think—!” You suddenly speak, a little louder. Nikolai smirks to himself—you are definitely not in the most sober state now. He notices that you have sipped almost half of your drink. You must have drank it while thinking about things. 

“I think the worst that ever happened was when… Well, you know, the other escorts do not encourage me to sleep with customers. Because, uh, selling fantasy, things like that.” You lean back, resting your head on his shoulder. “Then, there’s this one night, one of the regulars there—we called him Mr. Ben—and he kinda pulled me to the private section. You know, the one where the table is all covered with curtains. And then I was like— I kinda— I told him I don’t want to sleep with him. He called me pretty and cute and— Wait,” You drink some more. “Mr. Ben said he just wanted me to watch him. And I was like ‘Watch what?’ and then he took off his pants and started doing… Uh, you know… the thing that men do. This…” You jerk your fist up and down as a demonstration. “That kind of thing…”

“Holy fuck, stop.” Nikolai grabs your wrist, stopping your very helpful demonstration. His shoulders shake before he inhales deeply. But his effort still does not help the bits of laughter escaping. 

“Yeah. That was the worst.” You emphasise your point by poking his nose with the same hand that was jerking the air just a few seconds ago. “I did not look at it!” You yell, defensively. “I just stared at the floor.”

“You know, for someone who has seen horrors done by men, you should have been more distrusting towards people in general,” Nikolai remarks, keeping his grip on your hand. His thumb rubs your pulse. The sheer size between his hand and yours is a pleasant sight. His fingers link between yours, tipsy mind drifts off to an imaginary world where he is holding your hand during something else entirely. 

Something lewd. 

“Would you be like Mr. Ben?” You retort his remark. 

“Uhm… no…?”

You yank your hand from his grip and wrap your arms around him, clinging. “Then I have no reason to distrust you. You’re perfect.” You murmur, burying your face on his shoulder. Your body is extremely tilted against him—your bum is barely placed on the chair. 

“I know, little dove.”

You start to wail. “You’re so perfect, you know that? You’re so nice to me and you’re so kind… You’re so smart and I think you trying to be free is so admiring. I kinda feel jealous sometimes because I cannot do that…” You sigh loudly. “And I just really want you to be happy. Sometimes you’re so scary and so rough but it is like… It feels so good… Does that make sense?”

Nikolai feels the warmth makes itself cosy in his heart at your babbling. It is cute, he thinks, especially with the glassy eyes you are flashing him—you are tearing up just by thinking of him. He does not know whether this affection comes from intoxication or genuine love, but he enjoys it. He likes it. 

He feels happy with it. 

And as much as he wants to pull away from that desire—to stay focused on his freedom, you are much more alluring. 

Fine, just this night. I will allow myself. 

His hand reaches up to you and Nikolai then gently caresses your head. His gesture causes you to look up at him, staring with a flushed face and yearning gaze. He chuckles softly before he carefully pulls your arms away from his body. His hands then cup your face, cooing at your teary yet darling look. 

“Oh, you little crybaby…”

“I’m not crying!”

“Yeah, I don’t know about that, love.” His thumbs press harder on your lower eyelids, wiping the brimming tears. “Doesn’t seem like ‘I’m not crying!’ to me.” He mimics your voice, receiving a pouty face from you. Your lips slant upwards. 

Tempting fucking lips. 

“I’m— I— I just—”

“I, I, I. Come on, baby. Speak.” He teases again. 

You sniffle. “I… It’s just… I cried because I love you so much…”

Nikolai smiles. 

“Don’t you love me too?”

Nikolai sighs. “Mm… Time to go home.” He says to himself before he grabs the plastic bag containing the rest of the snacks and slips it into his jacket. It disappears into the overcoat. You usually would be excited at the sight of him using his ability, but your mind is more focused on something else. 

“Please? Can you answer me? Do you love me too?”

Nikolai does not answer as he gets up and brushes off the crumbs from all the sushki he feasted on earlier. He takes your hand but you refuse to get up the chair until you get your answer to adorn your own fairytale. 

“Let’s go, love. It’s getting so late now.”

“No, no! Answer me first, please? Or else you’re just like Mr. Ben to me in my eyes!”

Nikolai shakes his head. “Well, Mr. Ben or not, we are going home now.” He tugs your hand, trying to convince you to get up. You whine, stomping your foot childishly. 

“No! I don’t wanna get up!”

“Fine.” 

He leans forward, flinging one of your arms behind him before he hoists you up, getting you nice and stable on his shoulder. You whine again, shaking your legs as you watch both of you go further and further away from the convenience store. His hand is placed firmly on the back of your thighs, preventing you from even rebelling much.

Reaching the car, carefully, Nikolai puts you in the vehicle—or rather shoves you in—and buckles your seatbelt. You cross your arms, huffing as he goes to the driver’s seat. When he is finally seated and buckled as well, he takes a good look at you. 

Sulky. 

“You don’t love me…” You mumble, angrily. 

“I did not even say that.”

“Hmph!”

Nikolai scratches his head and then shrugs his shoulders. You will not be angry for long anyway. Tomorrow you will forget. But maybe not tonight. He can very much answer you—he knows and has the answer in his heart. 

It is just that he still wants to deny it. 

Human compassion leads him to agony. He learnt it the hard way. 

— ♡

Nikolai is still tipsy. 

Perhaps the beer he consumed earlier was too strong. No wonder you went crazy—in a good way. At least you were not unhinged like drunk Nastasya. Just thinking about dealing with her makes Nikolai shudder. He washes his face a couple more times, trying to get rid of the floating feeling in his head. 

He brought you home, successfully. You were not angry for long, as he expected. He was carrying you by the stairs and you were quick to tell him a story where your father pushed you down the stairs because you were slow at packing things up—happened during one of his attempts to escape loan sharks. Then you went to say you love him because he carried you upstairs. 

Weird. 

But it did amuse him to the max. 

You went to take a shower first and by the time Nikolai wanted to grab his towel from the bedroom, he saw you already lying on the bed, sleeping, in one of his shirts and his shorts. The sight is… pleasant. You must have been so tired from a long day of working.

Nikolai finally decides to leave the bathroom. He takes his towel and wraps it around his waist before walking to the bedroom. He sees that your eyes are closed, still asleep. Great, he can just get dressed in his own room. 

He takes his time choosing a shirt with his sweatpants hanging on his shoulder. Occasionally he glances at you. You keep shifting in your sleep—sometimes you lay on your back, your stomach or your side. Is the bed getting uncomfortable for you? Or is it the blanket? Either way, it does not even matter because what attracts his eyes is the fact that he can see the swell of your breasts peeking out from the collar of his shirt. 

Right… You tend to not wear bras when sleeping. It is a common fact. Nothing so surprising because Nikolai is aware of this trait of yours since the second night you sleep in his clothes. 

So, why is his dick hardening right now? 

It’s just boobs, god damn it. You’ve seen them many times. 

Nikolai swears it is getting so much more difficult to stay in the same room with you any longer. His tipsy mind is not helping him with the random arousal he gets from your little quirks—from your stories about letting a man suck your fingers to the sight of his shirt riding up your soft and touch-inviting tummy. 

Once we’re in Peters, we’ll get a hookup! —His head suggests. But Nikolai finds the thought to be repulsing. He does not want to hook up with anyone else. His lust and desire are not sketching a silhouette of his future partner for a tryst or anything. 

They are illustrating you, manifesting you. 

It has been a while since he last had sex, and really, he could have done so at any time he wanted. But ever since a little dove settles herself on his bed like it is hers, to begin with, he finds it hard to even plan or think about his next date in a local nightclub. 

He does not want anyone else. His heart refuses to even immerse himself in a lust shared by somebody else somewhere. Nikolai wants it here, shared with you. But he knows if he indulges himself in a series of pantomimes more intimate than a hug, there will be no turning back. He is already a possessive man, to begin with.

But what’s wrong with it? What’s wrong with it? Was there even a path to turn back? There’s no turning back ever since that day. So what’s wrong with indulging a little bit more? And maybe more? 

“Kolya?” 

Nikolai flinches as he grips his towel, apprehensive. He looks down at his body—thank God, he is dressed. He was lost in his thoughts but gladly his body could still dress itself on auto-pilot. Nikolai hastily hangs his towel on a hook by the closet. 

“I thought you were asleep… Were you watching me getting dressed?” Nikolai says. You blink confusedly at him and shake your head. 

“Can’t really stay sleep… I didn’t look at you… I was… staring at the floor… Because you’re like Mr. Ben…” Your words are staggering as if you are still barely sober. Nikolai scoffs. 

“I don’t even take off my pants and jack off in front of you and you’re comparing me with Mr-fucking-Ben.” Nikolai jabbers quickly without even thinking twice. Only after he notices your eyes widen, he freezes and starts to actually contemplate his life. 

“Sorry. Uh, that was not appropriate…” He mumbles awkwardly. “G-Go back to sleep. Don’t bother me.” He says again before walking to the door. 

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

He freezes again. His mind is running wild. Wilder. He feels like he is going crazy with the scenarios that his mind is playing with right now. He is trying to think straight, he swears, but everything about you is too damned alluring. 

Your sweet voice, your tempting body, your flushed face, your sweet kindness, your pure innocence—god damn you, I hate you so much. 

Nikolai thinks he made the mistake of turning his head towards you, for his eyes are now feasting on the way you look—laying so vulnerably on his bed, your stomach is peeking from the shirt and your chest is begging for him to rest his head on them. The shorts cover your thighs, but even your calves look ravishing. He wants to dig his nails deep into that flesh—he truly does. 

His dick is hard, Nikolai has to admit it already. 

“I-I don’t think t-that’s a good… idea…” He says. It feels like he is facing a darn succubus—except this one is as dainty as a fairy. 

“Mm… I don’t think sleeping on the couch is a good idea too…” You murmur, adjusting your position once more. Your hands reach the hem of the shirt and pull it down, covering your stomach. Nikolai protests internally—he wants to see, maybe if there is a chance (there is plenty of it but he pretends blind), he wants to touch it. 

“I just…” You pause, yawning. “I just want you to be comfy when resting…” You mumble before you scoot to one side, making space for him already. You pull the blanket close to your body again, looking at him with droopy eyes. “If you wanna sleep here, just get on the bed, okay? I don’t mind…”

Nikolai thinks he is possessed. Or maybe he is just following his own heart. 

His hand pushes the door to close and he steps closer to the bed. His eyes meet yours and you give him a delightful smile. Nikolai swallows nervously before he sits at the edge of the bed, scared to even lay on the mattress. 

Fuck, what am I? A virgin? —He berates himself internally. 

He takes a deep breath and finally sinks his body onto the bed, but he is as still as a statue—as a mummy even. He tries to shut his eyes, wishing his lascivious mind and his perverted thoughts to die away like a dimmed candle. 

“You’re so handsome, Nikolai…”

Alright, it’s hard again. It is definitely hard.

Nikolai tenses, shutting his eyes harder as if he can even relax his own arousal when he hears your dulcet voice and subtle touch on his arm. The way your finger is tracing his skin feels familiar—your fingertip is following the lines of his tattoos. 

“C-Can you just sleep?”

“Sorry… You’re just… so… handsome. And your hair is very pretty…” You murmur. Nikolai is hesitant to open his eyes, fearing that he will not fall asleep peacefully later but he really wants to take a look at you. 

So he does. 

He turns his head to the side, looking at you. Your gaze is piercing—needy. He blushes when he sees your legs are tightly together and his very-not-so-innocent mind is wandering to one and only one possibility. And that possibility brings him a tint of comfort because now he knows—and he thinks he is right—that he is not the only one feeling so bothered. 

“Kolya…” You mumble, one hand reaches his face. With a weak yet sultry voice, you ask, 

“Do you love me too?”

Suddenly, he seizes your wrist, grip tightens before he lifts his body and leans forward—pushing himself onto you, pushing his lips onto yours.

Fuck.

I can't think. 

I can't stop. 

His hand cups your face, moaning against your lips as his tongue probes between your lips. Your hand instinctively grips onto his hair as you whimper between the kiss. Your saliva dribbles slightly from your lips and Nikolai unashamedly licks it before his lips continue to devour yours. 

You feel his hands travel to your body, roaming on your torso. His palm halts under the mount of your breast. You break the kiss, only to whine softly. But your break is not for long as his other hand grabs your hair, pulling you to another deep kiss. He sinks his tongue into your mouth smoothly and you try to match his pace. 

But he is hungrier. 

He has been wanting it for long. 

Nikolai thinks his tipsiness is spiralling deeper into pure intoxication. He groans against your lips, grinding his hips upward when your lips are teasing against his. He grabs and fondles whatever he can reach—your hips, your ass. One of his hands slips under your shirt, and finally, his palm touches your bare stomach, pinching and squeezing your flesh. 

Your moan that was subdued finally manages to leave your mouth when his lips slide to your cheek and jaw, nibbling on your skin. He buries his face into your neck, inhaling your scent, moaning against you. His tongue slithers on your pulse, travels, trails and traces every spot he can taste. With your arms wrapped around him, you moan breathily when you feel his hand brush over your chest—halting for a few seconds on your hardened nipple. 

His mouth on your neck gets rougher and you wince when you feel slight pain when he nibbles on your skin hard, as if he is going to rip it off, as if he is going to devour you, literally. Though, hearing your painful wince sends him a message to be softer—he kisses the spot he just nibbles and those kisses trail up again to catch your lips. 

This time, you match his pace—holding his face as you kiss him back, battling tongues until air is no more. Nikolai is too eager—even after a break, he is relentless, kissing you deeper and sloppier each time he drives his lips against yours. His hand slips into your shorts, his nails raking the skin of your thigh. You grip on his shoulders, whimpering. 

“A-Aah…!” Your thigh jerks away from his rough, demanding touch. Nikolai’s hand pauses and he plants one last kiss on your lips. Your face is an inch close to him. His emerald and lilac irises are staring deeply into yours and shivers run down your spine at his darkened gaze. 

“Sorry… I was being… rough. I wasn’t—”

His words are cut off when you shut your eyes and lean forward slightly. Your lips pucker, planting a chaste kiss on his lips. Timidly, you open your eyes, looking at him sheepishly. He seems surprised but a soft smile later forms on his lips. 

“I love it.” You mumble shyly. Your hands gently nuzzle his face before you lean again. He closes his eyes and you kiss the scar slit through his left eye softly. 

“I love you.”

Nikolai opens his eyes and then looks at you intently. Your hand moves a little up, caressing his hair too. He sighs quietly before he tilts his head down, resting it on your chest, and you gladly embrace him, just like that night. 

“I love you.” You say again and he nods silently, tilting his head up to give a little peck on your collarbone. 

“I love you.” A kiss. 

“I love you.” Another kiss. 

“I love you.” And more kisses. 

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

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TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 10: ʀᴇꜰʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ mature content, angst, barely mild fluff | words: 9.2k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

“Dad… I’m scared…”

Your small hand is desperately clinging to his jacket as you try to follow him through the bigger crowd. People around you are much taller, much bigger and much scarier. A speck of an ant—you feel like that is your point of view right now, for a tiny young girl who stands average at an adult’s waist height. 

“Dad— Daddy! Don’t walk too fast—!” Your breath hitches when your hair is gripped hard and you are yanked to his side. You whimper, tears brimming again as he roughly grabs your hand and practically drags you to the bridge. 

Boats with people in poor and depressing conditions are a sight here at the shore. 

“W-Where are we going?” You ask again, scared. Big men holding guns, masked people counting money, packages traded and exchanged. Frustrated groans leave your father’s mouth before he crouches in front of you. His calloused hand grips your jaw, hard. 

“You little… I need you to shut the hell up and do not ask any fucking thing. You know too much, you’re gonna die. You ask too much, you’re gonna die. Nobody cares about your goddamn questions.”

He shakes your puffed face, eyes swollen with tears, nose stifled with snot. 

“Nobody. Cares.”

“Hey, you okay?”

You lift your head and glance at the door. Your kidnapper is standing there and his lips twitch to force himself to smile—only for that attempt to be buried away. What is the point of smiling anyway? 

“You didn’t even eat your coco pops yet… It’s past lunchtime.” He says softly as he steps towards you, sitting down right next to you. Despite sitting at the edge of the bed, your body is slumped horribly—posture goes to hell—and your head is hanging low. 

“I don’t feel like eating…” You reply to him. Your voice cracks a little, most likely due to the lack of water. You have not eaten well for the past two days. When your stomach grumbles, you only nibble on some plain bread you found on the dining table. 

“You said that but you know your body is starving, right?” Nikolai says. 

“I am hungry… I just don’t feel like eating.” 

“… It happened to the best of us.” He replies before he also goes silent, just sitting right next to you without any word lingering in the air. 

One minute. 

Two minutes. 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You finally turn your head towards him. Nikolai does not smile as his mismatched eyes pierce straight into yours. He bites his inner cheek before he averts his gaze away. 

“No. He really did shoot himself.”

“Who told you that?”

“Viktor. Even the loan sharks did not know he killed himself.” Nikolai says. “Forensic said they found a bowl of charcoal in the motel room he resided in. They suspected that he was trying to poison himself with carbon monoxide, but maybe he thought otherwise and used a gun on himself instead.” He tells you, tone as solemn as your own. 

“Do you know why he killed himself?”

“… No idea, love. They also suspected that he could not enter Belarus, which is why he did what he did. Besides, the bad guys your father was indebted to were coming for him before he committed. It was only a matter of hours.” 

You tear away your eyes from him before staring at your lap. The blue nail polish on your nails are peeled off—half of them, anyway. And your thumb continues to scratch your index fingernail, getting rid of the colour. 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

Silence. You do not even look at the man beside you. But his answer is not something unexpected. 

“I’m sorry.” 

—is all he says. 

You do not realise you have been biting your lips until they tremble, begging to be released from the intensity of your sentiment. It is only until you feel your eyes are burning again—burn more and more as you blink fast.

You hastily rub your eyes but you cannot hold back a sniffle. Facing away from him, you murmur, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

He says your name, but his voice is tugged with strings of dolour itself. Syllables are not clear—just a crumpled word. You cover your ears, retreating to your shell as you shrink and shrink—feeling smaller and more humiliated than before. You shake your head.

Hiding. 

His hand reaches out to you but before the slightest touch can ever land, the door is knocked. You cannot see but from the corner of your eyes, you notice the shaky uncertainty in his quiver as he curls his fingers into a fist and retracts his hand away from you. Far far away. 

He does not say anything. He leaves the room and soon after, you hear the unlock.

— ♡

The grocery bags from different stores are still unopened. A bowl of Coco Pops cereal is still untouched and there is already a plate of warm quick lunch beside it. The chair that is supposed to be filled with a person is empty. 

Nikolai stares at that emptiness. 

Even his meal does not feel fulfilling. He already gives up eating his lunch after two spoonfuls of it. He knows the meal he prepared will not be touched again and yet he still prepared it—in hopes that you might come out when he is there in the kitchen, sit in front of him and take your spoon as you tell him your thoughts of the universe. 

But his house has gone empty. 

Just like what it was one month ago before he brought in a stray flower he plucked from the street. 

He learned more from the news and his friend about your father’s suicide. There was a receipt of him buying a bag of charcoal and another receipt of him buying cigarettes and a lighter. Forensic suspected that he intended to die by poisoning his system by creating a hazard in the motel room. 

But ultimately, the quickest and most painless method became his choice. 

He saw the state of your father’s dead body—given by Viktor who managed to access uncensored photographs from a database. Bullet wound through the head, specifically on his mouth and throat. He was lying face down in his pool of blood. 

Gruesome pictures are not something foreign to him. Hell, he kills people for a living too. He has done worse. He skinned a man alive, he poured corrosive poison directly on someone’s head, he made an entire body, save for the head, burst into a mess of flesh and blood—Nikolai has seen and done it all. 

But there is a bitterness when seeing your father’s picture. 

If he were his younger self—crazier, mayhaps—he would have printed that photo and flaunted it in front of your eyes while you were crying for your daddy. 

“See, see! Yes, I made your dad kill himself! Aren’t you happy now, baby? No one’s gonna hurt you anymore, right? You should be thankful to me. Look at it, look at it! See these horrors with your own eyes!”

Perhaps he would say that, taunting you. 

But he is not. He does not have the desire to. He does not even think about mentioning his death if you never hug and cry on him for minutes on a street, rained with light snow. 

Nikolai finally stands up from the chair. He leaves his unfinished food and walks towards the bedroom. He peeks inside, seeing you sit silently on the edge of the bed, consumed with your own thoughts. A shadow is clearly looming over you. His lips part open but close too soon when he thinks back on his decision. 

Two days. Two days you have been like this. Quiet, with only less than fifty words a day to him. 

“Yes.” “No, thank you.” “Okay.” “I’m not hungry.” “I will eat later.” “I’m going to sleep.”

Nikolai despises this small talk—they were barely a talk. His world has gone quiet again, just like the snowy street outside. The evening sky is grey and gloomy, just like his apartment right now. The little bird has stopped chirping, leaving him with no melody to harmonise him. The stray flower he picked has withered, petals falling one by one.

He approaches you and finally sits down beside you after a long while of giving you your needed space. He notices how you slightly flinch at his presence and his eyes harden—What? What are you thinking right now? What are you thinking of me right now? 

“Was it the loan shark who killed him?” You ask. He does not realise he has been holding his breath until he can finally exhale in relief after hearing more of your voice—this time it is not just repeating the same phrases but you actually talked. 

You talk and he indulges in it. 

Nikolai answers your questions and tells you what he knows from the information he has gathered himself. He does not wish to keep them from your knowledge but he does not intend to straightaway tell you either. If you wish to know more, you can always count on him—that is what he wanted. 

Until, 

“Were you the one who told them about his whereabouts?”

He tenses, words are boiling in the brim of his throat and yet nothing comes out. They are not even trying to form a comprehensible sentence—just an abundance of things he thinks he could and can say. He should pick one, decide on one and yet nothing sounds right. His finger points on one and his brain diverts it away and his heart pushes it down. Yes, no, not me, him, her, she did it, he did, I know who, I don’t know, sorry, sorry, sorry—

“I’m sorry.”

It feels right. It is right.

“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I wasn’t thinking right… I’m the dumb one. I thought you were different.”

No. I am not the same as them. You’re not dumb—I fucking am. I am not like them. I am different. I am not the same. I am not.

Nikolai does not realise it when he starts to clench his fist. He despises being compared to normality—hells, that is one of the very reasons he defied the norm by dressing up as a loud clownish jester. He is not the same as any other people—he is aware of his cage, unlike all of them. He wonders who you are comparing him with. The other rancid killers? The other ugly kidnappers? The other heartless murderers? 

He is not like them.

Your sniffles are rusty needles, pricking his heart deeper and deeper especially when that is the only response you give after he calls your name. It jabs, it spikes, it hurts. The rust only spreads more dread.

When your body shrinks to its cocoon, his lips open again, wanting to tell you to stop. When your hands cover your own ears, his own pair twitches, wanting to grab your wrists and pull them away so you can hear his voice. You are hiding from him. And Nikolai does not like it. He hates it.

His hand reaches up to you.

Knock, knock, knock!

His hand halts in the air. He does not remember calling or expecting any visit. He wishes it is not one of the loan sharks, trying to take you away from him. Not now. Not yet. Not ever.

“I am going to check it.” —He does not say that. He could not. You are not even looking at him, not even wanting to talk anymore. This is not right. This is not how both of you work. Gaze should be shared and yet you are facing away, staring at the dirt in the corner instead of him.

He gets up and walks to the door. He unlocks it and opens it slightly, to see who is behind it. Two faces he does not expect, especially when his relationship with one of them is as sour as a pair of divorced parents. 

“We brought food,” Viktor says.

“Viktor…”

“You and I need to talk, darling. Now. I won’t accept any answer or I’ll literally commit arson in this building tonight.” He scowls. Once Nikolai finally opens the door wider, Nastasya pushes him aside and steps into his house uninvited. She does not even spare him a look. But the way her hand shoves him, he can only guess how high her anger is towards him.

“Geez, you are more frustrating to deal with than before. All grumpy and shit. Told you to go to therapy but you’re too prideful for that. Therapy is cheaper than coming to you, you know that, asshat?” Viktor huffs, crossing his arms. He glares at Nikolai up and down, snorting scornfully. “Not gonna dwell in guilt, huh? What’s with that face?”

Nikolai does not say anything as he stares at the floor for a moment. “Give me a minute. We’re gonna talk downstairs.”

— ♡

“Why are you not eating lunch?”

You jump slightly at the familiar voice. You turn to the door, seeing Nastasya holding a bowl of stale coco pops. “You’re not hungry? Viktor and I even bought more food for you. Not for… that clown, though. He’s pissing me off.” She grumbles as she walks towards you with the cereal. She sits beside you, offering you your ‘breakfast’.

You shake your head. “Not hungry.”

And your stomach grumbles. Loudly.

“I hope that’s not fart,” She says before she grabs your hand and places the bowl on it. You look at her, taking in her appearance today—plain grey tank top and jeans, black fur jacket and her cross necklace. Her lipstick is a little smudgy but you are not going to point that out. Your eyes look away and travel to the bowl of coco pops.

“I don’t think this is edible anymore.”

“You’re right. That’s why we have other food. Come on, we’re not going to let you be malnourished.” She says before she takes your arm and gets up. Her hold on you is quite firm and you have no choice other than to follow her. Both of you step out and you instinctively look around the house.

“He’s with Viktor. Outside.” Nastasya says. “It’s just you and me in the house.”

“Are you watching over me?”

She shakes her head before she sits down at the dining table. “No. Vitya wanted to talk to Nikolai alone.”

“Why did you follow along?”

Nastasya stares at you and she says nothing. She just taps the spot on the table in front of her, gesturing to you to sit down. You obey, sitting down on your usual chair. In front of you is a plate of untouched meals. It is supposed to be your lunch.

“You wanna eat that or the food we bought for you?” Nastasya asks before she pushes the plastic bag containing food takeaways towards you. “Pick whichever you want.”

“I don’t feel like eating…”

“I know, but you must eat.” You are about to protest but Nastasya hisses once and you immediately take one of the food takeaways from the bag. You reach the provided cutlery from the bag as well and begin to half-heartedly stir the noodles. You eat the noodles, but your pace is extremely weak and slow as you pick one strand by one strand.

The smell of tobacco hits your nose and you glance up, seeing Nastasya huff the smoke to the side, away from you. Her eyes are blank as they are fixated on the lit cigarette, watching the fire devouring the white paper bit by bit. Her other hand is twirling her necklace.

“How do you feel?” She suddenly asks. You lift your head, one hand fiddles with the hem of your—well, Nikolai’s—shirt. You eye her, confused. She sighs softly. “How do you feel these days?” She repeats again.

Your gaze falls on the noodles. God, you really do not have the spirit to even chew a strand of it. Mindlessly nudging the noodles with the fork, you let out a heavy breath.

“Weird, somehow.” You say. “My father… um… well, I think you already knew. He died.” A pause. “I feel a little sad about it. I mean, he is— was… not a good person. Very not good. I knew he wouldn't come to my aid from the beginning. He never even cared when I did not come home for a night because I had to sleep in the bar for warmth. He stole my money, he dragged me here and there to run away… Said if people got me, he’ll be in trouble.”

“He’s a bad person… And I think I am not supposed to feel sad about it. I shouldn’t even feel surprised that he left me all the way almost out of the country. And yet…” Your vision is blurry as you feel warm tears start to drip over your eyes. Your lips are hanging open, seeking the words that you could put to complete the puzzles in your mind. “Yet… Yet, I… I feel disappointed.”

“It’s like I still have some hope, somewhere, that my father may still care just a bit about me. That my father is a father. But… he died now… He did it to himself… Left me here across the country… With… bad people…” You look down at your hands, not realizing how much you have scratched your skin as if to direct your pain elsewhere. 

“I just…” Irises tremble. “… feel fucking horrible.”

Your head jolts up towards Nastasya. “Does that make sense? I-I feel disappointed that he ran away so far instead of coming to help me but… but it’s not really something I did not expect. I know he won’t come but somehow… I still hoped.” Your voice is too shaky and it is only a matter of seconds that your whimper will slip. “And now I lost… a lot. My childhood, my mother, my job, my hope, my life…”

Nastasya stares blankly at the table before she presses the cigarette onto the ashtray. “I felt the same way too,” She says. “When my mother died, I felt exactly what you feel. She killed herself too, remember?” Her voice is quiet and solemn. “I felt horrible and sad and disappointed too when I lost her. Although I should’ve been the happiest girl in town because she was a massive bitch. You’re making sense, girl. Your head is making sense of your heart.” She leans forward a bit, reaching just enough to wipe away your tears. “No shame in that. I’ve cried over a horrible person too.”

You are already crying again, sniffing and weeping. “Then… why am I grieving? Why did you grieve?”

“I didn't grieve for my mother. You don't grieve for your father. You grieve for the little daughter who lost it all.”

— ♡

“Alright, so where do you want to begin?”

Nikolai glares at Viktor as the man chugs on his soda. Both of them are just sitting on the staircase at the back door of the apartment building. Nobody really walks through here and there are two vending machines nearby.

“What do you mean?” Nikolai replies, grumpy.

“Our talk! Do you think I’m here to hoo-haa with you?” Viktor huffs. Nikolai sighs before he flicks open his can of soda and drinks it.

“I apologise,” Nikolai says. “I said bad things to you and caused you to complain to two different women.” 

“Mm-hm, apology accepted. That sarcasm at the end is not accepted though.” Viktor replies before he puts down his soda and bites a cigarette before lighting it up. “You know what will happen now, right?”

“Yeah…” Nikolai mumbles. “I’m pretty sure the loan sharks are on their way here now. They know where we are based.” He says before his eyes watch a flock of ravens in the sky, some landing on the electrical pole, some on the snowy ground.

“I haven’t replied to them, you know? The middleman already asked for her but I said nothing… yet.” Viktor says as he smokes. “Just feel bad for the girl. She just lost her only family and now she’s gonna get taken away. Just wanna give her some time to mourn for her daddy.” He continues. 

“I think she hates me already,” Nikolai sighs as he brings his knees closer to his body, hands frustratingly clasping his own head. “Fuck.” 

“Well, why does it matter to you?” Viktor snorts. “You don’t care about her, right? I thought you wanted her to leave you.” 

Nikolai glances at his friend. “Shut up.”

“No, let’s talk about this, Kolyushka.” Viktor scowls as he turns his head to Nikolai. He frowns, displeased. “Frankly, I don’t understand whatever you say about free will and stuff. But I sure think I am free as fucking pigeon right now. I have a stable job, I have a place to live, I can get discounted food, I went to therapy, I have my girl Nastyushka—I think my life is so content right now. And I have never felt freer.” 

“You know why? Because I am happy, Nikolai. I do not deny happiness and joy because of an absurd idea. Sure, I can appreciate your ideal philosophically but you are dwelling in depression and misery. Dare I say, you are purposely caging yourself.” 

Nikolai bites his lips. “Happiness is still—”

“I’m talking, sir.” Viktor flicks his fingers, cutting him off. “Yeah, yeah, happiness is brainwashing or control or whatever. But so is sadness, is it not? So is guilt. So is despair. So is vengeance. So is hope.” He pauses. “Just let yourself be human once. Your pursuit is nothing but unjust and tragic. That road leads you to either death or a loop.”

“I may not understand how exactly you want to be truly free, if we push out suicide from the equation. I may not even understand you fully as a friend. But I still care, you know? I’ve known you for more than ten years.”  Viktor stops, taking a long drag of his cigarette. “So, spill it. Don’t hide things from me. I am smart too. In a way. I guess.”

Nikolai stares blankly at the ground. He rubs his face, groaning into his palm. “I know she likes me. In… that way.” He halts before he looks away as he feels heat creeping all over his nerves. “It was weird. It’s not like I haven’t been with anyone in that way. But…” 

He bites his tongue, holding back. “You’re probably right…” His head nods mindlessly. “Maybe I do have feelings for… Uhm…” Nikolai purses his lips tightly. He does not want to say it. He still hopes that this lingering feeling is just a harsh breeze passing by—but that breeze will only send chills all over his body. 

“At first she was so goddamn annoying and clingy. But I don’t know… Maybe her naivete and the way she looks at me are making me feel weird, sorta. She’s kind, I give her that. Too kind, maybe. And sometimes… uhm, she does things that I like…” Nikolai cringes, scratching his head in restlessness. “Damn it, it’s just one month and a little bit more. And… Fuck. I have known you for more than one whole decade and I never get the feeling to sleep with you or anything but when it’s her, I’m like—”

“Hold on now!” Viktor sits straight but his body is bouncing in excitement. He tries to speak but his mouth only spurts incoherences, akin to a football fan who experienced victory. He grabs Nikolai’s arm, shaking it. “Bro, that sounds like… You want to… hehehe…”

Nikolai blushes again—the shades on his cheeks turn deeper red—before he buries his face into his arm. He groans but says nothing. Viktor only cackles, patting his back. “You know what, I don’t even blame you. Humans have desires. It just happened that your desires point in the same direction.” 

“Right… But listen, I don’t intend to do anything about this… feeling I have. I still want to go to Peters… and do what’s important…” Nikolai says. “My feelings are just temporary. And… it is not like me to embrace it. If I do, I’ll just betray myself.”

Viktor only scoffs. “Yeah, right.”

They sit in silence for a couple moments again, until both of their sodas are finished.

“Hey, what do the loan sharks want to do with her?” Nikolai asks. Viktor shrugs his shoulders.

“So, like we said before, she’s most likely going to get trafficked. Loan sharks won’t kill their debtors but they’re criminals just like we are. They’re going to do worse.” He replies. “My best guess is she’s most likely going to be forced to become a prostitute, or at least something like that. They probably will get her to work until she can fully repay the debt.”

“Is that why Nastasya doesn’t like it?”

Viktor’s shadow of a smile drops instantly. He is overcasted with dull ashes. “Yeah. I know she hates it.”

“I know I’ve told you how we met but it was never in detail, right?” Viktor takes a long drag of his cigarette. “When I went to the club, she was literally the most gorgeous woman I have ever seen. It felt like I just saw an angel who got displaced in Hell. I didn’t even want to sleep with her, you know? I wanted to get close to her but I didn’t know how so I paid for her ‘services’.” He chuckles briefly. “She just sat there on the bed and I wanted to kinda introduce myself. I wanted to show what I am, so I taught her how to do Python.”

“Cringe,” Nikolai says.

“I just wanted her to see that I’m a smart boy, alright?! And shush, I’m being nostalgic.” Viktor pushes his index finger on Nikolai’s lips, only for the latter to move his head away. “Well, I kept doing that for nights. Just went there to spend time with her. I was kinda broke at the time so I can only spend an hour or two.” He sighs.

“Then, she told me about herself. I was like ‘Yes, fucking finally!’ because it took a while for her to open up to me.” Viktor once again cackles to himself. “Won’t really tell you much but she was basically forced to live that way. I felt so fucking angry. Every time she told me about what she had to deal with in that club, I thought to myself, ‘What should I do? What should I do with her?’”

“So I took the risk. I made a lot of ‘dangerous’ arrangements. A car, some fake but valid-looking documents, a safe place for her to live, a therapist to heal… Just things that will keep her away from harm, you know? Then I asked her if she wanted to leave. She did come with me and the rest is history.” Viktor ends his narration with a pleased smile. “And I think I am the luckiest man alive.”

Nikolai does not say anything. On one hand, he wonders why exactly Viktor told him that. On the other hand, he finds himself resonating with a tiny part of his tale. That same question Viktor asked himself also has been popping up in Nikolai’s mind again and again—What should I do? What should I do with you?

He has been thinking of any possibly perfect solution for this conundrum since three days ago. You really do not have any reason to stay with him any longer. Your father died and the responsibility has unfairly dawned on you now. He does not know if the police are still searching for you but most likely they still are. You are a target of many.

Staying with you is just going to be damaging for him. He already left prison. He does not want to be under surveillance again because of his defiance to conform to the law and society standards. And though he is fairly certain he can defend himself against a crime syndicate group, he prefers to be lowkey and not be hunted. Anyone who is closely related to you will be in danger. It is the same cycle as how you are now in one because you are your father’s little girl.

“I think I need more time to think about this… about her…” He says to Viktor.

“You really just have two choices, Kolyushka. You want her gone, you let the loan sharks come. You want her to stay, well… maybe I can help a bit. Free of charge. Not like I haven’t done it.” Viktor smiles but Nikolai finds that his last remark is a little too suspicious—while also, undeniably quite appealing on a minuscule scale.

He decides to ignore that for now.

“Ah, right. I’m not here to just school you like a daddy would to his son. Come to send you special things, personally.” Viktor says before he finally reaches a suitcase he has been carrying all this time. Nikolai’s eyes perk up, interested.

Viktor places the suitcase on his lap before unlocking it. Inside, there is a stack of papers, some laminated, some not. “What are those?”

“What are those? What is your brain doing? Thinking about the girl? Look closer!” Viktor shoves the suitcase towards him. Nikolai grumbles at his rude remark but accepts the suitcase anyway, placing it on his lap. He takes one of the papers. 

“This is… legal documents,” Nikolai murmurs.

“Yeah, for your fake identity in Peters. Oh, and there is also a fake passport and an ID card, right at the bottom of these papers.” Viktor says. “I don’t know if you wanted a fake driver’s license too because you will sell your current car, right? But I made one anyway.”

After a while of not smiling, Nikolai finally cracks one, looking at the documents, pleased. “Good… I can proceed now.” He says, mostly to himself. He looks up at Viktor. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem. But I’ll charge you extra.”

Nikolai frowns. “Now, now… I don’t remember our deal about this stuff requires that.”

“Yeah, me too. But I will charge you extra.” Viktor smirks ever so slightly. “For another deal in advance.”

— ♡

“They’re taking a while…” You murmur as you have been staring at the door, waiting for Viktor and Nikolai to return from their secret meeting. Nastasya turns her head to the door and only hums.

“I think it’s a good thing. Sometimes Nikolai needs a scolding.” She says before she leans to the couch, sighing. She grumbles slowly under her breath as she combs her hair with her fingers. “Ugh… the cold air is really messing up my hair.” She huffs.

“Is that possible?” You ask.

“Well, it is possible, since my hair feels weird. I usually let it dry naturally but it’s getting long, so I have to use a hair dryer.” She replies. “Ugh! Do you have a hairbrush I can borrow? And do not give me Nikolai’s brush. I don’t even understand how a dude has better hair than me. I bet he uses 3-in-1 head-to-toe body wash.” She whines.

“I do have a hairbrush. I got Nikolai to buy it for me several weeks ago… Wait a minute,” You get up from the couch and walk into the bedroom. You reach the drawer beside the bed, where you keep your personal belongings—most were bought by your kidnapper. The only thing that is truly yours is your baby blue purse and its contents.

You take a hairbrush from the drawer and a few more things before leaving the bedroom. You stand beside the couch, looking at distressed Nastasya. She opens her palm, waiting for you to place the hairbrush on it, but you just stare.

“Hm?” She looks at you, confused. 

“Can I braid your hair?”

“W-What?”

“Um, you look a little bothered about your hair… I think it would be nice to tie it… or braid it… It’s totally okay if you don’t want to, though…” You give her a soft smile. “I think you’d look cute with a braid.”

“Cute? You little…” Nastasya’s eyes are gawking at you, perplexed. And you are just waiting for her answer, patiently standing there with a hair brush and a small pouch of hair ties. Your eyes are gazing at her, sparkling chaste.

“F-Fine… Make it quick.”

You gasp cheerily, moving to sit beside her on the couch before she adjusts her position so her back is facing you. Your nimble fingers start to trace and feel each of her black strands. “I’ll brush your hair, okay? If I accidentally tug your hair… sorry!” You say cheekily. Nastasya just nods as her shoulder tenses.

With careful motion, you start to brush her hair gently. You can smell the scent of rose coming from her. Her hair is silky but quite dry, which is probably why she felt bothered earlier. There are also remnants of snowflakes on her hair, which you try your best to remove.

“You know, when I was a child, my mom used to do my hair before school.” You say. “I used to get a little jealous of other girls who have cute hair, so I want one too. Usually, she either does braids or some cute ponytails.” You tell her as you brush the other section of her hair.

Nastasya is silent for a moment before she replies to you. “You learnt to braid from her?” 

You shake your head, though she will not see it anyway. “Mm-mm. I tried to do it on her hair but her hair at the time wasn’t really suitable for a braid. And my attempts were always messy!” You giggle as you are reminiscing. “I always cross the wrong strands over and under the other. I want to try braiding my mom’s hair to perfection one day but… well… you know.”

“Mm-hm.”

“So as I grow up, I practice on myself. It is very tiring, right? Braiding your own hair.” You say and Nastasya hums in agreement once again.

“As you grow older, you’ll just settle with a ponytail.” She remarks. You laugh softly in response, nodding.

“Mayhaps,” You say. “So after I master the art of braiding myself, I wanna try it on other people too. But I don’t have a lot of friends, so I used to get ribbons—oh, I used to work in a stationary shop, by the way—and practice it that way.”

Nastasya scoffs. “Must be hard. Ribbons are different from hair. They're flat and thin, unlike a strand of hair.” She replies. You nod again.

“Yeah… that’s kinda the main problem… But I can try my best on you!” You grin as you part her hair into sections, enough to do double French braids. You lift your body a little, kneeling on the couch now.

“What colour of hair tie do you want?” You ask her.

“I don’t care.”

“Mmm, that’s a hard answer. I am not good at choosing things for people.” You hum as your fingers fiddle in the pouch. “Okay, got them. I’ll start braiding your hair now. If it hurts… Uhm, don’t get angry with me, please.”

“Fine, fine, whatever.”

You chuckle before you start braiding her hair carefully. Your forehead frowns sometimes as you are focused on finishing a braid on one side. The hardest part is the beginning as you have to carefully get a strand little by little and tug her scalp a bit. You can hear Nastasya’s deep exhale when you accidentally do it hard, but she does not complain or anything. To amend it, you will quickly pat her head as if it might soothe her.

You are halfway done after several minutes.

“Would you like to take a guess on what colour your hair ties are?” You strike a question. Nastasya seems to be snapped out of her thoughts as she tries to recall your abrupt query.

“What?”

“Your hair tie’s colour. Guess it.” You smile before you stick a mini butterfly clip on her braid.

“I feel like there is something else on me…”

“Yeah, some butterfly clips! It’s actually one of my favourite clips because my mom used to put them a lot on my hair and sometimes on herself too. She even bought a huge pack that has a hundred pieces! You’d look cute, I pinky promise.” You giggle. “Are you still guessing?”

“Huh? The hair tie? Uh… I don’t know. I… Hm… Black, I guess.”

“Bzz! Wrong. I chose white.” You say as your head tilts left and right in joy. Your fingers continue to tenderly and delicately crisscross her strands of hair, determined to finish the braids. You ramble on, “I chose white because I think it will give a little colour to your appearance. There is a logic here, listen, listen. You are always wearing black or dark-coloured stuff, so I think a little white here and there would give you more contrast, more gleam, as they say. You know, when I first saw you, I thought you were intimidating. I mean, your whole colour is bold and fierce. I’m not saying there’s anything wrong though! I… uh… well, speaking from a girl to another girl, I think white also suits you. I may be biased because I love achromatic colour but I think you’d look pretty in white too. Maybe you’ll like it if I stick it on you here and here and—”

You stop talking when you notice something. The braid is already done, mini butterflies are clipped on some parts and the white hair tie is securing the braid nicely. But Nastasya is quiet—no, she is burying her face in her palms, her shoulders shaking.

“N-Nastasya…?”

Oh God, was I too annoying?

You shrink in your spot, feeling small once again. You hear Nastasya’s long sigh and you swallow nervously. “Um, I can take them off if you don't like them…”

“No,” She says firmly. “No, I was just… thinking about something. I wasn’t mad at you or anything.” She adds before she takes a deep breath and turns her body towards you.

“Really?” You ask with a small timid voice. Before Nastasya could reply to you, the door opens from the outside. Both of you turn towards it as Viktor and Nikolai step in—one is jovial and another is sombre. 

“Nastyushka, my lady! Ah—”

Viktor’s jaw hangs low as he sees Nastasya. He then gasps dramatically, rushing towards her. “Oh my, look at you! You’re so… Ugh! You’re so fucking cute!” He squeals as he carefully touches her braided hair. 

Your timidity dissipates, changing to a smile towards Nastasya, as if you are saying ‘See?’

“Did you do this?” Viktor asks you and you nod shyly. He grins, reaching out to pat your hair. “Aw, you cheeky girl. You did so great. I love it.” He says. You only keep smiling sheepishly. As Viktor keeps pampering his lover with never-ending praises, your eyes trail to the quiet man in the room. 

Nikolai is just staring at you. Once your eyes are fixated on him, he pulls away his gaze. He even pulls himself out of the living room as he retreats to the bedroom, closing the door. 

“Well, I guess it’s your turn to talk to him now,” Viktor says. You look at him, slightly confused. 

“What do I talk to him about?”

“Oh, those questions will come up later. But I’ve done my best to discipline the fuck out of him.” Viktor grins at you. “Don’t be too angry with him, okay? That dude has a multitude of issues. You just have to be patient, sometimes. Oftentimes. Every time.”

Your eyes lower down to the floor. “I’m not angry… Not anymore, really…” You murmur. Truthfully, you were hurt at the fact that Nikolai did reveal your father’s location. You wanted to blame him—but you could not, really. The morning after his drunk night is still fresh in your mind. 

“Freedom, little dove. I’m talking about free will. The power to make a choice for yourself, without influences from all over.”

“Must you cry? Were those little unimportant joys you felt no better than agony?”

In a way, you can understand his desperation to be relieved of emotions and burdens—you want to create a justification for his action, but unless he says it himself, you cannot even fully convince yourself. 

Viktor and Nastasya leave the house shortly after. You are left with your thoughts and the man in the room. You know you cannot just stay silent and wish the universe to fix everything for you—talking to Nikolai and figuring things out is better than being quiet. You have been quiet for long enough. 

Your talk with Nastasya did go well—if you said so yourself. It was relieving to have someone who could mirror your conflicted feelings over your father’s death. You may not know the full extent of horrific things Nastasya had gone through, but her words alone were enough for you to pick up your puzzles and piece them together. 

You get up. Your fingers are cold and you feel your nervousness rise once you approach the bedroom. Taking a few deep breaths to support yourself, you knock. 

— ♡

At this point, knocking has become Nikolai’s worst nightmare. 

He is lying on the bed, as still as a corpse, crafting possible answers he could muster if you ever drop a hard question. He thinks he does not get enough time and he feels his heartbeat rate is increasing to the max—it is as if his heart is struggling to leap out his chest. 

Ah, I’m not ready. She’ll ask me. She won’t ask me about her daddy. She’ll ask me things. Other things. 

He wants to shout—Go away! Leave me and torment me no more!—But even the thought of raising his voice towards you is already dimming the courageous fire that is barely lit. Instead, his fire shivers, smaller and smaller into cowardice as he watches the door creak open. 

You peek inside, looking at him curiously. Nikolai only returns your gaze, still unmoving from the bed. “Can I come in?” You ask and he hums in an approving tone. A tiny smile tints on your face as you step in. You walk to the bed and Nikolai does not know what he expects you to do but definitely, he does not expect you to get on the bed as well, lounging beside him. 

He thought his bravery would last long but your curious and blinking eyes—adorable—are too distracting. Irises emitting pristine, just enough to push his bravado back to the corner of his inner self. At that point, he just wants to kneel and say sorry again, for whatever he has done to you wrong. 

“Kolya, are you okay?”

“You should ask yourself that…”

“I am okay now…” You give him a small smile. “I already ate too.” 

Nikolai nods awkwardly. “Mm… that’s good…” He says. His eyes are trying their best to look elsewhere—just anywhere, except you. But when his vision is fixed on the crippled ceiling, he finds himself diverting his sight towards you instinctively, seeking something nice to see, something nice to probably hold. 

You two are basking in silence—though, Nikolai does not find it uncomfortable. Perhaps the slightest as he is pondering over the questions you will ask him. But the more he glances at you, the more he sees that you are actually waiting for him to speak.

“What were you talking about with Nastasya?” He asks. You turn to him with a smile on your face.

“She was… kinda helping me to process my feelings.” You say. “It was confusing and I felt lost. Maybe God sent her to me to get my head straight again.”

“Or maybe it’s the other way around.” He replies nonchalantly, his eyes are still fixated on the ceiling.

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing.”

Sensing that you may not get a clear answer from him, you look away. But Nikolai finally breaks away his stare from the crippling ceiling, mismatched irises attending to your features. “You could’ve just spoken to me, you know?”

“I wanted to… it’s just I didn’t know where to start.” You reply before you sigh and adjust your body. Slowly, you lower yourself to the spot next to him, lying right beside him as your hand cradles his arm.

Nikolai tenses. The familiar heat travels all over his nerves. His sensitivity peaks and he thinks he can perceive anything—everything. His nose is catching the hinting scent of your hair, his ears are begging more of your sweet plea and his eyes cannot break away. 

“I felt all sorts of things and they’re like roaming everywhere in my mind. I admit that… I kinda felt angry at you for a moment when you told me you’re the one who revealed my father’s location…” He feels the grip of your hand on his arm tightens. “Felt angry and disappointed for a moment. But then, I remembered what we had talked about before… About your freedom, your emotions and—” You sigh, leaning your forehead on his shoulder. “I want to trust you… I think your action was driven by a desperation to be free. So…”

“Enough,” Nikolai says. “Maybe you’re right, maybe not. I don’t even know anymore. But I am…” He pauses, biting his tongue before looking away. “I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you. Don’t blame yourself, please.”

“Your kindness will not get you far, sweetheart.” He murmurs under his breath, but it slips past your ears.

“What did you talk to Viktor about?”

“Huh?”

You grin at him and Nikolai almost scrunches his nose by how you look.

Cute…—he thinks.

“Alright, I get it. It’s only fair. You told me about your stuff with Nastasya and I shall tell you about Viktor.” Nikolai says. “We were just talking about… um, my stuff. He came here to send me fake documents for my new identity… It’s just some of my Petersburg stuff.”

“Oh…” You shift your head up at him. The proximity between you and him is extremely close right now—really, it is just the two of you lying down on the bed, he is as still as a log and you are as clingy as ivy. “Can’t you just go as you are now?”

“No, sweetheart. I was a convict and my name is still tied to a certain record that listed dangerous ability users. If I want to move around the globe freely, I have to assume the coat of another man.” He explains as he sighs. “Tedious, but it is what it is.”

“There’s a record of that?” You ask and he just nods. “Is that a bad thing or a good thing?”

Nikolai scoffs. “I’d say it’s a good thing for me. It’s a boost of ego, I take it.” He smiles at you and you also beam, enjoying the rare sight of his little ‘insignificant’ joy. “But some people think it’s a bad thing. If the government knows you have the potential to be a threat to the nation, you’ll be treated less than a stray dog. There’s a reason why a lot of people like me went into hiding after The Great War.”

“The Great War… I feel like I’ve heard about it in school…” You mumble, forehead creases as you try to recall bits of memories of your school days. “Were you… uh, participated in it? Involved? Affected?”

“I was twelve when the war ended.” 

“Where was the war again?”

“Not here.”

“Why are you being secretive?” You pout. Nikolai only gives you a sly smile but says nothing further. Unsatisfied that you may not be able to have answers, you let out a loud huff. “You and your secrets…”

“I’ll tell you when the time is right,” Nikolai says. 

“So, when?”

“Not now,” He replies shortly. “I will keep secrets about that side of things, but I won’t if you ask me the questions you have been wondering all this time. I will speak truthfully, starting from this second.” 

“Promise?”

“Yes, promise. I’ll be honest with stuff.” Nikolai says. He will be honest, but that does not mean he cannot omit important parts. It is not a lie if it is not told. 

He could not see your face from this position, as you are almost tucked comfortably at his side. But you soon lift your body a little and roll to lay on your stomach, facing him. His hand instinctively raises, hovering over your face, longingly, for a second before his fingers twitch—sending back his common sense into him. 

“What will happen to me?” You finally ask the big question. “The loan sharks are coming for me now, right…? There’s no way they will let my father’s debt dissipate like that…”

“… They’re indeed coming for you. They did ask Viktor about you. But he hasn’t replied to them yet.” Nikolai replies, his voice soft, just like his gaze on you. 

“Why?”

“Sympathy, guilt,” Nikolai says. “He has moral codes, you know? Not entirely heartless, that guy.” 

Your eyes waver to his hand that is hanging in the air, lost. “And then? It’s not like they will just… let me go, right?” You murmur. “I’m gonna be taken by force…” Nikolai purses his lips, biting his lower one when he sees you become tense and shiver—your eyes are getting slightly redder as seconds pass. 

Nikolai surrenders. 

His hanging hand caresses your cheek, his thumb rubbing the skin of your face. He can hear his heartbeat thump louder and louder when you nuzzle into his palm—like a cat seeking warmth. Nikolai can feel the blush creeping in all over his body again when you hold his hand to keep it on you—silently begging him to stay. 

For a second, Nikolai wonders who really is the captive and the captor here—because he sure knows that your glimmering irises, despite the tears, are capturing his attention right now. 

“I’m scared… I’m so scared…” You whimper weakly. “I don’t have anyone else, Nikolai… I only have you.”

“I know.”

You look at him, with a certain hope. Your fingers slide down carefully, tightening around his wrist. “Can I—”

“No,” He cuts you off immediately. “You won’t come with me to Petersburg. No one. Not even you.”

“But it’s not safe for me here—”

“I said no,” His tone hardens. “Listen. I don’t even plan to bring anyone to Petersburg. Every preparation I have done is only for me alone. So, no… I won’t bring you. I cannot.” He says. “But I’m not dumb enough to not be able to see that both Viktor and Nastasya really do not want the loan sharks to get to you. They will go to a great degree to get their money back and satisfy their hatred towards your dad. Horrible things will happen to a young girl like you, that is for sure. And neither of us will be safe for each other.”

“That’s not true,” You retort back. “I feel the safest with you…”

“Right now, maybe yes. But not in St. Petersburg. Not when Fyodor is around.” 

“Why, is he that dangerous?”

“Very much, yes.”

Nikolai can see your mood drop instantly. His thumb slides down to the corner of your lips and lifts it up. His gesture is enough for your solemn to turn into an adorable pout at his half-assed attempt to break a smile out of you. 

“Then… what will you do with me? Where will I go? To whom I should turn to?”

Nikolai stares at you for a few seconds. He knows asking himself to choose between letting you go or actually helping you only leads him to the second choice. He tried to delight himself with the possibility of you being gone, but his mind ended up to the worst-case scenario that might happen to you—and then delight is no more, only dismay. 

“Have your heart and head ever pointed in the same direction?”

He tries to remember what direction they were pointing at when you asked that question that day. His eyes glance at you, seeking his answer back then. Both of his mismatched eyes land precisely on your lips. 

Ah right… I wanted to kiss you. 

Nikolai sighs internally. He feels dumb. 

“Nikolai?” You call him as your hand caresses his hand as if it is a source of comfort for you. 

“Yeah, wait. I’m thinking.”

“Okay… You’re quite a thinker.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

You only chuckle briefly but your smile does not last long—your sun is too shaded. He understands why—you were and are dealing with a lot of things at once. Girls your age should be in college, arguing in a group project and studying for a surprise mock exam—not lounging on the same bed as their kidnapper, holding his hand and pouring naive affection. 

Nikolai sighs again—internally, of course. He does not want you to think badly about him—well, not that it matters… right? Not that he cares. Not that he likes you or anything. Not that his affection has grown a tad too big that he dreams of your lips sometimes. Not that his desire boils itself too high when sometimes he hopes the night he lays his head on your chest repeats again. Not that his yearning is tickled over and over when he recalls the moment you hug and cry against him.

“I’ll find a way. To help.” He finally says. The longer he ponders over his choices, the clearer his answer is. The first choice only brings havoc between his head and heart, but the other is agreed upon immediately. His feelings are not in shambles if he keeps thinking about his second choice. Matter of fact, he feels good. 

Extremely good. 

He feels disappointed though—this decision is not made by his own free will, is it? His empathy, guilt and feelings towards you lead him to this point. He is being led by something else—a force he wants to break free from. 

But those emotions are a part of him. He cannot just escape from himself. He cannot steal him from himself. If he does—then death will offer its hand to him. 

“You’ll help me?” You ask. Then, you scoot closer, offering a pinky finger. “Really? Promise? Honest?” 

Nikolai scoffs. He pulls his hand away from your face only to link his pinky with yours. “There. Promise. Satisfied now? Are we on good terms now?”

You giggle and it brings Nikolai’s deep chuckle out too—he does not really understand why but your sweet adorable giggle certainly has a charming melody in it, chanting radiance to anyone, including him apparently. 

Ah, he lied. He knows exactly why he acted so. 

“I have another question. Will you answer it honestly? No lying, no hiding?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you want, little dove.” He replies nonchalantly before he retracts his finger from you. You tilt your head, looking at him expectantly. 

“Why do you help me?”

Nikolai’s lips part slightly, stopping himself from blurting out the words out of his heart. He looks uncertain and the only thing he does as a response is shake his head. 

It is not a lie if it is not told. 

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

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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.

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.

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.

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

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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.

would you like to see more? fill out the taglist or comment under this post.

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.

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.

Nobody's hiring these days | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

"Honestly at this point I'd take a rejection. I'm begging for a rejection," you groan.

Dazai chuckles, hand moving up to push yours away, the phone that was covering his view of your face toppling to the side. "You wanna be rejected?"

You huff. Of course not. Glancing down, all your irritation melts away as you see your boyfriend's pretty face gazing up at you from your lap. He'd perched up here not long ago, having just gotten home from the agency and quickly raced over to sit beside you on the couch. Which, of course, quickly became lying on the couch and pleading with you to lie down alongside him.

"I just," you sigh, "it's weird to get no responses. I've started applying to part time work as well, places that are seeking help "desperately," and no one will email me back. Is my resume that shitty?" The last question comes out despondently, causing Dazai to frown. He never wants to see you sad.

"Your resume is perfect. It's all about you, after all," he grins.

Not responding to his lip service, your hand that had been holding your phone (and checking your email) just moments ago now runs through his hair. It's serene, being able to just enjoy a moment of peace and quiet with your boyfriend.

The two of you had such hectic jobs before you'd gotten fired from yours, meaning you usually spent time at home preparing for tomorrow. Being able to sit with him, fingers carding through his hair as he purrs like a cat... it's a dream come true.

Dazai's eyes flutter shut. Basking in the warmth of the setting sun's shine through the living room window onto him and your soothing fingers just oozes all the stress of today out of his system. This is all Dazai wanted for today - to spend time with his favorite person. Or maybe one of two, since Kunikida covered his lunch today.

The way things are now... Dazai would hate for them to change. "You could stop applying," he carefully speaks. It's sudden, breaking through the silence and serenity, but quiet and soft as well. "Just stay home. I can pamper you."

Stay home..? "No, that doesn't make sense. I should be out there in the world, making bread and grinding or whatever people say these days— "

"I can help with the grinding— "

"And when I head back out into the work force, they'll wonder why there's such a huge gap in my resume. I need to find work now." You don't even dignify Dazai's interruption with a response.

I mean, yeah, you're right - if you want to be technical with it... The job market is only getting harder to breach everyday and the longer you wait to get back out there, the harder it'll be. But Dazai didn't work his ass off to get you fired from one place just for you to crawl back to another.

"But what if you just didn't go back to work?" Dazai broaches. "Ever, I mean. I can take care of us, be the breadwinner. You used to be so stressed... it's nice seeing you make time for the things you've forgotten." 

Sitting up, Dazai maneuvers himself to face you on the couch, resting his knees into the cushions and placing his hands on top of them. "And I like coming home to see you, looking all cute and relaxed, smiling and waiting just for me. It was so sad when I'd come home to nothingness because you were working late."

The brunette is laying it on thick, for sure. But you've never expressed interest in being his cute stay-at-home partner, always emphasizing your want for "financial independence" or whatever. Dazai does look so cute, eyes wide and glistening, lips pouty. "Please consider it. I much prefer this for you," his calloused hands grasp at yours, sincerity in his expression.

Clicking your tongue in faux annoyance, you tug your hand from his. "Fine, for now. Just because no one has been responding to my applications."

Crumbling easily is one reaction to have. Dazai would rather you have remained steadfast, because he knows exactly what to say in response to skew this in his favor. Your quick agreement as you stood to vanish into the kitchen means that this is far from over. In a few days, you'll be back to sending out applications - and Dazai will have to be ready to continue blocking them.

Ugh, how tedious. But it's worth it to keep you at his side.

Idk if your like still taking asks since your last one was 2 whole weeks ago but i really just wanted to talk about 15!Dazai cause i miss my pookie and i reread your first kiss hc’s and ughhh being Dazai’s first ever crush, hes so smitten with you and doesn’t even understand why, maybe also forces Chuuya to be his unwilling wingman because he deadass uses cringey one liners on you and chuuya is sick and tired of it.

15!Dazai deserves to be a giddy infatuated teenager and kicking his legs like a schoolgirl when you give him your attention 🤧

Smitten 15!Dazai needing a wingman | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

nearly 8 months later i am here to complete this request!!! hope this is what you wanted (and was maybe worth the wait lol)

Chuuya doesn't really get the whole "Demon Prodigy" thing. Oh, Dazai is just soo smart and soo scary - what a joke. Chuuya has seen him spend ten minutes trying to figure out how to open a cereal box. Sure, the ginger didn't know either, but he figured it out quickly once the brunet gave up.

On the battlefield, Dazai can be quick-witted and ruthless, a foe worthy of his title. Yet right now, Chuuya watches with his arms crossed as the man beside him stumbles over his words while trying to talk to you about the weather of all topics.

It's sickening, almost - seeing the "genius" Dazai so blatantly ignore every signal you're sending. It's true, of course, that the brunet teen is exceptionally off-putting and non-socialized. The bandaged kid with unruly black hair and one emotionless eye (the other bandaged up and hidden away) is the type of weird befitting a title such as Demon Prodigy. While he is a mere 15 year old, his presence rouses unease wherever he goes.

Or so Chuuya was told. With him, the 15 year old is just that: a 15 year old. Dazai is bright but childish, boisterous and witty, ready to spar verbally until Chuuya has to walk away to calm himself down. The Dazai that Chuuya had come to know during their relatively recent partnership would never falter like this around someone his age - someone of equal standing. He isn't one to falter with those of higher standing, either.

Lackeys fear him, new recruits find him off putting and so on. But there are a few in the mafia - Chuuya and yourself - that are privy to see what he can really be like. Or, Chuuya, more exclusively. You... get an interesting version of him, to say the least.

“So that’s why it’s actually bad that it’s sunny out,” Dazai finishes, cheeks dusted an embarrassed red and hands wringing together. Is that… sweat? Dripping down his forehead? The man is always annoyingly cold, usually shoving a freezing hand onto Chuuya’s neck just to laugh while watching him recoil.

Jeez. Chuuya already knows how smitten Dazai is for you, but this is a new low he wasn’t expecting.

You politely smile, trying to act like his rambling made any lick of sense. “Well, I suppose I like flowers enough to concede. A little rain is good now and again.”

“We both like flowers!” Dazai points out. You idiot; everyone does.

Chuuya takes one hand out of his pockets to readjust his hat. “Dazai’s been tryin’ to get me to go to some flower garden on the other side of Yokohama,” he decides to lie. As if it wasn’t clear before, you pretending Dazai’s argument held any merit only proves that you like him back. Helping you is all he’s trying to do, because that stupid mackerel will never make a move on his own. “But I keep tellin’ him I’m not interested. Would be nice if you took my place.”

Eyes widening ever so slightly, you turn to Dazai with a timid expression. “I didn’t know we had one.”

“Wait, I— “

“It’s free admittance. Paid for by the government to clean up our city or somethin’ - Kouyou told us about it,” which is true, minus the part where Kouyou told Dazai as well.

The excited smile you give causes Dazai’s usually-controlled heart to leap into his throat. “That’s super cool! I totally wanna go, if you’re still up for it, Dazai.”

He doesn’t reply. The stupid, idiotic strategist that supposedly has been bolstering the Port Mafia’s defenses is left defenseless by a pretty smile. Seriously? This is what Chuuya has to put up with? He should just smack Dazai and take it all back. He’s never helping this lost cause again.

With one gloved hand, Chuuya slams it against Dazai’s head to force it into a nod. The slam is hard enough for Dazai to snap out of his stupor, but soft enough that you don’t notice how rough the ginger is being. “Say yes, idiot.”

And Dazai quickly follows through. He swats Chuuya’s hand away with an “I was gonna do that,” before clearing his throat. Looking back at you clogs it up once again and he gives an awkward smile back and a nod of his own this time. “Y-yep! I wanna go. With you. Well! Not like with with you, but like, with you. So, not like a date, just— I wanna go and you should come.”

Chuuya did his part. Can he leave yet? God, remind him to never help Dazai ever again. This was embarrassing for Chuuya and the short man is just a bystander. Though, the flush on Dazai’s face and the excited grin on yours helps to keep Chuuya’s annoyance at bay. At the very least, now the two of you can finally move on from this awkward crush stage and he won’t have to see Dazai metaphorically drown himself in every conversation with you.

And when the two of them got back a week later out of breath from running, Dazai’s hands covered in dirt and you holding an uprooted bouquet of fresh flowers, Chuuya realizes that maybe he chose the wrong location.

Dazai has calloused cold hands. Send Ask.

Hcs of Dazai with calloused cold hands | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

cheetozai you’ve done it again,, constantly raising the bar for the rest of us.. or however that video goes (found it)

A shiver runs up your spine. Behind you, Dazai grins mischievously, watching as you tense up and try to move forward and away from his touch. Cold is an understatement - the hands pressed against you are freezing. His touch is a bit rougher than he intends. While the touch itself is gentle, a soft brush over the bare skin of your back from underneath your shirt, the pads of his hands are calloused and rough leaving a slight scratchy feeling across the area.

You huff, turning your head to the side, glaring at him from the corner of your eye. “What are you doing?”

Pouting, Dazai gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “What? My hands are cold…”

“I can tell,” you scoff. “Get off!”

He gasps dramatically, hands still pressed against your back. “My, how cruel! You’d leave me to suffer with cold hands? You’d be so cold as to reject me after asking oh so politely for assistance?”

“Your hands are cold!” You grumble. “And you didn’t ask, you just put your hands under my shirt, weirdo."

needless to say he’s a menace.

Dazai will find any reason to constantly have his hands on you - holding yours, in your pockets, on your leg - to “warm them up” he claims

if you call him out, he’ll just whine and groan about how hard it is to have such cold hands all the time!!!! his body just doesn’t pump blood well enough to maintain decent body temperature :(

outside of using it as an excuse to constantly have his hands on you, he does genuinely struggle - keeping his hands in his pockets or sitting with them under his thighs for heat

and to scare people!!! he’ll just place his hand on Atsushi’s shoulder or grab Kunikida’s bicep when they’re unaware he’s behind them !!! he’s terrible and loves to laugh at others moving away so suddenly and shuddering at his jump scares

but also. the angst . Dazai who is touch starved :( thinking his ability is a curse and how this just further proves he shouldn’t touch anyone :(

and that is why he just grabs onto you at random 🙂‍↕️ so please endure!!! and maybe get him some gloves lol

Hii! I dont know if this has already been requested if so just feel free to ignore this, but could i request dazai with a reader whos really outgoing with friends and people she knows but when it comes to being serious or talking to new people shes super akward, anxious and stutters in a kind of wierd way and like if shes made fun of she doesnt know how to respond so she just says silent?

Sorry if theres any spelling mistakes or if this is confusing english is not my first language😭

Dazai with a socially anxious s/o | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

dazai locks tf in.

he's outgoing 24/7 so if you're ever in a position where you're meeting new people, he'll step up and make a complete fool of himself so you don't feel anxious

there is no need to fear a bad first impression when the guy next to you just fell to the floor screaming for no reason . 💀

or he'll put on the show!!! he can guide the conversation and metaphorically hold your hand through introductions (or physically if that helps you feel better!!!)

no need to be anxious because he'll create an environment so casual so regular so nontoxic comfy cozy you'll be behaving normally in no time and BAM new friend just made 🙂‍↕️

if you get made fun of btw????? he's "locking in" a new round of bullets—

sources say he no longer kills. Shame!

but fr he'll go up to bat for you. dazai is really good at making passive aggressive comments so it doesn't start an all out war if you're not into confrontation but will make the other person feel terrible about themselves!!!

or if you don't care he'll just chew them out right there and then. he'll just say their home address and social security number while looking them dead in the eyes

maybe you care Too much! who's to say! so you'd prefer a kinder option - that's fine, dazai loveesss expressing how much you mean to him anyway!!!!! if someone makes a rude remark about your looks, personality, what have you, he immediately starts talking about how, actually, you're perfect and he loves that about you and such

making fun of your stuttering? that's funny, because dazai actually has security cam footage of them stuttering when grabbing their mail from the main floor of their apartment complex—

he wants to be so evil and mean to those people and it fully depends on if you'd be comfortable letting him off his leash to do so lol

if you go silent dazai will make some excuse and get you out of the situation and take you home or to get food or whatever you want to get away from those people!!!!!!!!!!

dazai doesn't really care for serious conversations anyway, so no worries there :) he'll just be silly with you whenever you need

literally you can completely ignore this bc idk if ur taking asks rn but..

dazai giving reader a flower and them just taking a bite out of it <3

(can be reversed bc let's be fr he is hungry)

Eating flowers with Dazai | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

i’m always taking asks i’m just not always doing them yk lolll hope this is alright anon :)

Dazai was a bit spooked. He’d never really received flowers from someone before - there was that time Chuuya had purchased a bouquet Dazai carried while they were undercover, and that time Kunikida carried a lone flower in that Dazai ended up stealing, of course. Except, no time had ever been genuine. Dazai had never received flowers expressing gratitude, romantic affection, platonic camaraderie, nothing of the sort.

Seeing you holding out a neatly wrapped yellow rose, thin orange cellophane cradling the finely cut plant, with no ulterior motives had his brain short circuiting.

Gesturing it for him to take, you say, “I thought it looked happy. Joyful, or whatever - ‘cause yellow is such a bright color. I thought you might enjoy it. Made me think of you.”

He did.

He so did. How was he supposed to quell his thrumming heart? Muscle beating out of control for just a moment, he stared down at the thoughtful gift in panic. This occurrence had never, well, occurred, and Dazai had no clue how to proceed. The funny jokester of the Armed Detective Agency wasn’t used to displaying emotions so freely, and he especially hadn’t been able to at his job before. Standing on the sidewalk of a quiet intersection, his short circuited brain rebooted all together.

When his mind came to, Dazai’s head was buried in the cellophane and petals were lodged back in his mouth. The taste was… floral, obviously. Maybe a little citrusy. His head pulled back, standing at full height once again as he chewed and swallowed every last petal on his tongue.

It’s no wonder people don’t gift him flowers.

“You just ate…it?” Dazai whispers, lips slightly parted in confusion.

Staring up at him, you slowly open your mouth, tiny white petals dribbling onto the ground. “Sorry. There’s still half left, if you’re hungry!” With a kind smile, assured that he’s merely upset you didn’t share, you lift the daisy Dazai had gifted you to show off that you had only eaten half of the flower’s petals.

Confounded, Dazai decides to sidestep the real question here and instead ask, “…Is it any good?”

You hum for a second, clearly pondering over the answer before nodding. “It’s a little bitter. Like, spicy? But that’s not the right word…”

Dazai raises his hand, gently pushing the half-petaled flower closer toward you. “It’s all yours; I got it for you.”

The grin you showcase before gobbling up the remaining half makes Dazai sigh. It was all worth it, he supposes.

HEAR ME OUT PLZPLZ imagine dazai with an s/o thats just ALWAYS stresses about something and it really bothers them but dazai just knows EXACTLY what to say to give them some peace of mind🙏

Dazai with a stressed reader | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

dazai gets a little annoyed at first

he's a smart man but i think he'd assume you're overplaying it at the beginning just to be silly like he sometimes does

which bothers him because there are so many things to be actually stressed about!!!! but you're nervous over deciding dinner!!!!

but pretty quickly he realizes that omg you actually just get stressed super easily! oops

he turns into gentle and quiet reassurances, mentioning that he's hungry for something specific and asking if you wanna tag along so you aren't worried about deciding what's for dinner

mentioning that he's bored and wants to tag along for your mission because he knows you'll feel less stressed knowing he's there to back you up

and once you two start dating, he's more up front about it!!! wants to help you stop feeling so stressed all the time :)

so he helps with bettering your responses to stress and working out better coping mechanisms!

taking deep breaths, hiding in his chest to be away from everything for a few moments (definitely not an excuse to hold you close!! dazai would neverr use your stress to his benefit!!..... most of the time!)

dazai makes sure you have time to actually relax and focus on things for yourself!!! knitting or crocheting can help or just having something to focus on with your hands 🙂‍↕️ write this down anon

he himself doesn't practice healthy eating or sleeping habits but they do help with stress so suddenly he's Mr. Pinnacle of Health and ushering you to bed at 9pm every night 💀

dazai is more for actions than words, but whenever you need it he's there to help logically explain why everything will be alright or lend an ear when you just need to vent about it all!!!!

he'll definitely offer more nsfw services to help you relax too . feel free to just hit him he'll get the message 👍🏻

if that doesn't work and you prefer more vocal methods, he'd definitely piece together the most perfect speech to help you relax, like how he's always the voice in atsushi's head telling him what needs to be done and stay calm (except out loud and to you) but that's more of a last resort

^^ unless you're on a mission and obviously don't have time for the rest!!!! then it's temporary solve now with a few words and permanent solutions later (meditation/deep breathing/etc)

dazai smells and he's the worst (affectionate) so i think he'd rather avoid directly talking about the issues at hand, but that doesn't mean he'd be bad at keeping you company and soothing your troubles!!! he just has a different way to go about it :)

i just had a thought. imagine something like when you and normal dazai were best friends (maybe apart of the buraiha trio too, or squad in that case) but what i mean is close-close kinda best friends. but if thats too basic i think we can add mutual pining with no confession in it. and then take that scenario into the beast au, where you two are still close, but work in very different fields and still have that mutual pining, and can never be together no matter how close you two become - whether it be forbidden because of work fields or just.. the whole phase 5 ordeal. or something else! do you think he'd try to get away or get closer? please i need more thoughts on this scenario i love angsty things

+ can i be 🦴 anon? tysm! :)

My thoughts on smitten beast!Dazai | Bungo Stray Dogs | Dazai x reader

wehehehehe i loveee beast!zai gm 🦴anon!!!! i would like to apologize in advance bc my thoughts are jumbled and incoherent on my best days LMAO

okay here’s what i’m thinking. either you’re a part of his plan or you aren’t - either he has something he wants to change for you like he’s doing with oda, or you’re merely another piece of the puzzle. depending on which you fall under, how he’ll act will be different. being a part of his scheme, falling under the subject of someone whose life he wants to change, will lead to him alienating himself from you like how he did to oda - knowing that he has to isolate himself away from you so you can live a longer or better life. dazai understood the only way oda would live in the light and write his novel was if he pushed him to and killed himself, so he’d do the same for you, dying happily knowing it’s better for you.

but…. if you aren’t part of his plan, i don't think he'd mind still finding you and courting you :) had it merely been mutual pining in other lives, maybe he wants to see what it'd be like to actually date you! he already knows everything you like, so from the very second you two meet, he's showing up with your favorite flowers ("they just reminded me of you") and chocolates or whatever sweets you adore ("i bought too much and couldn't finish"). he'd take you on cute little dates he doesn't label dates until you get frustrated and ask him if he's just leading you on, wondering why he never holds your hand or heaven forbid kisses you! and dazai will just laugh and confess, telling you he wanted to take it slow or some other bogus excuse you don't have the time to pry into as he kisses you 🙂‍↕️

dazai will 100% enjoy every moment he can with you!!!! he knows it's rapidly approaching his end so he makes sure you're allll set up (he sets aside a disgusting amount of money in some share for you to take from at your leisure post mortem). he understands he's a busy guy, but always makes sure to shower you in love when you're around, knowing he won't be able to much longer :/

of course, he could also try pushing you away as he nears his end, but i still think he'd try and hold you close before that. say toward the end he starts more fights and distances himself. you're confused wondering why he has started to pull back, and he just tells you work is rough. i think dazai would try to subtly let you know what's coming, mentioning his line of work breeds resentment and leads to many a death, like how the previous boss died (....kind of) and the one before. he'd want you prepared, and preferably happy, but understands that he selfishly didn't let you to pass by his final phase without some sort of grieving. dazai would have regrets in that sense, but understand there's not much he can do about it now except try and prepare you for the inevitable.

i just wanna hug dazai all the time randomly (i never get hugs at home) and if he were to hug me i would cry (a little)

i also feel likes his hugs would feel so so safe warm and comforting

(could i please be 🌹 anon?)

im collecting more anons like Pokémon omg YES you are in my Pokédex now hiiii 🌹anon sorry this took so long (like every rq oops!)

i included platonic hcs at the end as well bc why not

cw: dazai-standard suicide mention, i use the word vomit once ?

Hugging Dazai catches him off guard. Or it used to, you had found - randomly jumping on top of him throughout the day whenever you'd see him. It started sporadically and became more frequent, which led to Dazai becoming more prepared. He'd tense up as you entered a room, ready for you to pounce.

It started as a playful bit, knowing Dazai tended to short circuit when given affection. You'd seen it multiple times with Atsushi, the lovable boy having no clue why Dazai would panic a little when randomly given flowers that one time, or why he was so surprised when Atsushi spared a few kind words. It was little things, things Dazai clearly wasn't used to, and it always made you smile.

So of course, you wanted to do the same.

The first time he nearly pushed you off of him, choosing instead to hold his hands up like you were some cop trying to take him down. The second he'd merely frozen, breath baited as he waited for you to let go. By the third, he was able to brush it off with an awkward laugh, and the more it happened the more he was able to respond with a joke or the like. But you never missed the way his whole body seemed to pause for a moment.

Of course, once you noticed he was mentally and physically preparing before you even did it, you started to think you might've pushed too hard. Was he uncomfortable? Was he unsure of how to ask you to stop? It made you feel guilty, especially when he started flinching when you entered the room, knowing what was coming next.

You stopped.

It wasn't like it was hard, and the guilt eating at you was much worse. Dazai wasn't the only touch starved one, but you'd not-so happily give up the brief second of hug you got when seeing Dazai in favor of him feeling safe around you, as well as keeping your friendship alive.

It was hard at first, arms moving up slightly on instinct as you had to constantly remind yourself to stop. After maybe a week of no more hugging, you finally felt relieved - everything was back to normal. Dazai wouldn't freeze when you walked into a room, your hands wouldn't twitch as though trying to reach out for him.... Everything was normal.

Except Dazai, again.

Something was off, you could tell. While everyone gets confused sometimes, watching Dazai of all people furrow his brows and look away from you was almost scary. One of the greatest geniuses in Yokohama was confused by something - by you. Nothing had changed, had it? Maybe he was confused by why the hugs stopped, but you're sure he's smart enough to realize that on his own. You didn't want him to feel uncomfortable around you, that's all.

It didn't take long for the confusion to turn to veiled fear. He hid it well, you being none the wiser - but Dazai couldn't help the anxiety that grew around you. It wasn't like you were avoiding him, you still acted the exact same. You just kept your hands behind your back and made sure to maintain distance.

But that's what scared Dazai - the distance. The worry and fear he felt stemmed from the reason why; why had you stopped in the first place? All he could think of was that you finally figured out his secret. Dazai has a huge crush on you.

He’d always tensed up when you hugged him, feeling his heart rate far from his usual controlled pace and instead beating quicker than he could’ve imagined. Something so small and normal as a hug left him breathless when it came from you, and his greatest fear was that you felt the harsh thrumming of his heart and decided to stop. If you knew his secret, then this surely is you rejecting him.

The thought makes Dazai nervous. Being rejected is normal for him, never one to shy away from shooting his shot. Asking any person with a pulse to kill themselves with him left the brunet very accustomed to the response of “no.” Even being yelled at or hit by some unruly people was something he accepted with a smile, but the thought of you politely turning him down made his chest ache.

You stopped hugging him. Surely you didn’t feel the same.

Dazai understands he is an attractive person, both in looks and personality, and he’s more than used to leveraging these factors in his favor. Just a few weeks ago, he 100% was sure that you had a crush on him, a huge one at that, and he quite enjoyed toying with you every now and again when work days would drag on. But now, he couldn’t tell left from right. Daily hugs to quitting cold turkey made him so nervous, knowing you must be too uncomfortable to even touch him anymore let alone hug him.

That’s fine. He’s fine with that. People changing their minds about him, people leaving - Dazai is used to that. You deciding you don’t like him anymore (maybe just the attention he gave before rather than crushing on him specifically?) and moving on when you realized he likes you instead is fine. It’s fine.

Yet he still finds himself frowning in your direction when you aren’t looking. Nervousness is annoying, but he was hoping it’d lead him away from you. Still, however, Dazai finds himself following you with his eyes whenever you so much as re-situate yourself in a chair. He can’t help but silently beg for you to come over to him, even though he knows he’d nearly vomit if you did. How annoying.

Of course, sitting across from each other for lunch isn’t conducive for moving on and staying away from you, but you happened to stumble upon the brunet and his bespectacled coworker at the cafe and got an invitation from the latter. “I have to get back to work. Mind making sure Dazai doesn’t do anything too drastic again?” Kunikida had said to you, to which you kindly agreed - how could you have said no?

Dazai wishes you did, every brush of his knee against yours making him lose more and more of his appetite. With Kunikida gone, after a few beats of silence, you let out a sigh. “Sorry. I’ll leave you to it, okay? Good luck at work.” Just as you stand up to leave, Dazai - stupid, stupid Dazai - grabs your arm.

The action causes you to cock your head, confused as he grabs you. The face makes him quickly let go, grabbing his mug of tea instead so his hands don’t reach out again. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he starts, deciding to just get it out of his system. Maybe if you rejected him to his face, he could move on. “No more… hugs and stuff.”

Slowly, you slide back into the booth seat, a solemn look on your face. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs into the mug, not wanting to make eye contact. What does “yeah” even mean? Is this your way of saying you know? You know he knows?

“Um, well, I know you don’t really like affection. I know you aren’t used to it, I should say. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’m sorry for continuing for so long,” you finally apologize, the guilt that built up over time washing away finally.

“No, no,” he starts, turning to look at you rather than his mug. “Uncomfortable? You thought I didn’t like it?”

You deadpan, unamused. “Dazai, you used to tense up when I entered a room and I saw you flinch a few times when I got close.” Slowly, your expression turns, no longer unamused. “I’m not that stupid, man…” A small chuckle punctuates your last sentence.

Of course that’s what you took away from it. Dazai feels like an idiot, so worried that you might have realized his secret that he didn’t even pay attention to what was in front of him. You stopped for him, of course! Because you still like him. He’s sure of it, knowing you stopped something that clearly made you happy just for his comfort.

“Thank god,” he sighs in relief, causing you to raise an eyebrow.

“..? Did you actually think I was that stupid?”

“No, you idiot - I thought you were rejecting me. You still like me, that’s perfect.”

You fluster at Dazai’s words, eyes widening at the bluntness of it all. “Wh-what?! How is that what you got from what I said?”

He only grins in response, the bandaged man leaning forward over his teacup to reach you. Dazai was never one to explain what was in his mind, leaving you confused and flustered across from him. “It’s okay, pretty - I feel the same,” he whispers into your ear, only so he can watch as you shiver at the feeling of his breath against it. After pulling back, his smug grin only grows. “I thought you were avoiding me because you found out.”

Staring at him, you wonder why it is that you like him. At least now you can go back to hugging him all the time.

platonic hugging Dazai hcs 😽

like above, he's caught off guard at first

but then he decides to return the favor >:)

dazai will try and catch you off guard with a hug and it quickly turns into high stakes tag

the two of you immediately make eye contact when you're in the same room, and actively RUN from each other so the other can't hug first

high stakes tag. dazai jumped off a roof to catch you off guard one time. now he isn't allowed roof access at the ada 🙂‍↕️

he can still jump from the windows

it hits a point where everyone Around you is nervous. you two have vaulted over tables and everything it's scary

rooms will empty if the both of you are in one

dazai is definitely winning sorry! he feels it in his bones when you're about to arrive and hides behind doors to jump out at you 🙂‍↕️

Hello deer!! I wholeheartedly hope you are feeling better day after day! Here a bit of a thought about Dazai that could cheer you up.

I was thinking about Pm! Dazai (like always).

People always says "he listens to this, he listens to that", I think he didn't listen to any music honestly.

So imagine if you are the one who makes him listen to songs for the first time, and you help him build up his own tastes making him listen to any genre, some you like some maybe you don't like just to help him.

It would be so wholesome idk I love this idea😭

- ⏳️

hi ⏳ anon!!! youre so real 🙂‍↕️ i did this more as hcs :)

"Why are you playing me songs you don't like?"

"..? Because what if you like them?"

"I'm not going to just out of spite now."

and he doesn't

if you go out of your way to show dazai songs and help him build his taste he's just gonna fall in love with you agree with what you like

i think honestly it'd be hell to make him sit down and listen, follow along with the lyrics, etc - so please have something else nearby for him to stimulate his brain or hands or anything!!!!

like puzzles or something! fidget toys idk! maybe he doesn't care for music because he doesn't understand sitting there silently and doing nothing

listen. drop a bin of legos on him or something you know what i mean?

but you teach him well 🙂‍↕️ you don't have to just sit around and focus solely on the music! you can dance and have fun or just put it in the background!!!!

and now he gets it. now he's into it.

i think he'd love all music! isn't the type to make specific playlists just has every song he likes in one big pile

he doesn't gaf when some high beat song comes on full blast after the saddest tune yk. doesn't bat an eye

perhaps a given but he loves songs about dark topics that have cheerful beats 😭 have any of you heard bullet by hollywood undead? bro blasts that song all the time just to frustrate mori people

i think his emo ass would love mcr i'm sorry lmao

him rocking out and going crazy to all of their discography... it was meant for him

he hates whatever music you hate in solidarity btw. YOU showed him music so you clearly are the end all be all on decisions here

if someone recommends him a song he asks you if you've heard it. if not: you can listen together! if so:

"Do you like it? Are we gatekeeping this artist? Or is the song bad and I should I tell this guy to fuck off?"

"Dazai, just listen to it! Maybe you'll like it!"

"? That's what I'm trying to figure out. So answer my question, do you like it?"

and he says that all on the phone with you across from the person lmao

i just think he doesn't care enough to find his own taste if he never cared enough to listen on his own

so while he Says that your music taste is objectively correct (to which he stands by fully) he also just doesn't mind never listening to anything else

he doesn't care to branch out! dazai just likes you

and by extension, your music

piggybacking off of what i said earlier, he is not a playlist guy

BUT. however.

dazai will never sit down and forge his own playlist

unless it's a joke. "songs to make chuuya mad" and it's like. nyan cat 10 hour version idfk

okay back to the point

dazai will never forge his own playlists HOWEVER. if you're a playlist enjoyer and make tons and tons, spanning across different moods and different times and everything -

he listens to Every Single One

dazai will pick favorites from the playlists, but each one is meticulously worked through and studied, making sure to give you specific compliments on each one

okay. pm!dazai is so emo i need you all to understand while he does just shuffle every song you've ever liked, he is partial to more of that standard tumblr-emo shit yk

bro queues up mcr fall out boy and pierce the veil

every middle school emo kid's playlist is what dazai listens to

Hello! Are requests open?

If not, ignore this ask.

I wanted to ask you a beast dazai x neglected reader. Like, a reader who has been ignored and neglected from her entire family since she grow up. She no longer gets goodbyes, she has to cook for herself, her parents don't even acknowledge her when she's sick.

She's been recently accepted as a member of the port, more specifically a secretary of the one and only Dazai Osamu in flesh and bones. Just her luck, this so "scary demon prodigy" is also the sweetest most loyal and pretty boyfriend of her.

When Dazai finds out how she gets (or rather not get) treated at home, he gets genuinely pissed off!! And wanting her to just be good, he asks her if she want to spend sometime in his penthouse, far from that family, somewhere where all the attention she needs is on her, at least there Dazai can actually show her how much she's worth all the love in the world! Come on, she gave him a reason to live, how could he even accept she is living a shitty life in such an house?

Also, PLEASE, PLEASE. An au where beast dazai doesn't kill himself. Also, I love the concept that in every universe the reader and him are soulmates. Like, it's just so perfect I'm so in love with that idea!!

ALSO AGAIN OPS, i wanted to say that I LOVE LOVE your dazai SO SO SO SO SO SO SO SO MUCH!!!! I've recently stumbled into your blog and I MUST SAY THAT THIS IS JUST.. PERFECT???? I love YOU, deer, for all your wonderful ideas, I love THE ASKS, because damn all your asks give just as wonderful ideas as the one you write out, and I love YOUR WORKS especially the y!dazai like yes???? Just yes????

(My favorite character is Chuuya, but my soft spot for Beast dazai is actually insane, you don't even imagine how much I love that man. Also, because my heart just hurt and break each time people talk about Dazai being a cheater, THANK YOU??? THE ASK, AND YOUR REPLY, THANK YOU SO MUCH??? COULDN'T LIVE WITH THE FEELING DAZAI THAT CHEATS ANYMORE! THANK YOU THANK YOU)

Anyways.

Woah, this got long, I swear I'm not crazy..

Can I be ⏳️ anon if no one else is??

HIII ⏳️ ANON!!! im so glad you enjoy my works and my dazai!!! (as opposed to . asagiris dazai lmaooo)

im sorry this is so late 😭 but im back on the writing grind 😼

The lights were on in your boyfriend’s penthouse, a bolt of worry shooting down your spine at the sight. With his spare key haphazardly shoved into your pocket and door left wide open, you tiptoe into what should've been his apartment, trying to find out if someone broke in.

Dazai had asked you to stop by and drop off something at his place — not exactly standard work for a secretary but you were happy to assist your boyfriend. In your arms now were the groceries a different lackey had picked up and left on your desk. Normally Dazai would take them back himself, he said, but he would need to stay at work late and finish up some things. You were to take his place and make sure the refrigerated goods didn’t go bad. That’s what he said to you, anyway, which you found a bit confounding; Couldn't he have a lackey bring it up in your stead? Sure, Dazai liked to bring his own food to his home to alleviate the threat of poison, but it wouldn't be the first time he let it happen anyway.

While you had been a bit skeptical, pushing the topic seemed unnecessary since you were more than willing to do it either way. Any time spent far from your home and your family was time you cherished, so you didn’t think twice before accepting his stupid and unusual request and taking his spare penthouse key.

But now, you were regretting it. Anyone capable of breaking into the Port Mafia boss’s penthouse was not someone to be underestimated: you were in serious trouble. Cautiously, you hold the paper bags tightly to keep the food from moving around noisily before peeking into the kitchen: the room with the lights on. What could they be doing here..?

Plating dinner, apparently.

“Love! You’ve finally arrived - good. Take a seat!”

Your boyfriend was donned in a frilly pink apron you’re sure he bought just for this occasion, since you've never seen him in it before. With an amused chuckle, you stepped back. "Let me close the door then I'll join you."

After putting away all of the groceries he'd asked you to bring home for him - and realizing he already had all of these items in his cupboards and refrigerator already - you tug on the ribbon keeping the apron fixed against his neck.

The top half falls down from his chest, curling over the second tie around his hips and dangling loosely. "Undressing me already?" Dazai hums playfully.

"You're obnoxious." Next comes the tie around his waist, the bunched up apron fabric quickly pulled against your chest. You gently push Dazai to the side as you unfold it. "C'mon, I'll take over now."

Dazai huffs childishly, pouting dramatically for the full effect. "Hey!" He reaches out, snagging the apron from you and quickly tying it back on himself. Hands securely gripping your waist, Dazai lifts you from the ground and carries you - feet hovering just over the wooden floor - to the dining room, where an empty basket sits between variously sized candles on a decorated table.

On either side of the table are empty plates and fancy napkins, ones you hadn't known Dazai even owned, with cutlery resting on top. Two glasses sit on the table, one scotch and one wine glass, both filled with their respective drinks. Dazai sets you down next to the table, feet finally touching the floor once again while his arms snake out from your waist, making sure to pat your tummy once as his hand slides around it.

"Hope you're hungry - I made your favorite. It's all plated and ready to go, I just... burnt the bread you like. That garlicky kind from that restaurant we went to a few weeks ago? I gently requested the chef to give me the recipe and she happily handed it over! Of course, it must've been my handsome good looks that finally made her acquiesce rather than the gun in my coat pocket— "

Your wonderful boyfriend continues to prattle on and yet you barely register any of it, just thinking about how he knew you liked that bread and wanted to go to extreme lengths to recreate it for you. A bit timidly, you hold his hands in yours, giving them a mild squeeze. "I can't believe you went to the trouble."

The sound of your whisper makes Dazai grin, puffing out his chest in pride. "Of course! I'd do anything for my love," he says, voice leaning more on the side of egotistical than genuine, a light joke hoping to make you laugh. Like always, he succeeds.

The kiss you press to his cheek makes his smile turn more sincere, a hand moving to flatten the frilly pink fabric around his waist. "Guess you read my apron."

You look down, noticing the tacky KISS THE CHEF embroidered onto the front. A playful scoff passes your lips, rolling your eyes while trying to bite back a smile. "You're annoying. How long have you had this?"

"Umm~," he hums for a moment. "7 hours? And I thought you said I was obnoxious." A high pitched ding! sounds from the kitchen, Dazai quickly rushing back and leaving you alone. You gaze back at the dinner table he set up, smiling excitedly at the thought of him putting all this together just for you.

Spending time with Dazai always lifts a weight off of your shoulders, laughing at his dumb jokes and complaining about your day - it’s a wonderful feeling the both of you lacked prior. Him from his upbringing in the mafia, following in Mori’s footsteps and cursed to take his position, and you - not allowed to rely on anyone except yourself from the moment you could walk. Both you and Dazai were accustomed to loneliness and isolation, knowing the only people you could trust were yourselves.

Coming together after forced alienation all your life made you bit hesitant to depend on him, especially at first. Asking for attention and affection is much scarier than just wanting it. However, Dazai had seemed to warm up to the idea relatively quickly, as though he already knew you could be trusted and had already been used to your presence.

It was a bit jarring, knowing the scary mafia boss was so enamored with you he'd practically jump onto you if you got too close. All things considered, he should've been as cautious as you were, but Dazai so easily slid into his role as your partner. Sometimes you feel bad knowing that you haven't been as forthcoming as he has.

"Stay with me tonight."

The sudden turn in conversation makes you freeze, hand pausing with your glass of wine lingering just in front of your lips. Conversation had been flowing easily just moments prior — chatting about each other's day and various similar small talk, before turning to the dinner at hand. You'd thanked Dazai for the meal before asking him why he decided to do this for you so randomly. Instead of answering, he'd simply replied with the above: stay with me tonight.

"Stay here? Overnight? It's a bit last minute..."

Dazai smiles as you set your wine glass down, staring at him as though expecting an elaboration. Which, of course, he's willing to supply. "And tomorrow night, if you'd like. The one after and every night after that."

Is he asking me to move in? you think, breath hitching. It's all so sudden; you'd never even discussed this possibility with him. Sure, you've spent a night or two over here and there - but very sporadically. It wasn't something often and definitely not frequent enough to lead into moving in so soon.

"Stop overthinking," he cuts into your thoughts. "Take what I'm saying at face value." Gently, Dazai's hand reaches out to grab yours, arm resting on the table as his thumb traces your knuckles. "Stay with me tonight. And we can reassess tomorrow."

Of course he knows how to calm you down, causing you to breathe as you focus on his thumb's ministrations on your hand. Well, it would be nice, knowing the options are to stay with your loving boyfriend or go home to your neglectful family. They wouldn't even notice you're gone, much less care where you ended up, but...

"I have pajamas and clothes for you to use, spare toothbrush and the like." Dazai had answered your question before you even asked, something that always made you smile. No one had ever taken the time to know you, much less well enough to read your mind like that. "If they're not to your liking, I'll have a subordinate get you something else."

You shake your head, wanting nothing more than to spend a night away from your home once again. Or away from your house, rather - since Dazai has quickly proven himself to be your home. "I bet they're perfect. And if not, I— " you hesitate, not wanting to impose. The last thing you wanted was to be—

"You aren't a burden. If not, we can just get something else," Dazai cuts off your train of thought. "I want to, okay? I want to take care of you. I want you to know what it's like to be looked after and taken care of."

"I was going to say if not, maybe I can move some of my clothes here... for the times I stay over." Anxiously, you pick up your fork to poke and prod at your meal, the lovely dinner Dazai had crafted just for you consisting of only your favorite foods.

Dazai nods quickly, eyes glimmering at the idea. He knows this is your metaphorical olive branch, letting him know that you're working up to one day moving in with him. All he wants and all he's ever wanted for as long as he's known you, spanning across multiple lives, is to keep you safe and happy.

The topic changes as dinner continues, and before you know it you're donned in the most expensive pajamas curled up against Dazai fast asleep. Watching you snore beside him, all he can think about is making sure you're surrounded solely by people who cherish you.

Nikolai Gogol asks you to stay. You agree.

This is part of a series of standalone works about Nikolai Gogol. The rest can be found here including content warnings for each separate part.

general cw: yandere tendencies (possessiveness, manipulation...), very toxic, could be dubcon?, he deffo doesn't ask you to stay he more just tells you to, sorry! "agree" cw: above, he's the best here probably, you might be into it a bit more here oops mb

Pinned down onto Nikolai's couch, he sinks his teeth into you again and again, littering your skin with harsh bruises as he marks up your neck.

"Don't leave," he nearly growls, pressing gentle kisses over the bites.

You shift underneath him, shying away from his harshness. "Nikolai," comes out breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as your hands grip his shirt tightly to try and keep yourself grounded.

The white-haired man looks at you beneath him as his hands clamp down on your waist, holding you tighter as he moves his lips to your shoulder. For a few moments, Nikolai plants kisses along your neck while you catch your breath. Just before you can fully calm down, his teeth are right back on your collarbone and biting down with reckless abandon.

"Stay," he growls once more, teeth digging in to send another batch of shockwaves all across your body.

You whimper beneath him, thrashing tirelessly under his hold. "Nooo!"

Hot breath against your skin and sharp teeth grazing your flesh overwhelms your senses, sending you into a spiral while his fingers trail up and down your arms gently. It's hard to soothe someone while also causing them pain, but Nikolai's ministrations lead to your thrashing subsiding, chest heaving up and down as you merely breathe against him.

"It hurts?" he asks hoarsely.

The only response he gets is a feverish nod. Your eyes are screwed shut as your hands fumble with his shirt, clenching and unclenching the black fabric. It's an attempt to ground yourself, but your stinging neck keeps it from fully working.

Nikolai looks down at you, his eyebrows raised as he slides his teeth against your neck again, this time applying only enough pressure to be noticeable, ghosting over your bruised and ruined skin.

Monotonously, he replies, "Then I won't stop," as though merely stating a fact and not deciding your fate. Your breath catches, holding it for a moment while he lets out a low growl of satisfaction.

An unwanted hiccup passes your lips, tears spilling from your eyes while squirming beneath him. The feeling of pain clouds your mind, your head spinning from the sensations he's causing.

"Keep struggling," he demands softly while his eyes flare with excitement.

"Niko...lai," you pant.

The man grins excitedly over you, seemingly taking this as a challenge as he increases his biting pressure. Nikolai's tongue licks around the areas he's previously bruised before his teeth sink into you just right, breath stopping again at the pain. The action happens twice more before he yanks on your hair, forcing your head to crane back to give him better access.

A yelp sounds from you as your grip tightens on Nikolai's shirt, knuckles turning paler as the fabric stretches under your hold. You whine out a pathetic pleeease, tears turning to big globs while squirming once again.

He doesn't let up though, choosing instead to slide his mouth down your neck in search of another sensitive spot.

With his teeth hovering over your shoulder, threatening to bite down once again, Nikolai whispers, "Tell me you'll stay.” His voice is soft, the gentle tone he uses making your mind hazy.

You hesitate contemplatively, trying to weigh your options. All you have to do is promise you'll stay and he'll stop, right? That's not such a bad trade. Why did you even want to leave again? He protects you, always doing things in your best interest, right? Sure, he's hurting you now, but it's only because you hurt him first when you tried to leave. If you had just stayed in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

Honestly, this predicament is entirely your fault, isn't it?

After a brief moment of hesitation, you end up nodding quickly. The motion agitates the bites along your neck, which causes you to flinch and recoil slightly. "I'll stay." The words come out easily, a promise you were sure you wouldn't break. Knuckles loosening, your hands move up from his shirt, the fabric now stretched out and wrinkly as you gently hold his shoulders.

The action makes Nikolai swoon, excited that you finally saw the light- the truth. With a gentle touch, his thumb and pointer finger pinch the chub of your cheek, pulling it out slightly as he smiles adoringly down at you.

"Perfect dove," he says as gently as his touch, voice soft and sweet before he presses a kiss to the side of your mouth. "So good for me."

Breathing more relaxed now, you nuzzle into his hand as it cups the side of your face. Nikolai's sudden loving touches help to calm you down, knowing it's finally over. The hand trails down slightly, palm swinging away from your skin as his finger pads linger just over the highest mark on your neck, made just below where your jaw and neck meet under your ear.

Nikolai can't help but reel giddily as you don't even flinch, just leaning into his touch as he rests it just over where he punctured it. The thought that you weren't even scared of him touching the tender spot and making it sting really solidifies in his mind that, once again, you're his. No more running away, you're more than happy to let him watch over you once again.

"You did so well for me, dove," he coos fondly. "Took it so well, didn't you? Precious dove. Always putting up with me, aren't you," Nikolai adds, the last line not a question.

The white-haired man pauses for a moment, smile fading. It takes him a few moments of gazing at the harsh marks marring your pretty skin for him to decide he might have to apologize.

"And... I'm sorry for that," he whispers, tone much lower than the murmur from a few seconds ago. "I got nervous, you know how I can get," he tries to explain with an awkward and forced chuckle, the guilt he's so accustomed with eating away at him.

Like Nikolai said, you're always put up with him - actions like this aren't exactly new, he just usually knew when to stop. You squeeze his shoulders once. "I know. You're a lot," you speak candidly.

With a wide grin, Nikolai feels immense relief. the guilt is still there, but it's significantly minimized when he realizes you aren't all that upset or scared. "I am!" He grins, fingers hovering back and forth over each wound on your neck. "Too much, right?" Even so, Nikolai can't help the small giggle sitting on his tongue, a glimmer of mirth in his eyes.

"The bites, or you?" You teasingly ask, eyes looking up at him in amusement.

It makes his heart flutter whether he wants it to or not, knowing this was nothing but a footnote in your time together, still as obsessed with him as he is with you. Nikolai shrugs as your request for clarification, not really having an answer anyway. "Both."

"The bites... yes. A bit too much. You?" You pause for a moment, letting silence linger as though building up suspense. "I guess you can be. But it might be a part of your charm."

"Might?" Nikolai pouts before peppering soft kisses along your cheeks, alternating left and right.

He wouldn't let you leave, that's for sure.

Nikolai Gogol asks you to stay. You are unsure.

This is part of a series of standalone works about Nikolai Gogol. The rest can be found here including content warnings for each separate part.

general cw: yandere tendencies (possessiveness, manipulation...), very toxic, could be dubcon?, he deffo doesn't ask you to stay he more just tells you to, sorry! "are unsure" cw: above + condescending manipulation (making decisions for you?), could be seen as kidnapping?

Pinned down onto Nikolai's couch, he sinks his teeth into you again and again, littering your skin with harsh bruises as he marks up your neck.

"Don't leave," he nearly growls, pressing gentle kisses over the bites.

You shift underneath him, shying away from his harshness. "Nikolai," comes out breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as your hands grip his shirt tightly to try and keep yourself grounded.

The white-haired man looks at you beneath him as his hands clamp down on your waist, holding you tighter as he moves his lips to your shoulder. For a few moments, Nikolai plants kisses along your neck while you catch your breath. Just before you can fully calm down, his teeth are right back on your collarbone and biting down with reckless abandon.

"Stay," he growls once more, teeth digging in to send another batch of shockwaves all across your body.

You whimper beneath him, thrashing tirelessly under his hold. "Nooo!"

Hot breath against your skin and sharp teeth grazing your flesh overwhelms your senses, sending you into a spiral while his fingers trail up and down your arms gently. It's hard to soothe someone while also causing them pain, but Nikolai's ministrations lead to your thrashing subsiding, chest heaving up and down as you merely breathe against him.

"It hurts?" he asks hoarsely.

The only response he gets is a feverish nod. Your eyes are screwed shut as your hands fumble with his shirt, clenching and unclenching the black fabric. It's an attempt to ground yourself, but your stinging neck keeps it from fully working.

Nikolai looks down at you, his eyebrows raised as he slides his teeth against your neck again, this time applying only enough pressure to be noticeable, ghosting over your bruised and ruined skin.

Monotonously, he replies, "Then I won't stop," as though merely stating a fact and not deciding your fate. Your breath catches, holding it for a moment while he lets out a low growl of satisfaction.

An unwanted hiccup passes your lips, tears spilling from your eyes while squirming beneath him. The feeling of pain clouds your mind, your head spinning from the sensations he's causing.

"Keep struggling," he demands softly while his eyes flare with excitement.

"Niko...lai," you pant.

The man grins excitedly over you, seemingly taking this as a challenge as he increases his biting pressure. Nikolai's tongue licks around the areas he's previously bruised before his teeth sink into you just right, breath stopping again at the pain. The action happens twice more before he yanks on your hair, forcing your head to crane back to give him better access.

A yelp sounds from you as your grip tightens on Nikolai's shirt, knuckles turning paler as the fabric stretches under your hold. You whine out a pathetic pleeease, tears turning to big globs while squirming once again.

He doesn't let up though, choosing instead to slide his mouth down your neck in search of another sensitive spot.

With his teeth hovering over your shoulder, threatening to bite down once again, Nikolai whispers, "Tell me you'll stay.” His voice is soft, the gentle tone he uses making your mind hazy.

You hesitate contemplatively, trying to weigh your options. All you have to do is promise you'll stay and he'll stop, right? That's not such a bad trade. Why did you even want to leave again? He protects you, always doing things in your best interest, right? Sure, he's hurting you now, but it's only because you hurt him first when you tried to leave. If you had just stayed in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

Honestly, this predicament is entirely your fault, isn't it?

"Wait," you still hesitate, feet moving back and forth to try and maintain blood flow as he continues to sit on your thighs. "I can't think," you gasp, tears still running off your cheeks. "I-I dunno!"

Nikolai wastes no time in biting as harshly as he can, a yell escaping your throat as you tug onto his shirt, accidentally bringing him closer for a moment. He pulls back after to stare down at you, eyes glaring nearly as harshly as the dig of his teeth a moment ago.

The glare drops into a look of adoration, a soft smile appearing on his face as well. "That's alright, dove," he speaks as sweetly as he looks at you, a hand resting gently on your cheek. "I can decide for you. That's what you want, right?"

Vision blurry from tears, your hands slowly relax against his shirt, the fabric now bunched up and stretched out as you move to hold his shoulders. Instead of replying, you merely wait for him to continue.

And he does, never one to stay quiet for long when he has something to prove. Right now, all Nikolai wants to do is prove you're his - it's all he's wanted to do since you tried to leave.

"My perfect, precious dove - sometimes it's hard to think for yourself. I understand. And I'm kind enough to recognize that you weren't in your right mind earlier," he punctuates his words a light kiss to the tip of your nose. Smiling down at you in a condescending form of understanding, one of his hands trails over the marks he left. It causes you to flinch, squirming for a moment beneath him as his feather-like touches still cause each bite to sting.

"They say opposites attract, right? My dove has never longed for freedom. That's why your little speech earlier about how you want to leave me left me surprised. But of course, that's not really what you want, is it? You just wanted to ruffle my feathers, get me all possessive." Nikolai sighs, still staring at you with adoration. "My perfect dove. You know I love teasing, but you're mighty cruel. Though I suppose I was, as well..."

A frown settles on Nikolai's lips, the guilt he's tried so hard to fight off settling in. "Okay, dove. I'll stop. We can be done for today." His voice is low as he speaks, soft and gentle as he presses another light kiss to your forehead.

While looking down at you, he delicately taps the tip of your nose after plastering on his adoring smile once more. "Let's get you cleaned up," he whispers. "I'll get the first aid kit. Stay here, okay?"

And you do.

Nikolai Gogol asks you to stay. You decline.

This is part of a series of standalone works about Nikolai Gogol. The rest can be found here including content warnings for each separate part.

general cw: yandere tendencies (possessiveness, manipulation...), very toxic, could be dubcon?, he deffo doesn't ask you to stay he more just tells you to, sorry! "deline" cw: above + solidly dubcon, nikolai is the worst, sorry in advance

Pinned down onto Nikolai's couch, he sinks his teeth into you again and again, littering your skin with harsh bruises as he marks up your neck.

"Don't leave," he nearly growls, pressing gentle kisses over the bites.

You shift underneath him, shying away from his harshness. "Nikolai," comes out breathlessly, the sound catching in your throat as your hands grip his shirt tightly to try and keep yourself grounded.

The white-haired man looks at you beneath him as his hands clamp down on your waist, holding you tighter as he moves his lips to your shoulder. For a few moments, Nikolai plants kisses along your neck while you catch your breath. Just before you can fully calm down, his teeth are right back on your collarbone and biting down with reckless abandon.

"Stay," he growls once more, teeth digging in to send another batch of shockwaves all across your body.

You whimper beneath him, thrashing tirelessly under his hold. "Nooo!"

Hot breath against your skin and sharp teeth grazing your flesh overwhelms your senses, sending you into a spiral while his fingers trail up and down your arms gently. It's hard to soothe someone while also causing them pain, but Nikolai's ministrations lead to your thrashing subsiding, chest heaving up and down as you merely breathe against him.

"It hurts?" he asks hoarsely.

The only response he gets is a feverish nod. Your eyes are screwed shut as your hands fumble with his shirt, clenching and unclenching the black fabric. It's an attempt to ground yourself, but your stinging neck keeps it from fully working.

Nikolai looks down at you, his eyebrows raised as he slides his teeth against your neck again, this time applying only enough pressure to be noticeable, ghosting over your bruised and ruined skin.

Monotonously, he replies, "Then I won't stop," as though merely stating a fact and not deciding your fate. Your breath catches, holding it for a moment while he lets out a low growl of satisfaction.

An unwanted hiccup passes your lips, tears spilling from your eyes while squirming beneath him. The feeling of pain clouds your mind, your head spinning from the sensations he's causing.

"Keep struggling," he demands softly while his eyes flare with excitement.

"Niko...lai," you pant.

The man grins excitedly over you, seemingly taking this as a challenge as he increases his biting pressure. Nikolai's tongue licks around the areas he's previously bruised before his teeth sink into you just right, breath stopping again at the pain. The action happens twice more before he yanks on your hair, forcing your head to crane back to give him better access.

A yelp sounds from you as your grip tightens on Nikolai's shirt, knuckles turning paler as the fabric stretches under your hold. You whine out a pathetic pleeease, tears turning to big globs while squirming once again.

He doesn't let up though, choosing instead to slide his mouth down your neck in search of another sensitive spot.

With his teeth hovering over your shoulder, threatening to bite down once again, Nikolai whispers, "Tell me you'll stay.” His voice is soft, the gentle tone he uses making your mind hazy.

You hesitate contemplatively, trying to weigh your options. All you have to do is promise you'll stay and he'll stop, right? That's not such a bad trade. Why did you even want to leave again? He protects you, always doing things in your best interest, right? Sure, he's hurting you now, but it's only because you hurt him first when you tried to leave. If you had just stayed in the first place, this wouldn't have happened.

Honestly, this predicament is entirely your fault, isn't it?

"P-please," you still hesitate, feet moving back and forth to try and maintain blood flow as he continues to sit on your thighs. "I just w-want," you gasp, tears still running off your cheeks. "I wanna go!"

Nikolai wastes no time in biting as harshly as he can, a yell escaping your throat as you push on his chest. He pulls back to stare down at you, eyes glaring nearly as harshly as the dig of his teeth a moment ago.

The glare drops into a look of adoration, a soft smile appearing on his face as well. "I must've misheard you, dove," he speaks as sweetly as he looks at you. "Why, I could've sworn you said you want to go."

All-encompassing is Nikolai's scent as he leans down to nuzzle against you, his nose brushing against the side of your face for a moment. "But that doesn't make sense, does it?" He whispers against your skin.

"Because," he presses a kiss to your left cheek, "why on earth," and then your right cheek, "would you want that?" He grins, his lips now only a few inches away from yours.

With a dramatic sigh he pulls back, sitting upright now while still on your thighs. "If my dove really wants to leave, then who am I to stop her? But be warned, any man you try to move on with will never be as good as I. You'll forever think of me - my lips, my teeth - as you fuck useless, unworthy men.

"And then," he beams maliciously, "I'll climb in through your window after and finally get you off, biting and marking you while the other man watches." Nikolai's hands dig into your side, fingers gripping your waist in a way that makes you yelp.

"You are mine. And if I have to watch you play with other losers before you accept that, then they have to watch me properly please you."

Nikolai Gogol asks you to stay. You... cw: yandere tendencies (possessiveness, manipulation...), very toxic, could be dubcon?, he deffo doesn't ask you to stay he more just tells you to, sorry!

...decline. cw: above + solidly dubcon, nikolai is the worst, sorry in advance

...are unsure. cw: above + condescending manipulation (making decisions for you?), could be seen as kidnapping?

...agree. cw: above, he's the best here probably, you might be into it a bit more here oops

Hello... Love your blogs, can I asked for ada dazai spending time with his daughter? The daughter can be either an oc or the reader's perspective, that's all on you.... If you choose oc I was thinking about naming the daughter after the real-life daughter of dazai "yuko tsushima" or just yuko.... Spending time with her can be either at the mall or at the theme park after the kid had passed the exams at school or any situation that you like that it is suitable. And this is when dazai shown to be a loving father to her.

Btw, thank you if you ever read this and hope that you are doing well... Sending virtual hugs if you had an hard day...

im doing well thanks!!! sorry this took so long </3 hope u enjoy and thanks for reading my works :) i didnt use a name for the kid so feel free to imagine whatever!

With a chuckle, Dazai leans forward to wipe the melted ice cream off his little girl’s chin. The brown chocolate of his favorite flavor seems to be staining her skin, causing Dazai to spit on one of the napkins to wipe it off.

“Ew, daddy!” She whines, small hands flinging out to try and push his spit covered napkin away.

“Don’t say 'ew' at my spit when I’ve used my bare hands to wipe up your boogers without a complaint,” he pushes the small cone back into her hands.

His daughter only huffs in annoyance before digging back in, rendering his work useless. Still, the sight only warms his heart, watching his cute kid's face become lathered in melted ice cream.

"Y'know, that's your dad's favorite flavor," Dazai mentions absentmindedly, sticking his finger in the frozen dessert to swipe some for himself.

Dazai's daughter nods, uninterested in what her dad has to say until he steals a bit of her ice cream. "Hey! Daddy, get your own!" She whines, little hands covered in ice cream pushing at his once clean shirt.

"Okay, okay," he can't help but chuckle as he raises his hands in mock surrender.

It's a peaceful day out, warm and sunny with no clouds in the sky - the perfect kind of day for an ice cream treat with your dad. Dazai pities all the other kids trapped inside for school and all of his coworkers for not ditching today. Might as well start his girl young on avoid professional obligations. He's sure to get an earful from you later about not taking her out midday when she should be learning how to subtract or whatever, but Dazai knows he'll look back on this moment fondly in the future.

"Hey, say cheese! I'm gonna take a picture - your parent is gonna be so jealous," he snickers.

Sitting at work and bored out of your mind, you glance down at your phone to see a text from Dazai. You usually expected to see a picture of or text about him playing hooky, but to see your daughter roped in made you sigh. But, well, she's smiling so brightly you can't find it in yourself to be mad.

After saving the picture to your camera roll, you slide your phone into your pocket, pretending for just a bit longer that you didn't see it. You can yell at Dazai for taking her out of school later.

okay but..... pathetic yearning beast!stalkerzai... he's so quiet abt his obsession with u making up any excuse to have u around for subordinate purposes and when ur not around him he makes sure he can still keep tabs on u AHHH hes so sad and so smitten

"pathetic" i dont need to hear any more. im on board.

The continuous knocking on your apartment door leaves you anxious, quickly pulling on a comfy sweatshirt before answering the door. A breeze flies into the room, causing you to shiver, before you make eye contact with,

"Why aren't you at work today?" Dazai crosses his arms, an angry expression on his face. Though, the pout he wears causes it to be less intimidating than he'd normally be.

You glance into your apartment briefly, still feeling chilly while exposed to the outside air. "Um... I don't work?"

"You always work."

"Right. Which is why I have today off." Awkwardly, you itch your arm. "Am I… needed, Boss?"

Dazai sighs before walking into your apartment (with no invitation) and closes your own door behind him. "You're freezing."

"I'm slightly chilled," you shrug, brushing off the notion. Any other subordinate wouldn't dare correct the boss of the Port Mafia, but he'd always been more lenient with you - supposedly because you ‘aren’t as dumb’ as the rest. "But that's what the hoodie is for."

Without another word, Dazai plops down onto your couch, making a show of looking around your apartment. It’s tiny - the whole thing barely the size of his office at HQ — and Dazai wonders if you’d rather move in with him. For more space, of course. And he guesses you’d be saving on rent that way, too.

“How do you know where I live?” You ask curiously. Sure, it’s probably somewhere in your files, but your boss never seemed like the type to care.

Shrugging, he murmurs, “It’s my job.”

You want to make this visit quick, but kicking out your boss didn’t seem like a smart idea. “Are you thirsty? Would you like a cup of tea?..”

Yes, Dazai wants to try your tea. Just because you’re his subordinate, and he needs to make sure it’s up to par. What if he needs you to serve tea to some associates in the future? “I’d love one.”

Biting back a sigh, you fill your kettle before placing it on the stove, watching as your old gas stove flickers on. Silence hangs between you two - you had no intention of carrying the conversation when he just barged in uninvited.

Dazai seems to have a similar idea, sitting laxly on your couch and waiting for his tea. You pour one cup, uninterested in making one yourself, before placing it on the coffee table in front of him. “Sugar? Milk?”

“This is fine, thanks.” He takes a sip. Heavenly, he’s sure. Well, all tea tastes the same, but something about it coming from your hands… delectable. It’s as though he can taste the love you must pour into every cup.

Mouth shut, you take a seat on the chair across from him. “May I ask, sir, why are you here? Am I needed?” The question is posed once again as you hope for a quick resolution. Kicking out your boss is wrong, but hopefully he’ll read between the lines and show himself out - the same way he showed himself in.

A long sip of tea permeates the otherwise silent room. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure of it.

“…I was worried,” he mumbles into the mug, sound muffled and quiet.

“Sorry?”

“You should be,” he replies, uninterested in repeating himself. “I needed you today, only to find out you vanished into thin air.”

“I didn’t run, if that’s what you’re implying,” your eyes narrow. You would not be mistaken for a traitor.

“No, no,” he grins. You were at your most entertaining when you became combative. Dazai much prefers you like this rather than subservient. “You took today off.”

Correcting the boss of the Port Mafia was risky, but, “You gave me today off. A month ago, after that mission, you told me to pick a day to relax.”

That’s… true. It was a strenuous mission, and while Dazai made sure to keep you out of the fray, he thought a gift like that would make you feel touched and indebted to him. Annoyingly, he’d nearly forgotten, since Dazai had planned on reneging at the last minute to trap you with him. For your work ethtic, of course.

A pout graces his lips, unhappy at your disappearance from his side. And that he had no rebuttal to it. “Well, I still need you. I made dinner reservations for two accidentally, and the restaurant is rather strict. You need to come with. The meal will be comped, of course."

“Sir, I don’t— “

“Don’t want your job?” His eyes narrow, pout vanishing immediately. You had to go along with it. “I’m sure you don’t mean that, over something as silly as a nice dinner.”

“...Of course, sir.” You tug on the strings of your hoodie, wanting to emphasize that you aren't exactly dressed for something 'nice.' "What time am I expected?"

Dazai has to stop himself from swooning. How adorable. Well, it’s not you that’s adorable, of course. It’s the juxtaposition of such n oversized hoodie on you that he finds adorable, not you yourself. Definitely. “We can leave now, actually. Get changed, please. I wouldn't say there's a dress code, but it's not a 'hoodie' establishment."

Rather than lashing out at him for the snide comment, you choose to bite your tongue and head into your bedroom.

Exhausted was too light a word to describe how you felt. Donned in a 'nice' outfit that was rather uncomfortable, you stood outside in the cold air and harsh breeze as Dazai suggested to the host to let him in. This bastard didn't have reservations for one, much less two.

After the manager is called over and recognizes Dazai, you're quickly ushered in beside him. Dazai pulls out a seat at a secluded table in the back, gesturing for you to sit. "Come."

Without a second thought, you sit in the very seat he'd pulled out, stifling a yawn as he pushes you in. You’re Dazai's best employee - he must keep you close at all times. Which is why he takes advantage of your position as his subordinate to orders you waste your day off in a fancy restaurant across from him. If you want time off of work, you’ll have to spend it with him - just so he can keep an eye on you, of course.

Washing dishes is Dazai's favorite activity.

If you asked Kunikida, he'd say Dazai loves wasting time. Atsushi would say something more intellectual, like maybe he enjoys crosswords. Drinking would be Yosano's guess, since Dazai does it quite often, and Tanizaki would mention all the girls that call looking for him. Maybe petting the stray cats by the building, Kyoka would offer, and Kenji would agree excitedly with the notion — since he enjoys it, too. But none of them could guess what he really loves to do.

Ranpo knows Dazai loves doing the dishes with you. He'll unwrap his bandages more and more confidently each day, waiting as the sink fills with lukewarm water and soapy bubbles. You'll stand by his side happily, a dishrag in hand you'd forced him to buy long before you moved in.

The two of you would work without talking for a bit, Dazai scrubbing away whatever grime was left on plates while you dried off his hard work. The feeling of the water in his bare arms brought him peace, knowing the soapy bubbles covered his scars, but you also never commented when he'd pull them up and out of the comforting submerged space to hand you a plate. You'd hum beside him, the notes of whatever latest pop song got stuck in your head while at work today filling the small space between you two.

Dazai would knock his shoulder into yours playfully, grinning down at you softly as he passed over another dish. He loved when you'd almost drop a glass into the sink when taking it from him, face burning and eyes wide as you make an adorable startled noise. The humming tended to stop then, as you'd focus all your energy on not dropping anything else.

That's when the conversation would start. Dazai would ask for work drama, and you'd happily oblige. From intimate humming to workplace gossip, Dazai loved all of your sounds. If he could record these moments to keep forever, they'd become his white noise as he slept in your arms.

"Your fingers must be pruny. Do you want to switch jobs?"

You were always so considerate of him. He'd pat down his hands and forearms and you'd gently help him wrap his bandages back up, making sure not to let your gaze linger. Sometimes Dazai would lean over and sniff your hair as you worked, smelling your shampoo and nearly swooning. You'd pat his arm once gently to let him know you were done before turning to the few remaining dishes. He'd always leave the harder ones for you; bigger pots and pans and whatever the fuck a colander was. "It's just a big bowl! It even drains on its own," you'd huff, but never complain more than that.

Just as cute as ever, you'd wash them without complaint as he smiled victoriously. You both knew what he was doing, but even the "harder objects" were simple so you didn't mind. It'd be Dazai's turn to talk as he'd tease you for being so gullible. He'd mention his day, complaining about Kunikida's reports that he so graciously took over (which were Dazai's reports, actually) and how scary and nearly disastrous his meeting with a random dog was that he had passed by on the way home — a dog that was leashed and following beside its owner obediently.

The way home to you, to this vulnerable moment you both shared in the quiet of his apartment. He loved how focused you'd get on scrubbing away the grime, allowing him pause to stare at you and admire your dedication. How beautiful can one person be? And the way you'd get all flustered when you turn to hand him a dish to dry only to see him basking in your ethereal visage always caused him to grin.

He'd pepper your face with kisses, his now dried hands grabbing your soaked ones to pull you away from the kitchen and to the couch. You'd whine and complain, saying you only had a few dishes left, but you never tried to pull from his grasp while dutifully following suit. Dazai loves to cradle you close to him, forgetting about whatever worries him for a few moments.

Dazai loves doing the dishes.

hii hru? i have a fic request umm i have this idea thats been sitting in my head for TOO LONG... i need to get it out how would bsd men (your choice) react to a reader who is too nice of a person, basically an ANGEL but seeks love from people who treats them like shit.,,.,. n theyre always like "nono theyre a great friend" (i need to stop doing this though it happens too many times)

ok bye!! have a lovely day!!!!!!

if someone treats me wrongly i will treat them wrongER. i do not start shit but i will End It. i included Dazai, Ranpo, Nikolai, Atsushi and Chuuya :) ive never written for Chuuya and Atsushi but i just kept typing so umm mb!! don’t read the last two unless ur crazy

Dazai would be so frustrated internally. He had been one of those people you give such patience to, and he knows everyone else is only preying that kind nature. He’d subtly try and point out that what they’re doing is bad, but he has always preferred a less direct approach. Threatening. Okay, yes yes, Dazai has turned over a new leaf, but as long as he doesn’t hurt or kill it’s fine, right? Are mild and “empty” threats really that bad? He’d chase away those people easily, helping you to meet others like his coworkers at the Agency or reminding you of the good friends you have and how you should spend more time with them. If you’re the type to tolerate rudeness from others but Not tolerate it when people are rude to your friends, Dazai would lie and claim that these assholes wronged him in some devastating way so you never forgive them.

Ranpo would (metaphorically) hit you upside the head. What do you think you’re doing, letting anyone treat you as less than you are? Not because he cares for you (so he claims), but because you’re associated with him! By allowing these, for lack of a better word, losers to treat you so awfully, you’re taking down his image with you! How would people react if they knew that the greatest detective allowed his friend (..?) to be treated so horribly? That he of all people couldn’t knock some sense into you? He’d huff, reminding you that you’d only need him and the Agency anyway, so why waste your time with such imbeciles 🙄

Nikolai is the one who treats you like shit. He hadn’t originally meant to — not any more than usual, that is — but watching you defend horrible actions from people that didn’t matter made him wonder if you’d do the same for those that do (being him, of course). He’d change at the drop of a hat, doting on you and cherishing you to kicking you out and ghosting you for weeks. But when he messaged you once again, you’d find yourself back on a bus approaching his apartment. Because of course you are, how could you leave Nikolai when he’s been so kind to you? He said he was busy, and what reason did you have not to believe him?

Atsushi would see himself in you but it’d just be a cycle. You’d see others treating him poorly and get angry, and he’d see people doing that with you, but you both would defend your “friends” up and down until exhaustion kept you from continuing. Atsushi is used to being used, so it’s fine, and seemingly so are you, so you’re fine, and it just repeats forever. But, if Atsushi’s options are to hang out with you or those jerks, then you’ll just have to spend more time with him. And if your options are to hang out with him or those jerks, he’ll just have to spend more time with you. The cycle ends, but without any real confrontation, which is how the both of you would prefer it.

Chuuya: your loyal guard dog. If he can’t convince you not to see “those piece of shit, dumbass jerks” ever again he’d tag along. Everything except barking would be on the table - he’d growl when they talked over you or break a finger if he had to. This is the man you want by your side, because he’d fight for your honor when he needs to or take you back to his place for a soothing spa-adjacent bath with amazing scented candles and over the top bubbles, maybe a glass of expensive wine, to unwind and forget it all. Also he’d block their numbers from your phone and threaten them to never contact you again 💀

I GOT A SILLY IDEA AND IT WONT LEAVE ME ALONE

IMAGINE LIKE DAZAI AND S/O LIVE TOGETHER AND BOTH WORK AT ADA BUT S/O DOES NOT WANT TO BE LATE LIKE NOT EXACTLY KUNIKIDA SHE WOULD LIKE TO JUST SLEEP AND HATES GOING TO WORK EARLY BUT JUST DOESN'T WANT TO BE LECTURED BY KUNIKIDA AND SHE LIKES TO LIKE WAKE UP EARLY SO SHE HAS TIME SO SHE JUST HAS LIKE AN ALARM 4 HOURS BEFORE THEY SHOULD EVEN LEAVE, JUST FORCING HER EYES OPEN😭😭😭 AND DAZAI IS IS NOT HAVIN IT HOLDING ONTO U IN BED FOR DEAR LIFE AND TRYING TO GET YOU TO GO BACK TO SLEEP😭😭😭😭 AAAAAAARCTKVGRJVKTKVT

He turns off your alarm once you’ve fallen asleep.

The operation is covert, sneakily unwrapping his arms from around you to try and not wake you up. It takes a bit of effort, forcing his mind to let go of the comfort that comes from embracing you, but it’ll be worth it when he’s able to do so for longer when the sun comes up. Slowly, he’ll twist out from underneath the covers and away from the fluffy mattress you occupied, tiptoeing quietly over to your side of the bed.

Dazai slips your phone off of your charger before quickly (and yet still quietly!) fleeing the bedroom you two shared. You weren’t a light sleeper, but if you caught Dazai you’d probably banish him to the couch for the next few nights. Once in the hall, he’d input your password (your birthday, how cute dumb!) and open up your alarm app. Two alarms graced Dazai’s vision, one for nearly four hours before your shift starts and another for 15 minutes before, which is when you two leave for the Agency.

With a grin, he slides the on button to off for the four-hours-before alarm, deciding to benevolently leave the 15-minutes-before alarm on. It was most assuredly out of the goodness of his heart and not because he knew you’d be angry learning he shut off one of the alarms, much less both.

Maneuvering quickly back into the bedroom, he plugs in your phone and sets it back on the nightstand before throwing himself on top of you.

“’Sssamu..?” You murmur, your words slurred from sleep as you shifted beneath him.

Feeling proud after a job well done, Dazai peppers kisses along your cheeks before climbing back under the blankets. “Sorry, go back to sleep. Just am excited to hold you.”

“You were already holding me,” you pout, eyes still shut as sleep starts to take over once more.

The brunet says nothing as he pulls you back into his arms, eyes shutting easily as he thinks about tomorrow morning.

Used to your usual alarm clock, your body wakes up around four hours before naturally. Dazai coaxes you into staying in his arms, mentioning several times that you’ve never forgotten to turn on your alarm before - you must’ve just awoken earlier than normal. But that's fine, you two can just stay in each other’s arms until the actual alarm goes off, right?

Hello I’m new here, I just couldn’t help but notices how lovely you write. So I have little request for you.

Can I request Nikolai and any characters you want reaction when their s/o hides stuff between her breasts?

omg welcome just my drunk friend! tysm!!!! i love nikolai im on it 🫡 and dazai ofc..

has: no pronouns used but mention of boobs and bras, also one (1) use of the word tits. is that worthy of a warning? probably not. but Nikolai says it in a weird way bc he’s the worst so just in case 🤞🏻

You knock feverishly on Nikolai’s door. Fuck, where did you leave your key? You’d already made it back to your apartment when you realized it wasn’t in your pockets. The last place you were was Nikolai’s, so if he didn’t have it you aren’t sure who would.

“Nikolai, you dick,” you mutter under your breath. That asshole is definitely still awake, so why wasn’t he answering the door?

The knocking ceases as Nikolai swings the door open, hair unbraided and eyes glimmering. “Missed me that badly?” He leans forward, bending down slightly to maneuver his face just above yours. “You could’ve called, y’know.”

“Yeah, well,” you shrug. “I need to come in.”

“Pushy!~” He pouts, crossing his arms and standing up straight. “Not even gonna say hello?”

A groan passes your lips, too frustrated at your missing key to play his games. “You didn’t.” You pause momentarily. It’s less frustration and more so anxiety that makes your skin crawl and your tone snippy. “Sorry, I just lost my key. I’m worried I dropped it on the street walking home.”

Eyes lighting up, you would’ve sworn Nikolai beamed down at you with two mismatched flashlights. “You need your key, you say? And what if I told you I could procure it for you?”

Your shoulders slump down, relaxing. He’s being an asshole, sure, but at least you know he has it. “Please, Nikolai?”

“Mm… You gotta promise not to be mad when I retrieve it. Especially since I’ll be your savior, you know!” He puffs out his chest, already proud before he has even produced the key.

“I promise, I’ll be eternally grateful as long as I can find that key.”

Nikolai’s warm and ungloved hand slips under your loose shirt collar, digging beneath your bra and in between your breasts. You freeze, even with the warmth of his hand on you. Before you can chew him out for the random grope, the jester pulls your apartment key from in between, flashing both it and a wolfish grin to you.

You say nothing for a moment, just staring slack jawed at your key. Had you really..?

“You dropped it in there before you left,” he shrugs before dropping the key back in between your breasts, not bothering to hand it to you properly. “And I just stare at your tits all the time, so I noticed.”

With a gentle smack to his bicep, you fish the key out once more and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god; I thought I was going to have to change my locks!”

“You still should - I have, like, several copies of your apartment key littered around my apartment,” Nikolai smiles once more.

You don’t even bother replying, just turning around and leaving his place for the second time that night, your apartment key in hand.

Dazai would start hiding things in there too. He tosses a pen your way before heading out on a mission, one where he knows you can’t bring a bag along, just to watch as you stuff it in between your breasts. You’d sigh resignedly, used to his actions by this point and having long given up arguing or telling him off.

When on said mission, he’d find any and every reason that one might need a pen and turn to you expectantly, waiting for you to pull it out and hold it out for him. It’s always so warm after, heated up from its time nestled between where he’d like to be stashed away.

You’d complain after he asks for the pen for the nth time, telling him if he needs to use it so often he can get one himself! Those words were meant to tell him to bring/carry his own pen, but he’d grinned before taking that as meaning he could jam his hand down your shirt to reach for it himself.

“What? You told me to grab it myself…”

i want to spoil ranpo with sweets and little plushies like the baby he is hes 26 but the 2 is silent. hes my child i adopted him

BUT THE 2 IS SILENT LMFAOOOO

Everyone is gathered in a circle in the middle of the Agency's office, on edge as they surround... something. Behind them is a whiteboard on wheels with a few tallies covering it, a line down the middle separating them. Four tallies lined up on one side, four tallies lined up on the other.

The president enters the room, confused at the ruckus that has ceased operations. He quietly makes his way to the center, using his tall stature to peer over everyone and see into the circle.

Before he can react, Ranpo shouts,

"NOW!"

and you both let your beyblades rip. Cheers start coming from either side, various members hoping for either you or Ranpo to succeed. The toys bash into each other over and over, waiting to see who'll knock out the other first.

"RANPO, DON'T KICK THEM!" You yelp, hands moving out to hold him back from manipulating the results — results he assuredly already deduced. So, if he was trying to mess with them, then...

Dazai shouts your name, proclaiming you as the winner of the beyblade tournament. Kunikida promptly moves to the whiteboard, cracking open the marker in his hand to add another tally to the left side.

Standing in shock, Fukuzawa isn't sure of what to think. "Who brought this in?"

Ranpo points to you, grinning before slinging an arm around your shoulder. "Aren't they great? It's a gift for me! For being so awesome, obviously."

Fukuzawa only sighs, heading back into his office without a word.

"Best out of seven?"

"Ranpo, we already moved from best of three to five. Just admit you lost!"