Nikolai Bsd - Blog Posts

Sooo I wanted to do some bungo stray dogs stuff here, so I'm starting with twitter tweets using a generator to get started. Very short post for this one so enjoy it and expect more random ass shit >:)

Smile for the birthday boy!

Some study work

Merry Crisis everyone!

Here's a fyolai doodle

The Two-faced Secretary.

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

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

drew this as soon as I saw him in this outfit

🍴

Dtiys i did on twt

Day XII Cage.

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

-Nix🌙

Are you truly free as a bird?

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

The Two-faced Secretary.

Happy Halloween everyone!!

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

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

Starting this account fresh with him.

Flavor: Wild berry cheesecake

Toppings:

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

with Nikolai (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)♡

wild berry cheesecake order two — calliope’s confectionary

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

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.

ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴍɪꜱᴇ · ɴɪᴋᴏʟᴀɪ ɢᴏɢᴏʟ ༉‧₊˚

content. f!reader. fluff-ish, (hilarious) threats of physical violence, flower metaphors, love at first philosophical debate, flower shops, nikolai treats reader like a puppy. might turn into a second oneshot. not proofread.

author's note. i'm back .ᐟ and surprisingly with a little nikolai. i've been working through some extreme writer's block, but i actually really like how this turned out. it's my first time tackling nikolai's character like this, so hopefully it's good .ᐟ

would you like to see more? fill out the updated taglist or comment here!

He never knew where he would end up whenever he had free time. A mall, a park, a zoo—didn’t matter too much to him. Nikolai bounded in-and-out of these places, delighted by the varied expressions of his unsuspecting victims, whether they were the tail-end of a harmless prank or something far worse.

An unlocatable humming accompanied the orchestra of fans that kept the space cool, and the bountiful stock almost made his jaw drop. The store was filled to the brim with luscious flowers that put the market stalls he had seen earlier to shame—sad that someone’s hard work was about to be wasted.

He pretended to be the average customer, humming the harmony to that distant voice as he perused the aisles, tearing leaves and plucking petals whenever he felt like it. It was a tranquil prologue to the sick pranks that formed in his mind.

He stopped at a cluster of daisies, which blossomed in various bright colors, allowing them to stand out between the exotic plants that flanked them. So, as predicted, he ripped a couple at the stem, chuckling to himself as they clumped onto the dirty store floor.

“Get the hell away from my daisies!”

Nikolai thrived in the unforeseen—though he certainly did not expect to be met with a trowel pressed dangerously close to his jugular, nor did he expect the cute Chihuahua-like woman attached to his handle. If this was his demise, he couldn’t say he’d mind. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She snatched the flowers from his reach, cradling the pot like an infant as her voice sweetened. “I’m sorry the mean man hurt you.”

“You’re like a little puppy! How adorable!” Her snarl did not help her case. “I’ve heard about people talking to plants, but you take it to a whole nother level, lady.”

“You didn’t answer my question. Why did you do that?”

“That wasn’t your question, though.” The glint in her eyes could melt icebergs, so he decided to cut his losses before she committed second-degree murder and mashed him into fertilizer. “But I’ll answer both, don’t worry! For the first, there’s nothing wrong with me. I’m completely sane!”

“Sane people don’t have to say they’re sane,” she retorted as she hooked the tool onto her belt.

“That’s where you’re wrong.” He turned to a patch of lovely black irises, their ribboning petals outstretched under sunshine that threatened to shrivel them, but they remained firm. His thumb brushed against their surfaces, careful not to tear one off while under a similarly threatening gaze.

“Rationality dies at the hands of complacency, like those so-called witches in Europe.” She eyed his hand when he removed his glove, contemplative as he cradled the flowers with a care she hadn’t seen. “We’re gifted with knowledge of the past—those accusers had to be fanatical or greedy. Possibly both! And because everyone else was so comfortable being complacent, rationality died, and those who opposed them were sent to the gallows.”

“In the end, those considered sane are no better than anyone else.” His one unconcealed eye struck her, overflowing with complexity veiled behind a villainous facade. She took to his words with a familiar hum, allowing Nikolai to look closer at her. He had to assume she owned this quaint little store; if her protective nature didn’t clue him in, the several layers of dirt stains on her overalls did. His eye trailed upward, lingering on her lips, which were pursued in contemplation. It made his heart leap—it would be so exciting to have such a reactive test subject.

“You’re right,” she sighed, then hit him with a pointed look, telling him she had noticed him eyeing her. “But what does that have to do with destroying my flowers?”

“Ah, yes!” He exclaimed. “Your second question. The answer to that one is simple. I did it because I can!”

She stared at him, bewildered, as he switched from the tone of a prankster to a monster, like a predator who bared its claws at unsuspecting, idiotic prey. But instead of running tail, she took a deep breath—she was obviously about to scream. That was okay with him, though he was admittedly disappointed at the idea of such a predictable reaction.

“I would usually say just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, but I have a feeling you already know that.” So she wasn’t screaming. She was more composed than ever, not angry or upset—her eyes were so focused, and he felt himself drawn in. “But I’m confused. Why are you doing something bad simply because you can?”

He raised a brow. The answer was obvious, but a part of his mind felt that her question was only surface level. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve appointed yourself as someone who stands against society, correct?” she prodded, her fingers absentmindedly circling the rim of a pot to push the dirt inside. 

He assisted her, albeit poorly, as he overfilled some pots. “Correct! It’s what I do.”

She paused. “If you’re going against society, then doesn’t that mean you’re adapting your behavior around society?”

He stopped, frowning.

“You’ve claimed that you're above society, but what you’re actually doing is acting parallel to it. You’re not doing things because you can. You’re doing them because someone told you not to.”

Nikolai swallowed hard, trying to focus on her hand as she took it out of her glove to brush back her hair. “Society needs someone to play the monster. You’re right—the complacent are no better just because they fall in line—but that doesn’t mean your actions are effective. You’ve just fallen into the opposing line of thinking.”

He couldn’t find the will to look at her anymore. This strange Chihuahua-like woman, in only a couple of sentences, unraveled his entire purpose. His connection with Fyodor no longer felt personal—had he always been that easy to read? A part of him wanted to pretend he had never heard her words, to walk out the door and pretend she never existed. Nothing was stopping him, so why didn’t he? When he met her eyes, he remained speechless.

“I-I majored in philosophy in college,” she stammered, her hands returning to her plants as she sunk under the conversation’s sudden weight.

“...I underestimated you.”

His every action had been to spite society, but was that any better than conforming to it? He was no closer to freedom; his strings remained intact due to ignorance. Was that why Fyodor only acknowledged him for a moment before filing him away as another “fantastic” person he had met on his journeys? He slipped from his glove, prickling his finger on a leaf. He thought that someone understanding him was enough.

But no. He wanted, no—he needed someone to oppose him. Transformation requires a catalyst. He thought he could bring about change by himself, but someone equal and opposite to him—they would be his catalyst.

“You’re easier to read than you think,” she said, breaking through his thoughts. “It’s just that most people would rather stick with their shallow, first perception than dig any deeper. It’s how the world keeps spinning.”

Before he could find the words to implore her to speak, to tell him about anything and everything, the sound of a bell cut through the air. 

“Good afternoon, (Name)!” an older woman exclaimed, eyeing Nikolai before she glanced at the aforementioned—at (Name).

“Good afternoon, Yamaguchi-san. I’ll be with you in just a moment.”

His hands fiddled with his overcoat. “Your name is (Name)?”

“It is.” He stifled his smile at her unamused expression, almost a pout. “What’s yours?”

“Hmm, not telling!” He poked her nose. “You’ll have to earn that when we meet again. Toodle-loo!”

But she caught him by the hand before he could exit in a grand spin. Her hand was warm, with a warmth that threatened to thaw at his frozen heart. “Hey! You’ll have to promise you won’t mess with any more of my plants. Got that?”

He should’ve said no; he should’ve said no and left. It had to be how she held out her pinkie or the twitch of her brow. He intertwined their fingers without a second thought, bringing the tip of hers to his lips as he delighted in her yelp. Another connection. Another string to tie him down. 

But this one would be okay.

“It’s a promise.”

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @ruru-kiss @miloofc @fyorina @ishqani @zyilas @lovesick-fairy @squigglewigglewoo @kelperspelt @thesilvernight0wl @s1eepybunny @lovedazai @dazaisms @deepseafragments @osameowdazai @himikoslove @little-miss-chaoss @mxxny-lupin @justcallmesakira @chyozai @yonseibananamilk @suru1990 @honeymoon38 @saeandscaralover

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

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 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…”

hiii! how about ~any bsd characters of your choice~ when they make you cry for the first time during an argument? (maybe they say something mean, weaponize your insecurities, tell you to shut up (yeah, i'm sensitive to this heh), won't listen to you, etc)

yayyy any of my choice!!! that means my faves dazai and nikolai <3 love u anon

cw: intimacy ? "fuck" is used multiple times, u call urself an escort

A soft breath left your lips as you stared at your ceiling. Without even looking at the clock, you were sure it read some time past 12. You had quite a late night, even just the thought causing you to feel tired again. Closing your eyes tightly, you buried your face into your pillow, turning over in bed to do so.

The movement is followed by a deep chuckle from beside you, causing your eyes to snap open in surprise for a moment. There he is: the man who kept you up.

"Oh, you're still here." You spoke before thinking, the words coming out of your mouth as merely an observation.

"Ouch," he smirked, his hand reaching out to gently brush some hair from your face. "Good morning. Or should I say good afternoon, hm?"

"Um, sure. Thanks for last night, I suppose." Is that what he's waiting on? Acknowledgment? You pull the covers further up, making to sure cover as much of your torso as you can.

Your ex boyfriend only smirked, fingers trailing down your body just above the thick blankets. He propped his head up on one hand, elbow sinking slightly into your mattress. The way the afternoon sun danced between his brown curls made you think of last night, and how nice it felt to grip his soft hair once again. The thought makes you sigh, turning away from him to gaze at the ceiling once more.

"Hey, so, um, I gotta get ready. I have plans later..." you trail off, hoping he'll take the hint. Your ex has always been smart, especially socially - he'll understand.

And he does, for the most part, but he doesn't care. "Kicking me out already? The day just started. I thought you'd at least offer me a bowl of cereal before sending me away." His tone is teasing, the same smug smirk sitting prettily on his lips. "What are your plans, then? Anything I can tag along for?"

The incredulous look on your face gives away your confusion. "What..? No. Hey, thanks again for last night, but this is where we part. You got what you wanted, didn't you?"

He pouts at your words before sitting up. "Yeah, fine. I got what I wanted. Didn't realize this was just a fuck for you."

"Are you saying for you this was more?" You asked genuinely.

"No, I just thought it might have been more for you," he replies dismissively. Standing up, he begins pulling on his pants. "Have fun on your date, then."

You nod, unaware of his trap as you reply genuinely. "Thanks, I'll try."

He pauses, one leg in his pant leg and the other hovering just above it. "So you are prepping for a date."

Looking at him curiously, you nod. "Mhm, yeah. I was chatting with someone on Tinder. Figured I shouldn't go running to my ex whenever I need a good fuck."

He scoffs. "You think you can get a good fuck anywhere else?"

"That's what I'm tryna find out. Put on your pants, please."

"I guess it's my fault then, hm?" His eyes narrowed at you, giving nothing away as he remained frustrated and angry.

"...Fault for what?" You were confused, unaware as to what he was hinting at.

Your ex grits his teeth, feeling annoyed at your obliviousness. "For thinking we might actually get back together."

His words left you stunned for a moment, watching in silence he pulled his pants on the rest of the way. With a rather solemn expression, he shook his head in defeat and put his shirt on quickly. "There's my answer, then," he murmured, more to himself than you as he turned to leave.

Anger coursed through your body. How dare he play the hurt victim now? "Hey, fuck you!" You shouted without thinking. What a colossal asshole! "The night I broke up with you, you told me you never even liked me in the first place! And now what, you suddenly wanna 'rekindle what we had?' What did we have, Dazai? Please, enlighten me, because I find myself remembering that our whole relationship was just you talking down to me and treating me like some second-rate escort! I'm sorry for wanting more," you unloaded. Every thought that had been bouncing around in your head moved out of the way as you admitted what had been eating at you during the year of your relationship together. "It was our one year anniversary, you know, when I finally called it quits. Did you even remember?"

He didn't; of course not. You could just tell by his continued silence and the way he glanced away.

Tears brimmed your eyes. The only thing worse than his condescending remarks was the silence. You couldn't stand his quiet behavior, even when you were together - it screamed pity, and that's the last thing you wanted from someone who always knew what to say. "Get the fuck out of my house." You flopped back against your bed, burying your face into a soft pillow for the second time since waking up less than 10 minutes ago.

The sound of his feet pattering away is unheard by you, barely able to hear anything over the ringing in your head. As silently as you can, you sob into your pillow, feeling hurt and used by your stupid ex boyfriend.

Nikolai, in his crusade for emotional freedom, sometimes found himself treating you in a way that was less than ideal. He liked starting arguments with you, “proving” he didn’t love you as much as he clearly did and definitely wasn’t willing to do anything you asked. It was always over small things, like who made dinner (he’d get mad if you made it since he wanted to treat you or get mad that he’d have to make it since he always does) or how you hogged the blankets at night. Because of this, you usually overlooked it — you understand that it’s his way of proving his freedom and it never devolved into anything more.

Until today, that is. You could hardly remember what the argument was originally about, but he just kept pushing…

“Nikolai, I don’t even know what I did wrong.” Tears were starting to gather in your eyes, making them puffy and glazed over. The more he raised his voice, the more you shrunk in on yourself.

“That’s the problem! How could you not know?!” He took a step closer, towering over you with his large frame.

It was almost hard to breathe, panic coursing through your veins as you suddenly pushed him away with every ounce of strength you had. Silence coursed between the two of you, air tense and uncomfortable. Your tears finally spill once you notice how your hands are shaking. Fine, if he wanted to be free, then far be it from you to stop him.

Wiping your cheeks, you weakly reply, “Get out of my apartment.”

The white haired man paused, waiting to see if you meant it. You didn’t, not really, but it’s embarrassing to admit that when you gaze at your fearfully shaking hands. This isn’t how a boyfriend should treat his partner.

“Please, Nikolai…” You’d fold, you always did, so you resorted to begging while you still had the courage.

That courage wavers fully as his hands rested on your hips, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s my fault, baby,” he whispers. “Let me make it up to you. I’ll get you flowers, and we can order your favorite takeout and have a picnic in the living room while watching your favorite movie…” His thumbs brushed the fresh tears away before both hands grabbed yours. “The last thing I want is for my dove to be scared of me, I swear. I love you more than anything, you’re all I want,” he presses soft kisses against your knuckles, “please, just let me stay...”

You fold.

thank you for this bc i have been ITCHING to write for nikolai my wife my girlfriend my lover (I HAVENT WRITTEN FOR HIM B4 SORRY)

The way all Nikolai talks about is freedom but his actions are completely opposite.

He kills to prove that he does not feel guilt, that he is free from emotions, that he does not get trapped or get tied down to it. But he does feel it, hence why he keeps acting against it. Creating an endless cycle of torture, his own endless cycle of torture.

Imagine making out with your boyfriend and then realising he's dead. So hot.

Целуешься ты со своим парнем, и тут ты вспоминаешь: "он мертв". Как горячо.

Originally I didn't plan on drawing Nikolai, but... He makes the whole drawing cuter ><

Изначально я не планировала добавлять сюда Николая, но... С ним эта работа милее, как по мне><

wooo i got a Nikolai plushie since i couldn't find any Q ones </33 but whatever he's so silly (>⩊<)!!

Had to surgically remove his card since it was hot glued on and was covering his mouth and that pissed me off greatly, it was fun to hold his chunks of hot glue and skin lolz ( •̀ ω •́ )✧

also put on my glasses on this freak of a creature <333

*Heavily throwing my half blind Nikolai hcs on you*

happy birthday losers

WOAH

Other version !!☆

Late but happy birthday Nikolai

drew this on my lil' sister's whiteboard lol ☆⌒(ゝ。∂)