Hello, comrades! This is the official announcement of an upcoming fandom event in the COD:MW reboot space here on Tumblr: Nikolai Appreciation Week! A whole week dedicated to creating fan works and sharing love for one and only Russian pilot, informant and one smart, handsome, irreplaceable devil (Nikolai himself absolutely did not write the intro).
There are some quite simple rules to this event.
Event Rules
This account will be reblogging and sharing works posted under the hashtags #NikolaiAppreciationWeek #NikolaiAppreciationWeek2025, as well as make announcements about opening/closing the event and answering any questions you have via asks or comments. Feel free to reach out with any questions!
As stated in the rules, there are four sets of prompts for this week you can use for inspiration.
SFW/NSFW Prompts
Book Quotes Prompts
Songs Prompts*
*under the cut there is an extended text version of these prompts with provided cultural context, lyrics and links
AO3 collection link
We are very excited to see everything you bring to the table, comrades. Happy creating and try not to drop each other out of helis!
Below the cut are text versions of the attached images and the additional parts of Songs Prompts
Event Rules
There are four sets of prompts: SFW prompts, NSFW prompts, quotes from Russian literature and songs Nikolai would grow up to. You can choose any of them, combine, mix, switch them between days - do anything you want!
Any forms of art are accepted except AI art. Artworks, writing, moodboards, playlists - anything!
No AI generated or plagiarized works.
Tag NSFW and sensitive content appropriately.
Tag your works with #NikolaiAppreciationWeek and/or #NikolaiAppreciationWeek2025, you can also tag our blog @nikolaiappreciationweek here on tumblr.
You can post your works on any platform you like, but the main event will be happening on Tumblr. On August 11 AO3 collection will be opened if you want to submit works there.
Main event runs August 11 - August 17, but later admissions can be uploaded until September 17, then AO3 collection will be closed. You can still post works under our hashtags though!
SFW/NSFW Prompts
Day 1: Cooking/Food (SFW) || Golden Chain (NSFW)
Day 2: Flight (SFW) || Body Hair/Body Worship (NSFW)
Day 3: Winter’s Coming (SFW) || Leather/Gloves (NSFW)
Day 4: Music/Guitar (SFW) || Voice Kink (NSFW)
Day 5: Dealer (SFW) || Boots (NSFW)
Day 6: Haircut (SFW) || Hangar (NSFW)
Day 7: Freedom (SFW) || Aftercare (NSFW)
Book Quotes Prompts
Day 1: “He does not deserve the light, he deserves peace.” (Mikhail Bulgakov, Master and Margarita)
Day 2: “Everything passes, but not everything is forgotten.” (Ivan Bunin, Dark Avenues)
Day 3: “War is so unjust and ugly that all who wage it must try to stifle the voice of conscience within themselves.” (Leo Tolstoy, ‘War and Peace’)
Dat 4: “Pain and suffering are always inevitable for a large intelligence and a deep heart. The really great men must, I think, have great sadness on earth.” (Fyodor Dostoevsky, ‘Crime and Punishment’)
Day 5: “Love us dirty, for any one will love us clean.” (Nikolai Gogol, ‘Dead Souls, part II’)
Day 6: “...even death couldn’t disfigure a person so terribly. Life itself can.” (Optional: “It will do it to me, too.”) (A&B Strugatsky, Inhabited Island/Prisoners of Power)
Day 7: “Only someone with inner freedom can laugh at himself, and allow others to laugh at him.” (Lyudmila Ulitskaya, ‘Daniel Stein, Interpreter’)
Songs Prompts
Day 1: For the Last Time
By Vesyolye Rebyata (The Jolly Fellows)
In the lead-up to the 1980 Moscow Olympics, the USSR released an album of Russian covers of popular Western songs. Among them was this track: light, melodic, and seemingly tender at first. Yet it stands as one of the most haunting songs ever produced in the Soviet Union.
The reason lies in its origins. The original version of this song is featured in Carlos Saura’s film Raise Ravens (Cría Cuervos), which tells the unsettling story of an eight-year-old girl who loses both of her parents. Convinced she somehow caused their deaths, her grief twists into a morbid fascination with death and loss, slowly pulling her away from reality, even as, all around her, a brutal dictatorship crumbles. The chorus captures the raw ache of this loss with devastating precision.
Time will fly by,
And you will forget everything that happened
To me and you
No, I'm not waiting for you, but know that I loved
For the last time
Full text eng
Day 2: Grass Near the Home
By Zemlyane (The Earthlings)
At the height of the Cold War, the United States released Star Wars, forever altering global pop culture. The USSR answered in its own unexpected way: not with tales of battles between good and evil, but with a song about space that doesn’t mention conflict at all.
There’s a sly undertone to this, of course, but the message remains striking: instead of contesting comparisons that painted the USSR as an “Evil Empire,” the song urges us to rise above the fight and remember that out in space, we’re all children of the same fragile planet. No matter where our rockets lift off from, we all share the same quiet longing for home.
The son is missing his mother,
And the mother is waiting for her son,
And so is the Earth waits for her sons.
Full text eng
Day 3: It Pleases Me that I am Not Your Hurt
Performed by Alla Pugacheva
In the 1970s, the Soviet Union released The Irony of Fate, a film that became a cultural phenomenon. With its glittering cast, the sex symbols of their day, the movie spins a love triangle where, after navigating everyday mishaps and deep-seated fears, the characters finally stumble into love.
The film is so filled with songs, it borders on being a musical. Yet there’s a curious irony: though it’s a story about love, its soundtrack is a tapestry of melancholy ballads about breakups, betrayals, and loss. The centerpiece of it all was entrusted to the Soviet pop icon — Russia’s own Madonna. Set to verses by one of the most celebrated poets of the Silver Age, this song in a fairy tale about love begins with a line that cuts straight to the bone:
It pleases me that I am not your hurt,
It pleases me that you are not my illness,
That as we step upon the heavy Earth,
Its solidness shall never drift beneath us.
Full text eng
Day 4: Dark Night
Performed by Mark Bernes
One of the Soviet Union’s most famous wartime songs isn’t about victory or glorious battles at all — it’s a song about separation, death, and fragile hope. When it first appeared, officials pushed back: it sounded “too sorrowful” for times of war. But that very sorrow, its raw and honest tenderness, struck closest to the hearts of soldiers longing for home and the ones they loved.
I have faith in you, in my dear friend,
This faith shielded me from a bullet in the dark night.
I feel joyful, I am calm in a deadly battle,
I know you'll meet me with love, no matter what happens to me.
Full text eng
Day 5: But this is Not Enough
Performed by Sofia Rotaru
The words of this light, seemingly happy song were familiar to Soviet audiences even before the song itself was released. They first heard these verses in 1979, spoken in Tarkovsky’s film Stalker — lines written by the director’s own father.
It’s a quiet, philosophical reflection from a man tempered by life, mourning the things time has taken and can never return. Beneath its gentle, joyful melody lies a bittersweet sorrow hidden in the lines:
Whatever I wanted to happen
Fell right into my hands
Like a five-fingered leaf.
But it’s not enough.
Full text eng
Day 6: Calm Night
by Kino
A band best known for their sharp, revolutionary anthems reached the height of their fame and surprised their listeners with this unexpectedly gentle, vaguely unsettling lullaby. Fans immediately spun theories around its lyrics: some heard a veiled tale of death, others imagined a pagan fable whispered in the dark. Years later, the song would become a staple of every Russian doomer playlist, its opening lines drawing listeners into a heavy, hypnotic world.
Tremble the roofs under the weight of the days
The shepherd of skies is herding the clouds
The city is shooting the sky with buckshots of light
But stronger's the night, and great is her might
Full text eng
Day 7: Don’t Sleep on the Edge
Traditional Folk Song
One of the most widespread lullabies in the Russian language tells of a world divided into two realms: the “familiar,” safe and tamed by human hands, and the “other”—alien, perilous, ruled by spirits and sickness.
In the song, a parent warns their child of the dangers lurking in that foreign domain. This threat takes the shape of a wolf, waiting for the baby to stray too close to the edge of the cradle so it can snatch them away into the dark forest. Perhaps that’s why this lullaby is so often compared to the plot of a horror story.
Hush, little baby, don't you cry
Don't lie so close to the side —
The little gray wolf will come
He'll grab you by your side
And drag you to the woods so wide
Welcome back comrades! Get prepared for the second edition of NikPrice week ! Whether you are here to write, draw, create renders or simply to enjoy the content, we are all here to spread the love for our favorite duo once again !
If you have any questions, feel free to reach out to us here with asks or our twitter page.
☀️ Prompts ☀️
🍂 Instructions 🍂
❄️ FAQ ❄️
🌱 AO3 collection link: HERE 🌱
Happy creating!
Below the cut are text versions of the attached images
Prompt List
SFW
Day 1 - Under enemy fire
Day 2 - Road Trip
Day 3 - Snowed In
Day 4 - A well deserved break
Day 5 - Date Night
Day 6 - Alternate Universe
Day 7 - Meeting the Family
NSFW
Day 1 - Fully clothed / cockwarming
Day 2 - Scent Kink
Day 3 - Exhibitionism
Day 4 - Aftercare
Day 5 - Dry Humping
Day 6 - Roleplay
Day 7 - Anonymous / Secretive Sex
Instructions:
This year’s ship week has a theme! NikPriceWeek2026 revolves around Four Seasons: Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter.
2. Participants will still follow the usual format of 7 SFW and 7 NSFW prompts with a total of 14 prompts of your choosing. You are free to choose either prompts or both, you can also combine prompts, go nuts!
3. Every entry must incorporate a seasonal theme in some way, however there are no strict requirements on how you use the seasons. You are completely free to structure your week however you like, for example:
All 7 days can be centered around Winter
7 prompts divided into 2 Summer, 3 Autumn and 2 Spring related prompts
Alternating seasons every day
4. The only requirement is that the chosen prompt reflects the atmosphere, symbolism, aesthetic or the feeling of a season.
5. Participants who manage to include all four seasons across their entries will receive a special commemorative art illustrated by our honorary artist!
6. You’re free to post your entries wherever you’d like. We’ll mainly be on Twitter and Tumblr to interact and reblog/retweet posts!
7. All content should be tagged accordingly (e.g., NSFW, sensitive topics like MCD/dubcon etc)
8. No plagiarism, No AI
9. Be respectful to all creators, no harassment or hate allowed
10. Posting period starts from 6/7/2025 to 12/7/2025
11. Late submission extended to 6/8/2025
FAQ
Can I include other characters and relationships in my work?
Absolutely. But the focus should be on Nikprice as they are the heart of the event, entry focused on another pairing as the primary will not be accepted.
Does it have to be "reboot" Nikprice?
OG/Vintage Nikprice is very welcome. How about vintage Price and reboot Nik, or vice versa? All the Niks and all the Prices, please and thank you.
Can I mix sfw and nsfw prompts?
Yes. NSFW prompts are only limited to 18+ accounts and just make sure your work is tagged appropriately
Eligibility for the commemorative art
To qualify for the special commemorative art, you only need at least one entry featuring each season (Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter). This means even participants who completed only 4 prompts total can still earn the art, as long as all four seasons are represented across their entries.
cw: anal sex, bottom JP, a little alcohol. Collaboration with @nekrosmos. To be fair, the gloves could have taken a greater role, but...
#NikolaiAppreciationWeek 2025
“Not a lot we can do now but wait,” John murmured, lowering the binoculars to the windowsill. “No movement ‘til late tomorrow mornin’ and the boys have the buildin’ locked down. We’re surplus to requirement, in all honesty.”
“Then we have a free evening.” Nik sounded bright about it, and John flashed him a lopsided smile. His long-time confidante was crouched by a case of weapons and ammunition, placing each piece in its foam enclosure before carefully lowering the lid. John had learned long ago to never ask where or how, but Nik always secured them the best equipment when they needed to operate discreetly in civvies. He prided himself on choice and flexibility; Soap, Ghost and Gaz had selected their armaments and left the dregs behind for Nik to reabsorb back into his criminal empire. Price watched his gloved hands swipe over the top of the lid and felt a little flutter in his belly. Nik's hands looked good in leather.
Nik stood, stretching his arms above his head with a heavy sigh through his nose. “It smells like rain."
“Yeah. Looks like it too. Gonna be a cozy night in.”
Price tugged the window closed a little further. They had set up shop in an old open plan flat. The furniture was sparse, with a little kitchenette Nik had used to boil their MREs and brew up a coffee earlier, and a threadbare couch with a three-legged coffee table; a stack of old books made up for its fourth leg. There was a single bed, barely broad enough for two normal-sized people, let alone two soldiers. It was a good thing John was quite used to sleeping on top of Nik when space was tight. Nik had already spread their sleeping bags over the mattress, and John looked forward to sinking into them later, if only to have an excuse to press close to Nik.
The bottle of whiskey appeared from Nik's bag barely ten minutes later, and they passed it back and forth as they played a few hands of rummy to keep their hands occupied as they talked. Nik watched John thoughtfully, admiring his bright eyes against the austere backdrop of the drab walls behind him. The soft, almost shy, smiles he kept seeing made a heat stir deep in his groin, aided by the slow burn of the whiskey pooling in his gut.
John watched Nik's hands, his lips, the alcohol lowering his inhibitions; he was paying close attention to all the parts he wanted on his body but couldn't find the words to request. So many years, so much longing, but always an obstacle in their way; a mission, distance, time.
As the level of the whiskey dropped lower and their intoxication level rose higher, the conversation drifting in between laughter, John's body relaxed, the sternness in his face softened until he looked five years younger. He studied Nik over his cards, clearly wanting something but unsure how to start. His tongue flicked out over his lower lip, his boots spread over the floor, and he rubbed irritably at his face; uncomfortable, restless.
After throwing yet another game, John rolled to his feet and lit up a cigarette by the window, watching the quiet street below. It was off season, which meant colder temperatures and no tourists. The cobblestones below were starting to spot with rain where the skies were making good on their promise of a downpour. The peace was nice; it gave them room to breathe, to nurse the smouldering embers between them.
Something had shifted in the last few months. John’s body language had changed, he was more bashful, his gaze lingering when he thought Nik wasn't looking. The embers of something had existed between them for many years, but neither of them had been confident enough to fan them into flames. Too little time, too much distance, and yet, in the familiar lull between steps of an op, it felt oddly… right for those stolen glances to finally come to a head. Nik watched the curls of grey smoke disappear into the navy of the sky and decided to feel out whether his friend would consider, after so many years, becoming his lover.
Nik joined John in the window, studying the blue eyes that turned up to hold his gaze, searching for hesitation or permission, before dropping to his lips. There was a static between them; an electric tension that sent goosebumps over their skin, made their fingers twitch and a shiver of anticipation glided down their spines. John stubbed out the cigarette against the remains of a broken terracotta pot, and felt his heart skip a beat as Nik's big hands slid around his waist to draw their bodies together.
John didn't resist despite the quiver in his shoulders, but settled his hands on Nik's chest to ground himself, his eyes lidded. There were no words. Nik couldn't think of any that were appropriate and John was too focused on Nik's lips to utter any. They had spent years following silent signals, learning how the other moved; they were in sync without the need to speak.
As John’s mouth drew close, his breath carried the faint sweetness of honey and dried fruit beneath the sharper scent of cheap tobacco; familiar, comforting. Nik felt the solid body in his arms relax into him, willing and eager, John's hips pressing to his. As their lips met there was a flicker of spice in the first touch, cinnamon, a little pepper, and Nik licked into John’s mouth with a soft sigh of relief. A slow bloom of dark oak and soft vanilla, as if the kiss itself had been aged in barrels until it reached perfect maturity, washed over his tongue. The backdrop may be dire, but his first kiss with John Price tasted exactly as he had expected.
John's palms slid down Nik's chest and over his waist, clutching him close, and Nik settled his hand on the buckle of John's belt, questioning. Nik had no time for observing any artificial expectations; if he could touch John now, he would snap up the opportunity. The kiss had been hungry, their bodies hot under roaming hands, all Nik needed was a nod.
“Christ, Nik…”
“Do you want it?”
“More ‘an oxygen, but I ain't a slag.”
“I think fifteen years is enough of a warm up.”
John chuckled and Nik kissed him again. It was one of his favourite sounds, that laugh; at the bars they visited after ops, down the Comms between orders, over cards while they drank with the rest of the 141. Only rivalled now by the soft noises of longing John made as Nik pulled his belt from the loops of his jeans.
Price leaned back, dragging his lips over the rough stubble on Nik's jaw. “Fuck, what if the others–?”
“As you said, they have the building locked down. We are not needed.” Nik sucked a kiss beneath John's ear as he plucked open John's fly and cupped his cock over the top of his boxers, biting his lower lip as John filled his palm with the swell of his arousal. “We can stop if you are unsure.”
“Yeah… oh, bloody… Nik, fuck…” John rocked his hips, and Nik muffled his moan with another deep kiss, tongues curling together as Nik turned them towards the bed, unsteady feet tugging them backwards even as John tried to fumble with Nik's belt. Nik reached to hook his gloves at the wrist and tug, intending to help John along with their clothes, but John pulled away to still his hands.
“Naw, Nik, leave ‘em on…” John's voice was sticky, a low rumble gathered in the back of his throat.
“I see,” Nik replied, smoothing the flats of his palms down the curve of John's back to the waistband of his jeans. “Can I ask why?”
“You can ask.” John offered a crooked little smile, pleased with his little bit of word play, and then he reached behind him to take one of Nik's paws. He brought it to his face, his beard rasping over the supple leather with a soft sigh. “They make me feel… uh, hot. Watch you in those slutty fingerless f‘ings all the time, but these… dunno, maybe ‘m cracked in the head, but the f’ought of ‘em holdin’ me down while ya…” John trailed off, his ears flushing.
As he studied the bashful look on John's face, Nik understood. The gloves were a symbol of authority and criminality. Just like in the old mafia movies John liked to watch, the books he read. John liked the thought of them touching him, impersonal and yet intimate as they caressed his skin. There was a vulnerability to being handled by a gloved touch that John didn't experience in any other part of his life; a kind of forbidden lust that he shouldn't want, but yearned for anyway. Nik slid his hands down John's back and under the waistband of his trousers, an eyebrow lifting at an unexpected discovery; there was no more material over his rear. “Really, John?”
John grunted. “Like the support. You expect old man briefs?”
“I am not complaining.” Nik slid his fingers over the elastic at the top to the two slanting straps beneath the curves of John's arse. He stroked beneath them, teasing sensitive skin, until he was cupping a cheek in each palm, the straps of John's old-fashioned jock strap stretched over the top of his fingers as he squeezed indulgently. John’s cock pushed through the open button of his fly, a damp spot turning the white fabric a little see through as his excitement built. He kissed down Nik's jaw, hips tilting as Nik's forefinger stroked slowly over the tender skin of his cleft, coaxing John to spread his legs a little.
Nik took John's lips again, arching him back, keeping him a little off balance so he had no choice but to let Nik's caress pass over the tight furl of his hole, his other hand kneading a full arse cheek. Even through the leather, Nik felt John flutter, sensitive, as Nik teased the rim with the lightest touch.
“Oh, fuck–” John panted, lifting further onto his toes, trying to maintain some control as his cock throbbed desperately. The pooling heat in his groin built, his body pulsing with arousal at the feel of supple, unyielding leather passing over his hole.
“Ya tak khochu tebya,” Nik murmured, dragging his teeth through the bristles on John's jaw. “I want to feel you cum on my cock.”
“Yeah, Nik… yeah… mm, Christ…” John’s fingers fisted in Nik's shirt as his sensitive cock dragged against the coarser terrain of Nik’s fly, so desperate for friction even as his hole begged to be fingered properly, twitching under Nik's caresses. John hadn't been fucked in… longer than he cared to admit, and the thought of sinking down onto the beast currently trapped inside Nik's jeans, Nik's gloves hands spreading his arse cheeks, made his knees weak.
Nik lifted his head and searched for any hesitation in John's eyes; the sternness had softened with arousal and want, his pupils blown wide. Nik's fingers slid further between his thighs, teasing the edge of the fabric against John's taint. The jock kept everything nicely out of the way, snug and secure, leaving his hole perfectly vulnerable. “Do you wear this in hopes of being bent over and fucked, John? Do you want a man stronger than you to push your legs open and sink his cock in as you beg for it?”
“You got a warped head, Nikolai,” John rasped, but his hips rolled, grinding his erection against Nik's bulge as he licked into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, his lips, providing Nik with all the answer he needed.
The backs of Nik's knees hit the foot of the bed and John finally managed to get Nik's belt undone with shaking fingers. It clattered noisily to the floor, but he was soon preoccupied with clinging onto Nik's arms for balance as Nik shoved his waistband down and pulled him onto the bed.
It wasn't the most elegant of maneuvers, but John managed to squirm out of his trousers, kicking his boots off to leave them in a tangled pile of denim on the floor. The old bed springs creaked under their weight as Nik tugged John behind the knees until he straddled his hips. He wasted no time in pulling John's shirt off, beanie lost inside it, leaving his hair ruffled and fluffy. He stroked John's jaw, coarse beard rasping over the scratched leather of his glove, and then the plush of his full lips, before slipping a single finger into his mouth. John sucked with a low moan, tongue swirling around the bitter taste of leather, blue eyes rolling, and Nik growled through clenched teeth, hips bucking up a little.
“Pizdet, you are beautiful,” Nik whispered, splayed fingers running over the swell of John's cock trapped behind the soft fabric of his underwear, to the slight rolls of plush in his belly, and finally his full chest. He pulled his finger from John's mouth to run it down his throat to his collarbone, just about feeling the throb of John's pulse.
John moaned wantonly, arching into the feel of the leather on his skin, open-mouthed as Nik's thumbs toyed over his nipples. John was naked but for his jock strap, and he'd only just managed to wrestle Nik's belt off. The contrast was making him hotter, the coarse rasp of Nik's denim on the inside of his thighs felt divine, the metal teeth of Nik's jacket zipper against his belly and chest sent shivers of pleasure down his back as he leaned down to kiss that pleased little smirk off Nik's face.
Nik popped his fly and squirmed a little out of his jeans, guiding John's hips back to press their clothed cocks together. As they kissed, John ground slowly against the hard curve of Nik's bulge, moaning at the heat, the size, spreading his knees wide to drag the clothed shaft of Nik's cock beneath his balls to his taint. His arse flexed in Nik's palms, leather-clad fingertips brushing the soft skin of his inner cleft. John arched, his eyes lidded, his entire body quivering as he slowly rutted against Nik's body. It wasn't enough. He needed more. “Nik, you got any lube, johnnies?”
“Da,” Nik murmured, gazing up at John like he was the second coming, his lower lip between his teeth. He didn't want to look away, to waste the sight of John's ruffled hair and bedroom eyes in the dim light.
“Nik?” John prompted, a crooked smile sloping across his chapped lips, kissed red.
“Da, da…” Nik leaned over to grab his bag from where he'd stuffed it by the side of the bed. He yanked a half full tube of Durex and a line of three condoms from the side pocket, and placed them on his chest for John's inspection. John grabbed the foil packets and tore one off with his teeth as Nik bucked his hips up a little to shove his boxers down his thighs to free his aching cock.
“Damn, Nik… s’quite somethin’.”
Nik gripped the base and John watched the thick length of it quiver, his mouth watering. Nik smirked. “Want it?”
“Fuck yeah,” John breathed. He watched with rapt awe as Nik's gloved hand pumped slowly from tip to base, drawing the foreskin back over a ruddy head, precum beading at the slit.
“Yer gorgeous,” John breathed, closing his fist around Nik's girth when his hand lifted away. Velvet soft around rigid steel, John marvelled at the topography of thick veins, the flare of his crown, the way Nik was just as thick all the way down to the base, and his insides clenched in anticipation.
Nik leaned back on his elbows and rocked his hips up, head falling back with a longing moan, relishing the feel of John's palm and strong fingers, the calluses scraping a little at the underside of his shaft. He had fantasised about those hands for years, their strength, their rugged crookedness, broken and re-broken by war. They looked perfect around his cock. Exactly where they belonged. “John…”
John reached the short line of condoms and tugged one free, foil between his teeth, the sharp smell of it soon fading beneath the heady musk of arousal and sweat as he rolled it down Nik's length, stroking the backs of his fingers over the swell of Nik's balls as he drew his hands away.
Nik watched John with wide, dark eyes, his cock twitching up towards his belly with every throb of desperate arousal; he wanted nothing more than to fill John to the brim, but that could wait for next time. When he had John all to himself for good. John warmed the lube in his palm before smearing it down Nik's cock in a slow, easy glide, twisting his fist on the up stroke, a low groan punching from Nik's chest. “Pizdet, John… ”
John wetted his fingers a second time and reached behind himself, slick fingers circling the soft hair and wrinkled skin of his hole as tenderly as he could despite his impatience. The first finger felt like a lot, which was worrying considering the amount he was about to sit on. “Lemme just…’
“Mm, that is so hot. Are you preparing yourself for me, John? Slicking your little hole…”
John’s smirk was faint, his eyes lidding a little as electric sparks of pleasure crackled through his hips. It was all about muscle memory. He hadn't taken a cock in a while, but as he slid a second finger inside, John’s body only tightened briefly before relaxing open. Nik pressed a palm against his bulge, and John groaned, rocking his hips between twin points of acute pleasure.
He pressed his walls open gently, coaxing, introducing a little more lube, his body sucking easily as he withdrew in slow thrusts. With Nik's hand on his cock, John reckoned he could probably finger himself to an orgasm, but there was a bigger prize to claim. The broad chest of the Russian beneath him rose and fell, his fat cock curved up but heavy under its own weight, strong hands cradling John's body with a calm certainty. John leaned forward, sliding his hands up Nik's plush belly beneath his shirt as he lined his hips up.
Nik's broad cockhead settled against John's slick hole, relaxed muscle spreading a little to suck on the very tip as John rocked down just a fraction. Nik slid his gloves hands up John's thighs, his thumbs pressing into the grooves of his hips in a wide circle. He let John sit there, teetering on the brink, admiring the way his tits rose and fell with deep breaths, his eyes barely open as he relaxed his body into Nik's hands, each slow rock sucking Nik's head a little deeper, a mere tease. John wanted to be claimed, made to take. Nik drew John down his cock in a long easy slide, his breathy sigh fading into an appreciative groan as John's walls seized around him.
John bowed in an involuntary arch, a low, luxurious moan rattling free from his throat as each successive inch pressed inside him, a seemingly endless length of heat and pleasure. Nik's wiry pubic hair brushed the underside of his arse, his own cock and balls still cradled inside his underwear as Nik finally hilted. John blinked at the ceiling, his back taut, immobilised by the throbbing heat pressing up towards his guts.
Nik ran his hands up John's quivering belly, the dark curls of his body hair disappearing against the black leather of his gloves. John's tits filled his palms as he squeezed them, muscle hard with arousal, pink nipples peaked in two fine points. “Hng, Nik…” John whimpered.
“Is this what you wanted, solnyshko? Naked for me, fucking yourself down on my cock… hmm, da…” Nik swept his hands back down John's ribs to take his hips, spreading his knees so that John could grind down against his groin. John rolled his hips up and down in a slow glide, Nik's smooth, throbbing shaft gliding inside John, sending a ripple of warmth up his body, a wavering gasp struggling free as Nik ground back in.
The second thrust was no less intense than the first, pressing John open, moulding John's body around every vein, every thick inch, and then came a third. By the fourth, they found a rhythm, hips grinding together, slowly at first, and then faster as John's body eased, welcoming Nik in deeper. John had never had a cock that satisfied him so quickly, his entire body hummed with pleasure, and he tucked his hands behind his head to abandon himself to the feel of it dragging inside him.
Nik watched John unspool above him, hypnotised by the graceful roll of John's body, how it clutched around him, the wet slurp of his cock withdrawing from John’s loose, slick hole completely obscene beneath their pants and moans. The way John's Adams apple bobbed in his throat, the untidy scruff of his beard and the dark body hair beautifully masculine, muscles flexing through sweat-sheened skin.
Their hips moved in steady unison; sweet and slick, Nik's endless perfect girth with its wicked curve made for pleasure pumping deep, relentless. John leaned back, arching to angle his hips so that Nik was sliding over his prostate with each grind. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, yeah, Nik, c’mon, ah, ah, oh…”
The bed springs creaked under the pressure of their moving bodies, Nik's hands kneading John's arse, pressing his cheeks together as his cock withdrew and then spreading them wide as he speared up, circling his hips and forcing a desperate noise from John's chest. The moment Nik realised John was going to come from being fucked, his prick still caged inside his jock strap, set a fire in the back of his mind. His balls pulled tight as the mere thought of it, of John coming undone on his cock, of finding so much pleasure in spreading his legs, nearly unravelled him completely.
John shuddered, his orgasm tightening his body around Nik's girth, a deep-seated, pulsing intensity that started as a liquid heat in his hips, spilling out into his body like magma down a mountainside, searing and destructive. He didn't touch himself, his hands tightening around Nik's forearms as he let the aftershocks rattle through him, blotching grey behind his eyelids as each wave lapped down his limbs. “Uh, uh, Nik…”
He slumped forward as his muscles melted in surrender, the buttons and zipper of Nik's jacket cold against his sweat-sticky skin, and Nik pushed his heels into the bed to thrust up into him, taking the reins seamlessly. John sucked at the hinge of Nik's jaw, too open-mouthed to be a kiss, the lurid squelch of Nik's pumping cock an echo of the wet slap of their hips.
John's cock ground between their bellies, balls cushioned against the plush of Nik's stomach. He spread his knees as wide as they would go, pressing his arse back, greedy for each hard thrust, for Nik's leather-clad hands spread his arse cheeks. His spent cock was oversensitive in the damp cradle of his jock, his eyes rolling back in his head, mouth hanging open as Nik chased his high, the sordid pleasure of having his hole used making his toes curl in the warmth of the sleeping bag beneath them.
Nik’s hips stuttered, his last few thrusts erratic as his cock throbbed through the first few waves of his peak. He pulled John's hips down, making sure every inch was buried inside the right, delicious heat of John's body as he spent into the condom. John nuzzled his jaw and Nik tilted his head for a kiss, hand pressed to the small of John's back before sliding down his arse, fingers spreading either side of his shaft where it stretched open John's hole. Nik gripped the base of the condom as John eased off, but wasted no time in fingering his gaping hole once it was empty, biting his lower lip as John groaned. “Easy, love… sore.”
“You were a little tight, but not anymore, hm?” Nik murmured, still stroking tender flesh, wishing he could feel his cum leaking out down John's thighs. When he dipped a fingertip inside, leather cool against flushed skin, John's body tightened weakly, and Nik felt a not insignificant amount of pride.
“Ya bloody dog,” Price replied, amused.
“Da, but you enjoyed it.”
“God, yeah… best dick I've ever ‘ad.” John slumped to the side, lost in his afterglow, and Nik used the opportunity to sit up and shrug out of his clothes. Nik pulled the condom off with a wet snap and tied the end, chucking it into the nearby ashtray before folding back into the bed. John was already dozing, goosebumps erupting over his skin as he cooled. The rain had started to come down hard and Nik let his kind drift, rousing only to ease John's jock strap off to throw it to the floor with the rest of their clothes, and tug the sleeping bags over them.
A few hours later, John woke to the hard curve of Nik’s cock pressed to his back, the tip leaking precum against his skin and he leaned back into the kisses peppering his shoulder. When that same gentle mouth swallowed his cock, thick fingers pressing inside him, John arched in surrender, his cries of ecstasy swallowed by the storm outside. Nik was going to fuck him until sunrise, and despite the grueling operation ahead, John didn't want to ask him to stop.
no thoughts just nik fucking you in his helicopter and growling
Nikolai x female!reader, semi-public sex, reverse cowgirl, oral
Nik loves fucking you in the helicopter- you joke that you're the mistress in his real relationship to a several-tonne flying machine, but he's never happier than when he's got you inside it, finding all sorts of ways to turn you inside out, making the whole cockpit smell like come and sex.
Right now, he's got you spread open on his lap in the pilot seat, your back plastered to his chest as he helps you work your hips up and down on his cock, one hand groping your breasts. Your head falls back as he mouths along your neck, sucking just under your ear.
There's just enough room to fuck like this, the pitch stick rubbing against your belly as you ride him, using the locked throttle as leverage. You're going to leave sweaty handprints on his controls, you think, and moan when Nik gets his fingers on your nipple just right.
"Fucking gorgeous," he growls, and you can feel the vibrations of his voice down your throat. "Going to remember this every time I sit here, having you bounce on my cock."
"You won't be- distracted?" You gasp, and try to get a little more from your aching thighs. It's a difficult angle, but his cock rubs perfectly inside you, pussy clenching each time your weight comes down. Nik grips your hip and grinds you down, making you whine, more pressure right on your g-spot. Your hand slips, and you give up the throttle to just cling to Nik.
He bites at your shoulder, sucking a mark onto your skin. His ass slides down, shifting in the seat, and you cry out as he gets enough leverage to fuck up into you.
He's growling and biting at your throat, hips snapping up hard, and you moan, trying to match his rhythm just to get fucked right back out of it again, the coiled pressure in your pussy tightening.
"You distract me all the time, make me so hard- feel what you do to me? This is all for you," and he gets a hand down on your clit, roughly thumbing over it as his fingers cup your pussy around where his cock splits you open. You moan, chest heaving, and feel him more than hear his own moans and panting. Fuck, you're close, just a little more and you can come all over him, soak his balls with it, maybe you can even get some come into the seat so he smells your pussy every time he flies-
You clamp down, thighs flexing, as Nik sucks at your neck, the hand on your hip biting in deep as your pussy clings to his cock, moaning as he keeps fucking you through it, a second little shockwave rippling down your spine. Nik turns your head, swallows your cries with his mouth in a messy kiss, and you lick his own groan out of his mouth as he holds you tight to his body, cock jerking and throbbing inside you as he comes.
You splay limply across him, both of you half-off the seat, sticky with sweat. His hand still over your pussy moves gently up and down, slippery with the slick and come leaking around his cock, making you both moan as he grazes your clit, pussy clenching again.
It's too awkward to stay like this, and he helps you off his lap- only to make you yelp as instead of standing you find yourself bent forward, arms bracing yourself from smashing into the control panel. The pitch stick jabs against you, and there's dials digging into your palms, and a hot, wet tongue trailing up your thigh, following the string of come stuck to it all the way up to your dripping pussy-
By the time he's done with you there's a puddle on the floor of the cockpit.
Nikolai Appreciation Week is oficially over! (almost)
The main event week is over and we wanted to say a huge спасибо to everyone who participated - our creators and supporters! This was a new experience for the host and everyone made it a great time 🖤
With all that said, we remind you that the extended posting period is until September 17, then the AO3 collection will be closed (there will be a post a few hours beforehand to make sure comrades from different timezones do not get lost in time). Until then this account will be actively reblogging all the "late" works and supporting all you Nikolai enjoyers! And we encourage everyone to stay and show love to these submissions - or even jump in yourselves if you still had doubts.
We also plan on making a little questionnaire at the final end of the 2025 event to gather some feedback about what you enjoyed the most or would like to see in the future, but if you have thoughts you'd like to share already, please send them our way via asks or DMs.
P.S. If we somehow missed your creation up until this moment, please tag this account or send a link to asks or DMs, especially if it's on another platform.
Nikolai x female!reader, omegaverse, omega reader, alpha Nikolai, heat, nesting, lots and lots of sex, oral, fingering, breeding kink, LONG FIC 4.7k words
Thank you my beloveds in the discord for encouraging this monster @gazstations @vinnierobot748 @lialucis
now on AO3!
You escaped notice, mostly. It was your job- you were a floater, assigned whatever task was necessary but not worth the time of the actual, important people. You coordinate schedules, take stacks of files to be digitized and others to be shredded, run between meetings with updates and sign off for deliveries of things you don't want to know about. A secretary without the sex appeal, you joke to yourself, and put your head down and request your heat time off in advance.
When it comes, you swallow the lump in your throat and wave bye to the handful of people you talk to, and go back to your room with a heavy step. Alone, locked doors and a nest made of your regular blankets and pillows, a couple toys to help the ache. Your head fucking kills, and you curse at yourself for not prepping enough- but there were three different fires to put out this week, one literal, and so you couldn't eat and couldn't rest and haven't been able to even think ahead for anything.
There's someone leaning on your door, and your steps slow. You know him by reputation only, the sort of man who appears and disappears as needed, and not on anything official. He looks like he's made himself comfy, and you scowl at him when pain spikes behind your eye, wanting to just get past and lie down and sleep the heat away.
He doesn't move though, staying right there to block your way, and his scent is heavy in the air- something dark and cool- and his frown lines deepen when he moves his sunglasses up on his head. You don't say anything, waiting for him to break the silence.
"Sweet omegas need to be taken care of, not care for everyone else," he says finally. "I see you running around like a chicken. Come, you can spend that heat with me." He pushes off your door and reaches for you, frowning again when you yank your arm back.
"A chicken-!" You sputter, before realizing that's not the main point. "How do you know I'm in heat? Or who I am?" That's not quite it either, dammit. "Who are you?"
He grins, unashamed, and this time his hand makes contact with your arm, tucks into your elbow and draws you in closer. You can't help but feel the warmth of his skin, the almost refreshing scent in your nose. You know you're all over the place right now, stressed and tired and aching, a pain in your head and a warmth in your belly. You just want a break.
"I am Nikolai, call me Nik," he says, and lifts your hand to kiss it. "And I know you keep this shit hole running smooth and no one sees it. No one notices you, do they? I do." Tears spring into your eyes, and you gulp them back. He kisses your wrist this time, the thin skin inside, where your pulse beats. "Come with me, sweet, let me help you. I can take care of you."
Your head hurts and behind you is paperwork and stress. Your door leads you to a flat mattress and small comforts you got for yourself.
Nik smells strong and soothing, you think about old growth forests and rain clouds. It's probably a stupid decision, but he's gone right to your heart with a couple sentences. Why the fuck not?
You step into his space, and lay your head on his shoulder, scenting him properly. Your neck arches, and his lips touch your skin as he does the same, breathing you in.
"Poor sweet thing," he purrs, "you're in good hands, now," and tugs your arm to follow him away from your room.
-
Nik drives with one hand on the wheel, the other on your thigh- patting up and down over your clothes, not groping like you half expected- just soothing over your flesh until it's so normal you forget about it. There's a paper bag between your feet with little snacks in it- fruit and honey bars, some spicy jerky, a cup of something juicy and rich. You dive through them eagerly, hungry, and catch Nik grinning when you moan a little in delight.
It's probably a bit much, but you can't help feeling better, some old instinct being soothed down as you ride away from the base. Your head still hurts, but the empty stomach at least has eased off by the time he pulls up to an honest-to-god log cabin, half buried in trees that look impossibly big to your view out the window.
You step out of the vehicle, looking around, and jump when Nik catches you up in his arms.
"What," you start, and then all your tension floods out as he tucks his chin over your shoulder and purrs.
It's deep and rumbling and soft, vibrating into your chest, and you sag in his hold, gasping. You've never had this, never had a purr just for you, and Nik cups the back of your head with his big hand. "Easy, sweet," he says, and kisses your throat. There's a burst of heat like fire in your belly. "Come inside, all is ready. I have you, I will take care of you, come," and he scoops you up off your feet.
The inside of the cabin is cool and dark, curtains half drawn, the corner of the single room dominated by a huge bed. It's carved top to bottom, thick curtains hanging down over it, the open side showing you what you register immediately as a nest- thick quilts, pillows, actual fucking furs- is this guy for real?
You whine a little as Nik sets you on your feet and begins unbuttoning your shirt. Your head is swimming, and you stumble out of your shoes- bed, bed, that nice heavy soft bed- and crawl into it mostly naked. If you were at home, your little room, you'd be in old soft shorts, thick socks, but nothing sounds better than feeling that rich softness on your bare skin right now.
Fucking heat.
Nik laughs a little behind you, easy, and tugs your pants off the rest of the way. "Rest, omega," he says, and tucks your hair behind your ear as you wrap a thick blanket over your shoulders. He draws another up, and all but buries you into the bed.
Your smile is soft and shaky up at him, feeling caught off guard and vulnerable, worried about being too much and also still not enough. His hand on your forehead strokes down, makes your eyes close. He doesn't do anything else, just picks up your clothes from the floor and steps away, and you slide into a sleep deeper and more restful than you've had in- ever.
-
You wake up to heat, to liquid warmth in your belly and between your legs. There's someone strong and hairy against you, muscles flexing as he moves, and you come with a wavering moan as you remember Nik.
His fingers slip from inside you, and there's a wet sucking sound. He's licking them. You can't see, it's fully dark and the curtains boxing in the bed are thick. The blankets on you are suffocating, suddenly, and you push them away.
"Nik?" Your voice is soft, muffled under the layers of dark and fabric. You can smell yourself, hot, nearly steaming with it, all the rich layers of omega scent overwhelming, and moan in relief when you find Nik in the dark and breathe into his neck, the cool breeze of him calming your fever. The purr in his chest keeps rumbling for you, a pleased alpha.
"Here, sweet, right here- so good for me, you taste so good. So wet." His fingers trail down the side of your cheek, sticky, until they find your mouth; you open and suck for him, tasting yourself. He groans against you. "Eat a little more for me?"
You don't know how he does it, you can't see an inch, but his other hand meets your lips, holding some little morsel. You leave his wet hand for this one, and bite into meat- something warm and dense, spice on your tongue, and moan aloud as Nik feeds you another even as his fingers slip between your legs again.
You feel swollen and achy, pulse pounding in your clit, and he circles it gently. You're so slick for him, he can just slide right into you, and he tells you this as you swallow the food. Your whole body aches, limbs trembling, as the alpha provides you with- good, rich food; a warm nest; a body to writhe against and take pleasure from. You want to cry, because it's so good and so perfect, his scent and purr going to your head like liquor.
Nik kisses down your face, scenting against your throat, and shifts so you can feel his cock against your leg. He's so hard, thick and wet at the tip, and you find your hands exploring down his body to it. He's stocky, chest hair soft under your palms, trailing down his belly to his groin, his thighs. His cock jumps when you stroke it, and you yelp as his teeth suddenly bite into your shoulder.
"Sorry," he pants, and you realize with a bolt of lust that he wanted to bite your throat, had to stop himself, that he wanted you.
"Please," you gasp, "yes, do it, bite me-!" Nik groans, almost snarling, and licks up your neck, under your jaw.
You come again, clamping down on his fingers, and and shove at Nik to make him move over, letting you roll onto your belly.
"Alpha," you plead, and lift your hips, "Nik, please, please," and your thighs spread open, your hand spreading open your folds so he can just slide in, take you, please just fucking- get inside, need it, the heat and the coiling pressure in your belly, the forest in his scent and the warmth of his body, the strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he finally, finally, spears you onto his cock.
You moan and shake when he bottoms out, full and stretched open. Nik groans, a hand fumbling up your side until he can get his hand into your hair and wrench your head to the side, burying his face into your throat, puffing hot breath over your skin. He sucks hard as he thrusts, wet smacks between your bodies, and you clamp down on his cock. He's sucking and licking at your throat, scent blooming up off you, and he drags in a deep breath and moans. He's so good, heavy and strong, and you feel the ache settle into something deeper between your legs. This is what you needed, a cock in your pussy to fill you up, thick thighs bouncing off yours, alpha scent in your nose as you moan and squirm for him, his big hands squeezing at your thighs, arms, breasts.
Nik gently pinches your nipples, tugging a little, making you gasp. In heat, you think of them leaking milk, heavy and full for the swollen belly he's going to give you, and plead for more until he's grunting into your ear and getting both hands on your tits, groping harder as your pussy squeezes his cock.
You lose your words, just sinking into the heat and sensations- soft furs under your knees, alpha inside you, hands and skin and sweat all rippling together. You clasp one of his hands with yours, twining your fingers, and he leaves your throbbing nipples alone long enough to grip your jaw and turn your face to his, kissing you messily.
He speeds up, hips smacking into your ass, and your arms give out as you feel his cock swelling. You moan wildly, letting Nik grab your ass and thighs, thumbs digging into your flesh as he pants. Your pussy clings to his cock as his knot swells, tugging at it every time it pops in and out, making your back arch, toes curling. You're so close, and Nik bends over you, forcing your ass up higher, your face pressed into the furs.
Nik shoves a hand under your belly and rubs furiously over your clit, and you feel his knot swell and lock into you as you come, gushing over him, limbs all quivering as your belly tightens and releases, flexing, the throb of your pussy milking him as he groans and falls over you.
His teeth sink into the side of your throat, sharp, finally, and you come with another slick gush, his knot so deep and full you can't get anything out around it- plugged up so well not even your own come can leak out- he moans and his cock twitches inside you, coming in spurts, filling you up full.
The heat takes over you fully now- you're an omega under your alpha, taken, knotted and held in place to be pumped full. Your pussy squeezes with each twitch of his cock, milking his knot, and your alpha groans and rumbles and purrs, steady and strong, letting you take everything you need from him.
-
The heat-haze stays over your mind longer than usual. You doze on Nik until his knot releases, and orgasm as his tongue licks his own come out of your pussy, crying for the pleasure and the need to keep it inside, too empty!
Nik's a good alpha though, he plugs you back up after he's done, fitting his cock back into you as your clit is stroked gently, soft as silk after he sucked it so much. You splay on top of him this time, legs open over his thighs, and he takes your weight easily, stroking over your pussy where it's stretched open around his knot. His fingers play with your folds the same way his tongue flicks along your ear, until you're coming again for him, his knot throbbing as he fills you more.
The next time is face to face- you lift your legs up, knees as high as they can go, to let Nik get your body in place, pressed down, pinned. He can't reach your clit like this, but you don't mind. Instead he sucks your nipples, squeezes your breasts and leaves over them with his tongue as you pant and whine.
"настолько мягкие, что наполните их молоком*," he moans, and you don't understand but he lifts both your breasts up together, pressing the flesh in tightly, and bites your nipples. You keen at that, attempting to thrash even as his weight holds you down, the sticky mess between your thighs getting hotter and wetter again. He keeps alternating them, biting and sucking until your nipples feel swollen and hot, until the flick of his tongue makes you moan and clench around his knot.
Your heat has a strangle hold on you- all you want is a knot, and between fucking Nik has to coax you to eat, feeding you more bites of meat with his fingers, petting your tongue when you swallow for him, sips of cool water poured down your throat. It's never been like this before- you could think, prepare, fuck yourself on some knotted dildos and snack on whatever you set next to your bed- Nik drizzles honey on your lips and licks it off, bounces you in his lap and drapes both your bodies in the furs and blankets.
Light spills through the gaps in the curtains, pale and thin, then brighter, golden. You stretch and roll into Nik as he purrs, kissing you as you open your legs for him again. He slides into you easily, so wet and worked open that it's nothing at all to stretch for him, and the day slips past in flashes of light on his skin, highlighting the curve of his shoulders, the sweat on his forehead, the way shadows dance across your belly as you come again, crying out, so sensitive you're sore- or so sore it's sensitive, pussy and clit all a warm, swollen mess, nipples aching.
You roll over, presenting with your hips up and chest flat to the bed, sweat dripping down your spine. Nik purrs at you, pleased with his omega, and you moan and arch further. His hands span your ass, lifting and bouncing your cheeks, and when his thumb rubs over your asshole you whine, clenching as he slips it inside, gently fucking you just a little while his knot settles into your cunt. Each push inside makes you clench, milks his cock, and you whimper into the pillows as he adds a finger, another- so tight where your cunt is so stretched out, your own slick and his come smeared into a thick lube that he shoves into you.
You think about his cock in that hole instead, knot bulging in your guts, as you beg for it to be fucked into the right hole, and come as he fingers your ass, Russian words dripping from his lips.
The orgasms pulse through you. Nik is as sweaty and wrecked as you are, moaning with you each time his knot fills and releases, using his fingers and tongue to drive you insane every time. You gasp for breath, shaking, sucking food and water from Nik's hands with big, soft eyes. The alpha tucks your hair back, kisses your lips, cradles you down in the nest as you cool off a little. Thoughts begin to slip back in, and you notice the bags of food and bottles of water tucked into a shelf built into the bedframe out of the way. The next time Nik brings you a bite, you reach for another and press it to his lips instead.
He holds your eyes as he takes it, teeth scraping your fingertips, and you swallow hard. He lets you give him some water too, and you pass the bottle back and forth. Cool droplets fall from your wrist when it spills a little, shaky hands, and Nik licks it up.
His tongue follows your wrist down, and your pussy pulses as he licks the crease of your elbow, jumps over to your breast to lick your nipple again. "Nik," you moan, surprising yourself, the only word you've had has been alpha for- hours? Days?
He hums around your nipple, the lines around his eyes creasing in a smile as he flicks it with his tongue, making you whine.
"Nik- again, please," you beg, and he groans and buries his face into your breasts.
"Killing me, sweet," he says, and lifts your hips up to meet his. His cock is still heavy and hard, leaking steadily, and you reach down to caress the half-blown knot as he pushes into you. "So good, letting me have you- taking me so well- let me hear you again, omega," and he shifts his weight and just fucks you, hard and sharp, making you moan on each thrust. You're too sensitive for such a harsh fucking, but it's too good to stop, all the heat building up into another orgasm too quickly, almost painful. Your pussy hurts, soaked and swollen, and you feel tears slip down to your temples as your body takes it again.
Nik groans, mouthing at your breast, until you lift his face up to yours. You kiss him, sucking on his tongue as his hips gentle, slowing, and fumble blindly for another bottle of water. He pants as you tip it to his mouth, spilling it between your bodies, and he follows the trail down your throat, where the side of your neck is marked up purple and pink, swollen, stinging as the cool water drips over your skin.
You finish the bottle yourself and find instead of orgasm, your body is settling down at last- you stay soft and open, Nik's knot bumping against your hole as he works it inside, teasing your pussy with it until it swells up, locks in. You whine and let him bite you again, clenching down, feeling the ache catch and release, release, limbs all going liquid and falling down as Nik spurts a little come into you- just enough to feel the twitch of his cock before he settles his weight down, your hips splayed open, warm and wet for him to rest inside.
The light has shifted again, going dim, and you doze off and on. Nik has shuffled you to your side, still locked together, and is nuzzling your cheeks and nose with his. You play with his hair, coiling the dark strands around your fingers as he falls asleep himself, the low snore vibrating through him like a purr. Everything feels liminal, outside of time- just the nest, soaked in sweat and come, a hidden space away from everything else. The cabin itself creaks in the wind, the forest noises quiet for the night.
You fix your teeth into Nik's throat and bite, laving your tongue over his skin, sucking as he rouses up, moaning, his hand coming around the back of your head to hold you in place as you mark him, taking him, his knot finally easing out, deflating fully, still joined to your cunt with the thick web of come and slick smeared between you.
-
The morning sun slices through the curtains right across your eyes where you're sprawled over Nik, a quilt hanging off you, rising and falling with his chest as he snores.
You have to pee so fucking bad.
You stagger off the bed, legs wobbling, and manage to make it to the narrow door of what you pray is a bathroom. You're successful, and not even the absolute life ruining heat you just had compares to the simple relief of peeing for the first time in- what, two days? Three?
Back to the bed is another feat of strength, and you drop into the pile of pillows and furs gratefully. There's a pounding ache between your legs, your back hurts, you're monstrously thirsty again. Nik is no better off, his hair matted with sweat and his cock soft and bruised looking, a muscle jumping in his thigh even asleep.
You press your lips to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He still smells good, still that old-forest-dark-clouds, under the new layer of sweat and sex. More kisses up his pecs, across his collarbone, until you can gently lick at the purplish bite mark decorating the smooth skin under his ear, right where you can scent him the strongest.
He rumbles a little, waking up, and you smile up at him as he turns his head to you, taking a soft kiss from your mouth. "Morning, sweet," he says, and kisses you again.
You half expect him to start shooing you out the door as soon as it was clear the heat had finally released you, but instead he keeps going- he feeds you breakfast, bites of the same fruit and honey, thick bread spread with butter. You hum in delight- it's delicious- and he blushes, telling you almost shyly about learning family recipes, ones from his grandparents days, made for nesting omegas. The bread is thick and strong, packed with herbs, and your praise makes him blush even more, which is too cute for a man of his size and strength.
You nap, Nik snoring into your ear, and when he wakes you the sunlight spilling through the windows is fading. The little bathroom- it looks tacked on, and you wouldn't be surprised if this place was built when outhouses and chamberpots were standard- sputters warm water, and Nik even joins you in the shower.
His body feels amazing under your hands, his scent mixing in the air with the plain soap. You use your hands to scrub him down, stroking over his arms and legs, and he moans and swears when you kneel down for him, kissing along his cock as you soap up the tender skin around his balls, behind them.
His knot stays down, but you suck him anyway, eager to give him a little more pleasure when he did so much for you. His cock is sensitive, and you treat it gently, conscious of the way your pussy clenches each time he moans, the taste of his precome on your tongue. He rubs his fingers along your cheeks when they hollow out, pressing in, and you blink the water out of your eyes and look up at him, watching his face as he groans and comes for you. There's not much of it- you're surprised he has anything left in him- and you smooth your tongue along along the underside as his hips pump forward into your mouth, letting him go only when he whines, overstimulated.
Your own fingers slip across your clit, barely touching, but still enough to make your eyes roll back as over-sensitive nerves spark and catch, the little quivering orgasm pulsing through you. Warm water slides off your back, over your legs, as you sigh and lean against Nik's legs, feeling him petting the wet strands of your hair. He even coaxes another flutter from you, rubbing soapy fingers across the folds of your pussy, one teasing your asshole again- without heat clouding your mind, it feels dirtier somehow, and he grins when you squirm and hide your face, trying not to think about how your hips work back onto his hand.
Your clothes are stacked neatly on a chair, and feel strange on your body after the luscious nakedness in the bed, Nik's hands as he cleaned you up in the shower after. Nik doesn't seem in any hurry to move things along, you get the feeling he'd be happy staying here another day or three, but you have a job waiting for you.
You gently push forward the idea of leaving, going back to the base and home- though thinking of your room as home feels strange now too- and Nik just kisses you again. He loves doing it, you've learned, taking any chance to kiss your hand, your lips or cheek, nuzzle up under your jaw and along your throat.
"I know, sweet, time to go back," he grumbles, and you help him strip the bed- a huge bag is filled with the sheets and quilts, the furs stacked up in a pile he carries to the truck still waiting outside. You ask him about paying for the laundry and he just laughs.
"Laundry? Sweet, I will be sleeping in the scent of you just as they are," he insists, which is thrilling and a little gross. You help him load back up through, packing in all the left over water, snacks, the small loaves of bread wrapped in paper and carefully placed where they won't be crushed.
You pick the music on the way back, your head no longer spinning and able to appreciate the drive, the forest as it speeds past, and realize you're laughing in joy- when you glance over Nik is grinning back at you.
The base seems quieter, less overwhelming, when Nik drops you off at your door. You hesitate with the key in the lock. It feels wrong to walk away from him- you've spent the last few days in this fog of desire and need, that he so perfectly carried you through- but what can you say? What can you do? How do you move forward with someone when you don't know their last name, barely met them, but they made such a mark on your life? Maybe you should just tell him thanks? Ask for a date? Does he even want to date you?
A soft, deep brown fur lands around your shoulders like a shawl, stopping the spiraling thoughts. You breathe in and smell Nik, cool and dark, mixed in with yourself- something like sunlight breaking through the leaves. Peace and comfort.
You breathe in deeply, and Nik's hand cups your cheek. "I'll see you soon, милый**," and kisses your lips before he winks at you and just- leaves, whistling, a spring in his step that wasn't there before- you're pretty sure. The bag with the loaves of bread, the small snacks that he fed you through the heat, is at your feet.
Your smile could light up the hallway on its own. Food, soft materials for your nest that smell of him. A promise to see you soon.
You'll need to get a Russian dictionary- he might be taking care of you, but there's a few things you can think of to give him as well.
Tags: angst with comfort, 98% fluff I promise, Nik x [oc]Raven, splash of Mandarin, not proof read
Summary: Raven isn't feeling good mentally and Nik noticed.
Word count: 1230
Melted Popsicles
38 degree Celsius.
The scorching was heat relentless, an endless cycle of torture of humidity and intensity. The ground was searing enough to melt the rubber off boots if one stood too long, the air was oppressive and sizzled, dizzying, feverish and pipping hot.
Summer.
Although the weather was suffocating, there was an endearing charm in this season. Sure, tempers frayed and focus swayed, but in the middle of it all, salvation always came in something small.
Boots kicked off, gears forgotten, cicadas singing, lazy laughter and a box of popsicles.
Exhaustion and blisters peeled people down into the simplest selves. Even the hardest men softened with a slackened posture, and the grumpiest deflated with a sweaty, flushed and unguarded smile.
Bright orange popsicle glistened in her hand, melting slowly and bleeding colours into her fingers, sweet syrups flow through the groove of her skin and dripped.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
Raven hadn't changed in any way that other people might have named or noticed. She still showed up, still gave debrief, still worked, still provided support with her shots, still answer when spoken to, still gave the same stare that made people keep their distance.
Not to Nikolai, though.
The man had a penchant for noticing things, for seeing the cracks in glass before the fractures showed. He was also intuitive enough to know how the girl buried her sorrow into her routine and work, parted herself just enough that no one thought to look closer.
Little things added up.
She was somewhere else entirely with how her eyes drifted too far, too long. Standing in corners so naturally it was easy to miss the way she slipped away while everyone chatted away.
A bird flying away without the flutter of wings.
Drip. Drip. Drip.
"Raven," he whispered quietly, leaning over and poking her cheek with his own blue popsicle, blueberry flavoured.
The shiver, the grimace, then the glare. Nik will never stop ruffling her feathers because of how cute she looked whenever her buttons were pushed.
"Thing's going to melt away," he gestured the half-melted popsicle, watched the way she gazed down slowly, finally noticing it.
Like you.
"…you can have it."
"Too sweet."
"Then Ghost can have it."
The big bastard whipped around and gladly snatched it, stuffing what was left of it into his mouth. It was always a little funny to see the man cracked and unmask himself in such boyish way.
Nik smiled and shook his head as he fished his hanky out. Taking her hand gently, he began wiping the sticky sugar away. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles when he was done, tasting the faint sourness and the bitter weight of her mind.
"Thinking of cutting my hair"
"….cutting?" She asked, surprised and…cautious.
"Mhm." He patted her delicately scarred hands. "Want you to do it."
"No."
Nik ended up in her small bathroom anyway, crowding half the space, sat on the small brown stool.
She was still pouting, lips pressed into a thin line with narrowed eyes. Despite the mask she wore, he could see every thought and disagreement in her eyes and stiffness of her movements.
Hands clenched tight around the scissors, avoiding the reflection of herself on the mirror and the blade, pacing and pausing behind his chair.
"I think John might be the better person for this job."
"It's not a job."
"I haven't trimmed hair in forever."
"Just do a bit on the back," He looked at her through the mirror and gave a warm smile.
"Don't worry, I trust you, Eira."
The pout deepened before she exhaled and get to work with a roll of her eyes.
The snip of the scissors was soft and quiet, besides the hushed half-humming and half-singing from Nik. She focused, threading through the black strands that felt like the deep, far away space. Thick, heavy, shiny and endless. Although they shared the same inky darkness, his hair was unlike her own. Most of it were dense, masculinity woven into each coarse strand, carrying his scent like smoke and engine oil. It was a complete opposite of her softer, finer curtain of the night sky, tucked away easily behind her ears.
Some part, as she pulled lightly with the comb, would resist, knots trapped between the wooden teeth, stubborn like he was. Perhaps the surprising discovery was spotting some ends that curled loosely, some untamed part of him showing, unguarded. She had heard stories from John that Nik had messy, wild, looping coils in his younger days, but never putting that thought into consideration until now.
With how the ends usually curled at the base, protecting the neck, she supposed she should have made that connections. As she snipped away the frayed edges, she wondered if the faint splits were the strands that fought against the prolonged use of hair gel, if, say, his vanity carried discipline.
It was easy to lost in the endless abundance of his hair, each lock catching the dim light in different shades, streaked with the faintest luminosity of stars, a cosmos within her undeserving hands.
"慢慢习惯了…寂寞…hmm…uh…something 水…?"
"It's 相随"
"zhui?"
She stopped mid-air, then sang back quietly, correcting his pronunciation.
"man man xi guan le ji mo xiang sui…"
It was good to hear her sing again.
"Ah," he tilted his head slightly to look at her. "Didn't think you were listening."
Her throat tightened up slightly, then she dropped her gaze to floor where messy strands scattered like her thoughts.
Nik studied her for a few moments longer before turning, setting the scissors away and pulled her closer by the waist.
"You've been…somewhere else lately."
Her frown confirmed it.
"You know I'm…I'm here, you can tell me if you want to, and, whenever you need." He pulled her closer, voice softening as he rested his chin against her chest and looked up at her.
And as always, she folded at the sight of those beautiful, captivating and devoted eyes.
"I…don't know what's wrong with me…" Nik frowned, "my head." She corrected.
"Is it loud again?"
"No…yes—I don't know…I'm fine but I'm not fine, Nik."
"Da. I can see"
She brushed his hair back, now trimmed and smooth, twisting one of the strand on her index finger.
"Maybe it's the heat messing with my game."
"Maybe." He hummed thoughtfully, brows furrowed deeper like he was planning something. "Want me to deal with it?"
"How? By flying towards the sun with a loaded machine gun?" She joked, and Nik shrugged nonchalantly, which drew a wider, reluctant smile from her.
Right, he could very well do that. Probably. Actually no, he would, he definitely would.
"It might just work," there he added again with the same serious look, "I will question the sun for bothering my птичка."
"You won't get an answer and, I very much prefer if you're here with me instead."
"I will schedule the appointment with the sky tomorrow."
"Nik."
Some of his worries eased down when she giggled, and he tugged her closer, wishing he could if he could drive away the gloomy clouds and storms around her entirely.
But misery and pain often clung to the strongest soldier.
"Хорошо…okay," He pressed a kiss on her temple, "Then I will stay and cuddle my bird."
im a huge believer Nikolai actually enjoys getting his ingredients from the places he visits(both legally and ilegally). and when he retires he bought a place with a huge yard to plant all the things he wanted all this years. Price doesnt really enjoy it as much as he does but what he enjoys is watching the russian work without his shirt and listen him rambling about the weather and soil and all the things about his garden. might even write a small one shot about it someday ;3
Nikolai is her legacy. He flies to be closer to the stars.
(cw: a child's perspective of some pretty gnarly stuff, inc. loss, grief, PTSD. Please ensure you are feeling emotionally sound before reading. Sasha is Nik - his given name - and I've rolled with my headcanon that he's a Makarov. Vlad is our very own insane villain, Vladimir Makarov, but baby.)
Day Two - Flight, #NikolaiAppreciationWeek
26th April, 1986: 4am [Location: Valdai Hills, Russia]
The mild spring air whooshed softly over the struts of the jerry-rigged biplane bomber model in Sasha’s hand as he ran through the back garden. It was the same sound the plane would have made when its Night Witch pilot cut the engine so her navigator could drop her bomb during a Second World War air raid. It had been a Christmas present from his parents. A standard Polikarpov Po-2 model that he had adapted to imitate the aircraft that had struck terror into the hearts of Nazi wretches, right down to the carefully painted flowers on the side.
The sun hadn’t risen properly yet. It wouldn't for another few hours. They were up far earlier than usual because their Mama had been working through the night. Endless phone calls, piles of paper and photographs. His father ran coffee into her at intervals, his cane scraping on the wooden floors. Something had happened in Ukraine, but Sasha had only heard snippets. At points, his Mama had raised her voice, demanding the men on the other end do as she said, so it had been impossible to sleep.
In the end, she had dressed and washed them both, sending them outside to play in the fresh air until breakfast was ready. “I don't want you to listen to angry voices, mishka,” she had explained to Sasha, pressing a kiss to his forehead before ushering him into the garden, Vlad following not far behind with his abacus.
“Raskova cuts her engine as her navigator taps her shoulder and glides towards the target, silent, deadly - wooooosssshh.” Sasha slowed as he neared his small jumble of toy soldiers and tents. Unfortunately, the makeshift Nazi encampment had already been ravaged by another force far surpassing the make-believe bombs of Sasha’s Night Witch. Huge, monstrous, armed with sticky baby hands and drool. “Vladimir!”
Sasha’s five year old brother looked up at him, a Nazi soldier in each hand, seconds from being smashed together, and his eyes widened in momentary fear. Sasha growled in irritation, placing his model down as he dropped to his knees and tried to gather his toys up. “Why do you always do this? I told you I didn't want to play with you.”
Vlad’s lower lip quivered. “I sorry, Sasha…”
“You never listen.”
Vlad opened his mouth to reply, and then a voice called from the house. They both looked up to watch Mama walk down the stone steps to the lawn. She was carrying two bowls heaped with kasha, and Vlad brightened immediately.
“I see the Nazis have met their match,” their Mama said as she crouched by Vlad and handed him his bowl. “Blow, it's hot, volchonok.” Vlad mumbled his thanks and blew wetly at the steam rising from the hot buckwheat.
Sasha frowned. “He never does as he's told.”
“He's still a baby, Sasha,” Mama said, standing to wrap an arm about his shoulders and drag him into a hug. “When you were his age, you were banned from my laboratory because you had to be involved in everything.”
When Sasha was four, his Papa had been deployed to Afghanistan. With no other family to look after him, Sasha had spent many hours in his Mama's laboratories and lecture theatres, playing with test tubes and models of nuclear atoms instead of wooden blocks. When his Papa had returned three years later, he hadn't been the same man. He didn't smile anymore and his nightmares were scary. Mama said that Sasha had to give him time. Sometimes it could take many years for soldiers to really come back from war.
“That was different,” Sasha said sternly, but he folded when his Mama pressed a kiss into his dark hair, and gladly took the bowl from her hands.
“What were you playing?”
Sasha blew at the steam rising from his breakfast. “Night Witches.”
“Ahh, who were you this time? Nadezhda Popova?”
“Major Raskova,” Sasha puffed his chest proudly.
“The squadron leader herself. Very ambitious.”
“I will lead my own squadron one day, just like Comrade Raskova.”
“My very own Night Witch,” Mama said fondly. “I'm so proud.”
“Mama, I can’t be a Night Witch, I'm a man,” Sasha said, frowning. He liked being a man, but sometimes he did feel like women were better at everything. Science, flying, different languages, cooking, reading. All the important things. He would just have to do his best and hope he measured up.
“Yes, I see the problem.”
Sasha paused, stirring his porridge. He bounced in a full body gesture of epiphany when the solution came to him. “I will be like Nikolai Skomorokhov. Six hundred and five sorties, one hundred and forty-three dogfights, forty-four solo shootdowns.”
“Hero of the Soviet Union?”
“Twice,” Sasha enthused. During a parade, Comrade Skomotokhov had acknowledged him. His Papa had been unconvinced, but Sasha would swear on every model in his bedroom that the Marshal of Aviation had waved at him. Sasha shoved a spoonful of kasha into his mouth, and talked through it. “Did you help Comrade Gorbachev with his problem?” She squeezed his shoulders a little tighter, and when he looked up from his breakfast, she looked… sad. “Mama?”
With a soft smile, she ruffled his hair, the corners of her blue-green eyes crinkling. “Mishka, come,” she said, urging him towards his telescope. He had set it back up as the winter cold had faded into spring. The ice cracked the lens the year before, and his father had told him he needed to take better care of his things, so Sasha had made sure his telescope had been wrapped up warm for the winter.
“Here, tell me what stars you see.”
“Is this a test?” Sasha asked, thrilled.
“Yes. If you get them all right, Papa will take you for Halva after lunch.”
Sasha’s eyes lit up, and he almost fell over his own feet to get to the telescope. It took a little bit of adjustment, but soon the fading night sky was in focus. “I see Leo, and, uh… he's chasing Cancer across the sky.”
“Hmm. Too easy. What else?”
Sasha pursed his lips and studied the sky with a creased brow, tracing their patterns. “Ursa Major.”
“The first stars I saw when you were born,” she said.
“Uhm, Canes Ven.. uh, Venatici? I think, uh… is that… Jupiter? But it's smudgey.”
“It could be, let me see.”
Sasha stepped back from the telescope so his mama could stoop down to peer through. There was a long pause and he waited with baited breath. “You were right, mishka. It's so close to Venus it’s merging into a single big point of light. Well done.”
He grinned, showing all of his teeth… well, except the one he had lost a week ago. Vlad had finished his breakfast and, seeing Sasha get praise, immediately jumped to his feet, hands outstretched for the telescope. “Let me see. I can do it.”
Sasha frowned. “No, Vlad. You're too small.”
His Mama scooped Vlad from the floor and sat him on her knee, boosting him up enough to see through the telescope. “Joo-pit-er…” Vlad said slowly.
Sasha rolled his eyes, but Mama tutted at him, pulling him close by the loops of his trousers. “Sasha, you’re his role model. He wants to be just like you. You must be patient with him, you need to show him the way.”
“But he's so annoying…”
She chuckled, kissing his cheek. “Perhaps, but…” She trailed off. There was that sadness again. He had only seen it once before, on Papa's first night back when he had woken up crying. She had cuddled him like she cuddled Vlad and Sasha after nightmares, and he had sobbed into her night shirt. “Mishka, I will be going away for a while.”
“On your own?” They always went with her. Every time the government called her up, or she went to another country to lecture, the whole family followed. That had always been the way.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“It's not safe for little Night Witches. Someone has made a big mistake, and I need to go and help them fix it.”
“It's dangerous,” Sasha said, and he could see he was right. “Take us with you. Papa can… uh, I mean, I can–”
She stroked a thumb over his cheek. “I need you here looking after Vlad and Papa. Can you do that for me?”
Sasha frowned. Vlad was still peering through the telescope, his small hands wrapped around the eyesight. If he pulled much harder, he was going to snap it off. “Yes, but… when will you be back?”
She paused. Her eyes dropped for a moment, and then she looked up at the stars. “I'm not sure.”
He didn't like this. Something felt wrong. Like the day Papa had come back and thrown all his medals in the bin. “Don't go.”
“I must, mishka. There are lots of people in danger. If I don't help, then lots more could get badly hurt.”
His lip quivered, but he swallowed the tears down. Papa said he was a man now and if he was going to look after them, then he couldn't cry when he was scared. “You are going to rescue them, and… and be a hero?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think Comrade Gorbachev will make you a hero of the Soviet Union, like Nikolai?”
She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. “Maybe, and then perhaps you could meet him properly, hm?"
Sasha nodded empathically. People were in danger, and Mama had to go and save them. She would be a hero and there would be a big parade for her. Yes, he could accept this. “I… I will miss you,” he said quietly. “What if Papa cries at night?”
She took his chin and tilted it up to the sky. "If you ever feel frightened at night, remember we are looking at the same sky. If you ever feel alone, if you ever need strength, you will find me in the stars, mishka. Always.”
The stars blurred in Sasha's vision as tears crowded his eyes until they burned, but he nodded anyway. The thump of helicopter blades cut through the tranquility of the early morning, and Sasha watched as an Mi-8 flew over the trees and slowly lowered into a field left fallow by the local farmer. The Mi-8 looked a little weird, like it had been modded.
“Aleks!”
Sasha looked back at the house to see his father standing there with a large bag. He was leaning heavily on his walking stick, dark circles drooping under his eyes. His Mama placed Vlad gently on the floor and kissed each of his cheeks, before turning to Sasha. She took his face in both hands and held his eyes for a long moment. She had always said he had inherited his father’s eyes; stern and serious sometimes, but full of warmth and love. Sasha didn't really see much of that in Papa.
“My brave, beautiful boy.” She placed a kiss on his forehead, and Sasha felt her next breath stutter, like she was holding back tears.
And then she was gone.
Sasha felt the loss of her warmth like Vlad had stolen all the blankets in the middle of a snowstorm. She ran to the house and took the bag offered to her by Papa, and then pulled him close. He watched his parents hug tightly; Papa buried his face in Mama's shoulder, his stick clattering to the floor as he wrapped both arms around her. She whispered something to him, placing fleeting kisses on his face, and then she was jogging out of their garden and towards the field.
Soldiers had left the helicopter to meet her, but Sasha couldn't hear what they were saying. He knew he wasn't meant to hear, and he wasn't allowed to leave the garden without permission when it was dark, but the sun was coming up soon. He clambered over the fence, ignoring his Papa's calls, and began to run towards the field.
Look back.
By the time he reached the bushes around the edge, the helicopter was lifting back into the sky, and Sasha could feel the downdraft of its blades sweeping outwards.
Mama, look back.
He chased it as it sped towards the horizon, his bare feet cutting on tangled weeds and hard stones, his lungs burning as he willed his legs to move faster, tears and snot running down his face now that no one else could see.
“Mama!”
He couldn't see her. The helicopter was too far away. He stood in the mud, his cut feet bleeding, and watched his mother fly into danger to save the lives of others. He stayed there as the sun rose at his back, casting a gloomy, muted light across the river at the foot of the hill, until the tears and snot had crusted in his face. When he finally returned, Papa didn't scold him as he expected, but sat him down on the couch and cleaned his feet. He did something unusual when he was finished. Something he hadn't done since he'd come back all those years ago. He kissed Sasha on the forehead without a word.
For four days, papa sat by his radios listening for news. After two days, Sasha found out that there was an accident at the big nuclear power plant in Chernobyl. It made sense that Mama was called; she was an expert in nuclear things. That was her job. Comrade Gorbachev said it was all under control and Sasha felt relieved.
Mama had done it. She had saved everyone. Saved Russia, and all of the Soviet Union. Maybe the whole world.
Sasha expected her back in time for the May Day celebrations, but when she didn't return he found it impossible to enjoy the festivities. He stared at the field, the horizon, the road as the celebrations continued around him, muted, pensive. Waiting for any sign of her.
No one wanted to talk about what had happened. All the adults kept repeating the same thing; it was under control. But if it was under control, then they didn't need Mama anymore. She could come home. On 6th May, they had to stop eating vegetables. Sasha didn't mind that so much. He wasn't a big fan of vegetables. On 10th May, three soldiers arrived at their front door.
“Captain Makarov?” the oldest asked. He had taken his cap off and Sasha could see grey in his hair from where he crouched by the bannister.
“I'm sorry, sir. Comrade Aleksandra Makarov gave her life to–”
Papa’s stick fell to the floor and then he did. Sasha missed the rest because he was rushing down the stairs. He dropped to his knees at Papa's side, and the three soldiers lingered on the threshold. “Papa… Papa, please.”
Papa grabbed at Sasha's shirt and sobbed into his chest. Great, gasping sobs like that first night. Sasha didn't know what to do, so he wrapped his arms as far as he could around Papa's shoulders and bit the inside of his cheek to try and stop the tears. The soldiers left their letter by the telephone, and saluted before they departed.
Sasha tried his best to cook in the days that followed, and only burned himself a few times. He got them ready for school, and tried to keep the house clean. He was patient with Vlad as he tried to help, and held him when he cried. Sasha felt like he was floating in fog. Like the rest of the world wasn't real, or he was watching it from the outside like a little scene in one of Mama’s snow globes.
On 14th May, Comrade Gorbachev gave a speech on the television. He said, “the worst is behind us”. Sasha had never felt hate before. He had never had cause to hate anything. But in that moment, Sasha hated Comrade Gorbachev more than anything else in the world.
26th April, 2023: 4am [Location: Classified]
Nik’s watch beeped and John glanced over from the seat next to him. “All good?”
“Da,” Nik said quietly, leaning to the side so he could get a better look at the heavens above. “Do you believe in an afterlife?”
John looked back up from the folder across his lap. “Bit early in the mornin’ t’ be gettin’ philosophical, Nik.”
“Perhaps."
John shrugged. “Maybe, dunno. Figure there's not much good waitin’ fer me if there is.”
“I think you have more than earned your place in Valhalla," Nik said with wry amusement, and John huffed a laugh. They sat in silence for a bit as Nik checked his instruments, and then he looked out of the window again. “The stars are beautiful tonight.”
John leaned forward and peered out the front of the helo’s windshield. “Yeah, I… uh, ‘spose they're lookin’ pretty bright,” he paused, glancing over at Nik with a crease between his eyebrows. “Is everyfin’ olrigh’? D’ya… is there some'fin' ya wanna talk about?”
“A long time ago, a great woman once told me that there was strength to be found in the stars,” Nik said, glancing up at the faded photographs wedged in the netting above his head. He hadn't looked at them in years. “I hope that, if there is an afterlife, she would be proud of me.”
John reached over and squeezed Nik's forearm. “Course she would be, ya muppet. Yer savin’ the bloody world, aren'tchya?”
Nik nodded and smiled broadly, eyes crinkling. But as John settled back in his seat, Nik's gaze fell to John's lap. Two stern, blue-green eyes glared at him from the photograph on top, full of bitterness and rage, and he felt his heart ache.
He turned back to the window and looked up at the stars one last time.
“He does not deserve the light, he deserves peace.” (Mikhail Bulgakov, Master and Margarita)
CW: implied deaths in the past, mentions of graves and cemetery, overall somber tone. Commentary at the end.
The pot breathed out a cloud of starchy steam into Nikolai's face when he lifted the lid and leaned in to see how much water was left. Rice bubbled and puffed at him, falling into caverns where water had boiled out and left empty air pockets; wet sticky noises of stirring with a wooden spoon drowned in the chess world championship commentary flowing through the kitchen from an open laptop's speakers. Nikolai poured the rice out and rinsed it before throwing back into the pot.
Thick, caramelly honey slowly drizzled from a bowl into the rice, thin stream swinging slightly and layering on itself for a split second before spreading into a shapeless puddle soaking into the grains. As he waited for the mass to pour out, Nikolai cleared his scratchy throat and sighed, glancing back at the chess match on the screen.
"Сейчас-то ферзя твоего слоном и прищучат," he muttered*, as if the player about to lose could hear him, and scraped the sides of the bowl with the spoon to gather the last drops of rich honey. To stir the ever so stickier mixture, Nik held the pot up, turning his attention back to the match — as soon as the Hungarian lost his queen to the bishop, just like Nikolai predicted, he smirked and put the rice, now bathed in molten amber, down.
It was just in time for the kettle to start whistling; Nik flicked the whistle cap back and grabbed the wooden handle with his bear paw, pouring boiling water over muted holiday confetti of different raisins and dried fruit. Poking a few of stubborn floaters back into the bowl and hissing at the burn, Nikolai covered them with the pot's lid and stepped to the window.
It was already getting dark outside — November's mirky skies sagged over the sity like wet canvas soaked in the pigeons' bathing water. Nikolai opened the window and leaned out, lighting a cigarette — several yellow, orange and two bright pink windows of panel houses around stared at him with their silent shadow puppetry of people inside. Above him with a rattle and creaking of an old wooden frame with still glass window in it signaled a neighbour doing the same thing as Nik; a lighter clicked to confirm his suspicioins.
The air was cold; steam coming out of their lungs mixed with the smoke and thickened it, making it look as if the whole sky was covered just by thousands of people in this city smoking out of their windows or standing at the bus stops and smoking to try and make their public transport come sooner by an unspoken law of a lit cigarette. Nik's neighbour from above finished his smoke and threw the butt of his cig past Nikolai's window.
Finishing his, as the two commentators on his screen went on a tangent about a rather old match that played out similarly, Nik leaned back away from the window, snuffing his cigarette out in an old round ashtray. The kitchen's heat grabbed his stubbly cheeks, warming them up after the late autumn's frost, and he washed his rough hands in the kitchen sink, barely getting rid of the clingy tobacco smell. It followed him to the raisin bowl as he poured the cooled off water out and threw now soaked raisins into the rice, stirring it again — and it stayed after Nik closed the kutya* pot with the lid and put it in the fridge.
At the door, waiting for tomorrow morning already, a big oilcloth shopping bag leaned on the wall under the weight of a vodka bottle and a few gardening instruments — to help clean up the graves. Passing it on his way to the living room, Nikolai dropped a pack of "Mishka kosolapyi" sweets into the bag to leave at the cemetery as per tradition.
November knocked on his window with a rain fist, and as Nikolai dozed off to the scenes of Pontius Pilate following Yeshua Ha-Nozri up the moonbeam path on the TV screen, he thought that he probably should put rubber boots on to visit dead people tomorrow.
Saturday of Souls (Родительская суббота, i.e. "Saturday of parents" literally) - orthodox holidays commemorating the dead. Traditions often include cleaning up the graves, leaving food, candy, sometimes vodka on the graves, eating certain foods, as well as praying and other.
"Сейчас-то ферзя твоего слоном и прищучат." - "Now your queen will be pinned down by a bishop."
Kutya (кутья) - a Slavic grain, honey and raisin dish most often cooked for funeral feasts, but also on some orthodox church holidays.
