hi!! name's Aleksei, you can call me Lesha or any spelling of Aleksei you can think of, I've seen, like, five, lmao, just don't call me Alex
feel free to reach out if you notice any mistakes in my writing - english isn't my first language. comment about it, dm me, send ask, whatever, just lemme know. though I won't fix any mistakes (excluding typos) in dialogue from Nikto and Nikolai specifically (maybe Makarov, if I'll ever came up with ideas for him) to keep the way they speak organic and stuff
if you think I should add a tag/content warning/trigger warning - please let me know. I don't guarantee that I'll add it, but I want to make sure that I don't miss anything important
if you have an idea you want me to write, feel free to ask!! I can't guarantee I'll post it, but I'll try my best to write it :)
I don't have any specific hard nos as of now, but I mostly write sfw stuff, because I don't think my nsfw writing skills are good enough for me to post nsfw stuff just yet (though if I ever will, there will be a lot t4t old man yaoi with Nik and Price 🤭)
I don't think I have anything else to say rn, so ig that's it 🤔
cw: none, me thinks. streamer Soap, vague poly141 mention, a little nothing burger like people say
Out of all the hobbies Soap could've pick up in retirement, of course he picks up speedrunning. The moment he figures out how to stream, how to post his attempts and, most importantly, how to submit them, it's over.
His set up isn't the greatest at first - no webcam and a very mediocre microphone - but it changes rather quickly, because the moment his partners find out about this new hobby of his, they go all in, buying everything he might need, new microphone, a camera, a damn ring light and a proper chair for him to sit for hours on end. They can't quit just *yet*, still dealing with paperwork and tying off the loose ends, but they can make sure their sunshine has everything he needs to grumble with thick accent when RNG fucks him over.
He doesn't focus on a specific genre of games, willing to try anything that catches his attention, but he pours *hours* in his attempts, polishing his tactics and learning cuts from other speedrunners. It's fun and eases the constant buzz that demands some sort of action.
His favourite games, of course, are the one that have a lot of hard tricks that require perfect reaction time, world record never being the end goal, perfecting his movement is. Though the moment he beats his personal best he can't help but try to get the world record.
The only slight concern his partners have now is his sleep schedule, though, because Soap's undiagnosed ass gets too focused on his attempts to the point he forgets to eat and sleep. At least his water bottle is always empty by the end of the stream.
I also draw sometimes!! sometimes it's pixel art!! I'm trying my best, results are fine for now
colour palletes used are: qameboy and cyclope6 (for the darkest colour)
yapping under the cut!!
I sure hope that the quality and size is fine, I felt like a dumbass, going back and forth between my laptop and my phone, lmao. it wasn't showing up on my phone and I had to turn my vpn??? and it worked???? idk why
I was planning to make this an animation, but limited colour palette is already too much for 15th attempt at pixel art, and I'm not animating all that. I can't even imagine how would that work, that makes me fear for my life
funnily enough, I've tried different colour palettes, but those are the ones I settled for. aseprite's gameboy pallete is way too bright, plus four colour limitation is too much for me. and I tried two colours before that 💀 I thought it'll be simpler, but noooo. whatever
also I LOVE the contrast between some details?? so glad I chose to use fifth colour, it looked so blank otherwise. like, yeah, gaz is still blending with the table, but before that he was blending with the wall and everything
also, I think I'm still lowkey scared of tumblr, I don't want to use TOO many tags, but I don't know what amount of tags is appropriate, lol. fucking hell.
cw: idk?? t4t old men yaoi nikprice. oh, and periods. the ending is slightly abrupt, ig 🤔 Nikolai is grumbly
It's been a while since Nikolai had painful periods and missed taking painkillers in time. Usually, he's quick to recognise that specific pain in his lower abdomen that lets him know that he has a very small couple hours window when he can take painkillers and they'll actually do something.
Not this morning, though.
This morning John, warm from sleep, wraps his arms around his waist, pulling him closer with a grumble, and Nikolai can't find it in him to force himself to pull away from his husband, brushing off the subtle discomfort in his lower belly. Which, in hindsight, he didn't regret at the moment in the slightest.
But, maybe, as the day goes on and he pops in the second pill, he regrets it just a little bit.
In the evening the pain gets worse, though, to the point when the third pill doesn't help and the pain goes from annoying to uncomfortable, and Nikolai stares at the packaging with a frown, reading the expectation date. But no, it's fine. Besides, painkillers don't go... bad, they just become less effective, don't they?..
"Родной-" Nikolai begins, turning to face John, eyes locked on the painkillers.
"Those are yours," John says, briefly glancing up from his tablet, reading glasses sitting low on his nose.
"No, that's- I'm aware those are mine. Do we have..." Nikolai puts the box down, free hand moving in the air, tracing a vague rectangle with rounded corners, which, admittedly, looks more like an oval with a weird bump on top. John blinks, a bit confused, and lowers his tablet.
"You should be more specific, love."
"Грелка?.." Nikolai tries, but that gives John nothing, and Nikolai sighs, pressing his palm firmer against his stomach, slightly frustrated. Not at his husband, but at the fact that he has to think when he's in such annoying pain. "You pour hot water in it?.. Not thermos, but, like... You can also pour cold water in it."
"Hot water bottle?" John guesses, and Nikolai sighs heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose.
He loves his husband. He really does. He's just annoyed because he's in pain that he usually manages with painkillers is getting stronger. Usually he gets a dull pain which he manages to ignore without a blink of an eye. It's fine.
"No. The rubber one," Nikolai rumbles, biting down a curse.
"Hot water bottle," John says, more firmly now.
Nikolai snaps his head up, opening mouth to protest, because how can a bottle be made out of rubber, but John already gets up, taking the glasses off before heading to the kitchen. Nikolai stands still, eyebrows furrowed, and grumbles under his breath as the kettle in the kitchen starts to boil. He steps aside obediently when John walks past him towards the bathroom, and shoots a glance towards him, making sure that he's out of earshot, immediately beginning to grumble more actively, fingers pressing down a spot below his bellybutton.
"Hot water bottle, блять, я на дебила похож, шо ли?.. Я ему по-человечески объясняю, the rubber one, а он мне hot watter bottle. Какая нахуй bottle-" he pauses mid rant when John cames back with a said hot water bottle and his face drops immediately, so taken aback that his accent thickens briefly to a ridiculous extent. "Vot."
"Hot water bottle," John says, raising it a little bit, lips curled in an amused smile, and walks towards the kitchen.
"That's not a bottle though," Nikolai protest half-heartedly, actively gesturing at it. "That's- it's rubber, it makes no sense! It makes sense in russian, because to warm is греть, and that's what грелка does, why is this called hot water bottle?!"
"I don't know, love," John says calmly, pouring the boiling water inside, movements steady. "You do pour hot water in it, don't you?"
"But that's not a bottle."
For some reason, the naming problem buffles Nikolai more than he would expect himself to be, and he keeps grumbling under his breath, following John around, hot water bottle pressed against his lower belly. He still grumbles even when John drags him back to their bed, though less actively and about more vague topics, remembering every single little thing that annoyed him when he was learning english, from the specific structure of sentences to the order of adjectives, and John just hums softly, nodding along the lazy complaints, which Nikolai is extremely thankful for. It is nice to grumble sometimes.
cw: omegaverse, omega nikto; part two, technically, so here's part one
I got hit with inspiration, have this. I wanted to make it a bit more serious, but I guess I'll do that another time
Omega Nikto, who completely lost touch with this side of himself. There's a lot parts of himself that he's missing after the torture, some broken, some gone, some, like him being an omega, completely forgotten. He never wanted to dwell on it, the idea of trying to put himself back sounding completely useless to him. What's the point of trying to put together the pieces that no longer fit? He'll never be the same again anyway.
And the idea of seeing what's left of past him being put together in a grotesque parody of that man, admittedly, hurts.
When you came along, bringing out the part of him he forgot about, he wasn't expecting to change. He couldn't. He wouldn't, even if he liked you. You deserve someone who's life isn't a mess of broken memories. But the universe doesn't care about his decisions and, when the scents and his instincts become impossible to ignore, he begrudgingly asks for your help.
And you agree. Stunned, confused, perplexed, even, but you agree, sqeaking in surprise when Nikto just grabs your wrist and drags you after him. Halfway to his room he realises what he does, but he's already committed to the idea, and changing his mind would mean to show that he's just some indecisive omega, and he's nothing but indecisive. He does relax his grip, though.
His room is... blank. Like he just got it half an hour ago, but there's blankets and pillows, and that's more than nothing, you think.
"Teach," he says, letting go of your wrist, and leans against the closed door, arms crossed on his chest.
You hesitate, for many obvious reasons, before stepping closer to the bed, inspecting it. You look small compared to him, he suddenly realises, watching you touching the pillows, adjusting and squeshing them. He has no clue what you're doing - checking if the pillows are fit for a nest, perhaps?.. - but he knows that you look right doing it. A bit awkward, sure, and there's hesitation in your movement, but mostly probably because you don't know how he'll react to you touching his attempt at building a nest, not because you don't know what to do.
"Well, you going to step closer or not?" you say, and Nikto straightens up, finally blinking.
"What."
"How will you learn to build a nest if you don't try it yourself? It's your nest," you insist.
He wants to say no. He wants to say that it's your fault that he's like this. He wants to tell you that your eyes are really pretty when you look at him like that, slightly wary but still amused. He wants to say that, since it's your fault, it's your responsibility to build his nest.
He steps closer instead, looming over you, almost two meters tall brick wall that vaguely smells like blooming tilia. He just watches you at first as you try your best to explain the basics, starting from the beginning, because you have no clue what he does and doesn't know, and, when you tell him to choose a pillow he likes more, he blinks at you, pale eyes devote of any emotions.
"Why?" he asks, and now it's your turn to blink at him.
"What do you mean ‘why’?" you ask back, and he looks away, staring at the pillows.
"Why would we choose? You're building nest," he says, and you're not sure how to counter that beautiful example of complete lack of logic.
"That's your nest, though," you try, and he grunts, before grabbing one of the pillows, squeezing it roughly, grumbling under his breath. "Maybe try without your gloves?"
Bad thing to say, apparently.
He snaps his head to look at you, gloved fingers digging into the pillow, his scent spiking, and, when you prepare yourself to be hit with that same pillow, he just exhales sharply, grumbling under his breath, looking down at the pillow.
"Is it necessary?"
"Well..." you drawl, not sure what to say, and take a tiny step to the side, regretting it the moment his shoulders drop in defeat. "Kinda?.. You build your nest to feel safe and comfortable in it, and people- well, most people prefer to have softer stuff in their nest to be comfortable."
Nikto stares for a long time at the pillow, and you wonder if you should say anything else, when he suddenly raises his head, glancing back at you.
"I can set traps. Traps make nest safe," he declares.
"H-hey, let's start with building the nest first, big guy," you intervene, raising your hands as if to grab and stop him when he inevitably try to step out of his room to get some explosives to make his nest "safe".
Clearly, there's a lot of things to teach him about nesting.
cw: vague mention of pupplay, nothing explicit, just a silly haha oneshot; I'm pretty sure the translation of all russian used is mentioned in fic??
You really like when Nikolai speaks russian. Not understanding a word of what he says, he might be reading a news report or constitution to you, and you'll melt if he'll say it softly enough. It's just the way his voice sounds a bit differently, a bit deeper, slightly sharper, almost?.. Hard to explain, really, but boy, do you like to listen to it.
Which is why you are so upset - maybe even slightly annoyed - that he barely uses russian in bed, limiting himself to the familiar pet names. Just the idea of him dirty talking to you in russian makes you drool, not understanding anything, just hearing his tone drop lower. And yet the man refuses to say anything in russian to you when you're under him. Or on top of him. The position doesn't change the fact that you don't get anything besides a slipped блять or two.
"Can you at least call me puppy?.." you plead one day, head resting on his chest as you lay on top of him, and he hums vaguely, looking down at you, fingers massaging your scalp.
"I already do," he says, eyebrow arched.
"No, in russian," you protest immediately, raising your head. "Please? At least just once?"
Nikolai stares at you silently for a long moment, his eyes crinkling in amusement, and you want to groan. Oh, he wants you to plead, of course he is, like you're not being good enough for him-
"Щщщенок," Nikolai says, lips twitching in a smile, and chuckles.
He fucking chuckles.
"What did you just called me?!"
"Puppy in russian. Isn't that what you wanted?" he says, his body tensing up under you as he holds back chuckling, voice trembling. No fucking way that's what he called you, that's- why is he chuckling then?!
"No you didn't!"
"Yes I did."
"Why are you laughing then?!" you ask, and Nikolai starts laughing, actually laughing, shoulders shouldering, belly tensing up under you.
He laughs so hard he covers his face to calm down. Your cheeks burn in embarrassment as you roll off him, mortified, and he reaches out, grabbing you, pulling you closer to him, until you almost face to face, thick arms trapping you against him as he grins at you.
"I'm leaving," you grumble, trying to squirm out of his hold, all of you attempts leading to nothing but him tightening his grip.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, солнце," Nikolai rumbles, amused, and leans in, planting a kiss on your cheek as you pout. At least this one you know. Sun. "But you... oh, how do I explain it to you?.."
"I dunno! Somehow!" you start to squirm again, just to stop when he presses his lips against your forehead.
"There's a soviet movie, filmed in late seventies, I think?.. Or maybe eighties, doesn't really matter," Nikolai says, and you frown, confused, not sure what the hell does soviet cinematography has to deal with him finding it funny when you asked him to call you puppy in russian. "And there's a character in it, a villain, I believe?.. I haven't watched it in a while. But it doesn't matter. This character uses щенок as uh... a dismissive way to refer to another character. And the actor chose to pronounce it in a very specific way," you probably look unimpressed or maybe even offended, because Nikolai offers you a small apologetic smile. "It's a funny reference."
That's stupid. That's so stupid that should be annoying, but with the way Nikolai smiles at you it's hard to stay actually angry.
"Is there any other word for puppy in russian?.." you try, and he hums thoughtfully, glancing away.
"I think щеня or щен is an option... Though you don't resemble Mayakovskiy to me," he muses and you groan, hiding your face in his chest. "But it's not as funny. And is cute. Пёсик is like a little dog, I can use that."
"I don't doubt there's someone who would say word funny and make you... giggle," you grumble, which makes him chuckle again.
"You would, if you'll try to repeat it. Bet you say something like pyo-sik," he muses, eyes softening when you huff, definitely offended now. "But it's cute. Your accent is cute. And you are cute as well."
That settles it. For now.
Maybe one day he'll call you puppy in russian without finding it funny. And without making it sound like he's trying to imitate a rattlesnake.
cw: omegaverse, omega nikto; the translation of paragraph in russian is in hashtags sorry, the other words in russian are a name of a class idk how to translate, blyat and him saying "it's their fault"; there's part two now
Nikto couldn't remember the last time his nature bothered him. Physically or mentally. Maybe in school, when one year suddenly in PE classe omegas and alphas had the different standards set, and betas with unpresented were doing their own third thing, and suddenly Nikto wasn't expected to run as fast as before, to do as many push ups, to jump as high and far, to climb the damn rope that fast. And then there were труды. Oh, that was the most annoying thing, to sit in a class with the other omegas and to learn how to cook, sew and crochet. He had to make a damn apron as a homework once!
The pillow drops with a dull thump and Nikto stares at it for a long moment, snapping out of the memories he didn't want to have. He doesn't blink, barely breathing as he stares at the pillow, even the voices in his head get quiet for a brief moment before he snatches it off the floor with an honest to god almost roar.
After the spetsnaz with their suppressant, and especially after all of the torture he went through, being an omega was the last of Nikto's concerns. He was trying to keep what little was left of his sanity, which was almost an impossible task with all of the voices in his head, and dealing with the heats would be a fucking nightmare.
He thought - very naively - that this part of him was broken to the point of no repair. Which was good, because being unable to think clearly without getting distracted by instincts would get in a way of his work. He couldn't remember half of what happened to him in that room, so he wasn't even sure if he had everything working. He never bothered to check.
Which was his mistake. Because you exist. And, for some reason, something about you was enough to make his body change its mind and started preparing for a damn heat.
And he didn't had one properly since he was eighteen year old. At first suppressants, then... well, everything else. All that frustration, forgotten itch and the temperature of his body raising... He had to - was forced to - ask for a medical leave, since, apparently, his scent glands were still working, despite the irreversible damage done to them!
And now he has to figure out what to do, with all of the voices in his head being as unhelpful as ever, some telling to ask you for help, some telling to build a nest.
Только, сука, гнездо строить это не гвозди хуем заколачивать.
Nikto hasn't built a nest since the school. Honestly, he had barely any memories of his life before the torture, especially of school years, but because of you some of those came back, and it pissed him off. It still does. Because the memories of faceless nameless classmates and his teachers aren't helpful. They do nothing but cause emotions he doesn't have time for. They don't help to figure out how to build a nest or how to deal with the need that he will inevitably feel. That he's starting to feel, блять.
He's annoyed, angry and frustrated, and the damn pillow keeps falling from his pathetic attempt to copy an idea of a proper nest. He has a spare pillow and blanket, but those aren't enough, something is missing, and the lack of specific orders to follow leaves him in an emotional state he doesn't like in the slightest. The idea of doing a research feels like mocking.
"Это они виноваты," Nikto says, throwing the pillow at his bed. "Their fault. They fix it, then."
The cacophony of voices and an inner turmoil of emotions - from embarrassment of his sudden weaknesses to anger at his desparate need - stays completely ignored as he turns around, jaw clenched tight.
The corridor... has scents. Scents that Nikto usually ignored, because they meant nothing to him, just another set of information about his surroundings. But now his brain fixates on it, noting the omegas and alphas, the information he didn't care about before this whole thing started. It's when the doubts almost catch up to him. You and him aren't... that close. He's not even sure what he wants you to do. Build the nest for him?.. You haven't even seen his face, no way he'll let you see the rest of him, right?
"They did it to us, they-" he grumbles under his breath, the thought dying mid sentence as he catches a whiff of your scent.
He turns his head slowly, eyes zeroing on you, and barely thinks when he takes a first step.
"We are in heat because of you. Fix it," he demands, and just stares at you, the regret slowly peaking its head.
Of course all you do is stare at him, totally lost, your head completely empty and cheeks flushed, his words making no sense.
How can an omega go into heat because of another omega?..
