Lol I have been inactive for a good while but your Nikolai fics keep bringing me back here and now im full blown obsessed with him again. Will you ever do more with secretary nikolai? I know you wrote a small drabble but I am literally dying for more. Anyway, I love your writing!
hiii thank you for the continuous support hehe did u change or username lol
i can do more secretary nikolai, sure. it's just i don't really have any great idea to write a fic for him.... but my inbox is always open for you guys to go crazy for ALL nikolais, secretary or not ദി ῀ᢦ῀ ）
songs ★ dead disco dancer (o. children), haunted (isabel larosa)
notes ★ well, idk what im doing, but i have a concerning brainrot for sith lord fyodor and nikolai, so pls enjoy regardless. ending a little bad but its ok. may the force be with u ;) glitter moon divider is from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more
You have never understood your destiny.
Born a Force-sensitive child, home planet was raided and destroyed, families and friends were murdered, saved and picked up by the people of the Jedi Order, and finally became a Padawan for one.
For a long time, you wondered if that was the right path for you—to become a Jedi Knight. You have heard of the legends—all the stories and lore of the Jedi Knights. Not to mention, their stories were the very reason you discovered your capabilities in adepting the Force. You have never told anyone about these capabilities—lest you were expected to be somebody you were not.
A fighter.
But then, the Jedi Purge happened.
What a dark time—you remembered witnessing your fellow Padawans being slaughtered by countless red blades and lasers. The only reason you were safe was because of your master.
You were not really fond of him and his way of teaching. Some things just did not make sense to you, and discipline was hard to internalise. You knew you always had that stubbornness in your heart after all. But oh, bless him. After he strapped you to the jet seat, pushing buttons you had yet to learn, you could only watch him fighting by himself against tens of troopers. And as he watched you and the jet lift up to the sky, his death greeted him at the door of his relief.
He was not killed by a red blade, you recalled.
He was killed simply by Force—you saw him, you saw it.
A man in a black cloak, strangling your master merely by a gesture of hand. He watched you leave, and you could never forget the glimpse of those violet eyes staring at you as the jet jumped you out of that sickening place.
It has been years since that incident.
It also has been years since you became a scavenger to support yourself after you pushed random buttons on the jet until it landed (more like crashed) on a foreign planet.
So no, you still do not understand your destiny. From a Padawan to a begging scavenger—from a promising prodigy to a pathetic loser.
“Damn it all.” You plop onto your bedding—just thick fabrics laid on top of each other. You are hungry. You are sweating hot. You are pissed the hell off with your ‘destiny’. And it is all because of the Jedi Purge. It is all because of those violet eyes haunting you every day.
You are too poor right now—on the verge of actually joining to be a Stormtrooper. But you know that it is just a quick death sentence. You can jump into an ocean right now and find countless bodies of Stormtroopers in it. They are just pawns; they are just assets for the Empire to waste.
No use lamenting your life now.
You have heard that wars are happening on the other side of the planet. There have been some noises since morning too. This planet particularly is neutral in politics, which is why you have not left the place despite its horrible inhabitants. However, from the look of it, it seems like the Empire is looking to take over.
With a heavy heart, you prepare for another scavenge. You pack up a bottle of water and your long staff. You had attached a blade on one end so it is easier for you to dig through metals. Also, it works as a self-defence weapon, despite you not having the chance to actually use it.
“Another day, another trash.” You murmur to yourself before you finally open the door to the crashed jet—you have made the jet that escaped you out from the Purge as your home. Outside, it looks like shit due to the crash, but you are lucky that the appearance sort of prevents the jet from being scavenged by others.
Before you step out, you turn your head to give one final look. There is just something different about today. You feel disturbed, and you are not sure if it is the Force or just a stupid hunch.
And your heart feels heavier today. You wonder if it is because you spent hours questioning your life and revisiting old memories.
No use of hesitating now.
You still want to live.
You begin your journey through the desert, climbing the hill of sand with the help of your staff. It takes a while, and the heat from the two suns in the sky is not helping. Once you are at the top of the hill, however, you finally see what had transpired on the horizon.
A newly-crashed Empire’s fighter jet. It looks huge from here too.
And immediately, you make a dash towards it. Excited—that is money. There are no signs of any other scavenger groups as well, which means you are probably the first to discover it. Best to get the best trash before anybody else.
But that disturbance slowly falters your excitement.
This is weird… Nobody is here but me.
The closer you get to the jet, the more unease your heart becomes. You realise too late that you are literally alone in the desert beside an Empire’s jet. Usually those scavengers are as hungry as you are. So why do they not rush here as you did?
You inspect the exterior of the jet. It seems like there is an opening through the window by the pilot's cockpit. You climb it and use your staff to clear out the shattered glass in your way. Carefully, you slip into the jet.
Your eyes glimmer as you see the materials inside. Everything in this jet can bring you lots of fortune, and food for years to come. How exciting.
“Remember, Padawan, greed is ever-consuming. Reach it once, and it devours.”
A snicker forms on your face as you recall one of the many teachings from your master. Despite not being close with him—as you sometimes disagree with how and what he teaches—you still treasure him. He was the closest person you got as a father figure.
You decide to leave the cockpit for now. You will come back later though, but there might be more valuable things to collect outside of the cockpit. Plus, your bag can only carry so much.
You are about to reach the button to the door of the cockpit, but that uneasiness creeps inside again. Something is definitely not right in this jet. Horrid. Ghastly. A ghost of vomit knocks on the back of your throat as you stand here longer.
Gripping your staff tightly, you bring it to your front, as a guard to your body. Hesitantly—hand shaking—you push the button. The door slides open.
A man in a black cloak is standing in front of you.
Violet eyes.
“Ah, there you are, my little mouse. I have been waiting for you.”
Panic rushes to your head. Illusions of murder and gore fill your eyes. You scramble to the cockpit again, climbing the panels to reach the window of escape. Rationality is gone once fear catches up to you.
I must run, I must leave, I must—
Your body halts all of a sudden. The window—the freedom—is just mere centimetres of your fingertips. And it is even harder to breathe right now. Fight it—your mind screams, and it can only do just that.
“E-Ergh…” You groan, trying to break free from the chokehold of his Force. It hurts. Desperation grows stronger when you hear his footsteps nearing you. You push your body forward, opposing the direction of his Force, and when you could move a little, you are yanked back.
Bam!
You are smashed against the wall of the jet. The impact even makes a creak on the metal, and you could only writhe on the floor. The world is spinning, and your back is aching. You blink your eyes rapidly, in an effort to try to get rid of the dizziness. And you finally see dead bodies of what looks to be scavengers lying on the floor of the jet’s body.
He killed them all?
“Oh, dear.” The man steps towards you, a mocking grin on his face. You quickly get up and hold the staff again. You aim the blade at him, threatening to stab, even when you know it is futile. He looks at you, head tilted, before the grin turns into an endearing smile.
“A makeshift spear? Where is your lightsaber?” He asks. His voice does not sound aggressive like any other bastards of the Empire that you have met. He is sultry and speaks gently despite the massive hints of egotism.
“Speak for yourself. Where’s yours? You fight with nothing but the Force?” You lash back, gritting your teeth. It is only a matter of time until your bravery cracks.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “Right. I almost forgot that you and I have only met once. Besides, you were young when we met. My name is Fyodor.” He says. “And of course, I know you. And your master. It was a shame that he died the way he did.”
“You choked him to death.” You grunt. “Fucking monster.”
“My, is that how a Jedi speak? So vulgar.” He cackles. His face is strangely pleased. “Yes, yes. You see, I think weapons are redundant sometimes. Especially if it is just used against a lone knight. But I do not think so lowly about bringing extra weapons to a fight. Everyone plays dirty, even the righteous Jedi.” He slips the edge of his cloak to the side a little, showing you his lightsaber that is hanging at his hip. “I will not be using this against you, little mouse. It is too unfair for you already.”
“Yeah, whatever. I don't care about Empire dogs. In the end, people like you are just serving the Sith.” You say, as you occasionally thrust your weapon towards him as a threat.
Fyodor stares at you for a few seconds before he sighs. “You have… great courage. But will you put that pathetic staff away, little mouse?”
You shake your head, thrusting the staff a couple more times at him. “If you come near, I will—”
“You’ll do nothing. You are weak.”
His words shut you up almost quickly. Fyodor snickers, flicking his wrist with a small gesture enough to toss your staff away from your hands. Defenceless, panic and fear creep up again, crawling inside. Your mind is in shambles now, screaming at how everything you went through just led you to this point.
Is this how your destiny is written?
This is unfair.
But before you can even question yourself more, you are yanked forward—again—and this time, you are hauled towards Fyodor. You let out a frightened yelp. His Force is incredibly fast and strong, incomparable to what you used to feel at the Jedi Temple. You remember how safe and embracing the Force is when it is from a Jedi. But not Fyodor’s. His is horrifyingly cold—thornful vines seeping into your skin, to corrupt every inch of your organs, even your soul.
Your body abruptly stops in the middle of the jet, but you are now much closer to him. With one hand holding up the Force, his other unoccupied one reaches to your face. Your breath hastens, and you manage to fight his grip on you to turn your face away. Alas, Fyodor does not stop—his pale fingers grasp your jaw, turning you to face him again.
He smiles at you.
Damn it.
Damn it all.
This is it.
That cold sensation sharply fractures your head, and your world goes dark.
— ★ —
You used to love the sight of machinery and metals. For you, those were all signs of money and a chance of life.
Your prison, however, bears the same sight of what used to be your favourite.
When you woke up—several days ago—you found yourself to be stuck in this weird prison. You thought it was weird because a warm, complete meal was provided for you soon after you yelled and cursed the poor Stormtroopers who were guarding your cell.
At first you hesitated to eat—who knows, maybe it was poisoned. But your hunger was getting worse, and the Stormtroopers even made comments about the grumbling of your stomach. At last, you ate the food, out of shame.
Every day you wait for the moment the door opens. You have not been visited by anyone other than some servants bringing you meals. You wonder why Fyodor leaves you alive and imprisoned you here instead. You do not want to call yourself a Jedi—especially after you have abandoned that way of life for years—but that bit of your past still follows you wherever you go.
“I can’t just do nothing…” You murmur, looking around the cell. It is pretty big for a single prisoner. You have tried punching and kicking the walls before, and it only makes the troopers outside yell at you to stop. The ceiling is too high. There is nothing else in the room except the bed that is screwed tight to the wall.
You wonder if you can actually reach the ceiling if you jump with the help of the Force. Even better, if you can levitate yourself high enough.
But it has been a while since you actively use the Force. Usually you just use it to grab things far away in your home-jet. You have not been able to learn much due to the Purge, but it does not mean you are inexperienced.
You know it is hard to tap into the Force while being antsy like this. The light side is all about peace and calm. Right now—and for the past few days—you are restless and distressed. The constant fear of what is about to happen to you is not helping either.
So you quickly sit down on the floor, facing the wall instead of the door. You take a deep breath and close your eyes as you try to even your hasty heart. You fight your hardest to block out the noise of this place—you assume this must be one of the Empire’s bases. And most importantly, you are trying to conjure the image of your master in your mind, seeking a connection beyond his death.
The world quiets, and the tension in your nerves soothes.
Focus. Patience. Feel the Force around you. It exists in everything, and it exists within you. Reach it. Embody it.
“And conquer it all.”
You flinch out of your serenity, immediately turning around only to see the man you have been thinking about all these days. You feel like a tiny animal—a prey—slouched on the floor in front of such a sinister presence.
Fyodor is leering down at you, hands on his back. He is smirking a little too hard, and you wonder if you were caught in a den of a sadistic Sith. He is still staring quietly at you, and you do not dare to move a muscle.
It is useless anyway. His Force is disgustingly powerful.
“My Lord,” a Deathtrooper—his guard, probably (does he even need one?)—calls for him at the door. Two similar troopers are waiting for him outside your cell, each of them holding a blaster rifle.
“You two may leave. Please close the door.” Fyodor says, without sparing them a look. They look at each other, equally confused as you, but obey regardless. And when the door to your prison closes again, you find that same fear you felt back in the fighterjet shoots through your whole system.
You hesitantly look at Fyodor, who is now looking around your cell with an uninterested face. He takes a few steps here and there, inspecting things you are not sure about before he finally turns to you.
“How have you been doing, little mouse?”
“… Please don't torture me.”
“I don’t intend that,” He smiles. “Yet.”
You frown, finally forcing yourself to get up from the floor. Fyodor steps closer to you, but pauses when you raise your arm out to maintain distance from him. You are backed into the corner anyway; there is nowhere to run.
“W-What the hell do you want from me?” You ask, glaring at him. He is always smiling; it pisses you off. He looks like he is enjoying everything about this. “Why didn't you kill me?”
“Like I said, I don't intend that.” He says before he waves his finger lightly, and it causes you to drop your arm. You grimace—he is exploiting his Force to push your buttons at this point.
Fyodor chuckles at you before he walks to the bed and sits on it. He pats the spot beside him. “Please sit here, little mouse. I will talk to you, assuming that you are less hostile towards me now.”
“… You wanna talk to me?” You ask.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I’ll explain when you are settled down.” He pats the mattress again. You are getting more and more confused.
“I think I’ll stand here instead,” You reply, hugging yourself as a source of comfort. Now Fyodor is the one frowning.
“I don’t intend to hurt you, right now, if that is what you are concerned about.”
“No, it’s just…” You bite the inside of your cheek. “No offence, but— Actually? I mean full offence. Screw you and full offence, your presence feels foully cold, and I don’t think I can focus on anything that you’re going to say to me.”
Instead of being offended, however, Fyodor cackles and nods at your words. He leans back, relaxed, arms crossed. “For a Padawan who couldn’t complete her training, you have a keen sense of others’ Force. I applaud you.”
“I don’t need your approval.”
“But what if you actually do?” That smirk returns again—cryptic as ever. “You have the talent to embrace the dark side. Your anger, your desperation—what you need is a teacher who can actually guide you.”
“Are you saying that my master did me wrong or something?” You grunt.
“Precisely.” He says before he gets up and offers his hand to you. “I would like you to be my apprentice.”
You scoff, speechless. The audacity of a Sith, really. After his troops and his guild destroyed everything you had, he still dares to think that you would just succumb to that so easily. “You people are unbelievable…”
“You have yet to see what I see, little mouse.”
“I can see the ridiculousness in your offer, yes!” You yell, and lunge at him, gripping his black coat. “Just what do you think my answer would be? ‘Oh, yes, I would love to work with someone who destroyed my planet’? For fuck’s sake, do you think I will accept hands full of blood of my people?”
Fyodor is unaffected by your rage, and he just laughs lightly. “Correct.”
“You’re a monster.” You say. “I wish I’d kill you.”
“You can,” He smiles. “If this…” He circles his finger in front of your face, tracing your features ever so slightly. “If this anger goes on… if you embody this rage and fear and irrationality, nothing can stop you. Nothing will hurt you anymore. And I promise you, one day, you will rip my heart out of my chest yourself, little mouse.”
Realisation hits you like a blow to the chest once you hear his luring words. You quickly let go of him, stepping back. Chest heaving up and down fast, you try to calm yourself out of your anger. Fyodor’s eyes are still dark as ever, yet there is excitement in their shimmer.
You retreat to the other corner of your prison cell, away from him. He reaches out his hand again, making a gesture of ‘Come here’ to you. You shake your head, refusing him. You remember the stories of how someone can fall into the dark side—to a path of everlasting suffering—and you thought it was absurd back then. How could someone not want to get out of suffering? How could someone drown themselves in such evil?
You think you get it now.
Fyodor sighs, although he does not look less pleased. “Yes, well, what did I expect from a passionate Padawan such as yourself? But that is exactly what I need to be, correct? Patience—just like what your dead Master taught you.”
You want to respond to him—‘Keep him out of your dirty mouth!’ or something like that, but you hold yourself back. You do not want to entertain him, or else he will pry deeper into your mind and ruin you inside out. The last thing you want to happen right now is to lose your connection with the Force—the light side of it.
“Little mouse?” Fyodor calls you, but you say nothing. He scoffs in disbelief. “My, are you going to be mute for the rest of your life?”
You do nothing. His smile withers finally. He turns his attention away from you, and you watch him look around the cell again, like he did at the first moment he stepped inside here. You are curious, but you do not want to talk to him.
You are terrified.
You stare at him quietly, watching him finally take a couple of steps to the door. A little sigh of relief leaves your mouth as you think he is finally leaving you alone. Your shoulders relax bit by bit—
“A-Ah!” You yelp when your body is dragged roughly across the prison cell. Your eyes shut tight, preparing for another hurtful impact.
But instead, your body slams into another, arms wrapped nicely around you. Your breath hitches as you look up to see Fyodor is smiling at you now, a little too fondly. You try to move away, but you are still held by his Force—the same thorned sensation courses through you.
He places his hands on your shoulders, squeezing you slightly before he grips your face to make you look at the door.
“Have you tried using the Force on the door?” He asks, voice strangely gentle right by your ear, sending more chills down your spine. “Hm? Have you?”
“… I-I don’t want to play your game.”
“Play with me for now.” He rubs your arms up and down. “And I’ll let you leave.”
“… Will you really? Or you’re just lying and will snatch me back into this cell and lock the door once I step out?”
Fyodor chuckles—he is so close with you now, body to body, and his mere essence of energy is shadowing yours. You find it hard to concentrate your own Force the longer he holds you. He leans down, lips barely touching your ear—“You will see, little mouse.”
A tiny whimper escapes your lips as you turn your head away. You can only move your head, as he is holding the rest of your body with the Force. Fyodor tightens his grip on you again. “Well, will you answer me? Have you tried it?”
“Y-Yes, but it just doesn’t come out.” You reply, shamefully.
“Are you aware of why?”
“Because I’m imprisoned, isolated, and scared for my life, smarty.” You say, irritated. “And there are idiotic, wasteful pawns of troopers who always have something to say about me, as if they are any better!” You complain a little louder, wishing the stormtroopers outside hear you.
“There’s nobody else but us in this area, sweetheart.”
You groan, embarrassed. That was awkward, but you do not even care much about your dignity right now. You have been humiliated enough.
Fyodor chuckles before he slides his hand down your arm and slowly lifts it. “Why don’t you try to open the door by your Force? If you could, well, I told you before, I’ll let you leave. For now.”
“And I told you, it doesn’t come out because this place is stressing me out.”
“And I told you to try.” He says before he circles your stunned body—a doll he puppeteers. One of his hands is still lingering on you, tracing and caressing your figure. “What do you feel right now, little mouse? Tell me.”
You purse your lips. “I’m annoyed, mostly.”
“And?”
You hesitate, taking a deep breath. You do not want to be vulnerable in front of an enemy, but what choice do you have now? Your eyes can only follow his circling movement, as you feel his hand running all over your body—from your shoulder, to your waist, and even your stomach. Your breath gets shakier.
“A-And,” You try to focus back on his question. “And I’m pissed off at everything that happened. At you, at the Empire.”
“Good,” Fyodor grins before he stops behind you again, pressing himself against you. He trails his hand on your arm again. “You’ve suffered for a long time by yourself. The death of your family, the massacre of your people, and the slaughter of your master and friends. You are alone.”
You bite your lips hard, trying to deafen yourself to his words. You know he is just trying to rile you up.
“But no more, little mouse,” Fyodor says, seizing your jaw before he tilts your head back, forcing you to look at him. “No more of loneliness, no more of weakness. If you are with me, your power, deep within you, shall grow limitless.”
“Y-Your words d-don’t tempt me…”
“No,” He smiles before you see him reaching for your head. “But your memories do.”
You gasp as you feel his Force creeping up into your brain, vines taking roots to dig deeper through the memories you have subdued for years. Headache fills in, and you try to push him out of your head with your own Force—and it hurts so much.
“Such an unfortunate girl,” Fyodor whispers, with a hint of satisfaction in his voice.
Flashes of destruction of your planet—Empire jets and militias ravaging the land and the sky, fire scorching its flora and fauna, leaving nothing but ashes, cold bodies of your friends, red beams obliterating figures of your families. Faces become none, homes become shreds.
“All alone, all by yourself. No one but you to understand your own heart.”
Flashes of the Purge—the yells and cries of your fellow Padawans, red beams and blades mutilating bones and flesh, the usher of your master, ‘Save yourself,’ he said, ‘Live, go on, live,” he pleaded.
“You felt it, don’t you? That same cold sensation when you saw me strangling your master to death… with nothing but the Force. If only, little mouse, if only you could be stronger, maybe his life could be spared.”
His Force unravels more and more, stripping you bare.
Violet eyes, his knowing smile, his excitement, red blades, blood, screams of your friends, cries of your families, shrills of your own voice as you watch them all die
die, die, die, they are the ones who should die and perish to nothingness—
Every
Single
One.
Bang!
“Ha—!” You jump, eyes wide, when violent flickers of lightning erupt from your fingertips, blasting the metal door open with a loud crash. You retract your hand, no longer held by any foreign force. And you find yourself shaking like crazy—the worst ever. But the relief you feel from the success of breaking open the door to your freedom is immaculate right now.
I did it.
You immediately turn to Fyodor with a light gasp of delight.
Wait. Why did I turn to him?
And your mouth moves faster than you think. “I-I did it.”
What did I seek from him? What do I want from him?
He is only staring at you with a soft yet enigmatic smile before he suddenly leans a little forward. “One.” He says.
“H-Huh?”
“Two…”
He’s counting.
At that very moment, you realise you must run for your life now—the door is open, and he promised he would let you leave. The adrenaline rush spikes up higher in you as you scramble out of your prison, only to see that the place you are trapped in is incredibly big and complex.
No matter.
You just need to run for now. Fyodor is letting you leave, as he promised.
“Three.”
“A-Ack!” You yelp as a tight invisible force harrows your neck, cutting off your source of breath. The rampant fright in you does you worse, and you are beginning to get lightheaded. Eyes rolled back, your legs are staggering before you are dragged back into your confinement—into his embrace. And his Force around your neck is replaced by his own cold hand.
The door shuts again, and his chuckle accompanies you into the unconscious.
hi!! just wanted to let yk that ur writing is still as heavenly as ever, gosh. i literally took a break from tumblr for a year because of how busy life got and recently just came back and started reading your trash sugar magic series again and my gosh, it's as beautiful as the day i left it. i can't wait for more chapters because your writing is simply poetic and good!
goodluck with your writings! i always look forward to them, especially rhe nikolai ones! :3 the way you portray him in each of your stories will always be top tier, nothing could EVER top it and i mean it!
- mika
hi mika! i hope life hasn't been harsh for you! thank you so much for your support and love, especially on the series 🩵 your kind words really mean a lot to me hehe (*´ω｀*)
what are some headcanons you have of dad!nikolai..👀
dad!nikolai has three kids btw! ◝(ᵔᗜᵔ)◜
he gives creative and unique punishment to discipline the kids. like, telling them to count polka dots on the wallpaper until they get it right (spoiler alert: he doesn't even know the exact number and the answer is ever-changing)
his most favourite activity with the kids is to go shopping for clothes. his kids are always dressed according to his tastes and aesthetics. and even if one of them doesn't like wearing such things, there's always trace of his aesthetic on them
he's quite chill with the troublemakers because he's also chaotic at heart. but once he notices how stressful his kids make his partner feel, he's quick to take charge and be stern. honestly, i see him to be able to immediately instill fear on his kids just by calling their name with a certain tone (karol is a repeat offender)
his kids' schoolmates all think that he is actually a clown magician (it's not his actual legal profession on paper, but does he ever do anything legal)
tries to catch up with modern generation slangs and humour, so he can understand what the fuck his kids are laughing about (i dont think he's a chronically online person tbh)
he's unfortunately infamous because of his terrorist shenanigans, so he's pretty protective of his family. probably their legal names aren't even using his surname (*if* that's the custom)
➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader (+some fyodor d. x fem!reader)
➛ cw: general content in main menu, smut, dubcon, religious talks, obsessive and possessive behaviour, unprotected s-ex, | words: 11.3k
➛ ao3 | playlist | main menu
“Too cold?”
“Mmh…”
Your naked body contorts against his, seeking a little bit of warmth. He chuckles before he twists the tap all the way to the right, letting ice-cold water pour down your body. You yelp, trying to get away, but failing as Nikolai grips your arms to make you stay.
“N-No…! Let go, Kolya…!” You say, teeth gritting. He laughs mockingly, watching your pitiful face. His eyes glimmer in lust as he sees your nipples perking hard because of the cold. One arm wraps around your waist, and a hand traces your wet skin—down it goes from your face to your chest.
His fingers pinch one of your nipples, rolling it. You let out a soft moan, chest heaving as Nikolai leans down to give a warm lick on another. “A-Aah!” You whimper but he immediately places a hand over your mouth, pulling away from your breasts.
“Shh, baby. Don’t you remember our neighbours’ complaint?” He teasingly says. You sniffle under his palm and nod slowly. “Yeah? You’re gonna be as quiet as possible, m’kay?” And again, you nod.
Nikolai chuckles, leaning in to kiss your forehead, giving flutters in your stomach. Your hands grasp his arm, silently begging him to change the temperature of the shower. As if he is reading your mind, he turns the tap to the left, carefully adjusting the heat so it is comfortable enough to stay under, not to burn.
“Is this okay, little dove?” He asks, as his hand pries away from your mouth, only to hold your face. He pushes both your cheeks, puckering your lips cutely at him. You are about to reply to him but he already leans forward, kissing your lips deeply. Your own arms sling loosely around his neck, pulling him closer.
Hot mist hazing the glasses, warming the breaths shared between. Nikolai moans between the kiss before he breaks it. His hand that is on your face slithers up to grab your hair, and his other hand swiftly turns you around so you face the wall instead.
“Cute butt, sweetie.” He teases, tapping your ass lightly. You bite your lips, holding back a delighted giggle as you sway your hips. “Teasing me, huh?” He smirks at the sight, hand rubbing up and down your back.
“Mm-hm.”
“Minx.”
He grins to himself, pulling your hips back, grinding his hard cock against your ass. He grunts, leaning down to kiss your shoulder and neck, until you let out a tiny squeal. A hand grips your neck, choking you slightly. You mewl, arching your back and turning your head to the side to catch his lips for a deep kiss.
With a tight grip on a side of your hips, he lines his cock between your folds, pushing it inside you. Your body tenses, breaking the kiss out of the pleasure surging from the sensation of his thick girth filling you up. “A-Aah…! Mmh—”
Nikolai slips two fingers inside your mouth, silencing you. “Shh, baby, shh…” He shushes, with a mischievous smirk on his face. Your thighs quiver, nails clawing his arm as he begins to move—back and forth, slow and steady. “Oh… fuck…” He groans, pulling you close before his thrusts get faster.
“Nngh…” You let out a tiny whine, trying your best to not be loud. Your mouth messily sucks his fingers before he withdraws them, only to trail them down to tease your sensitive clit. A higher yelp erupts from your lips as the coil in your stomach tightens. Your body jerks back and forth as he grips your hips harder.
“F-Fuck… feel so good…” He presses himself down against you, burying his cock deeper. You shiver—walls clenching, slaps and squelches muted under the warm rain over both of you. His fingers keep rubbing your clit, sometimes putting a little pressure that makes your knees buckle. Lips kissing your back and shoulders, Nikolai’s thrusts become faster, more desperate to chase his high.
“A-Aah! Aanh…!” You moan, forehead resting on the wall as your hands are gripping whatever they can reach hard. “G-God—” Nikolai shushes you again before he places his hand against your mouth and pulls you to lean towards him. Your back arches, as pleasure is broiling hot within. His dick keeps hitting your sweetest spots—delights glittering in every inch of your nerves, and your eyes can only see stars when he plants a soft kiss on your forehead, contrasting the roughness below.
You whimper behind his palm, before your body contorts slightly and legs jolt. Your cunt pulses eagerly as you cum all over his cock, still plunging sloppily in and out of you. He groans, muttering curses when he could not keep up with his own disordered thrusts—and his dick slips out of you before he cums on your inner thighs instead.
“K-Kolya… you’re messy…” You whine, a little embarrassed at the sight between your legs. Nikolai only cackles, peppering kisses on your shoulders and nibbling the skin on your neck. He runs his hand down to your breast, groping shamelessly.
“Messy, you say? Well…” You can feel his grin forming with his lips against your skin. He squeezes your sides for a second before he gently manoeuvres you to turn around to face him. He cups your face then, kissing your lips briefly before his lips trail to your cheek and then your ear. His hands fall to your shoulders, gripping.
And he slowly pushes you to kneel.
“You can always clean me up.”
— ✿
“So, when you were with Viktor, Nastya gave me this.”
“Is that so?”
Nikolai tilts his head, smiling. He is lying on the bed, but you are sitting on top of him, unboxing the new phone that Nastasya gave you back in the station—his torso is your table now, and his lap is your seat. He just watches you open the box and unwrap the plastic around the phone, but when Nikolai inspects the box itself, he notices that there is not even a manual inside it.
“This is Viktor’s old burner phone, huh? He just wraps the phone with some plastic he found, and most likely his stupid attempt to sell it for cheaper price.” He says and you pause, glaring at him.
“Hey. I’m the one who’s supposed to tell you that.”
“Oh! Aww, you’re sad I stole your line?” He teases. You huff and turn on the phone, waiting for the screen to light up. But you frown harder when you realise the logo on the starting video is different from the logo on the back of the phone itself.
“Nikolai, what is this absolute absurdity?” You pout, showing the phone to him. He takes it from your hand, inspecting it.
“Ah, I see… This is a fake phone. I mean, duh. But accurately, it’s a counterfeit. It runs on different software instead of the brand’s supposed specialised software. I mean, it’s used as a burner phone anyway, so Viktor would not just buy the actual product that costs more. As long as the phone can make a call and communicate for the job, you know?” He says, shrugging. He returns it to you before he suddenly makes a small thrust upward to adjust his hips.
You sway, planting your palm on his stomach to stabilise yourself. You sigh, trying to access the phone. So far, you can still open basic applications like the calendar, clock, and weather app. Most of everything seems to be working okay—they are imperfect though, because they are quite laggy.
You click on the camera app and grin to yourself. You aim the phone at Nikolai’s face, taking pictures of him. He only snickers, realising what you are doing, but he does not do anything to stop you. You see his smile and giggle naughtily, knowing you have been caught. So you stop, opening the gallery to look at the photos.
Shit camera, but the guy still can look good. Unfair!
“Ergh, Nikolai… Why do you have to look handsome even in this quality?”
“Well, I can take better pictures of you with my totally real and branded phone. Let me show you.” Nikolai smirks before he reaches his own phone and opens the camera app. He just snaps multiple photos of you, and you cheerily pose for him—a peace sign, pouty lips, winking, just anything at the top of your head.
“Mm-hm, what a cutiepie. Aren’t you my sweet girl, hm?” He says, bringing fluster to your face as more and more gleaming delight fills your heart. “Just one more picture.” He grins mischievously before he abruptly lifts your shirt, revealing your bare chest and quickly snaps one.
“Hey! What the— You…! Can’t you knock first?!” You shriek in embarrassment, shoving his naughty hands away. Nikolai laughs before he looks at the photo of your boobs that he just took. He nods, satisfied with his quick work. He licks his lips, already enjoying a mere photo.
“Oh yeah, this is so pretty. You are such a pretty girl. This is gonna be the centre of my album of you.”
You tilt your head, confused. “Album? What kind of album? Why do you have an album of me?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it, love.”
“What? That’s unfair. I have to worry because it’s about me.” You pout.
Nikolai snickers, pushing the phone box and mess on his stomach to the side. He pulls you close to him then, hugging you tight. “You can take nude photos of me if that’ll make it fair.”
You shake your head at his stupid suggestion. You finally reach your actual phone, intending to keep using it instead of the one Nastasya gave. You feel bad for not using her gift, but the lag in that device is just too annoying to deal with. Though, you will still keep it as a memento.
“Actually, Kolya, I don’t like having those kinds of photos in my phone.” You say. Nikolai looks at you, lips curling as if he is trying not to laugh. “Cuz’ some of my customers have my number, and sometimes they chatted me up by sending pictures of their thingy. Hah… I bet if I connect to the network now, I’ll receive the messages they sent to me when I was offline.”
“Must be nice.” Nikolai jokes.
You jerk your head up at him, glaring at the snickering man. “Nice? What nice? I didn’t ask for them. I don’t like it. And I have to see those pictures twice because I have to delete them from the gallery too. I don’t mind pictures of yours but what if I accidentally delete yours because your thingy and their thingy look the same and you get insecure about it? Oh! Actually, can I finally get your number?”
“… What the fuck did you just say to me?”
— ✿
You are lounging in the living room by yourself, one hand in a can of potato chips, and the other is scrolling on your phone. The television is broadcasting a Hollywood movie which you do not find that interesting to focus on. As you expected, your messaging app was bombarded for the few months of you being gone. You had to delete and block a lot of people, just so they would not know you are online and contact you anymore.
“Hm?”
An unknown number suddenly messages you. No greeting text except for a different string of numbers that is different from the sender’s phone number.
“What’s this? A scam?” You murmur.
“Nope.”
Nikolai’s sudden voice from behind surprises you. Clutching your phone tightly to your chest, you turn your head around, seeing that the man had half of his body sticking out from the wall. The surprise from his abrupt response disappears, replaced with bafflement at his unique utilisation of his own supernatural ability.
“How… are you doing this?” You ask, tilting your body left and right to see how the space between his body and the wall is warped strangely. “Kolya, are you in the wall? Is this the matter linking space that you talked about? Are you cut in half? You can do half a body and not just your hands?”
“Aht—! You don’t ask those things to a magician! That is rude, sweet girl.” He shushes you with a playful grin.
You blink confusedly before frowning in discomfort. “Did you drug me?”
“Maybe. Don’t you think those potato chips tasted a little saltier?”
“Huh?”
“I’m kidding. But if you want to get injected again, feel free to ask. I have plenty to spare.” He snickers before he puckers his lips in your phone’s direction. “That was me texting you. I've always had your number all this time. Part of the job, really.”
“Oh! Thank you! Geez, you could’ve just given it to me earlier.” You finally sigh in relief, knowing that your number is not leaked to the wrong person or something. Though, if you think logically, it was leaked to Nikolai, and he is an accurate description of the ‘wrong person’.
Nikolai exhales deeply. “Yes. I could have given it to you earlier… Except that you were saying things more bizarre than my ability.” He smiles defeatedly.
“I’m sorry, hehe.” You giggle before looking at your phone again. “So… whose number is it?”
“Olga’s boy.”
“Vasily?” Your eyes widen, mouth hanging open slightly. Nikolai looks stunned for a second before he nods slowly. “You got Vasily’s phone number for me? Really?” He nods again.
At the exact same time, your heart begins to ache, and you curl your lips together—Vasily is safe. That means he’s okay. That means he’s still alive.
You cannot possibly just put that misery behind you, tucked in a box deep hidden in your head. Guilt is not something that can be shared easily. And it will creep itself within when you ripple that memory again. Better to not be touched. Better for it to stay closed.
“Don’t cry.” Nikolai suddenly says, shutting your tiny thought. His tone is sharp yet awkward. “I don’t care what happened to the kid. I just did it because it’s for your sake. You need closure as well.”
Your tears immediately disobey him, running down your face before you quickly wipe them with the back of your hand. “T-Thank you, Kolya… Can I hug you?” You sniffle.
He snorts, shaking his head. “Maybe later. I’m outside right now, and it’s already strange being half-bodied like this, little dove.”
“H-Huh? What do you mean? Aren’t you in the bedroom?” You look at him, puzzled.
“No. I have something to do. I’m not going to the town or something, so don’t worry. I’m just… gonna have a ‘business’ call with Viktor. And a smoke break.” He explains. “So… yeah. I’ll be home, okay? Go do your thing.”
With that and without your response, Nikolai disappears into the wall, and the space is no longer contorted. If your head had lost its screws, you would probably think he was a lingering ghost. You pause for a moment, thinking to yourself—Why didn’t he just leave the house normally?
Then again, you answer the question yourself—Is Nikolai ever normal?
Whatever. You will see him later, and you will surely give him the warmest hug ever for his effort to find a way for you to contact Vasily. But first, you make sure to save his number in your phone. Just his name and a red heart emoji at the end. Perfect.
You look at the digits at the corner of your screen—4:37PM. There is a couple hours difference between your location's time and Vasily’s. You finally click the number that Nikolai sent to you, and it leads you directly to the dialling screen. With a deep breath, you tap the green button and place your phone right by your ear.
It rings two to three times before the call ends abruptly.
Did he reject my call?—You wonder. But you are not going to be mad about it. Anybody will reject an unknown number. So you just try to call again, wishing that he would pick up.
Again, it is rejected.
“Answer, Vasily. Come on.” You grumble at the screen, once again pressing the green button before placing your phone to your ear.
It is ringing, a little longer this time.
“Hello.”
“V-Vasily?”
“Yes. Who’s this?”
“It’s me. Do you recognise my voice? It’s—”
“Holy Mother of God. Oh my God, is this really you? Holy— Uhm… hold on.”
You gasp happily, joy blooming in your heart when you finally reconnect with a friend you have not heard from in over a week. You hear faint voices of different people on the other side of the line. They sound cheerful, but you could not really make out what they are saying.
“Hi, sorry. I need to get away from my friends. They’re visiting.” Vasily is back in the line. This time, his voice is clearer, and there is no background noise as well.
“Oh, that’s fine. H-How are you? Are you okay? How are you doing?” You quickly ask him, finding yourself jumbling a couple of words.
“I’m good! I was—” A deep sigh. “I wasn’t badly injured. I had a concussion but no big wounds on my head, so that’s good. The guy just hit my body, and I passed out when he smacked my head. How about you?”
“… I don’t know.”
“… What do you mean?” Vasily’s tone turns alert. “Are you okay? Actually, where are you right now?”
“Petersburg…”
“Hah?!” He almost yells. “A-Are you— Is this a ransom call?”
“N-No! I-I’m with Nikolai. I came with him here. I’m not… with the guy who attacked us.” You quickly say, but you feel a little regretful when Vasily sighs again, as if he is questioning your entire life choices.
“Okay. I guess that’s fine. He’s a scary man, so… you’ll be okay. I guess he’s also why you could call me, huh?” Vasily says as his tone calms down.
“Yes. Did he like, contact you or something?” You ask.
He scoffs. “Err… It was… two days ago, wasn’t it? It was my last day in the hospital, and there’s a weird couple who came to visit me. The guy has dark brown hair, and the lady is tattooed and overdressed. They said they’re Olga’s acquaintances.” As you listen, you wonder if the couple referred to is Nastasya and Vasily.
Vasily continues to ramble. “The man… he explained what happened in the diner. But not everything. He told me to not say a word about you to the police… We— uhm— had questioning for the staff members, that’s why. Then he asked for my number because his friend needed it. At first, I refused because he looked suspicious, and I gathered that the friend in question was Gogol. But then his girlfriend started threatening me and shit. Honestly, what kinda freak people are you getting yourself into? Ahem— sorry. I don’t think you know them. But yeah… that happened.”
“S-Sorry… I asked Kolya if I could get a way to contact you. It’s just… a lot of things happened that night and the nights and days after that, and I—” Your throat feels heavy to talk as grief and sorrow begin to cloud both your heart and mind again. “I-I’m sorry… I’m really sorry… It’s all my fault— B-Because of me, Olga got murdered, and you got hurt.”
Knees close to your body, you bury your face into them as your hand tries to hold tightly to your phone. “I-I shouldn’t have stayed… I-I’m really sorry, Vasya… I’m just— I— I didn’t know— I-I don’t know what to do anymore… I’m sorry…”
You cannot help but cry freely now, as Vasily stays quiet on the other side, listening. The word ‘sorry’ slips between your cries here and there.
“Hey…” Vasily finally says. “I… Hm… to be honest with you, I sort of regretted being involved with you. You could say that I was… angry at you.”
You bite your lips, holding your cry and hiccups back.
“I even cursed about you to Cherevyk. But… I know your circumstances and why you did what you did. I mean, you had a rough life and… the diner itself was a shady business to begin with… so I cannot bring myself to be angry at you for long because I was worried then. Everyone was talking about Olga, me, and the guy. Not you. Nobody here was praying for you.” The last bits of his words turn to a grumble. “So I did. I prayed that you’re safe. I genuinely thought you were taken away by that man—this was before that weird couple visit, by the way. S-So… So, I’m happy that I heard your voice. Really, I’m relieved that you’re at least with a criminal number one instead of number two.”
“I forgive you. And I’m sure Olga will too.”
You sniffle, shutting your eyes as tight as possible until they ache. “B-But still…”
“It is because of you, to a degree. I’m not gonna sugarcoat that, but still, you are not the one who did it. You’re not the one who sinned there… You weren’t even the one who killed that guy, were you? You’re a victim too. I’m glad that at the very least, we’re both still alive, you know?” Vasily says softly. “Please… I can say I forgive you many times, but it’ll be of no use if you don’t forgive yourself too.”
“I-It’s hard to think that way though…” You whimper.
“Well… forgiveness is a path to love, and love is always rough. It’s never easy to earn and get rid of. Uh— I’m not speaking from experience by the way.”
A little chuckle escapes your lips. “Y-You’re probably right. If it’s easy, maybe Nikolai would say he loves me too by now.”
“Hahaha, you… have a deeper mental issue than depression.” He replies, sarcastically, and you can almost imagine Vasily’s weirded-out smile, which he often gave you when you talked about Nikolai.
“T-Thank you, Vasya… I don’t know if I can just forgive myself… I don’t even know what to do with my life right now.” You say, sighing, as you sniffle occasionally.
“It will take some time to figure things out. It’s not gonna be linear, you know? But you have Gogol by your side, so I’m sure you will be fine.”
You are not really sure about that, since the entire reason Nikolai is here is that he wants to kill his friend, who apparently may ruin his life again. Worst, Nikolai might actually die, from what Viktor implied before—Don’t let him die in a ditch, yeah? He tends to do that sometimes. He looks like he’s gonna die in a ditch too.
You decide to not bring that up to Vasily. “W-What about you, Vasya? What about your living place and college?” You ask.
He groans. “Remember that time I talked to you about Olga’s son?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Yeah, that man took the apartment, kicked me out, and took the diner too. I think he was trying to sell it, and our bartender is fighting for the diner. I’m not too clear about that because I just heard about it from Cherevyk.”
“You were kicked out of the apartment?” You gasp. “Then where are you right now?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I stayed at Cherevyk’s for now. I’ll move into a friend’s house next week. He rents a unit, although his house is a little further from campus. I might have to get a new job though, to support the bills as well. But I’ll manage.” He reassures, bringing relief to you. You will surely flip out if you learn that his life is ruined even more.
“Oh… yeah, same here. I’ll have to find a job or something too… I’m just unsure of where to start. This place is so big.” You say, finally finding it easier to speak now that your cry has subsided.
“… Why don’t you try to go to a church? You might find a priest or a nun or someone to hear you out and help you. I promise, you will find help. God won’t forsake you.”
“I-Is that okay? I mean, I’m not really… erm…”
“It’s totally okay. A follower of the Lord won’t just let someone in trouble go into disarray. But uh, you’re probably right. It’s not really a guarantee. If that happens, maybe try another? It doesn’t have to be a church. A temple or mosque will do too. Someone will surely help you.” Vasily says. “You don’t have to be entirely honest about your situation. Lie a bit. I lie too sometimes.”
“Like… you’re lying that you’re not gay anymore or—”
“Oh, shut up…! You stopped crying and immediately decided to be an ass.”
You laugh, and Vasily cackles too, despite you can hear his huff as an attempt to not laugh too much. “Anyway, I gotta go. My friends are wondering why I took such a long call here. I’ll text you later.”
“Okay… Erm, thank you, Vasya. I hope everything will go well for you. I-I’m sorry again… For everything.”
“Mm-hm, likewise.” He replies, well-pleased. “Oh, this is your number, right? Not Gogol’s?”
“Yes, it is. Please save it. I still want to talk to you.”
“Promise me first that Gogol won’t hunt me.”
— ✿
“Are the birds extinct, or did you eat them all, fat kitty?”
Nikolai mumbles, wondering why he is stuck with a stray tuxedo cat on his lap instead of pigeons around him. But well, considering the weather, he is not surprised that birds are hiding and hibernating instead. The cat is relaxing on his lap after it kneads his thigh for no reason.
“Hey, kitty. I’m about to smoke, so if you’re a hater, please go, m’kay? Meow?” He says to the cat, petting its head, before he takes a cigarette from the box to light it up between his lips. The warmth glides through his chest, providing a strange comfort for him at this cold hour.
He then takes his phone, searching for Viktor’s name through the contact app before he calls him.
After no more than three rings, Viktor picks up.
“Wow! Look who’s calling! The dead man himself!”
Nikolai sighs. “You’re so not funny, dude.”
“Ahaha! No, it’s just— I’m actually shocked that you’re still here. I thought you’d go through your original plan… but I guess it got out of the way, huh? Because she is there with you and stuff.” Viktor replies. “How is she doing? Nastya’s been a little worried.”
“She’s okay,” Nikolai answers shortly. “Erm…”
There is a whole reason why Nikolai calls Viktor at this moment. Supposedly, if everything goes according to his plan, Viktor will only be a fleeting memory because he wants to dedicate his time to seeking Fyodor right now. But now that you are here, Nikolai hesitates. His whole agenda has been dumped into the drain.
He thinks about you so much for the past few days.
“Anyway!” Viktor suddenly exclaims. “I forgot to ask how you are doing. You still seek death? Eat well? Sleep well? Did you finally fuck your girl? Hahaha! As if—”
“We did.”
“Yeah, figured! You’re too much of a coward…… What?”
Nikolai’s heart jumps then, as his mind rewinds the nights and hours the two of you spent entangled with each other. Even the warmth in his lungs cannot compare to the mere images of you that he has engraved deeply in every inch of his crazed mind.
He desperately takes a longer smoke. “Yes. We did.” He affirms again to Viktor, who sounds like he is lost for words by the deafening silence he is emitting right now. Nikolai pouts to himself before he says, “The first night here. A-And then a couple more times. Uh… morning too… so maybe that's double…? I-I… Uh… Ergh! Fuck. You make me sound like a virgin! This is your fault! This is all your fault, you fuckin’ idiot! If only your stupid ass didn’t make me kidnap her!”
Viktor still says nothing.
“Hey, are you listening, stupid?” Nikolai huffs.
“Holy fuck. I need a fucking beer.” He rolls his eyes as he listens to the messy sound of a can opening coming from the other side. He even catches the excited panting coming out from Viktor’s mouth, which honestly sounds a little disgusting.
“You’re childish.” He grunts.
“Now! Now!” Viktor giggles mischievously. “Oh my God, Nastya is actually sleeping already, so I can’t scream but bro! Eeek! Fuck, I’m like— I don’t know how to describe this feeling, but it’s like my dick is hard!”
“… What a way to tell me that you’re excited…” Nikolai sighs again before he rests his cigarette between his lips to pet the cat. The cat looks at him, before it lifts its body slightly, only to lean closer to him.
“Okay, okay, how about you start the story from the very beginning? Yeah? Did you seduce her? Heehee! Or is she a freak like you too? I mean, I remember you’re into freaky stuff like using a loaded gun. Oh, and you also like to drag people by their legs for some reason. You said it turns you on. Is she like that?” Viktor wastes no time in bombarding him with ridiculous questions. Although Nikolai should have felt embarrassed that his past is being discussed like this, for some reason, he has thoughts of doing those to you now.
Would you like a gun to your head while you two are doing it? Nikolai remembers the delights he felt when he saw that scared face of yours when he pointed his gun at you back in Olga’s house. You did not even pull away from him. Sure, you were scared, but that was only because you saw a glimpse of that side of him.
He wants to see what else he can discover about you. Your physique and emotional state are easy to unravel. Human minds are fickle. If he can just reach deep into yours, strip it bare to mould it back—that would be the most intimate thing ever.
Will you still accept him then? Will you finally see what he is seeing? Will your love stay the same? Nikolai wants to have his answers one day.
“Hey, Kolyushka!” Viktor exclaims again, but he keeps his voice lower. “Tell me, bro. I’m curious. No offence, but she’s not that right in the head either. Who knows, maybe she’s into actual mutilation, haha! Nastya sometimes likes to poke me with needles, which is pretty fun.”
“Oh. Well. I’m good enough to know what she likes or not. If she doesn’t, I’ll make her. I don’t—” Nikolai pauses, suddenly remembering something. “Actually… it was yesterday or the day before, I don’t know. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, I dreamt that she called me ‘Daddy’. I think it was a dream, I’m not sure. It was in and out of my mind.”
Viktor quickly grimaces. “Ew, ‘Daddy’? Too far, bro. That’s too far. Yuck. Not into that shit, sorry!”
“Don’t yuck her yum,” Nikolai says. “And I’m not calling you here to talk about sex like we are twenty years old. Geez, act your age, Pavlovsky.”
“Alright, alright! Ugh, I can’t just let that be without any celebration. But okay… If daddy says so.” Viktor sighs before his tone completely changes into a serious one. “So? What’d you want? I already sent you the phone number of that student Olga took care of, right?”
“Ah, yes. That. It went perfectly well.”
“Are you going to do something to that kid? Found a bunch of personal info about him. He’s a university student, he is trying to apply for a future scholarship, and he also has both parents still! Wow!”
Nikolai sighs, and a puff of smoke leaves his lips. He would do something if his jealousy got the better of him. But he knows that Vasily is important to you, which is why he will just let that be—though he cannot fathom why and how. He disagrees with your decision to reconnect with your friend. You are just signing up for imprisonment of your own mind. Those feelings, those empathy, sympathies, attachment—they are all caging you.
He wants you to break free from that—let go of everything and everyone. But then, that also means you have to leave and opt out of this entanglement with him. And such thoughts are agony to his heart. The very same agony torments his mind, breeding mania that he cannot find a way out of.
So, no. Not even you will get out.
“Viktor.”
“Yeah.”
“I have two things to ask of you. One, I need to work again. Dirty errands. You know, the usual.” Nikolai says.
“… Heh, so you decided to live instead, huh?” Viktor scoffs.
“No, I’ll still seek Dostoyevsky. I just… when I die or something, at least she can have some money to support herself temporarily. At least until she has her own job. Besides, can’t really depend entirely on savings. Burglary would be harder here.” He explains. Viktor says nothing, which makes Nikolai wonder if the guy finds his words to be bullshit. That does not matter much in the grand scheme of things anyway.
“A’right. I’ll see what I can do.” Viktor finally accepts. “What’s the second thing?”
“Where are the loansharks?”
“… Mm… Most likely Moscow. They are currently based there. Why?”
“I want to meet them.”
Viktor goes quiet for a complete minute, with occasional deep breaths being heard. He lets out a deep sigh. “Kolya… just what are you gonna do? Don’t tell me you’re going to surrender her after all of this? I mean, I don’t personally care, but dude… are you serious?”
“I just… need to see them. She won’t be coming with me.”
“But…”
“Viktor.” His tone hardens. “You. Listen to me. Or I’ll torture you.”
“Uh… A-Ah… Ergh…! Y-You’re too scary! Alright, alright. I’ll do what you asked.”
Nikolai smirks, nodding to himself, pleased. “Good boy. Now, listen to what I want you to do, and I need you to get it done by tomorrow morning.”
— ✿
You notice that Nikolai is busy this morning.
Munching your third toast for today, you are just watching him going in and out of the bedroom, looking for something in the living room, washing something in the laundry room and visiting you at the dining table to steal your tea and toasts.
“Did something happen, Kolya? You look busy.” You decide to ask him when he finally settles in front of you at the table. He glances at you briefly before he tries to take your cup of tea, but you lightly slap his hand away. He pouts before he pulls his hand away. You sigh before you yourself pour a cup of tea for him.
“I’ll be out this afternoon. For work. I don’t know when I will be back, but probably after midnight.” He says. Your eyebrow jerks up as you stare at him suspiciously.
“Erm… you’re gonna meet F-Fyodor…?”
Nikolai’s gaze darkens before he looks away. “No, love. I’m just gonna do some… dirty jobs. From Viktor, y’know?” He says, although it does not convince you a little bit more. He seems to notice your distrust, so he quickly grabs your hand, trying to distract you with soft rubs and gentle touches. “I’m gonna be home, a’right? Not doing anything dumb, I promise. It’s something… really important.”
“O-Okay… uhm… If you don’t come back till morning, I’ll go and find you!” You say.
He shakes his head, chuckling. “It’ll be dangerous if you do so.”
“I’m serious, Nikolai. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“Nothing bad will happen to anyone other than the people I’m about to see tonight, alright?” He smiles, taking your hand closer to kiss your fingers. You hum, staring at the table before sighing.
“Hm, okay…” You say, defeatedly. “Does that mean I can’t go out today? I was just planning to ask you to accompany me to go around to find jobs.”
“Well, I don’t plan on locking you up. Not yet anyway. But you are free to explore the town. There are shops within walking distance of this apartment too. Or take a taxi or bus, if you have money. Which you don’t.” He shrugs as he drinks his tea, ignoring your grumpy expression at his comment on your money problems.
“Hm… I don’t think I’ll go far, but okay. I’m not gonna stay out too long, don’t worry!”
“Good, good.”
And just as he said, he leaves the house not long after. So you decide to get ready for your day too. You cannot really depend on Nikolai a lot—and you do miss your independence, just a little bit. But you are getting bored from sitting around the house doing nothing. From your chat conversations with Vasily, he even encouraged you to find some friends.
You dress yourself up with a light purple and white striped sweater beneath one of Nikolai’s winter jackets. It is a little big on you, but having a piece of him with you gives you a sense of comfort. You are going to walk around by yourself after all, so you do feel slightly nervous.
When you are finally out of the building, you take a deep breath of the winter air outside before your face scrunches at the harsh breeze. “Ergh… a taxi is the better option, but I don’t have enough money to go back and forth. Should I take a gamble and wait for the bus? Might take a while though…” You murmur, looking at your old wad of cash that you have kept from that night Nikolai took you away. You take your phone out and start scrolling through your notes.
“This cafe has urgent hiring… But it’d take quite a while to go there. Maybe I should try this nearest supermarket first…” You murmur to yourself. You know that this method of walk-in and ask for a job directly is outdated, but what choice do you have? You wish you could create a resume, but you are holding a fake identity and credentials right now. You hope they will not do a thorough background screening for you.
“I don’t know if I can even do this…” You grimace to yourself.
“Hello, there.”
You jolt in surprise, immediately turning around. Immediately, you are met with such a familiar, eerie man.
“Oh, Mr Chess-guy!”
The same man you played chess with the other day is standing close behind you. He is wearing his matching white clothes, with his long black coat over his figure. He returns your smile with a soft one—yet a little unsettling. He tilts his head—strands of his dark hair falling onto his face. “Mister… chess guy?” He chuckles. “Why, aren’t you creative?”
“Oh, sorry.” You grin. “I forgot to ask for your name the last time we met. That was kinda rude of me, hehe.”
“That is fine. I did leave you abruptly after all.” He nods understandingly. “What were you thinking about? You were so deep in thought, with your purse unbuttoned too.” He says before he leans towards you to clasp your purse close. You freeze at the sudden proximity as he smirks and nudges his face in a direction behind you. “Do you even notice there were three adult men watching you, twelve metres to your southwest? You’re lucky I got to you first before them.”
You turn your head in the direction he told you, and indeed, there were a small group of men there. But they seem to avoid your sight now—probably because Mr Chess-guy is here with you.
“Oh my… I’m sorry. I was thinking about something. But I’m good now! I know where to go.” You say to him. “What are you doing here anyway? You live around here?”
He shrugs. “Somewhat. I was in the mood for tea-time at a cafe near our spot right now. It is a little hobby of mine, you see.”
Your eyes brighten. You feel quite lucky now since you realise that Mr Chess-guy likes to visit cafes. “Uhm, the cafe you went to… Do you think they happen to have a staff vacancy?” You ask. He seems a little surprised about your question, but he hums, rubbing his chin—thinking.
“They don’t.” Your smile drops. “But, I do notice that they were understaffed. There were only two staff members working, one staff member as the janitor, and their manager was working on something at a table in the corner.” He says before he turns to you. “Are you thinking of getting a job?”
“Yeah… I was surveying stuff on the internet, and I found some. But I could only go to places that are easy to reach by walking. The shops nearby are my destinations today.”
“Take a taxi.”
“I want to save money.” You sigh loudly.
Mr Chess-guy gives you a thin smile before he shakes his head. His violet eyes trail up to your pair, staring quietly before he says, “I can walk with you today.”
“Huh?” You blink confusedly. “Don’t you have anything better to do? Uh, I think I said that wrongly. But, are you sure you want to accompany me?”
“I don’t have plans after this, so yes.” He nods. “Don’t worry, I am not attracted to you enough to have a hidden agenda.” You stifle a baffled noise at his honesty. He continues then, “But knowing that you are… new, to this place… I don't think it is good to just leave you alone wandering.”
“Way to say you don’t think I’m cute,” You grin cheekily, and he seems amused by your words. He chuckles, staring at you for a few more seconds before he nods, mostly to himself. He gestures to you to follow him.
“Come with me, little mouse.”
You beam happily—at least you are not alone today in your mission. He does not look like a bad person either—it is a little hard to think that, since he seems to carry wisdom and serenity in his words. A bad person with bad intentions is, more often than not, the complete opposite of Mr Chess-guy. You feel somewhat safe with him, like you do with one of Olga’s staff members who is not Vasily.
At least that is what you think.
“Uh, mister?” You finally break the temporary silence as you two start to walk side by side. He hums, indicating to you that he is listening. “What’s your name? I don’t want to keep referring to you as Chess-guy, hehe.” You say to him.
He glances at you, unnaturally quiet. “You can call me Fyodor.”
You stop. Blood rushing faster inside you, heart pumping rapidly as if it is trying to leap out and scream for help.
Fyodor—a couple of feet ahead of you—turns around with a blank face. “Why?” His tone is flat. “Is there something wrong?”
You clutch the jacket you wear nervously. “Uh… haha, y-you don’t… happen to k-know someone who goes by Gogol, right?” You say awkwardly, with tiny bits of nervous cackle in between.
“That is a unique surname, yes.”
“I-I know right?” You reply hesitantly. “W-Well?”
“… No, I don’t know anyone who goes by ‘Gogol’—personally, at least.”
“Oh,” You nod before you frown slightly. “Are you sure?”
Fyodor’s gaze sharpens before he crooks yet another somewhat unsettling smile to you. He steps closer, leering over your figure. “Are you sure that you’re not mistaken me for someone else? My name isn't exactly uncommon.”
“I-I apologise! You’re probably right… Sorry, it’s just… uh… my boyfriend told me to be careful— uhm…” Your words turn to mumbles as you begin to feel unsure about sharing much about Nikolai and yourself. You lower your head a little. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not offended, little mouse.” He says calmly. “Come, shall we continue our journey?”
“Eh?” You lift your head, finding him to have started to walk again. You catch up to him. “You’re still gonna accompany me after I assumed you to be a bad person?”
“How do you define a bad person?”
“Erm… someone who’s against me, I guess.”
“So you think that Fyodor person you’re worried about is against you?”
You shake your head quickly. “N-No! I mean, I hope not. I don’t know him that well; I just know him from what my boyfriend told me. But anyway—! That’s not the focus here. I hope you’re not gonna hold a grudge with me for assuming bad things though.”
“I think it is childish to be hardly forgiving.” He smiles. “That reminds me. I do not know your name.”
You wonder if you should tell him your actual name, rather than the one that Viktor assigned to you. This Fyodor does not seem bad, and he is more mature than Nikolai, at the very least. But still, you have to be aware and careful. So you decide to tell him the fake name instead.
“… That name doesn’t suit you.”
“H-Huh?” You are baffled again—this guy has quite the balls to be brutally honest sometimes. You are not sure what to feel about that—you are used to honesty that came out of your father’s mouth, which oftentimes was accompanied by actual brutality. Or sometimes, people are just trying to be nice, like Vasily.
“I mean it well,” Fyodor explains. “It doesn’t resonate with you. As if someone just gave you the name for the sake of you having a name—no stories or thoughts behind it. Like a name given for the sake of you having one. Will you even choose that name for yourself?”
“Uh… I suppose.” You reply, rubbing your neck to ease your heart. You wonder what he could possibly mean by that—so far, you notice that Fyodor often talks cryptically, as if the words he speaks should be dug through to even figure out his intentions.
Or maybe he’s just smart…
“Nobody has the choice to even pick their own name, no? I mean, everyone’s name is given by their parents.* You try to bounce his topic back. Fyodor looks at you, nodding.
“That is true. I wouldn’t say ‘nobody’ though. There is always a time when you can finally pick and make a name for yourself.” He says.
“What’s with the confusion?” You grin at him. “Oh, maybe you thought I go by something else? What, what? What did you think my name would be?”
“Sonya.”
You are a little surprised by his quick answer. Nevertheless, that name does sound adorable—suiting a mellow girl. You lean a little closer, “Ooh? Does that name belong to a woman you like or something? Hehe.”
Fyodor scoffs, nudging your chin lightly with his cold fingers—a teasing touch. “Just someone I knew back then—a daughter of a drunkard clerk. In fact, she might be different from you—which is why that name belongs perfectly to her, instead of you.”
“How different?”
“Her greatest strength is her faith in God.”
“Oh.”
This topic again.
Fyodor chuckles before he stops walking—and you realise you are now at the pedestrian crossing. The light is still red, however. Across the road, there are shopping buildings, still open for service. You only aim to test your luck today, but you suddenly feel uneasy now—you do not even think you can get a position in a good place.
“F-Fyodor?”
“Yes, little mouse?”
“Have you ever gotten a stomachache out of nowhere?”
He blinks confusedly before he snickers. “You’re nervous.” You nod. “Very much?” You nod again, faster.
“I haven’t interacted with society like this for a long time. Ugh, I feel like I might vomit too.” Shuddering, you instinctively hold his arm as a support. “Where I was from, it was kinda easier to just have a source of income because I mostly lived in a small neighbourhood. But this place is different. It’s so big, and everything is just… fast. It’s like everyone has no time to rest.”
“What was your last job?” He suddenly asks before he starts walking when the light finally turns green. You stumble a little, and your grip on his arm tightens as you try to match his pace. But realising that you might have been too touchy with a stranger you met twice, you quickly remove your hand from him. He makes no comment about it though.
“I… uh… it’s complicated…” You murmur. You are unsure whether you want to tell him the nature of your past work—escorting older men, sometimes entertaining them, and oftentimes coaxing them to buy more drinks from the bar. You wonder how Fyodor would receive that fact well, but you are not going to risk it. That sort of work often does not translate well to others.
“E-Enough about me,” You quickly divert the topic. “What about you? What do you do for a living? You give me the vibe of someone who works in a library… or something like that?”
“It’s complicated.”
You pout at his jabs, poking his side as a warning, but Fyodor only grins. “Maybe he is right about you.”
“Hm? What do you mean?”
“Nothing,” He says shortly. “My work… well, to put it simply, I deal with a lot of people from different nations, across many continents.”
“Woah… You must be someone important.” You coo in amazement. “But what kind of deal? Like, is it a business deal? Or maybe you’re like in a political organisation. Some kind of peace-keeping job?”
“… Peace-keeping…” Fyodor whispers to himself before a tiny chuckle erupts from his mouth. “Do you believe that a world without sin is peace?”
“Huh?” You pause your steps, looking at him, confused. This guy intrigues you in a way—but you are not sure if that intuition is good or not. You thought you had made it clear to him that you are not someone who could go one-to-one with him about deep topics like that, but he always has a way to nudge you.
“Well, little mouse?” He snaps you out of your thoughts, also stopping his tracks. “What do you think of this world full of sinners? What if we get rid of them? Would heaven emerge? Or would chaos befall?”
“… I-Isn’t this world already full of sinners though?”
“True.”
You shrug, trying to find words enough to answer him. “I mean, I might be a sinner, to some merit… Maybe you too! Who knows? Nobody’s perfect, right? But… don’t you think it’s kinda fun that way? Aren’t humans and nature imperfect from the beginning? I feel like imperfections are what make up the world. E-Even the way the earth formed is imperfect.”
“Uh-huh…”
“So… uhm… I think if the world isn’t full of ‘sinners’—actually, what even do you mean by that?—it would be boring. Sort of. Maybe.” You say, nodding to yourself as if whatever you just said has satisfied you. But you recall a bit of his words earlier that you find interesting. You look up at Fyodor curiously. “Say, Fyodor. When you asked about getting rid of the sinners… why do you equate heaven to chaos? Wouldn’t hell be suitable?”
Fyodor smiles—for some reason, there is softness in his darkened gaze. “Don’t you think both are the same?”
“Well, if we’re in heaven and we can only be happy forever and ever, I think that’s just delirious. What differs it from being high on alcohol?” You say. But Fyodor’s reply beforehand is not convincing. Hell, that was not even an answer. That was just a question to divert the topic from his personal views. No fair, you think, no fair at all. You want to know about him too.
The continued walk you two have is accompanied by awkward silence—mostly because you are thinking about the man beside you. As if he can read you like a book, Fyodor suddenly asks, “Something on your mind?
“Yeah, actually…” You mumble before you look into his eyes—how sharp, how tired. You think he has the second-most beautiful eyes you have ever seen in your life (the first is Nikolai, of course).
“I can’t really grasp it, but… do you already think that this world is hell? You don’t… seem to like people that much… by your way of referring to them as sinners.”
Those violet eyes twitch slightly.
“… I admit I detest you all.”
What a weird thing to say.
But you are just going to let that statement breeze by. There must be a reason why he feels so. He was talking about God, in the very first moment he met you. And now he was talking about sinners, heaven, and the world itself. He almost reminds you of Nikolai, somehow.
“Uh… are you okay?” You ask, touching his arm, concerned.
“I am.”
“No, you’re not.” You almost slap your own mouth for speaking first before you could think. “Sorry, that might come out wrong. But uh, basically… I don’t know what kind of stuff you’ve gone through or how you were wronged by others, but it’d be sad if you keep your hatred for so long. At some point, you have to let it go and… uhm… try to be alive.”
Fyodor tilts his head. “I am alive right now.”
“Yes, but are you living?”
He says nothing, but stares at you deeply.
“You see. My life wasn’t good either. Maybe not as bad as you—cuz’ you look way older than me—but I make it my mission to try to live my life, with me making my own decisions. L-Like that? I mean, you talked about my name not having stories behind it. Maybe that’s true. Maybe that’s why I wanna create stories, so at least I have something bright to look back on in the future. I wanna live easily. I don’t wanna worry about not having enough food or money for tomorrow. Uh… yeah...” You confess, hoping that your words get through to him somehow—honestly, you doubt it, but it never hurts to try.
“I see. I appreciate your words, little mouse. Perhaps I am seeing you better now.” He smiles softly, and your heart flutters a little. “You’re quite kind, to an extent. And you don’t look like the angry type, hence I see why you would think that way.” He remarks.
“Haha, I got angry at my boyfriend this morning for leaving his wet towel on the bed.”
“Is he dumb?”
“He’s very cute.”
“I didn’t ask that.” Fyodor rolls his eyes before he suddenly grabs your hand. “We are close to the café. Here, follow me closely.” He says before he leads you to one of the many shopping buildings. Indeed, a bourgie-looking café is located on the ground floor. The two upper floors of the building seem to operate some kind of beauty salon—maybe you can invite Nikolai here someday.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” Fyodor asks when he sees you standing around hesitantly in front of the door. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait outside here.” You look at him, worried, and your hands instinctively grip Nikolai’s jacket, trying to find comfort in his tiniest presence with you.
“Fyodor, I’m gonna shit myself.”
“…… What words…”
You fidget uncomfortably, tugging his arm. “H-Hey, why don’t you come in with me and ask for the manager for me?”
He pulls his arm away from you gently. “Didn’t you say you want to create stories for yourself? Well, this is a chance. Besides… I’m not the one who looks for a job here. Asking on your behalf may show them that you’re incapable and dependent.”
“Right,” You take a deep breath. “You’re right. Okay, okay. I can do this. It’s not like it’s my first time humiliating myself.”
Fyodor chuckles. “Off you go, little mouse. I will wait for you.”
You nod, defeatedly. With a shaky hand, you enter the café.
— ✿
“Is there even a meaning to life?”
You sigh loudly for the umpteenth time. After you had been thoroughly rejected by the manager, you were too sad to even want to continue your task today. You wanted to go home, but Fyodor invited you to have a tea with him at a restaurant.
“I visited here sometimes with my former colleague. He liked the borscht here.” He said when you two arrived at the restaurant. It does not even have many customers, and the ambience is very quiet. Only the classical piano music serenades the whole space.
And as soon as you two sat down, you immediately slumped onto the table. You did not even pay any attention to the conversation Fyodor had with the waiter. You were too dejected that you spent the last seven minutes burying your face into the crook of your arm, questioning life.
“It’s just one place, little mouse. Come, have a tea.” Fyodor pushes a cup of Earl Grey tea towards you. You finally lift your face, lips still pouty.
“I wouldn’t feel like shit if that manager didn’t berate and lecture me in front of everyone like that…” You whine before you palm your face and groan again. “Ergh… Why did he do me like that? I was just trying… I…” You bite your lips hard, trying to subdue the little sobs that are about to embarrassingly appear. You take a deep breath again before you slump over the table.
“I don’t like it when people raise their voice at me…”
“Seems like this sentiment of yours is quite personal,” Fyodor says.
You say nothing, still basking in your emotion. Fyodor makes no further move to push you either—he stays quiet, enjoying his tea by himself.
“Actually… I don’t think I’m kind…” You murmur—slow and tiny voice, yet enough for Fyodor to hear. “Erm… For most of my life, I lived with my dad, and he wasn’t… the best… if you know what I mean. I managed myself since I was young, so I can get enough to see another day. He was mean to me, so that’s why I don’t like it when I get scolded or looked down on like that. I mean, it’s a childish reason, because I’m an adult now. I should’ve known how to be calm in a situation like this. Especially after…”
—after Nikolai left me out of nowhere with blood on my hands in that garbage of a house.
You hold yourself back from rambling more.
“Perhaps,” Fyodor says. “It is reasonable, little mouse. You have only known misfortune for a great part of your life. To be pulled out of that misery, embraced by a sense of love you are foreign with, and to face that familiar hassle you’ve forgotten—I do not blame you for being overly upset for a trivial matter.”
“If only I didn’t have to do anything to live…” You sigh, finally letting your hands fall from your face. “Back then, I often felt like it’s so tiring to do anything. Like… even eating is a chore for me! I remember I wished that I could get a very long, long sleep and not worry about what to eat.”
“Was that wish granted?”
You nod, finally smiling a little. “Yes… when I met someone very special to me. He was mean to me, actually, but he’s considerate and sweet and—”
“… That is enough, I do not want to hear more about your lover.”
You chuckle a little at Fyodor’s reaction. You wonder why he does not want to listen to that part of your life—he listens to your past and opinions on topics you barely comprehend, but as soon as you mention a thing about Nikolai, he diverts away. How strange.
“To be honest, Fyodor, I can kinda understand where you came from when you said you detest everyone. See, at some point in my life, I felt bitter about my circumstances. Uhm… I never told anyone this, but I had a thought of ending it all just to see if anyone out there still considers me as a person in their life. O-Of course I didn’t try it! It’s scary. Dying is scary, isn’t it?”
“… If you face death multiple times, it’s no longer a fear.” He cuts you off with a murmur of his thought.
“Yeah, well, nobody has died more than once,” You shrug before you finally take your tea and sip it—it is already warm, but comforting enough. “Hah… what should I do now…”
“Is this job-hunting quest of yours really that short-sighted?” Fyodor shakes his head, seeming to be somewhat exasperated by you. “I am expecting greater things from you.”
“H-Huh? W-Why are you assessing me?” You ask, flustered. “Wait, I’m not giving up…! I’ll continue tomorrow. Or not. Maybe. If my boyfriend is around and not being stupid on his own.”
“I see. I am still not convinced.”
“Fyodor, come on! Have faith in your friend, can you?”
“Friend…?” Fyodor blinks, puzzled by your sudden term to yourself.
You tilt your head, also equally puzzled. “Hm? Aren’t we now? Or maybe I need to fill your smart criteria? Hurm…” You ask, tapping your chin. Then, with a hopeful smile, you lean forward a little. “Can we be friends? I don’t have anyone else here other than my boyfriend. Besides, I quite like talking to you.”
“Is your lover going to be okay?”
Ah, right.
Knowing Nikolai and his weird behaviour, he might threaten Fyodor just like he did with Vasily. To be honest, you always find it somewhat entertaining to see how Nikolai is always guarded and stern around Vasily, especially in regard to you—it makes you feel extremely loved, albeit eccentric.
“Uh, friends-in-moderation, I guess. My boyfriend is a little… unhinged, at times. He might kill you, hehe. I’m kidding.” You jest, surprisingly making Fyodor snicker.
“I’d like to see him try.”
You giggle at Fyodor’s odd comment. But thinking about Vasily suddenly reminds you of the conversation you had with him yesterday. You sip your tea again, scouring your mind to remember the advice he gave. Something about going to the church for help—if it is even possible.
You glance at Fyodor up and down. From the many talks you had with him, you ascertain that he holds a deep relationship with God—or religion—in general. Maybe he knows a thing or two about local churches that can lend you a hand.
“Erm, Fyodor, are you a regular at any churches?”
“I was a priest.”
“Huh?”
Fyodor cackles—his voice is so sultry, the kind of voice that is perfect to listen to before going to sleep, you think. He smirks at you, shaking his head slowly. “I was not. I am merely jesting.”
“Oh, ahaha. That surprised me.” You return his smile. “I have a friend who told me that I can go to a church for help. Do you think it’s possible for someone like me?”
“Someone like you?”
“Uh, I’m… I’m not pure—let’s leave it at that.” You say. “Do you think I can reach out to a church, and you know, maybe have them guide me to get my life together? B-But I don’t plan on committing to the religious duties, is that okay…?”
“I don’t want to promise you anything, as it is rare for someone to just have a place just by a church’s support, especially if you are not going to commit to the religious duties,” Fyodor says, much to your disappointment. “However, I am a frequent visitor to a humble, local church here. I am there almost every day. If you wish, I can introduce you to those I am acquainted with. Perhaps a friend of a friend has what you need.”
You gasp, beaming again. “Really?”
“Yes. But I do not promise you anything.” His voice goes a little quieter, before he smiles—enigmatic. He slips his hand into his pocket and gives you a business card. Once you take it, you realise that it is the information and address of a church—most likely the one Fyodor visits.
“Huh… that’s weird. You always have this business card on you?” You ask, finding the convenience of meeting a regular church visitor like this to be too good to be true.
He still keeps his smile up as he nods. “Yes. I told you, I am a frequent visitor.” He says. “Come to me at any time you want, as long as it is within those operating hours.”
“T-Thank you so much!” You cheer as you hold the card close to you. “I will make time, I promise.” You take your purse, wanting to keep the card in it, but you suddenly see the screen of your phone brighten up. A few notifications pop up on the lock screen.
“Oh, hold on, Fyodor.” You take your phone, hastily shoving the card into a pocket in your purse. You check the messaging app—there are all from Nikolai.
Nikolai ♥︎: what are you doing?
Nikolai ♥︎: you’re outside far too long
Nikolai ♥︎: why are you in that restaurant?
Nikolai ♥︎: go home
Me: whats wrong?
Me: im dining right now
Me: are you back already?
Nikolai ♥︎: i track your location. you’ve been out for hours
Nikolai ♥︎: i hope you’re not out with other men. i’m up for murder right now
Me: okay, okay, i will. gimme ten minutes
You are about to turn off your phone, but you catch a glimpse of Nikolai’s last message to you—he typed out your full name this time with a firm ‘Go back home’. Now that is not good. That means he is extra serious. And although he is scrumptious when he is like that, you know you are not going to push his buttons. The least you want to happen right now is Nikolai unreasonably threatening Fyodor’s life.
“Who is it? You look serious.”
“Erm, it’s my boyfriend. He wants me to go home right now…” You quickly finish your tea, scrunching a little when the bitterness hits you. “Err, do you pay? Do I pay?”
“It’s my treat. It’s unsightly to burden you more, considering your financial issues.” Fyodor says kindly. “How strict your lover is. Don’t you find him irrational?”
“He’s just worried about me.” You get to Nikolai’s defence immediately. “He… uh… has his own issues, that’s why. A-Anyway, I wasn’t really paying attention when you brought me here. Can I walk home, or do I take a bus?”
“You plan to go home by yourself?” He asks. You nod as you take out your phone and browse through your notes that you made about the public transportation around this area. He watches you silently before he scoffs. “I did not expect you to even consider your mobility.”
“I’m poor, not dumb.” You reply before you hum in satisfaction as you have found the ideal route to go home. “Okay, if I take a bus, it’s just one station away! Fifty rubles, god damn. Totally not pricey at all.” You say to yourself before turning to Fyodor, beaming happily at him. “Thank you for today, Fyodor. I’m really glad I met you. Oh, and thank you for the tea too.”
“You’re very welcome. Come to the church anytime. I will wait for you.”
Getting up from your seat, you fix your clothes as you say to him, “Yeah, I will. I need to go now, really. Might miss the next bus if I linger any longer. My phone’s also buzzing with threats… Uh, yeah. Bye-bye!”
Fyodor watches you rush out of the restaurant, smiling to himself.
contents ❥ nikolai gogol x fem!reader, suggestive, slice of life, 1.0k words
links ❥ MAIN MENU, gif+dividers are my edit/mine!
You woke up earlier than usual today. Nikolai is still in bed, dead asleep. He did not even react or stir when you were making noises for your morning routine. And now you are in the kitchen, planning to make some savoury French toast for breakfast. It is not often that you are the one who prepares food.
Just a nice gesture for your beloved. Especially after he fogged your brain with heaven.
As you are whisking a few eggs with a fork in a bowl, the doorbell suddenly rings loudly, jolting you out of your focus. You place the bowl on the counter, hastily wash your hands and wipe them on your shirt. You walk to the door to get it, but you pause.
What if it's the homeowner?
You are not documented as a resident in this unit—it is only Nikolai’s. You are not sure if it is the homeowner, despite Nikolai having stated that he is not in St. Petersburg at the moment. But who knows? Fate plays with you in strange ways many times already.
“I guess it’s better that he’s the one answering…” You mumble to yourself when you hear the doorbell again. You turn away and rush into the bedroom, seeing that Nikolai is still asleep.
You place a hand on him, shaking his body lightly. “Kolya… Kolya, wake up.” You say softly, not wanting to surprise him or anything. But he remains motionless, eyes still shut.
“Kolya, come on. Wake up.” You say again, a little louder. He only hums, nose scrunched, but he relaxes almost immediately as if he is tangled back into the dream. You shake him harder, calling his name.
“Hmm…” Finally, he moves slightly, but only because he is disturbed by your gesture. He turns his face to bury himself into the pillow and lazily brings his hand to his ear, as if to block your voice.
“Nikolai. Wake up, please.”
“Mm…”
“Someone’s at the door, Kolya. Please?”
“Hm.”
“Daddy, wake up.”
“What?”
Nikolai lifts his head almost immediately, blinking confusedly at you.
“What’d you say…?” He asks groggily, and you almost giggle at how his face looks. You think he looks just like a lost kitten—those kitties who try to fight their way through sleepiness. A perfect description, you would say.
“I said someone’s at the door.”
“O-Oh.” Nikolai stares at you, still puzzled. “R-Really..?”
“Hm?” You purposely blink confusedly. “Yeah, someone’s at the door. You should get it. What if it’s the homeowner? And you’re the only one who has the name in the contract, so…” You tug his arm to pull him to sit up. And he does, gently pushing you out of the way. He says nothing as he pushes the blanket to the side and gets up. Your eyes widen, seeing his bare torso right in front of you.
“Why don’t you grab a shirt, at least?” You say, now remembering how he really likes being half-naked in bed.
“Ugh… Shut up.” He grunts, waving his hand dismissively at you. Nikolai’s head is still not clear as he stretches and walks to the door. He opens it barely, just enough for him to peek outside while hiding his body behind the white wood.
A young lady. She looks flustered when she finally sees Nikolai, and a little gasp escapes her mouth.
“Hi, miss,” Nikolai says. “Something wrong?”
“Oh! Uh… not really… Uh, are you new here? I haven’t seen your face before.” The lady asks, giving him an awkward smile.
“Yes. I just moved in a few days ago.” He replies. His tone is friendly, but that effort is the hardest thing ever because Nikolai is frankly annoyed that his sleep time is interrupted like this.
“Right! I hope you are having fun living here. H-Here… Butter cookies for you.” She finally hands him the blue container of butter cookies. Nikolai takes it, chuckling as he thanks her. The lady just nods before she rubs her neck, eyes gazing away. “A-Actually, there’s another thing I wanna ask… Do you live alone?”
Nikolai’s eyebrow jerks. He does not want to overthink this early, but only his name is registered as a resident here. Though it is just on a written contract.
“What’s the matter with that?” He asks the lady.
“Uhm… I’m not coming at you like this in a bad way but… uh… a couple nights ago… w-we heard noises…”
“Noises…?”
The lady’s fair skin begins to bleed a red hue. She bites her lips, as if she is regretting her life choices at this point. Her lips tremble before she whispers, “I mean like… b-bedroom noises…”
Oh, now Nikolai is fully awake.
“Oh my…” He grins mischievously—begone the sleepiness and dizziness.
“Y-Yeah… I-I don’t know if you have a girlfriend or you bring someone over, but uhh… my mom felt bothered by it. I don’t personally mind, okay? It’s just, you know, old people have sensitive hearing sometimes.”
“No, no, it’s totally our fault, miss. I’m sorry for the noises— Pfft—” Nikolai quickly subdues his laugh, pressing his lips together hard. “I’ll be sure to be more considerate. Thanks for the cookies!”
Bam!
“Yeah— Huh?”
Nikolai ignores the confused lady still outside his unit after he just slammed the door in her face. He turns around, eyes wide open, when he sees you standing against the wall—a perfect blind spot from the lady too.
“Who was that?” You ask. Nikolai shrugs, placing the cookies container on the dining table. You approach him, reaching the container with a happy smile on your face. Yes, more snacks!
“Just our neighbour.” He replies.
“Oh! What’d they want?”
“She had a very serious complaint.”
You freeze, looking at him with a frown. “Huh? Why? What happened? What did you do to the people of this building?”
Nikolai glares at you briefly—how dare you just accuse him unprovoked.
“I didn’t do anything. You did!”
“What? Why? I’ve been good!”
“Oh, you’ve been good, alright. You’ve been sooo good that our neighbours were very impressed with your good girl noises.” He smirks, and it gets broader when you shriek in embarrassment, realising immediately about the ‘complaint’ he was talking about.
“I-It’s not my fault!”
“Perhaps. But you’re still the one moaning and screaming, huh?”
You pout, turning your face away as you are getting too shy to look at him in the eye. Nikolai chuckles, taking your chin to make you look at him again.
“Well, I guess we can fix that tonight… Unconventionally.”
Have you ever thought about doing something related to Fyodor? I've been reading your work with Nikolai for ages and I'm OBSESSED with your style and been thinking about what Fyodor would be like in these same situations, even if it would be kinda out of character of him to fall in love. Idk if you ever said something about this so forgive me if i said something wrong
i've done fics for fyodor before (like in my old blog). him appearing in tsm now makes me want to write more for him. i have some ideas of fics i wanna do for both fyodor and nikolai, probably where fyodor will have more roles in it. but it's unpolished, so i doubt i'll start that at near future.
i dont think it's ooc for him to fall in love! i think given circumstances, it could work out for him 🥸 his love can just be as twisted as nikolai's (or healthy. idk. im not into writing healthy relationship that much LMFAO)
Will you ever make more of stalker Nikolai? Like one shots?
not likely tbh. i could do it, if i have time, motivation and ideas for it (or if it's commissioned). the series has been completed and inactive for years now and i don't really have any plan to go further than what i've written (˶• ֊ •˶)
(same anon as before about adding buffalo 66 to my watchlist), i just noticed you had an interactive account. 🤦 i hope that doesn’t screw things up.. and im also incredibly happy to see that trash sugar magic has 22 chapters now?? 🥹 that’s a lot since i last saw it, im gonna devour them one by one (when i have time 😭💔)!!!
you can send asks here or there, i don't mind really. doukeshi is my main, so if i like anything, i appear as that blog instead :3 and yeesh trash sugar magic has 22 chapters now hehe (plus 5 minis). it is also almost complete and i'm very thankful for every single person who stick with the series till the end 🩵
hello! :) i was actually a fan of your works a while ago, i remember seeing the work with the maze and nikolai back then and i was so captivated by your writing and how you can make people feel so immersed in it. i haven’t touched tumblr for maybe a year or so due to being busy and also kind of losing my original account i used to browse bsd stuff… and came back because while organizing things and adding watchlists for what i wanna watch later on when i have more free time, i saw buffalo 66 in a recommendation list and that immediately made me recall your works. and it made me compulsively write to you to thank you again because i remember being so excited and happy to see your writing whenever i was having a bad day.
thank you for deciding to watch bsd and write about nikolai. i hope you have a wonderful day <3
hii thank you so much! i really appreciate your lovely message 🥹🫶 happy to hear that you're coming back to this hellsite oop ( ͡❛ ₃ ͡❛) buffalo 66 was quite a bizarre yet interesting movie ngl lolll
i hope you have a wonderful day too because you certainly made my day ₍^ >ヮ<^₎ .ᐟ.ᐟ
