HELLO EVERYONE PLEASE DONT SKEP THIS AND READ IT TO THE END🙏..
I'm moatazalmziniy from Gaza I'm 18 years old and right now I will tell you my story..
Before this war I was live a beautiful and comfortable life but everything changed 💔..
As u can see here that's me before the war when I was live a normal life
And in the 17 November last year Israel did hit my house with bomb and the house get burned and I was in there and I couldn't get out and the fire did burn my body.. I will show some of things happen to me chest after this ...
As u can see that's my chest that I almost got killed by the fire but I lived but with so much pain..I didn't make this account for anything I just asking for help and tell u people do u care about us or we are not a human like you?💔
Hello everyone im Moataz Almzeiny from Gaza im 18years old, I will tell you my story… Alaa Alser needs your support for Donate to help Moata
If you care donate for me even anything can make it different 25$can let me collect the treatment 🙏🙏🍉
ihope you well , can i ask your help ? 🙏🏼I need to buy some basic food commodities before they run out of the market and in order to avoid any emergency blockade😔💔💔
We are suffering from war, the tragic situation and high prices, and no one feels our suffering at least helped us to resist the miserable life💔💔💔🍉🍉
I'm so sorry but I'll be sharing you with everyone as I do not have internet banking
Please don't let me down and do not hesitate to help us and donate even a little and I'm really sorry to ask for help we are residents of the Gaza Strip,
Please help me and my family to overcome the suffering of this war and buy the necessary treatment for dad and mom
The war destroyed our house and our life and now we live in very difficult conditions in a dilapidated tent, water floods us from everywhere , the water is polluted and we eat unhealthy canned food
I hope you can help me by
Donate even a little something and publish my campaign with your friends
Do not skimp on donating to us , our life can end at any moment 😥
My campaign was checked by 90 ghosts
https://gofund.me/a8383601
Hello yusra I'm so sorry to say that I myself don't have money at all but I'll share your gfm everywhere I can, I'm so sorry.
I don't often ask for this, but this out of urgency.
This post is on behalf of Nader @abdalsalam1990, as I have a large following which could help it get traction.
This campaign has been vetted! (#4 on the list) and the photos above confirm the legitimacy of this gofund.
Nader is 17 years old and his family is in Gaza facing dire circumstances. Food is scarce, prices are high, and there are shortages in water. They, like countless others suffering during this war, have already had to relocate many times, and their home is destroyed. They do not have enough money to safely relocate right now, or a stable source of income, as places of work have been destroyed.
Nader had just lost their uncle to the vile Israeli occupiers, and they're desperately asking for donations. Any amount of money can help Nader and his family escape this destruction.
**Humanitarian Support Request: Abdul Salam Al-Anqar**
… Abdalsalam Alanqar needs your support for Help Abd AL Salam and his family ge
They're not asking for much, just €10 should suffice!
This campaign currently has (as of the time I write this post) €13,575 out of €50,000 raised, with 783 donations
I have donated myself and I know a lot of my followers can afford to donate at least something. It's not a hard donation process, so I hope you take a moment of your day to show some support.
➛ cw: past abuse, violence, psychological drama, angst, light fluff, mature content, very suggestive | words: 6.5k
➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu
Unknown place, many years ago.
The bus was late.
You sat alone on the bench at the bus stop, eyes watching the people in the park just across the street—a group of friends which you recognised to be from your school as well. They were having their time together, joking around, being loud, uncaring of how the others perceived them—in this case, no one really was looking at them other than you.
How lucky.
You had forgotten what it felt like to have such a tight group bonded together. Sure, you knew a lot of people—but they were never reaching beyond your line, always staying where they would be considered as colleagues or schoolmates.
You wondered how fun it would be to experience such things. Do they have a group chat only with them? Do they go out every weekend to catch up with each other? Do they know each other's parents? How many secrets do they know about each other?
How do they even make friends?
You instinctively reached into your pocket, only to remember that you possessed no smartphone of your own. Your father did not allow it—as he did not want to pay for your internet services. Besides, there were more traditional ways that can you do to achieve so many great things—or at least that's what he told you to kill your small ounce of hope.
The bus arrived.
You got into it and tapped the metro card you hardly tried to get. But you still needed to top up the amount of the card and that just meant you had to work more hours tomorrow in the local convenience store.
You took a seat and once again, you observed your surroundings. You saw a pair of father and daughter sitting in the row next to you, just a few seats ahead. The daughter was chattering—something about a new bookshop she wanted to visit, and the father was nodding and listening intently, with a soft smile on his face.
Annoyance somehow was boiling in you.
You did not realise you had been clenching your skirt as you watched their interactions. And when you turned away, your eyes were fixed on the small television on the bus. It was broadcasting a mourning event for government officials in Yokohama, Japan who were mass-murdered brutally by a terrorist a few years ago. It seemed that the government officials were cut in half with some kind of circular saw.
Scary world we live in… But it must be nice to have people mourn for you.
The ride on the bus took about fifteen minutes and you walked for another five minutes to finally get to your house. You opened the door, entering the house after you took off your shoes.
“I'm back.”
You saw the sight of your father getting ready in the living room. He was wearing his watch, looking somewhat fancy.
“Are you going out?” You asked but he said nothing other than reaching for his keys and wallet. He was going out indeed. He looked like he was going to have a formal meeting with someone and perhaps it was far away because you saw him taking a backpack from the couch.
Why do you always leave me alone?
“Where are you going? Can I come?” Again, no answer. He only glared at you and you already flinched, shutting your mouth before something else got thrown in your direction. You silently made your way to your room, but you paused when you passed by the calendar.
You turned to your father who was wearing his boots. Gulping nervously, you opened your mouth, asking, “Today's mom's birthday,” He was already sighing and standing up. “Could we—”
Your words were halted when your father stomped towards you, grabbing you by your hair. He yanked your head, shouting things you could barely process due to the shock.
“SHUT UP! Can't you just shut the fuck up! Stop asking so fucking much, stupid bitch!”
You shriek, trying to get away from his hold. He shook your head by your hair roughly before shoving you back, causing your head to bump against the wall hard. You winced, holding your spinning head.
“I was just asking about mom! She was your wife! Don't you care?”
“I fucking don't! It's been fucking years and you're still being a fucking child!” He shouted before he angrily turned away to leave the house. “I'm not gonna be back for a few days. You make sure this house is clean or I'll fucking sell you, bitch. If only that's possible because nobody wants your worthless ass!”
The door slammed closed. Your lips quivered.
Tears did not come out. There were no more of them left.
You slowly nodded to your gone father—he would not see it but you just felt the need to respond to his command. You quietly got to your room.
It was great to be alone—you now were left with a bit of freedom. Solitude, after all, is your closest friend.
Today was your mother's birthday. Perhaps you could make a run to the convenience store you currently work at—usually they have those staff discounts—to buy some sweet foods.
Your mother loved sweet foods. Or so you thought. Your memories of her had become clouded and you did not know which one was real or unreal, for your brain might as well have created fake memories to fill in your desire to experience such joy again.
You did not even remember how and why she died.
But it did not stop you from celebrating her birthday and mourning for her. Wouldn't it be lonely to have no one mourning for you? You could not just imagine how scary it is to be so lonely after death—and to have no one to mourn you, it would be a crueller punishment.
You truly pray you will not be lonely—but it seems inevitable at this point in time.
You got to your room, ignoring the lingering pain on your scalp due to your father's pull on your hair. You put your school bag on the floor and open your closet to get your savings box. But your face ashened when you noticed the clothes were all messy and unorganised. You dug your arms into the closet, reaching for the savings box.
Light.
You opened it—empty.
— ♡
“Yeah, I'll wait at the usual place. Okay, 4AM. As usual, yeah.” Nikolai says with a low voice, a phone is held close to his ear. He occasionally takes a peek at the living room, making sure you are not doing anything stupid.
“Is there any update about this girl, Vik? It's been like a week now.” He asks and he hears Viktor sighing from the other side.
“Not at all, bro. I've sent messages to the loan sharks and they only say that they're still working on their part. My best guess is that they are actively trying to figure out where her dad is before using her as a hostage. ” Viktor replies with a grunt. “Have you asked her about her daddy again? Maybe she tells ya? ”
Nikolai purses his lips. It has been a week after he abducted you and the only time he had asked about your father's whereabouts was in the first few hours you woke up from your soundful sleep. He actually has not asked you more about it, not even when the chance presented itself. Matter of fact, he does not even remember thinking about asking you whenever the chance presents itself.
Has he gotten soft over you? No… No, that's impossible. Nikolai would not let himself be vulnerable again. He would not let a small fracture for anyone to see through him. He has learnt that the hardest way already. And he will not repeat it again.
But it feels like your fingers are digging in that fracture, prying, clawing, creaking open his heart—those innocent gazes are the devil, he thinks.
“Kolyushka?”
“Huh? O-Oh. Right, yeah… about that… Uh, she doesn't tell me…” Nikolai quickly says. Viktor hums suspiciously and Nikolai already dislikes the tone in his voice. He tries to compose himself. A single thought about you has his mind wobble and the grip he has on his ideal is starting to loosen.
“She doesn't tell you… or you didn't ask her? ”
“She doesn't tell me.” Too quick to lie.
“Right… Uh-huh. Something tells me that you two—”
“Wait.” Nikolai is about to respond to him but his word is stuck in his throat when he catches an array of smacking noises coming from the living room. “I'll talk to you later.” He says shortly to Viktor before ending the call abruptly. Nikolai rushes to the living room, stomping.
“What are you doing?”
He sees that you are smacking the broken television multiple times as you rapidly press the buttons on the remote control. Nikolai gets to you, purposely groaning loudly in annoyance. He wraps his hands around your body, pulling you back. His nose takes a short whiff of your scent—it is already getting similar to him due to you using his soap and shampoo.
If you are his lover, he would tackle you right there and then.
“Fuck.” He takes a short breath. Now really is not the time to think with his dick. “Get up. You crawl from that fucking couch just to smack this TV?” He says as he yanks you and practically drags you back to the couch. You whine at the force of his rough hold and the straining rope around your ankles.
Turning your head to him, you pout. Your hands are on his strong arms and your newly polished baby-blue nails are grazing lightly against his skin. Nikolai swallows nervously before he shuts away his thoughts and tosses you onto the couch.
It has always been like that for the past several days. You can sleep and wake up whenever you like, eat whatever Nikolai gives to you for lunch, clean yourself while he guards the door and for the rest of the day up until past dinner, you are just sitting in the living room with your ankles bound to the couch leg, accompanied with little entertainment Nikolai provided for you. Old books, old magazines and outdated newspapers. And oftentimes, you are just chattering with him and him only.
“I am bored! I have read most of these… old reading materials you gave me.” You complain, trying to raise your body for whatever agenda you have in mind. Nikolai frowns, lightly tapping your cheek as he pushes you to sit on the couch. He holds your shoulder, pinning you to lean back as he towers over you.
“Know your place, little doll. There's nothing here to satisfy all your demands.”
Your shoulders drop in disappointment, but your eyes are lingering on him for too long—and Nikolai notices that. He has been noticing the way you look at him and he hates it. He hates the way you observe and stare at him, especially the way you say his name.
No, he is not denying anything. He wants to convince himself that this is a trick. It must be. It must be, it must! His heart will not betray him anymore, will it?
“… Sit there.” He commands and you nod slowly. Nikolai purses his lips and sits on the floor instead. He takes out his phone and texts someone mysterious as you only watch him quietly.
“You are always on your phone… What are you up to?” You ask and he only glances at you. He knows that ignoring you would just spike up your curiosity. Every question you bring up will end up with a full-on conversation. Even if he looks away, a sweet call of his name is enough to make his irises slide towards you.
He does not really have anyone else to talk to other than Viktor. Even so, he does not trust Viktor one hundred percent. He does not trust others as well. Nikolai is an avid liar—a trait he still keeps as long as he remembers. He lies so much that he distrusts so much.
“I have a job, darling. How do you think I can still afford shit in this economy?” He replies. You open your mouth to say something but Nikolai raises his hand, stopping you. “I know what you want to ask. What exactly is my job, right? I do dirty work. Including… this.” He grabs your ankle, nudging it up before he drops it.
“Is it rewarding?”
“Depends.”
“What's the most expensive one you have ever gotten paid for?”
“Eating humans.”
You gasp and shake your head. “That's… not funny…”
Nikolai scoffs—a smirk curves on his lips as his thumb slides around his phone screen again. “You don't wanna know, dolly. If all of my crimes were actually presented during my trial, I would get a death sentence. But, luck was on my side. Sort of. The laws have been so weird.”
You are not saying anything back and Nikolai's eyes trail up to you. And he takes a moment to appreciate your appearance—you are wearing your baby blue dress again today after days of wearing his clothes to compensate for your lack of clothing. When you sit, the hem of the skirt is just short enough to reveal more of your thighs.
Cute.
No. No no no, I did not think that. Not again. Not again.
“I find it weird.” You suddenly say.
“What weird, darling?” He asks back and he swears he could hear your little flustered noise which you submerge desperately with a small cough. He holds himself back from smiling but quickly straightens his expression—God, how he dislikes how easily his lips curve.
“Uhm… Well, you have been doing dirty jobs for a while after you got out of prison… But you aren't caught again. And… when you said 'If all of my crimes were actually presented', does that mean you were convicted because of a few crimes?” You ask, leaning towards him. Closer, closer, closer that you might as well rest your head against his arm. Nikolai squints his eyes—aren't you supposed to be afraid of him? You are getting too comfortable to be so close to him right now.
“Obviously.”
“But, see, see! That doesn't make sense, no?” You are getting a little too enthusiastic about this topic, clasping your hands together. “You are roaming freely in this country, because you leave no trail of your crimes, right? I'm sure you are! I mean, you are very skilled.” You say with a strange admiration. “Surely, you are very careful to not leave shreds of evidence of your crimes so the police won't get you. But how did the police manage to arrest and convict you for a few of your crimes? It's hard to believe that you would be careless like that.”
Nikolai's throat is getting drier—his heart is tugging downwards as his mind is expecting a lot of bad things that you are about to say.
“Were you really careless?” You mutter, as if it is a question to yourself instead of him. “Or was it because of someone else? Did you work alone before prison? Or did you have a friend—”
Friend.
“SHUT UP!”
You physically flinch and your smile drops instantly, only to be thundered with a strike of fear in a matter of seconds. Your hands automatically raise to shield yourself—as if a manifestation of anger is about to hit you.
But Nikolai is pale.
His tongue is numb and his eyes are shaking—not because of anger, but the pang of a certain realisation that he was attuned too well is returning to eat his heart alive. The fangs of that old instinct are tearing it. It grows and grows, and once, it has managed to devour him whole.
I thought I had abandoned it.
Guilt.
“I'm sorry.”
Sorry? For what? Why? This isn't supposed to happen. This is NOT how I want to be. She is scared of me now, isn't that a good thing? That is what she is supposed to do. She is supposed to be scared of me, fear me, dread me. There is no need for an apology or a mea culpa.
“No, I'm not sorry— Wait, no. No, I am. I am. I… I don't… I mean, I'm…”
He takes a sharp inhale of breath. “Fuck me.”
In less than ten seconds, Nikolai grabs his keys on the coffee table and his coat that is hanging on a row of hooks by the door. He leaves the house, without even sparing a look at you, without even another word to you. He knows he is not a good actor by now—and you can definitely read his face if he turns to you. He shuts the door, hoping he can shut away his guilt and you altogether.
His heart will get devoured more if he sees your face.
— ♡
“Kolya, are you not going home?”
Nikolai looks up from the folds of his arms, turning to Olga who serves him a cup of water. He has been in the diner since evening and now it has reached past 11PM, the time when the diner is officially closed. But Olga has not kicked him out yet.
“Uh… I am.” He says as he takes the water and drinks it. Olga shakes her head, resting her hands on her waist.
“Did you argue with your girlfriend?” Nikolai clicks his tongue in annoyance and gives back the cup to Olga.
“No, she's not… my girlfriend. Stop saying that.” He sighs. Olga tilts her head, and one eyebrow perks up.
“Do you swing that way?”
“I swing in multiple ways.”
“I see. Well, maybe you could swing out of my restaurant as well because I want to go home now.” She taps the table in dissatisfaction. “You have been sitting at the table in the corner, sleeping and asking for more vodka after your fourth cup. I hope you are not too drunk to drive.” She says.
“Nope, I got this. I got this.” He says as he stands up, stretching himself with a groan. Olga scrunches her face and just flat out her palm, asking for his payment. Nikolai grumbles under his breath as he takes out several crumpled notes he does not bother to count and places them on Olga's palm. “Geez, give me some slacks already.”
“I'm poor too, Kolya. I can't treat you all the time.” She says before she gestures her head towards the door. “Now, go home and reconcile with her.”
“I am not arguing with her.” Nikolai pouts but he leaves the diner regardless. The night is darker, approaching midnight. The snow is falling slowly, forming some icy clouds on his head. They are not heavy but it is still cold. Nikolai gets to his car quickly and checks his phone one last time before driving home.
Every step he takes to get to his unit is heavy. As he gets closer to the door, the desire to turn around and sleep in the car instead is getting stronger as well. Nikolai does not like how his chest feels right now—so tight, so caging. He is well aware of his own head and for the umpteenth time, he wishes he would never be gifted with this kind of mind.
“It's okay. Just ignore. Just ignore her.” He whispers to himself as he opens the door and enters his house. The whole interior is dark. The lights are not turned on at all.
He does not see you though.
Nikolai takes off his boots and he treads slowly further into the living room. Then he finally sees you, lying on the same couch, sleeping. He moves around the couch, noticing that your legs are still tied. He unsettles.
He realises he left you bound to the couch like this, for a lot of hours, in the dark alone.
Fuck, fuck, fuck. I am fucked.
“Hey, doll…” He kneels beside you by the couch and calls for you softly. His shivering hand traces your chilly arm and he can definitely feel the subtle trembling from you. He shakes your body slowly, attempting to wake you up.
“Mmh…” You mewl but you are not opening your eyes. He decides that it is not the best time to bother you anymore so Nikolai quickly unties your ankles and carefully places both of his hands under your knees and back. He swoops you up and walks into the bedroom. He puts you on the bed and covers you with his slightly torn blanket.
His hand rests on your waist as he stares deeply into your face. His fingers are itching to hold you—and they are clenching on your waist as his hand trails to your hip before it moves up slowly. Very slowly, as if he is trying to feel the way your side curves. His hand then rests on your head. Something is pulling the strings of his fingers, urging him to caress your head. But he pulls away quickly.
He leaves the room, back to his new sleeping place.
— ♡
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Nikolai's eyes jerk open when his ears catch the sound of his alarm going off. He groans at the pain in his back after laying on the uncomfortable hard couch for hours. He squirms—and even his movement is too limited. The couch is small and he is such a tall man—his legs are propped up on the armrest of the couch.
“Good morning.”
Nikolai turns his head to the side, jumping slightly when he sees you are kneeling by the couch, facing him. You are wearing one of his bomber jackets over your baby blue dress and he does not even want to question that anymore.
“M'rning.”
You give him a small smile and Nikolai wonders if you want to talk about his outburst yesterday. Or do you want to pretend that nothing happened? Because if that is the case, Nikolai would gladly take the chance. He does not want to talk about it at this moment.
He gets up, groaning while he is at it. His shirt is crumpled and he feels very uncomfortable. He leans to take his phone and looks at the time—8:06AM.
“You woke up early,” Nikolai says to you as you move to sit on the couch beside him.
“I was very hungry. So I helped myself.”
Guilt. Again.
“Right… Right, glad that you're… uhm… independent.” He says, rubbing his face and hiding it behind his palm. He sighs internally but not for long when he feels a tug on his arm. He turns to you.
“I made you breakfast too. As… As for my apology for being too invasive yesterday… I'm really sorry.”
Well, shit. Now I have to talk about it, huh?
Nikolai does not plan to apologise back to you. His outburst is justified. And he does not owe you anything—even a shimmer of kindness. Yes, yes, no need to be sorry about it—he is supposed to be mean and you are supposed to dread him. He is your captor and you are his temporary property to be traded to greater greatness. There is no need for sympathy.
“I'm sorry too.”
“Hm?”
He wishes he was dead.
Oh, dear me, why haven't you killed yourself when you had the chance in prison?
He wants to protest—he desires to tell you that he does not mean any of his words. This chord of apology does not come from him. He wants to make it clear to you about that, and yet, he knows he is convincing himself to another fruitlessness.
Nikolai does feel sorry.
Why do you lie to yourself? Again? —His head mocks. Mockery. Jittery. Pathetically judging his own heart he somehow is holding a sense of humanity he wishes to cast away.
“Apology accepted,” You say with a nice smile—the smile that comes from a naive heart that blinds themselves from perceiving gloom. Or perhaps you did see his gloom, which is why you accepted his awkward apology. “Now we are even, right?” You add as your hand carefully touches his.
“Yeah… I suppose so.” Nikolai swallows nervously. His chest tightens as if his heart is trying to make a flip out of his system. He pulls away his hand from you swiftly before he looks at you, scanning your figure from head to toe. And he now realises that you have been moving freely in the house when you are supposed to be in bed.
“How are you walking around? Did you—?” He bends and grips your ankle. No sign of a broken rope or anything.
“Uh… You didn't tie me last night…”
“I didn't?”
“Mm-hmm…” You nod adorably before you sheepishly say, “And… I wanna say thank you for carrying me to the bed—”
“Keep that away, I'm not gonna hear it.” Nikolai stops you immediately. If you sweetly appreciate him verbally again, he will have a harder time following his logic. “I'm gonna… take a bath before breakfast…” He says as he gets up. Your eyes follow him—like a curious cat and he only curses to himself when he finds himself staring into your irises longer than they should.
“I'll wait for you.” You say, smiling at him. You keep throwing sugars at him—Nikolai despises it.
He says nothing and leaves you alone on the couch.
— ♡
“Is it good?”
“Decent. Can't beat Olga though.”
“Well, we don't have the same type of bread as hers.”
“We? You're in my house, doll. Know your place.”
“Mm-hm. You don't have the same type of bread as hers.”
Nikolai snickers as he sips his water. He reaches for his phone at his side and scrolls the screen again. You observe him carefully, curiosity perks up when you notice he gets more serious when he spends his time on his phone.
“Why are you always on your phone?” You ask.
“I do all my work on this phone. I invested a lot in this device and gladly it worked better for me than having a complete computer set. This house will crumble if I ever get a computer. The tenant is stingy with electricity.” Nikolai replies before he puts away his phone to eat peacefully. You tilt your head—this behaviour of being tightwad to one's self reminds you of someone.
“You said my father is a cheapskate but you're kinda like one…”
Nikolai clicks his tongue at your comment. “At least I spent my money on your ass without you having to work your ass off.” He grunts and you chuckle. Upon hearing your chuckle, Nikolai could not help but smile as well—what a symphony, he thinks. However, he does attempt to hide his smile by stuffing more bread into his mouth.
“That means you're better than my father, then.” Your grin but a shadow of disappointment is casting over your face. Your grin falters as you stare at the table. “Well, that is… ironic, isn't it? My father does not even want to lend his jacket to me when it's cold… What's his is his, and what's mine is his.”
You look at him but Nikolai is just fixated on the plate, as if he does not even want to look back at you. But your piercing gaze on him does not go unnoticed. In fact, you staying silent when staring at him makes him feel more uneasy.
“Honestly, I don't know what I did for my father to treat me like that. I thought he blamed me for my mom's death but he doesn't care about her birthday either. So I don't get why he did things to me…” You say, slowly. Even though Nikolai is not looking, you have the strongest feeling that he is listening intently to you.
“You know, yesterday… Yesterday, when you told me to shut up, I truly thought you were about to hit me and pull my hair and slam me to the wall… Like he often did. Those thoughts were instant. I had a hard time trying to get rid of it even after you left. And… And then I was stuck in the dark for hours because my ankles were tied to the couch. I couldn't move to reach the switches.” You take a deep breath. “It was so scary. I hated it. But the dark isn't the worst thing. It's the solitude. I hated being alone the most and somehow… Somehow I feel like I am always with the thing I hate the most.”
Your hand is mindlessly stirring your hot tea in a plastic cup. You press your lips together before continuing with a solemn smile, “My life is pretty boring. I am a bit envious that you have an interesting background for yourself. You have a tale to tell. And I… Well, I don't even have a story to tell about myself… It always somehow circles back to my father. I don't even think my life is about me at this point.”
Your lips quiver as you find your chest beginning to tremble—a sob is about to burst out of your throat. You quickly sip your tea, swallowing and burying your sobs away although your eyes are already brimming with tears—it is only a matter of time before the droplets stain your cheeks.
“Sorry— I'm just… getting emotional.”
“If you aren't interesting enough, you won't get kidnapped. This whole thing is gonna be your own tale.”
You sniffle and look up at Nikolai. He is gazing back at you with an unreadable expression. You try to form a smile, although you are thinking hard about what he meant by that. He looks troubled and his eyes rapidly avoid yours. But his mouth seems to have a mind on its own.
“Like… Not everyone can tell a story about how they got kidnapped and lived with their kidnapper for days. And, and, and you know, have you thought about how many people can say 'I share clothes with my kidnapper' or 'I eat dinner with my captor every night' like, like that's fuckin' ridiculous, right? Fuck, what the hell am I saying…” He grumbles lowly, palming his face. But his ramble does bring a faint smile to your face.
“Y-Yeah… Maybe you're right.” You say defeatedly but the fact that Nikolai does listen to your chatter solaces your heart—reciprocating a longing in you.
“Right… Yea, so… uh… don't cry… Yeah, don't cry. You sound like a squeaky duck.” He says as his lips form a thin line. “Or whatever. I don't care.” Nikolai is anxious, you can see. He awkwardly gathers his dish and cup before going to the sink.
You only watch him washing the dishes and the pan you used—you left them there, planning to wash them later yourself. But Nikolai does it instead without any complaints. You expect he would give you an earful about your mess.
You notice how he does not raise his voice at you at all today. Does he feel guilty about yesterday still? You do want to ask about his confusion and short rambles when he 'accidentally' says sorry to you right after he shouted at you.
Come to think of it, you have been observing him for a while now. You take notes of his subtle quirks and you do notice a certain similarity in some of his expressions with his confused apology yesterday.
Conflict.
Nikolai sometimes looks conflicted about things.
Annoyance is quite easy to detect—it is evident in his tone. But when he is conflicted, his eyes bear no anger or irritation. Rather, he looks lost. Too lost. As if he is thinking a lot of things at once. As if he has many voices in his head talking to him at once. As if a lot of invisible hands are trying to reach him at once.
“I know I tell a lot of things about myself…” You speak and he turns his head to you. “I just find it easy to talk to you. I like talking to you and I like hearing you talk as well… I would like to know more about you.” You smile cutely.
“Might as well, might as well. Maybe then you'll fear me properly like a captive would.” Nikolai snorts before he continues cleaning the dishes as fast as he can. He finishes the task after three minutes and he goes to dry his hands with a napkin.
The heaviness that loomed earlier is lifted—the air is no longer tense. You open your mouth to converse more about your curiosity about your kidnapper, only for him to suddenly pull your arm, forcing you to stand up. As soon as you stand, he wraps his arm around your torso, holding you close and tight. Nikolai says nothing other than dragging you out of the kitchen and to the bedroom.
“Hm?”
“I'm going out. Got a job to do. You're gonna stay here, tied. I'm not taking risk.”
His sudden roughness triggers your fight-or-flight. You harden your footing and Nikolai looks at you, shocked actually. He stops and you nervously ask, “W-Wait, Nikolai… C-Can I come with you? I-I don't wanna be alo—”
“No, you can't and you will stay here with food and warmth. I'm not tolerating your demands. This is an important job.” He cuts you off, yanking your body. You yelp at his force and you whine, struggling against him—whining, whimpering. But he is not even affected by your thrashing as he drags you to the bed. He pushes you to sit.
Nikolai sighs as he stands right in front of you, looking down at your pleading gaze. Your pouty lips are muttering his name as your hand is tugging on his shirt. He inhales deeply and has to look away—as your hand is just too close to his belt.
Mind is going wild. Your pleading eyes and the way you beg for his sympathy are tickling a side he has put away when he thought his lust was nothing but a hindrance. Lust is so unimportant, he thought, but now he has an intense desire to satisfy it.
“Hey, Kolya! Don't just leave me!” You whine, tugging on his shirt again and again, causing his body to sway forward and closer to you. Nikolai feels his heart beating faster when he leers at you. He can feel his face getting immersed with crimson when his eyes—like a magnet—trail down to gaze on your chest and then thighs. You are not even wearing your white stockings along with your dress today and the lower part of the dress is already short enough. Even if he closes his eyes, he already sees the lines of the dress. Even if he closes his eyes, he can already imagine you. And his hand is still blazing with the memory of when you placed it on your thigh at the laundrette a few days ago.
Days—and he still wants to touch it, feel it in his hands.
Touch it, hold it, kiss it.
“Nikolai..! Don't just ignore me!” You speak again, seizing him out of his mind, but not too far out since he is partially thinking with his dick now. Nikolai sighs and stares into your eyes, trying his best to not pervertedly look at your body any further.
“No, doll. I won't let you out in the public's eyes.”
“But you know that I don't like being alone…”
“And you don't know what I'm dealing with internally, doll.” He mumbles, holding both of your wrists with each of his hands.
“Then tell me. Aren't we—” You gulp, searching for his eyes. You bring your hands closer to your chest, unintentionally making Nikolai's hands closer as well. He bites his lips and mutters your name slowly in frustration.
“Aren't we friends already?”
“Stop. Please, just stop.” Nikolai groans and jerks his hands away from you. He sighs loudly, repeatedly saying 'Fuck, fuck, fuck' under his breath. He groans once again with his hands resting on his neck. He is clearly very agitated and unfortunately, he could not hurtle out that agitation other than letting it boil in his head—you can see that.
And he is also conflicted.
He takes a long inhale and throws his hands into the air. “Fine. Fine, you know what. Sure, you can come. I'll bring you with me.” He says and you gasp delightedly. Nikolai turns to his closet, rummaging to find something in it. He also takes the chance to wear a black coat over himself.
“R-Really? I'm coming as well? Then… Then I should get ready too, right?”
“Wait a second. I need to give you something. This job is dangerous and you really need this.” He says, though, his tone does not sound right. It is mischievous somehow, mixed with a good pour of sarcasm and deceit. But perhaps it is just your imagination—you do tend to overthink your observation as well.
“Okay… I'll wait.” You reply and sit nicely on the bed as you watch him. Nikolai then turns to you, with a white napkin in his hand.
Oh.
You certainly remember that very napkin. The one that he used to force you to inhale chemicals that knocked you out. Your face pales as you scoot back on the bed.
“Niko— Mmh!”
Without even having a second to react, Nikolai already presses the napkin onto your nose and mouth. One of his knees is on the bed, putting weight as he pushes you to lie down on the mattress. You are frantic but you feel his hand pressing down hard on your neck, blocking your airway to force you to breathe through the inhalation drug.
“Shh, shh, be nice, dolly. Be nice.”
Through your gradually blurry vision, you see Nikolai hovering over you and you are beneath him. Your hands are gripping his arms, nails clawing on his tattoos. Your body arches as you find it harder to breathe. You try to shake your head, but it is futile when Nikolai presses harder, receiving a painful whine out of your throat.
You find your body getting weaker and limp. Your legs jerk upwards and tremble between his thighs. Nikolai lowers his hand that is on your throat to your chest, brushing lightly against your mounds before it slips into the bomber jacket. He takes out something from inside it—from somewhere, as you remember that there is no hidden pocket inside the jacket.
But there it is—a syringe in his hand.
Where did he get that?
“It won't hurt, little doll. I'm an expert.”
You wince when you feel a sharp prick on your neck and your consciousness is slowly fading. Your body feels lighter as your mind is disconnected from reality. With your little last effort, your hands grip Nikolai's body before you surrender yourself to inhale the drug, in addition to another dose being injected in you.
Your eyes are just too heavy to even keep them open. Your breathing is slow. You see him getting off your body and you try to squirm to get up, but you are overcome with intense sleepiness and dizziness. In the midst of cloudy vision, you feel a pair of hands gently fix your dress, especially on your upper thighs.
The last thing you see is Nikolai pulling a long rope out of his overcoat.
summary: After Mina’s “death”, Ken needs someone to fulfill the role of a babysitter.
And after your sudden unemployment, you need something to get you by.
It’s only through chance that the two of you manage to find each other.
parts: one; two (you are here)
There’s no reply that comes, and the post is deleted by the time you wake up from your short nap. You’ve expected this, obviously; the offer seems a little too shady, and it doesn’t help that the person behind the post is anonymous, with no other way to reach except for the dummy email address they included in the post.
Whatever. As disappointing as this is, it’s not the first time it’s happened. You’ve already done your part, but there’s not much else you can do except the usual: scout the sites you frequent on and hope that there’s another new job offer this time – hopefully not as suspicious as the last one.
You’ve spotted a few entries since then, and you’ve promptly sent out your applications to each one, though even now, your efforts still bear no fruit.
You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose in exasperation. You don’t know how long you can keep doing this: stuck in a limbo with no solution, or even a way out. You don’t even know what’s wrong; you send out your applications, your resumes, you go to the interviews, you follow the instructions, but even now, nothing seems to happen.
You’re not even picky. You’ve applied to any job opening at this point, including that kaiju babysitting offer that proved to be a scam after all.
With a groan, you cover your face with your hands, trying your hardest not to cry. Whatever. There’s no using moping about it, anyway. What’s done is done, and it’s not like you’ve got anything to lose, anyway.
Well, maybe your apartment.
Ugh. You’ve almost forgot about it, especially with all the stress of everything, but any day now, you’re certain that your landlord would visit you with the intention of kicking you out on the spot. He’s sent you multiple messages this week: long, angry reminders about paying for your rent, coupled with a few threats here and there.
Not like you can blame him; you’ve been behind on rent for months now, and he’s been considerate enough to let you stay this long, even if it comes in the form of high interest rates.
You’d pay him double, if you could, just to keep him off your back, but it’s not like you’ve got money. In fact, you’ve been living off of your savings this whole time – which isn’t much to begin with, and you’re this close to emptying the entirety of your bank account.
There’s not much of it left, so you’ve stocked up on instant coffee and water just to stave off your hunger (they were on sale at the time; a few bucks for a whole box). Not a good thing to do, but it’s not like you’ve got much of a choice.
You could sell off your belongings on the internet; that would keep you afloat, probably, for a few more days, but that doesn’t really solve the crux of the problem.
Besides, you don’t really own that many things to begin with: just your laptop and your phone – both of which you need to apply for jobs, and also emergencies; some clothes shoved into your backpack – just in case you get kicked out of your apartment any minute now.
You need a job, and fast.
You’re still mulling over your options when your phone rings beside you, loud enough to make you nearly jump. Heart racing, you reach for your phone, glancing at the flashing numbers on the screen. You don’t recognize it, and briefly, you wonder whether or not this might be your landlord, using a different number just so he could threaten you once again.
Still, you answer it anyway, pressing the phone against your ear. “Hello,” you say, a little cautiously. “Who is this?”
“Hey.” The voice on the other line is different, unrecognizable. This couldn’t be your landlord, or at least, you don’t think it is. The stranger sounds younger, less angry, non-threatening even – which could still mean a lot of things for you. “This is, uh, Baseballlover26?”
Oh. You sit up straighter, clutching the phone tightly in your hands. You’ve never even expected a call, dismissing the whole thing as a scam or some sort, and now that it’s here, you’re still not entirely sure what to feel – or think. “You saw my email?”
“Yeah.” There’s a nervous laughter that comes on the other side, and something that seems like screeching, though slightly muffled. It’s a little hard to tell, especially when it seems to come from a distance. “And well, I’m here to tell you you’re hired.”
“That fast?” you ask, narrowing your eyes, suddenly suspicious. It seems quieter now on the other line, and eerily so now that the screeching’s finally disappeared. “This isn’t just a ruse so you can sell my organs to the black market, right? Because I’m telling you right now, they’re failing. I haven’t eaten a proper meal in months—”
“What?” he asks, a little taken aback. There’s a moment of silence between you, growing longer by the second that for a moment, you think he might’ve hung up and left you in the dark. But then: “You think I’m trying to sell your organs?”
“Honestly? Yes.”
It takes him a few more seconds to come up with a reply. This time, his voice is softer; there’s an urgency to his voice that wasn’t quite there before, something that tugs at you, though you’re not sure what that is. “Listen, can we meet?”
You mull over his words, thinking. Anyone rational enough would refuse him outright in fear of something dangerous, and maybe once upon a time, you were that person. But now, you’re not entirely sure; you’re broke and desperate, which makes you even more reckless than usual, prone to rash decisions. And more than that, you’re curious. Against your better judgment, you want to know more.
As if sensing your hesitation, the man continues to speak, trying to ease your worries. “I promise this isn’t a ruse to sell your organs. Can you at least trust me on that?”
You know what? Fuck it. “Alright. Where?”
You could practically hear his sigh of relief on the other end of the line, and you bite the inside of your cheek, trying not to laugh. “Tonkatsu Tonki. Do you know where that is?”
Not really, but you’ll figure it out. Better to wander around for an hour in hopes of finding something rather than owe a stranger already more than you already have, especially a shady one at that – even if he’s ready to prove you otherwise. “Yeah. I’ll, um, see you later?”
➛ cw: explicit content, dark content, very suggestive, manhandling, mild fluff, mean!nikolai | words: 6.6k
➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu
“Get out, get out.”
Nikolai pulls you out of the car, still keeping his grip on your arm. He tugs you closer to him as he leads both of you to a diner located just not too far from his apartment building. The diner is lacking people, only a good handful of customers. He chooses the table at the corner, isolated from the rest.
“Sit here.” He says, shoving you to sit at the inside part, so you are sandwiched between the wall and him because he decides to sit beside you instead of across you. Since the diner is toasty warm, thanks to their heater, Nikolai unzips his jacket, taking it off. He drapes it on the chair before he sits beside you. You are about to take off your coat as well, but you remember you just have your loose baby blue dress on. It feels a little inappropriate since a lot of your skin is exposed. So you keep your hands to yourself.
A waitress comes to your table, giving menus. She seems to be middle-aged, with her grey hair sticking out. She wears a bun and a red and white polka dot apron. The waitress smiles at Nikolai, waiting patiently. But he spares no time to choose as he immediately orders without even opening the menu books. “Uh, give us two iced tea and two sets of lamb—”
Your tight grip on his arm halts his word. Nikolai’s head turns quickly to you, and his eyes leer down to his arm—his tattoos are peeking out from his sleeve. Your fingers are wrapped around him, squeezing. You say nothing other than pointing at one dish on the menu. Nikolai looks at it and it is just an image of chicken and mushroom pie.
“You little...”
“Please, Nikolai?”
Nikolai stares at you in disbelief before he sighs and looks at the waitress. “Yeah, two iced teas, one lamb pelmeni, and... this.”
“Anything else?”
“Nope, thank you.” Nikolai gives back the menus to the server and she suddenly chuckles playfully. She collects the menus and looks at Nikolai with amusement.
“You finally got a girlfriend, Kolya? She looks young.” She asks. Nikolai just waves at her dismissively, shooing her away. You only watch their interaction, revelling the fact that Nikolai and the waitress know each other.
“Do you know her?” You ask out of curiosity. Nikolai is silent, seeming to ignore you for a moment as he reaches for his phone in his pocket. You wait for your answer as your eyes are carefully examining him. You tuck his arm again, shaking it lightly to get his attention. Nikolai sighs.
“Yes... I’m a regular here. Her name is Olga. She is a gossip collector.” Nikolai replies. “You are a touchy one, aren’t you? Or is this a habit from your workplace? Do you touch those old men like this too?” He asks with a small smirk, glancing at your fingers fidgeting on his arm. He just realises that your nails are polished with a baby blue shade. It must be one of your ‘uniform’ or ‘style’ for your job yesterday.
“You are old too.”
“The fuck? Hey, being in your thirties is not old.” Nikolai huffs. He takes out a box of cigarettes and bites one out, lighting it up with his lighter. He takes a long inhale of it before he blows it slowly to the opposite side, away from you.
How considerate. How sweet.
Nikolai notices your sudden quietness and he glances at you, seeing you are just staring at him—with the same gaze you have been giving since last night. You seem to be in your own thoughts as your irises are roaming over his figure—from his body, to his legs, to his arms, to his face, finally meeting his eyes.
“You know, it’s already weird that you are warming up to...” he lowers the volume of his voice. “... your kidnapper. But you are certainly looking at me so so bizarrely. There’s no fear in your eyes, even though I just forced you to be here. It is something... Hmm...” Nikolai suddenly holds your jaw, tilting your head to the left and right as he glares directly into your eyes. “I can’t put my finger on it.”
“Adoration?”
Oh, that’s the word. Yeah, yeah, that makes sense.
“Yes, yes. Adoration. Why do you look at me so adorably? Your cute fucking eyes... You are attempting the impossible if you want to riddle with someone like me. After all, tricks could only bring you so far if you want to play with me.” He says before he lets go of your face. You yelp a little, touching your face, especially on the spot he just grabbed.
“I’m not trying to trick you...”
“Uh-huh. And elephants can fly, tigers can bark—”
“Some tigers could bark....”
“So you did go to school!”
“I graduated high school a few years ago....”
Nikolai blows a wave of cigarette smoke right in front of your face, causing you to whimper, coughing as you try to fan your hand rapidly. He laughs, enjoying his torment and your reaction. “I don’t care whether or not you graduated. Clearly, you’re not intelligent enough to be all buddy-buddy with your kidnapper, idiot.”
“Hey, hey, Kolya! What are you bullying your girlfriend for?” Olga appears with a tray of food and drinks, serving them the ordered dish. Nikolai groans, irritated when she teases him.
“She’s not my girlfriend, Olga. Stop feeding your own delusions and get yourself a husband. Goodness, at your own age...” Olga gasps in disbelief and she hits Nikolai’s shoulder—not too hard, but not too light either.
“I’m just trying to be happy for you! Especially when you just disappear for years!” She exclaims loudly, receiving a curious look from another customer several feet away. Nikolai grumbles. Noticing his irritation, Olga chuckles. “Okay, okay, enjoy your meal.”
As she leaves, Nikolai gives you your meal, but your attention is still on her and then Nikolai. Olga does look much older, evident by her faint wrinkles. Nikolai presses the cigarette butt in the ashtray on the table before he starts eating. His expression is boring. It seems like he is already sick with the taste of this diner's lamb pelmeni.
“Stop looking around like a fool and eat your food. You said you're hungry.” Nikolai nudges your shoulder. You nod, giving him a smile that goes unseen. You pull the chicken and mushroom pie closer to you and reach a fork. It is a bit uncomfortable to eat because you are quite hot—you still have the puffer coat on and the diner is already warm and only getting warmer.
You are sweaty and you feel bad that you are basically dirtying his puffer coat—it must be difficult to wash too. You wonder if Nikolai even has a washing machine in his house. Furthermore, you did not even see one in the bathroom and you have yet to explore his kitchen.
It is fine—you have more time to spend with him.
You enjoy your meal, sometimes taking a peek at the man beside you. He is still fixated on his phone, browsing a site you could not manage to focus on. You lean closer—almost resting your head on his shoulder—trying to steal a view of the screen, and you see some images of trains.
“Oi,” Nikolai turns to you and you only smile at him cheekily.
“What's that on your screen?”
“Eat your food.” He taps your plate with his fork, dismissing your question. You do as he tells, taking another bite from the pie—it is probably one of the most delicious pies you have ever tasted. But you are still eager to talk to him.
“Why haven't you seen Ms. Olga for years? Aren't you from here?” You ask curiously. Nikolai blinks profusely at your question. He hesitates and you are patient. Nikolai wants to ignore you again, but your subtle shake on his arm halts him.
“I'm from Ukraine. It's just... I have lived here for years.” Nikolai says slowly. His adam's apple throbs and he looks away. “I got into prison, that's all. That's why she didn't see me for a while.”
“Oh! Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why were you in prison?”
Nikolai turns to you, glaring deeply into your eyes, seeking any sign of trickery. He sighs, drinking his iced tea awkwardly. He is constructing words in his head, filtering what should not be said to you. But he does not really want to tell you things about him—besides, you are practically a stranger.
“Got convicted because I murdered a girl in a baby blue dress who worked in a bar.” He attempts to tease with a threatening tone, to evade the whole topic at once. You squint confusedly before chuckling.
“Does that mean you will keep me alive? I mean, you don't want to go back to prison, right?”
Nikolai grunts—how the hell do you get to that conclusion, he does not even know. You seem to enjoy his reaction though, by the way you giggle. Annoyed, Nikolai seizes your jaw, pushing your cheeks together—puffing your lips. He turns your head so you would face your plate again.
“Please shut up.”
— ♡
After lunch, Nikolai, obviously, paid for the meal and once again, he drags you to another location—a hypermarket as he really needs some groceries. Nikolai wants to limit his appearance in public, and he wants to stay inside the house as much as possible. Besides, dining outside is much more expensive and he needs to save some money for his ultimate goal.
“You stay close. And don't make a scene.” He commands, stern and strict. You nod obediently and Nikolai steps into the hypermarket, followed by you. He reaches for a basket, holding it with his left hand while his right hand is resting in the pocket of his jacket.
Nikolai looks around the market, striding casually as he is making mental notes on what to buy for his house. He also needs to buy extra things for you during this short period of time you are staying with him. He has not properly counted the cash notes Viktor gave to him yet but it probably has been spent on the lunch earlier.
“Hm?” Nikolai feels something slither into the crook of his right arm and he looks to his side, seeing your hand is clutching his arm and you are scooting closely against him. He frowns—he does not mind a woman being this close to him but he literally just kidnapped you last night, no more than a complete day. And yet the glint in your eyes shows little to no defiance, even when he has been rough to you all day.
“You told me to stay close.”
Witty. I don't know if I like it.
“If you're trying to get into my pants as your grand plan to escape, I'd say rethink again.” He says nonchalantly. You jerk your head at him, flustered.
“N-No! No, I won't do such things...”
Nikolai cackles. “Yeah, sure, you won't. Bet you wanna try the same tactics you did to your customers in the bar, huh?” He scoffs and you immediately shake your head, tugging his arm harder.
“I have never done that. I don't have... tactics...”
Nikolai glances at you, eyebrow raised. He looks at your body up and down—and his stare feels piercing. Despite the puffer coat still covering your body, it feels like he is seeing through you.
“Okay... Okay, I get it.” He mumbles before he looks straight ahead and keeps walking. You hold strong onto his arm as you try to match his pace, turning to him.
“You get what? What do you mean?”
He continues to say nothing as he walks to the dry food section. You follow him closely, avoiding people who sometimes bump into you. You pout—Why don't they bump into Nikolai instead? Does he look too intimidating? Is he too noticeable with that white fluffy hair?
Nikolai stops in front of a shelf of canned foods. He takes some of them, after checking the expiration date of course. You also look around and you see a row of chicken and mushroom soup. You gasp happily, taking two of them and putting them into the basket.
“What the... I don't say you could take anything. I am the one spending my own shit.” Nikolai protests, taking back the cans and putting them on the shelf. You scrunch your nose, dissatisfied. But you make no move of trying to take the soup again.
However, when Nikolai is about to leave the section, you quickly snatch a can of chicken and mushroom soups and put it into the basket. He certainly hears the clanking noise of the cans in the basket as he looks at you and sighs.
“Just this one.” He says. You nod and link your hand to his arm again, following his steps. Nikolai tries to focus back on his task while also keeping you close to him. He knows he needs some more hygiene products, so he decides to go to that section. And for some reason, the section is crowded with people.
“Geez, is it World Cleaning Day or something? Why is everyone here?” He grumbles to himself, frowning when his basket keeps bumping with people. He tilts his body left and right, avoiding people to reach for a bottle of dish soap on the shelf. He manages to grab one—which is the cheapest option. He does not bother to spend his time choosing between brands or anything.
“Okay, done. Let's...”
His word trails off when he finally realises the lack of a human touch on his arm. Nikolai's face turns pale. He turns around, hoping you are just behind him, but instead, he just sees some random people choosing products. He turns to the left, to the right—and he cannot see you. He wishes he could detect you by your baby blue dress, but he remembers he has lent his puffer coat to you—the similar coat that seventy percent of the customers in this hypermarket wear.
Well, fuck.
— ♡
“Fucking hell, where the heck is she...” Nikolai is hasty. He has been scouring the food section and the hygiene section twice now. But he still has not found you. He is already tired of walking around this establishment like a fool. And he does not want to look obviously anxious. He is aware that he is already in the hypermarket's security camera footage by now.
Nikolai huffs, eyes scanning every person that comes into his view. But neither of them are you. He is about to give up and call Viktor to report his situation—but he then sees a staircase just beside a lift, hidden behind a big shelf of seasonings and spices. He approaches it, noticing a signboard that has an arrow pointing up with the phrase 'Clothes, House Appliances, Electronics'.
He does not think you could have ventured upstairs but he needs to take a chance—if you want to escape, wouldn't you just go straight to the exit? There is no exit on the second level, but you might have been hiding and waiting for him to leave or something before you make your move.
“This little...” Nikolai takes a deep breath, swallowing his anger and frustration before he steps onto the stairs, slowly making his way up. The second level is quieter. He could only see some customers and some workers, but all of them were far apart from each other.
That means he would either find you or confirm that you are not up here.
Nikolai gets tired of carrying his fuckass basket, so he puts it on one of the closed counters. The worker does not even bother giving him a glance or a warning—they are more busy calculating things from invoices.
He walks around, eyes sharp and precise as he scans the area. He checks the electronics and house appliances sections but his effort is futile. It lacks people and the shelves are quite far apart from each other. Nikolai thinks—he would not try to hide here at all since it is obvious.
He moves to the clothes sections. Sometimes the employees greet him, trying to promote their sales but he is not interested at all. Nikolai does however stop for a bit in the male outerwear section, skimming the jackets and coats on display.
“This one is on discount, sir.”
A staff member suddenly says to him, out of nowhere, flinching Nikolai. Nikolai finds his words stuck and he just smiles stiffly. “O-Oh, yeah, yeah. I'm just... looking around.” He says and he walks again in between the shelves of coats and jackets.
However, the staff could not stop following him, with her kind faux smile—Drop it, lady. I know you're tired of working in this shit.
He mentally curses the staff—he could not find you if the staff keeps following him. Nikolai walks away from the male clothes section and the staff finally leaves him—she perhaps works in that section only. He ventures his way to female clothes, eyeing the dresses and the blouses.
Nikolai is almost distracted—that is bad. He sighs at his carelessness, tapping his own head lightly as he looks around the female section. He feels awkward by the judging glances of some customers when he walks around the section—he does not blame them though.
He grumbles under his breath, still not seeing you.
But suddenly, his body is jerked forward slightly, by a strange weight bumping against his back. A pair of arms wrap around his body, hugging him close.
“Nikolai..! I thought I lost you!”
He freezes.
Nikolai turns around. His eyes are wide when he sees you. You look relieved but Nikolai is just too annoyed. He yanks your arms away from him and grips you by your neck—and fortunately, you two are covered by the racks of clothes.
“The fuck are you thinking? I told you to fucking stay close to me, didn't I? You stubborn brat.”
“I-I am sorry... I was trying to find you as well...”
“And you ended up stranded up here? Bullshit. You're trying to save your ass.”
“I swear..! I was trying to hold you but there were a lot of people and... and I accidentally let you go... and then you were gone!” You urgently explain yourself. Nikolai clicks his tongue and shakes his head. He lets go of your neck and looks around. Fortunately, no one is looking.
“Please, trust me... I never intend to leave you...” Your arms are itching to hug him again by how they crawl back on his body. Nikolai glances at you and exhales loudly. He takes your arm and pulls you along with him.
“We're leaving now. I'm so tired of dealing with you. Do something funny and I'll use my gun.” He threatens as he practically drags you to the closed counter to take back his basket. However, he sees that there are additional things added to his cart now.
Some dresses and underwear.
Nikolai scoffs in disbelief—more things to pay? Fuck no. He takes one of the panties—red—hanging it on his finger, smirking. “This yours?”
You shriek in embarrassment as you take the panties and put them back in the basket. “Don't...” You mumble. Nikolai snorts scornfully. “I-I... Uh... I saw the basket first before I saw you...” You say sheepishly.
“So you came up here to get new clothes? Oh, you spoiled little doll. You are smart enough to take advantage to get yourself new crap but not smart enough to escape when I'm not looking. Do you not even think about your freedom for once? People like you disgust me.” Nikolai scowls and he takes out the dresses and the underwear from the basket, putting them on the counter.
“W-Wait...! I need those—”
“You don't fucking need these overpriced dresses.”
“Please! Just... Just the underwear.” You grip his hand, stopping him. Nikolai looks at you and you cannot bear to face him as well. Your other hand clutches your coat as you look away, face flushed with embarrassment. “I really need them, please...”
But instead of sympathising, Nikolai bursts out a short laugh, mocking. “Oh yeah, you haven't showered since yesterday. What? Is your panties getting soaked or something now? Have I ever told you that that isn't my problem?”
“W-Why are you being mean?” You protest, lips pouty.
“Because you just pulled whatever stunt you did just now, shopping for shits you thought I'd gladly pay,” Nikolai replies harshly before he fully takes out your stuff. He takes the basket as if he is about to leave, but you are stubborn enough to block his path and firmly clutches his jacket.
“Just the underwear. Please, Nikolai... Please. I really need them. After that, I won't ask for anything else.” Your pretty lips are begging him as you lean closer to him while clutching his jacket. He stares at you—Nikolai could not deny it any longer and he is practically screaming into the void in his head right now. Your doe fucking eyes are his weakness—and he hates it. He hates you for being able to sway his heart, turning the heartbeat that is supposed to be synchronous into discordant.
He gets it now. He knows why you are working as an escort. If he was a manager, he would hire you right there and then.
Or perhaps you are just attracted. —His heart suggests.
“Nikolai?”
Your voice snaps him out of his short-term silence. That sweet voice, those pretty eyes, those adorable lips—Nikolai hates them.
“Fine.”
You giggle happily and Nikolai once again defeatedly sighs. He watches you putting back the underwear into the basket and when you are about to put in one of the dresses, he immediately grabs your wrist. “Not that.”
“Okay, okay.” You put away the dress and as you are done, Nikolai takes the basket and motions his head at you, silently telling you to stay close. You once again link your hand on his arm and both of you finally get downstairs to pay for the stuff.
As the cashier is scanning the items, Nikolai notices that there is another strange addition to his cart—a very small bottle of baby blue nail polish. He is about to lash out when he turns to you—only for you to quickly look away, pretend fool.
And so, Nikolai could only watch bitterly as the cashier put the nail polish into the plastic bag.
— ♡
“Hello, baby boy! How are you doing now? Gah... it's been eight hours since I left you and I'm already worried!”
“Viktor... stop talking like that.” Nikolai cringes as he peeks at the clock—indeed it has been eight hours since Viktor left and Nikolai is already fatigued by what happened today. It has just been one night since you were kidnapped and you have created so many plights. Right now, you are showering and coincidentally, Viktor calls him.
“Ugh, as cold as usual, but not that usual! I know you are still salty that you got arrested but that's like a year ago! What has passed is past! Or something like that. Anyway! Don't be sad anymore, yeah? I have a job for you now.” Viktor says before he quickly proceeds to explain the job to Nikolai. Nikolai only listens intently as his other hand is jotting notes.
“And... yeah, that's all. I'll look into important stuff and send it to you before tomorrow morning, as usual.”
“Alright. Thanks.” Nikolai says but before he ends the call, Viktor asks another question again. However, his voice is a whisper.
“Is the girl good?”
You. He's asking about you.
“She's a bit troublesome in a way... Please, just get the loan sharks to act quickly before I lose my sanity.” Nikolai complains, biting the pen as he remembers what happened today in the hypermarket. He would not tell that to Viktor.
“I contacted them just a few hours ago. No response. Probably there will be tomorrow. Just be patient.” Viktor replies. Then his voice drops a few octaves. “By the way, I also got news from the hacker you told me to find.”
“What does he say?”
“He agreed to help with the security camera thing. I don't know... But he does want to discuss further about it and I just give him your number. He's kinda sad that we aren't in St. Petersburg though because he's based there.”
“It's fine. I'll talk to him... Thanks for your help. I'll treat you something someday.” Nikolai replies with a satisfied smile. His progress is going well now.
“No problem, dude. But why do you want access to the security camera program in St. Petersburg? I thought you just wanted to move there for... I don't know, better life I guess.” Viktor asks casually. Nikolai purses his lips. He never tells Viktor about Fyodor but Viktor does know about Nikolai wanting to go to St. Petersburg, which is the sole reason he is always eager to do more dirty jobs.
“Long story, Vik.” Nikolai just says that.
“Well, you better spill me the tea! I want— Whoops, Nastasya is calling for me. Alright, I'll go now. Bye-bye!”
“Bye...”
Nikolai tosses his phone on the bed—he is in his bedroom now, sitting on the edge of the bed. As his attention is no longer on the phone, he is finally aware of a foreign weight on his bed, as if something is behind him. He turns around and he jumps slightly in surprise when he sees you kneeling on the mattress, with nothing but a towel wrapped around your naked body.
“What the hell! Why are you sneaking up on me like that? And why are you like this?” Nikolai scolds you, clutching his chest—and his heart is fast. So fast. And it is not even because you are sneaking up on him. It is mostly because of something else.
“I need a sleepwear.”
He swallows hard, eyes wandering naughtily over your exposed soft skin. They look soft, and you look inviting. Nikolai swears something flips in his stomach, thousands of butterflies crawl out from their cocoons. You smell fresh and fragrant, almost similar to his own whenever he is out of the shower too. He glances down at your exposed thighs—and they are just as cute as they are in a pair of white stockings.
“Nikolai?”
Stop saying my name with that voice.
“Sleepwear, yeah. Right, you incompetent dolly brat. You just can't sleep in the same dress for a second night, can you?” His sarcasm does not sound quite right—his throat is breathy and his voice turns out a little shaky. He gets to his closet, pulling out a baggy old t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He throws them in your direction and once again, he just has to look away at the sight of you kneeling on the bed.
“There. Go change in the bathroom.”
You quietly get off the bed with the shirt and shorts in your hands. As you walk past him, Nikolai is still turned away, not wanting to look at you. He notices from the corner of his eyes that you pause at the entrance, silently observing him.
“Why won't you look at me?”
He swears you are now doing this on purpose—are you attempting to seduce him? To tease him? To anger him? To annoy him? He does not understand what are you trying to do—and it has not even been a complete day since he kidnapped you.
What's your plan? What are you trying to do? What game are you playing?
“Don't bother me. Go get change and then wait on the couch.”
“Yes, sir.” You blithely say before you disappear into the bathroom again, not aware of how havoc Nikolai is now internally.
He palms his face, fighting the urge to screech. He rests his head against the closet door as his hand slowly trails to his crotch.
Hard.
Harder.
— ♡
Nikolai made a mistake.
He should have looked better at the garment he gave you. He knew he gave you a baggy old tee but he did not expect that the shirt would be the thin one. You are just sitting in front of him, eating the cheap meal he prepared but he does not know why you look so alluring right now.
Perhaps because he can see the visible outline of your breasts beneath that thin t-shirt.
Nikolai knows from his previous relationship that some—or perhaps most—people prefer to not wear bras especially when at night and at home, but now he wishes you are one of the minorities.
His lust is tickled. He tries his best to fixate his eyes on your face but somehow they keep trailing down to take a peek through the collar—he could already see your soft plump skin from this angel, and he desires to see more.
Unfortunately, Nikolai does have a thing for having someone else wearing his clothes.
“Nikolai,”
“Huh? What?” Nikolai coughs, rubbing his lips before he averts his gaze elsewhere. He does not want to look at you and he certainly does not notice the frown you are giving him.
“Hmm... Why won't you look at me? I wanna ask a question.”
“Just fuckin' ask.”
“But it's more respectful to have a conversation if we focus on one another.”
“What the hell are you trying to sound smart for? You're such an attention-seeking brat.” Nikolai grumbles, still not looking at you as he feeds himself another spoonful of his food.
“I do like attention, actually...” You grin. “I mean... I don't really have friends or someone to talk to at home... So I like it when people pay attention to me...” You say sweetly—your voice is just like a ray of eternal sunshine, sometimes annoying, sometimes soothing.
“Can you please pay attention to me, Nikolai? Please, please? Pretty please?”
Nikolai takes a deep breath. The way you are begging him—well, not really begging—has his heart doing a whole spin and twist. He reluctantly looks at you and you squeal in delight, giggling. Nikolai purses his lips quickly as he swears he almost smiles at your reaction, especially with the warm fuzzies in his stomach upon hearing your giggle.
“What?” Nikolai asks and you clasp your hands.
“Have you met the loan sharks my father is indebted to? Honestly, I have never seen or met them. I just know he got a lot of money at some point.” You ask. Nikolai rests his face on his hand, propped on the table.
“Actually I am not in direct contact with them. Naturally, I also never see them. Viktor probably has though.” He replies. “I only know some important details.”
“Ooh...” You nod before you lean forward. “Do you know how much money my father owes them?”
Nikolai smirks playfully. “Five.”
You tilt your head, confused. “Five... Five what? Five... hundreds?” Nikolai says nothing other than a shrug of his shoulder, gesturing to you to take a guess. “Five hundred dollars?”
“Rubles.”
“Five hundred rubles?”
Nikolai clicks his tongue. “Who the fuck owe five hundred rubles to loan sharks? Come on, be logical! We are talking about loan sharks here.” He says, nudging your temple. You whine at his hard nudge, rubbing the spot on your skin as you pout slightly.
“Well, how would I know? I never owe people money!”
“You think a group of people would hunt your dad if he owes them five hundred rubles?” Nikolai scorns, shaking his head in disappointment—though it does look more like a teasing gesture.
“Okay... five hundred thousand maybe..?”
“Five million.”
Your jaw hangs wide open, shocked. Your eyes waver all over his face, seeking any trace of trickiness. But Nikolai looks too serious when he says that and you wonder if he is just a good actor or he is telling you the truth. “Uhm, five million... rubles?”
“Yes, dolly. Five million rubles.”
“Really? You aren't lying to me?” You ask again—five million rubles are just a lot. One million could perhaps buy you a nice apartment in a busy city like Moscow, perhaps a car—a used car, much cheaper. You need to work for about five hundred months just to get that amount if you only depend on your base salary in the bar. That does not include the constant stealing from your father though. You would take much longer than five hundred months if your father steals five months' worth of your own money for his selfish self.
“Well, actually he just borrowed two million and five hundred thousand from them and then he ran away for about eight years, right?” Nikolai looks at you for confirmation, to which you nod hesitantly. “So, yeah, the amount increased over the years and currently ended up over five million.”
“But that doesn't make sense? Why would they increase it?” You ask. Nikolai stares at you, eyes squinted. For a short five seconds, his eyes leer down to your body before they travel up again.
“These particular loan sharks have their interest rate at fifteen percent per year. So, the money your father borrowed will increase by fifteen percent every year when he doesn't pay back.” He explains as he crosses his arms. “Fifteen percent out of two and a half million is like... err... three... uh, three hundred seventy five thousand..? You do the math, doll. Times that amount by eight years and well, you got five million. To be exact, five million and a half.”
You blink, no words leave your mouth. You are not speechless because of how much money your father owed and how high the stake actually is between him and the loan sharks. No, you are more amazed by this man, your kidnapper.
“Nikolai, you are so smart!” You say, amazed. You lean forward, eyes glimmering in awe, which makes Nikolai turn baffled. “How do you know all that stuff? Have you worked in a bank before? Did you go to college? Which college? I'm— Well... I couldn't afford to go to one, but I would really love to if—”
“Why is that the thing that you catch on? Did you even listen to what I just explained?” Nikolai asks, jarred. “And I know I am smart. I'm not dumb like you.”
“I don't think I'm dumb though. It's just... I'm educationally restricted.” You grin as Nikolai snorts at your response.
“Well, you basically said you're dumb. Though, I admit that is a smart phrase.” Nikolai smiles as he finishes his food completely before reaching for a bottle of vodka sitting on the table and pouring it into his cup. You try to reach for the vodka as well but he quickly drags it close to him, practically hugging the bottle for himself. He even smacks your hand mildly strong, enough for you to retract your hand.
“Stop calling me dumb... I went to school!” You say, sulky. Nikolai bursts a short cackle, kicking your leg beneath the table. You wince in pain, bringing your legs away from his small kicks.
“Yeah, no. You're dumb because you're not even thinking of your freedom and survival right now. A smart fucking person won't sit nicely with their kidnapper, dumb doll.” He says harshly before he chugs another shot of vodka. You look at him—eyes vacant.
“I... I am thinking of my freedom right now, no? I'm free from my father. That's why I p-prefer it here... Isn't that enough?”
Nikolai pauses. He says nothing other than gazing at you. Your lips part, as if you want to say something but you quickly close them tightly. The air of awkwardness is radiating through the deafening silence.
“Get up. Playtime is over.” He says strictly before he gets up and walks to you. He takes your arm and practically drags you away from the small dining table—it could just fit three people since one side is against the wall. You follow Nikolai quietly.
He pushes you to the bed and takes out a rope from beneath the bed. He kneels right in front of you and proceeds to tie your ankle before he ties the other end to the bed's leg.
“Nikolai, can I ask something? Please?”
“What?”
“How long am I going to stay here?” You ask as your hand gently touches his shoulder. Nikolai swallows nervously before he takes your hand off his shoulder, but he holds it firmly in his grip.
“Until the loan sharks find your dad and retrieve you for their agenda.”
“Do I have to do anything while I'm here with you?” Your voice sounds kind but it bothers Nikolai somehow. He expects his prey for this job to be hard to deal with and would rebel the fuck out of their heart, but no. No, you are just too nice and tender, even for your kidnapper.
He does find it interesting, but he does not want to indulge himself any further in trying to figure you out.
No time to waste for another person. He needs to satisfy his own anger that has been dormant for years, ever since he was thrown into prison.
“Nikolai?” Your voice shakes him out and shakes him thunder when he feels your hand on his hair. His breath hitches and he can physically feel his heart being gripped just the same way your fingers are entwined between the strands of his hair.
“D-Don't. Don't touch me.”
You pull your hand away before you hold your hands together. “Sorry... They just look... so soft and fluffy...”
Fuck, Nikolai wonders if his face is red now because unfortunately—again—he does have a thing for having his hair touched and played with.
“Nikolai, do I have anything—”
“I heard you. Don't repeat. Well, uh... You don't have anything to do. Sleep and wake up whenever you like. Preferably sleep until you skip breakfast and lunch so I don't have to feed you.” He says and the syllables are being thrown so fast that he wonders if you even understand him.
But you nod.
“One more selfish request... Do you have anything I can use to entertain myself with...? Maybe like... books or something? Or magazines?”
He clicks his tongue—oh, now you demand a lot. Nikolai stands up straight and pushes you to lie down on the mattress by your neck. His action, however, causes the collar of the baggy old shirt you are wearing to slip to the side, almost revealing a good amount of skin of your cleavage.
“Goodness, you are so...” Nikolai could not finish his words. He just rakes his hair back and sighs. “Fucking go to sleep. I'm not gonna deal with you anymore. Don't demand shit like I'm a sugar daddy you met in the bar.” He says before he turns to leave.
“O-Okay, my apologies...”, You say softly as he walks off. A sense of relief seeps into his heart when his babysitting job has come to an end—at least for today. But his steps stop when you say,
“Good night, Nikolai. Thank you s-so much... for today.”
Nikolai says nothing. He turns off the light and leaves the room. The clock is still ticking approaching late night. He needs to clean the dishes before going to the bathroom to prepare for bed. But he finds himself squatting by a big storage box right beside the television cabinet. He opens the box, rummaging through it.
Only to take out several books and magazines that have not seen the light since forever.
listen guys I have a goodass idea somebody write an isekai fic where gojo chooses the 'north' and ends up in the real world with reader it's what gojo stans need rn like make it real cute
No cause blue lock is such a great manga and I'm so thankful for starting it so soon like it's intense and it gives you so much rush and happiness like ilysm blue lock nobody is ever dying in blue lock (forget snuffy's friend) like we know that dreams are getting crushed but we know that the author ain't lying EVER
can we all like, go back to the cringe haikyuu era? Where everyone was obsessed with haikyuu? No cause it was the best anime ever nobody ever died no authors ever lied no one's child got sliced no afterlife shit just everybody happy and living life there was so cursed outfit no romantic sad gay date like it was all so fun
Also guys he's surviving btw cause I had like a spiritual awakening like the walls and books and my bed was talking and shii and they were all screaming that he's gonna comeback like it's comeback season everybody i swear i have messages from God the almighty that gojo is coming back it's not gojover we're so back this time, I have real proof his comeback is gonna be addressed in chapter 238 most likely
