mayofyo

[mayofyo]

Heaven’s Gold Noose

Yandere!Sunday x Reader

Life hasn’t been kind to you.

Every job interview ends in rejection.

Every relationship fizzles out.

Even your coffee always spills at the worst possible moment.

But then… he appears.

A man with soft, feathered wings and a halo—Sunday, your newly assigned guardian angel.

"The celestial council has reviewed your past life," he murmurs, "You were a soul of pure kindness. And now, in this life, you’ve been given misfortune as a test."

His fingers brush your cheek, "But don’t worry. I’m here to guide you."

You should feel relieved. But...

Now, he’s sitting across from you at a café, dabbing at his stained white robes with a napkin while giving you a pained but patient smile.

"Okay, let me get this straight. You’re an angel. From Heaven. And you’re here to… what, fix my life?"

"Precisely! Consider me your divine guardian—" "Uh-huh. And how much is this ‘heavenly guidance package’ gonna cost me?"

"I would never—! This is a sacred duty, not some… earthly pyramid scheme!"

You take a long sip of your (third) coffee, squinting. "Prove it."

Without missing a beat, he plucks a feather from his wing and offers it to you. "A token of my sincerity."

You grab it—then yelp as it bursts into golden sparkles in your palm.

"Okay, that was cool. But I still think you’re either a hallucination or a really dedicated cult recruiter."

You wake up the next morning to find your broken phone fully charged, your dead plant thriving, and your cat suddenly fluent in Latin ??

"…Did you just say ‘ave dominus’?"

"Meow." 

Then, Sunday materialized just behind you.

"Ah! I see you’ve noticed my small blessings!"

"Dude! Do you have to pop up like a jump scare?!"

"Apologies. I forget earthly beings are so… fragile."

----

You’re on a terrible date (third one this month—curse your bad luck) when Sunday manifests in the restaurant’s chandelier, glaring daggers at your oblivious companion.

"So, I think splitting the bill is only fair—"

"HERETIC."

"SUNDAY. NO."

"Uh… did you just say ‘Sunday’?"

"Yep! Gotta go! Bye!" 

Outside, Sunday floats beside you, pouting. "That man was unworthy of you."

"Yeah, well, possessing the lighting fixtures isn’t gonna help!"

"But you did leave with me."

"Oh my god—"

----

At first, you thought it was all some elaborate joke—or worse, a scam. A literal angel showing up in your life? Yeah, right.

But after weeks of inexplicable blessings: your rent mysteriously paid, your chronic back pain vanishing overnight, even your perpetually dying houseplants suddenly flourishing... You finally gave in.

"Fine," you muttered one evening, throwing your hands up as Sunday hovered expectantly by your window. "You can stay. But no more weird angel stuff, okay?"

"I shall adhere to your mortal customs... within reason."

You set boundaries, of course. You weren’t religious, and the idea of divine intervention still made you uneasy. But Sunday was... different. He wasn’t preachy or holier-than-thou. He was just... there.

You kept your distance, treating him more like an overly affectionate roommate than a celestial being. He respected your space, though his presence lingered in small ways—freshly brewed tea waiting when you woke up, your favorite snacks restocked before you even realized they were gone, and an unsettlingly perfect knowledge of your schedule.

"You don’t have to do all this" you told him once, frowning at the spotless kitchen.

"But I want to" he replied, "Your happiness is my purpose."

You didn’t know how to respond to that, so you just nodded awkwardly and went about your day.

Then came the day you almost died.

Tires shrieked against asphalt as headlights flooded your vision—too bright. Your coffee cup slipped from numb fingers, hitting the pavement in a burst of scalding liquid. The truck’s grille filled your entire field of view, chrome gleaming like a predator’s smile.

You had half a second to think: This is how I die.

You gasped, blinking as you found yourself standing safely on the sidewalk, Sunday’s arms wrapped tightly around you. His wings were fully unfurled, casting an eerie glow in the dim streetlights.

The sound of screeching metal filled the air as the truck crashed into the guardrail right where your car should have been.

Your legs gave out.

Sunday caught you before you hit the ground, cradling you against his chest.

The warmth of the milk cup seeped into your fingers as you sat curled up on the couch, the near-death experience still fresh in your mind. Sunday sat across from you, his wings now neatly folded behind him, his golden eyes watching you with quiet intensity.

The silence stretched, but this time, it wasn’t uncomfortable.

----

You both returned home after that.

You took a slow sip of your warm cup of milk, then finally spoke.

"So… when are you leaving?"

Sunday blinked, as if the question had never occurred to him. "Leaving?"

"Yeah. Like, is there an expiration date on this guardian angel gig? Do you get reassigned? Or do you just… vanish one day when Heaven decides I’ve had enough blessings?"

"Oh, you misunderstand. I’m not here on a temporary assignment."

"So… you’re stuck with me forever?"

"Not stuck," he corrected gently. "Chosen. My presence isn’t bound by time. I stay as long as you need me."

"Which is…?"

"However long that may be. Perhaps a lifetime. Perhaps longer."

"Okay, next question," you said, shifting topics before your brain could spiral. "Do other angels do this? Just… move in with humans and fix their Wi-Fi and scare off bad dates?"

Sunday tilted his head. "Some do, in their own ways. But most guardians are subtler. They prefer signs, whispers, the occasional miracle. I, however…" He gestured to himself, wings and all. "I believe in a more hands-on approach."

"No kidding." you muttered.

"Besides," he added, "you’re special."

You ignored the way your face warmed at that.

"Last question," you said, pointing at his robes. "Heaven’s got, like, upgrades, right? You guys aren’t all harps and scrolls up there?"

Sunday laughed in a rich, melodic sound. "Oh, we’re quite modern. Cloud computing is literally cloud-based. The Pearly Gates have biometric scanning. And the angels in charge of mortal affairs? They love spreadsheets."

You nearly choked on your milk. "Are you serious?"

"Deadly." He leaned forward, mischief dancing in his gaze. "Would you like to see my divine tablet? I have an app that tracks prayer requests in real time."

You stared. "…You’re joking."

He pulled out a sleek, glowing device from thin air.

"Nope."

As the night wore on, you learned more than you ever expected:

Angels have hobbies. Sunday’s was composing hymns… and binge-watching human dramas.

They adapt to human culture. He preferred loose sweaters over robes at home ("More comfortable for lounging") and had strong opinions about coffee brands.

Heaven does have WiFi. ("But the connection in the mortal realm is terrible.")

At first, you had to remind yourself constantly: Sunday is invisible to everyone else.

You’d catch yourself mid-conversation in public, only to bite your tongue when strangers shot you weird looks. You learned to text him instead of speaking out loud, to nudge him under the table when he laughed too loudly at a restaurant, to pretend you were on a phone call when he whispered warnings in your ear.

But slowly… you stopped caring.

Because Sunday wasn’t just your guardian angel anymore.

He was your best friend.

You’d wake up to find him humming hymns while making breakfast, his wings brushing against the ceiling.

He’d sit beside you on the couch, scrolling through memes on his divine tablet and snickering at cat videos.

When you had nightmares, he’d stroke your hair until you fell back asleep, murmuring, "I’m here."

You started looking forward to coming home—to his warmth, his laughter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at you.

----

One evening, as you lounged together, Sunday suddenly went still.

"There’s something I need to tell you." 

You tensed. That tone never meant anything good.

"You weren’t just randomly assigned to me," he admitted. "You… you’re not entirely mortal."

"What?"

"Your soul—it’s different. " His fingers twitched, like he wanted to reach for you but didn’t dare. "That’s why I was sent. Not just to protect you, but to… prepare you."

"Prepare me for what?"

He hesitated. "One day, you’ll have to decide—stay human, or ascend."

All this time… he’d known.

And he never told you.

"So what, this was all just a mission to you? All the—the tea, the jokes, the saving my life—just part of the job?"

Sunday’s expression shattered. "No. Never." He reached for you, but you flinched away. "I was supposed to guide you, yes, but my feelings—my devotion—that’s real."

"Then why hide the truth?"

"Because I was afraid!" The raw desperation in his voice stunned you. "Afraid you’d hate me. Afraid… you’d choose to leave."

You stared at him.

And yet…

You still didn’t know if you could trust him.

You needed time.

So you did the only thing you could—you walked away.

And Sunday, for once, didn’t follow.

At first, you told yourself it was fine.

But then…

Your coffee went cold because he wasn’t there to reheat it with a touch.

Your nightmares returned, and there were no gentle hands to soothe you.

The apartment felt wrong—too quiet, like the world itself had dimmed.

And worst of all?

You missed him.

Meanwhile, in Heaven…

Sunday stood before the Celestial Council.

"Remove their name from the records," he demanded, "They don’t belong in this trial."

The council murmured amongst themselves.

"The choice was never yours to make, Sunday." 

"You would fall for them?"

Sunday didn’t hesitate.

"Yes."

Three days passed.

Then, on the fourth morning, you woke to the scent of fresh tea and the sound of rustling wings.

Sunday stood at the foot of your bed, his form flickering—like a star about to burn out.

You sat up, "You… you look terrible."

And he did. His glow was dim, his wings frayed at the edges. But his smile was the same.

"I had to see you one last time." he whispered.

"What do you mean, last time?"

"I made a choice. You won’t have to."

And then—

He began to fade.

For weeks, you searched.

You screamed his name into the empty air. You prayed—something you’d never done before. You even tried to bargain with the universe.

"Bring him back. Please."

Until—

It was a rainy afternoon when you saw him.

A man sitting by the window, his eyes scanning the street with an expression so achingly familiar it stole your breath.

But he wasn’t Sunday.

Not quite.

No halo. Just a human—or something close to it—with a faint, lingering glow at the edges of his silhouette.

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up.

You stood in front of him.

He looked up.

"Do I… know you?"

It was him.

And he didn’t remember.

You smiled politely at the stranger with golden eyes, exchanged a few meaningless pleasantries, and walked away.

What else could you do?

He didn’t remember you.

And maybe… that was for the best.

----

That night, he dreamed. Visions of a life he never lived flickered behind his eyelids—a celestial choir, a mortal with your face, the weight of devotion so fierce it burned like holy fire.

He woke gasping, fingers clutching at his chest.

And then—

His voice.

"You loved them enough to fall," whispered the shadow of his former self in the mirror. "Are you really going to let them walk away?"

Piece by piece, the memories returned.

The way you used to scowl at him for hovering too close.

The sound of your laughter when he tried (and failed) to understand mortal slang.

The betrayal in your eyes when he told you the truth.

And worst of all—

The way you looked at him in the café.

Like he was nothing.

Like Sunday had never existed.

-----

He found you again on a stormy evening, standing at your doorstep, drenched and desperate.

"You know me," he said, "Don’t you?"

You froze, keys slipping from your fingers as you tried to insert it to the keyhole.

This wasn’t the same man from the café.

"Sunday?"

"You remember."

"No," you lied, turning away. "I don’t."

The moment you lied—"I don’t know you"—something in Sunday snapped.

Before you could turn the key fully, his hands slammed against the door on either side of you, caging you in. His chest pressed against your back, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in.

"Liar" he whispered.

His fingers curled into the wood, splintering it slightly as he spoke.

"I gave up everything for you," he hissed. "Heaven cast me out the moment I begged them to spare you from your fate."

His nose brushed against the nape of your neck, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine.

"And you dare pretend I never existed?"

Before you could react, his arms wrapped around you from behind, crushing you against him.

"I don’t regret it," he murmured, lips grazing your skin. "Even if Heaven abandons me forever, even if I have to claw my way through eternity alone—you will never be alone again."

He was no longer an angel.

At first, the changes were small.

Almost kind.

You used to wake up groggy, stumbling to the coffee maker like a half-dead thing. Now, there’s no need. Sunday is already there, pressing a steaming cup into your hands before your eyes even fully open.

"You function better with caffeine before seven," he murmurs, "I’ve timed it perfectly."

He learns your preferences down to the smallest detail. The way you prefer your eggs (soft-scrambled, no pepper). The exact number of seconds you like your toast browned.

(You try not to wonder what else he’s memorized.)

This is where it gets dangerous.

You mention offhand that you don’t like your coworker. The next day, they transfer departments.

You sigh about the noisy neighbors. That night, their apartment goes mysteriously silent.

"Sunday," you say slowly, "are you—?"

"Making your life easier?" He tilts his head, innocent. "Of course. That’s my purpose."

(He doesn’t mention the blood on his hands. You don’t ask.)

Then comes the night you catch him editing your journal.

You freeze in the doorway, watching as his fingers glow faintly over your open notebook—words rewriting themselves under his touch.

"What are you doing?"

Sunday doesn’t startle. He just turns, smiling beatifically.

"Fixing it," he says, as if it’s obvious. "You were too hard on yourself here. And this memory?" He taps a page. "It hurt you. Now it won’t."

"That’s not your choice."

For the first time, his smile falters.

"Isn’t it?" He stands, stepping closer. "Who knows you better than me? Who loves you more?"

His hand cups your cheek.

"Let me perfect you."

You wake up one morning with a gap in your memory.

A childhood birthday party—except now, when you try to recall it, there’s a new figure standing beside you in every photo.

A boy with golden eyes.

That’s not how you remember it.

That time you failed your driving test? Erased. Now it’s Sunday in the passenger seat, guiding your hands on the wheel. "Perfect" he praises.

The funeral you barely survived? Rewritten. He’s there, holding you up, taking the pain away.

You clutch your head, dizzy.

"This isn’t real."

Sunday smiles, stroking your hair.

"Isn’t it better this way?"

You remember now—the truth.

The day you almost died in that car crash.

How Sunday didn’t just save you.

How he leaned over your bleeding body and whispered:

"Let me make it all beautiful."

And then—

Nothing.

Just him.

Always him.

[mayofyo]

gojo reminds me of 2010 justin bieber

they’re literally the same person HELP

[mayofyo]

RGOUAGH RPGAJ ROAGJ BARK BAR KRUGHUFHFF BARK BARK

it’s all over the screen 🤗

cr: aliyartss on X‼️

[mayofyo]

I LOVE THIS SM

TRASH SUGAR MAGIC

➛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 6: ʙᴇʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ ʙᴇ ʟᴏᴠᴇᴅ

➛ nikolai gogol x fem!reader

➛ fluff, angst, very suggestive, slice of life | cw: approx. 11.7k

➛ ao3 | spotify | main menu

“Huh?”

That can't be.

I saw you died. I saw you bleed.

I held your arm. I kept it.

“Fedya?”

I can't believe my eyes. My hands reach up to my face, tracing the features I think are going to disappear from reality—showing me that this is a dream. And fuck, how it is not.

My mind is blank. A thought that is supposed to be easy for me to form is getting harder. Even a word has crystallised itself that I can't speak it, utter it, express it. Staring at this demon only brings questions. He is smiling at me—so victoriously, so arrogantly. As if God is always on his side. As if God listens to his whims. As if… God��

Ah. I should have not done it.

That Sunday, during that bloody twilight, I should have not escaped it.

I blink and blink. Part of me is trying to make sense of what is happening and what will happen. I try to convince myself that the world is not real right now. No… No, it is not real. Fyodor is dead. He was supposed to be. I have his rotting arm. His dried blood still stains. He was not standing in front of me. No, the world is not real right now. Nope, nope, there is no big event happening right now. Nothing will happen to me.

It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the blue horizon. It is just a usual boring day. The sun is

It is just a usual boring day. The sun is a yolk on the horizon, hinting at the dawn that is approaching. Nikolai takes a long drag of his cigarette before blowing the smoke out of the window. He is leaning against the frame, watching the lonely suburban town with unfortunate miserable people all over.

He is taking a break from the cleaning he did earlier. Last night he went to kill someone—for money. The scene was so bloody that he had to dispose of the cotton shirt he wore. A thirty-minute shower helped Nikolai to clean himself from the traces of blood.

He sighs to himself as he watches a flock of crows and pigeons flying from one roof to another. He whistles in their direction, wiggling his finger as if he is inviting a little bird to come and visit. But much to his disappointment, none of the birds take his invitation.

Nikolai pouts but he shrugs his shoulders anyway. He smokes again until the cigarette is almost the size of his pinky. Then he presses the butt onto the frame before he tosses it outside.

Life feels more peaceful when it is quiet.

“Ngh…”

Well, not anymore.

He sighs internally when he hears your groan. Almost twenty-four hours ago, Nikolai knocked you out with drugs. You were just being too childish, too whiny, too much for him that he had to do that. He did feel concerned because he does not want to harm you, especially considering how valuable you are right now.

And now you are waking up—which is, unfortunately, a good thing because he needs you alive and conscious.

Nikolai turns his head, watching you squirm on his bed, body tied up with ropes. You are groaning and whimpering, as if you are trying to soothe the pain in your system. He lets you adjust yourself to the world as he just watches.

Your fingers are stretching and your arms are tense. It seems like you are trying to free yourself but he would not do that yet. Your legs stretch out, moving left and right, hips following their rhythm as well. And much to Nikolai's surprise, the skirt of your dress rides up too high, it reveals your butt that is covered with the red panties he bought for you on the very first day he kidnapped you.

One second. Two seconds. Three. Four. Five.

“N-Ngh…”

“Fucking hell.” He whispers to himself before he turns his head away, watching the birds. Birds. Birds. Birds. Where are the birds? Why the fuck is there none on the roof right now? Why do his eyes still see the red and the soft, plump flesh?

“W-Who's that?” Your sweet voice echoes. Nikolai turns his head again and he tries his best to not peek at your crotch, although he already failed because his eyes immediately fixated there, like a magnet. But he diverted quickly, so it doesn't count, right?

“Me,” Nikolai replies shortly. He knows your head is still spinning right now, evident by how your eyes are blinking profusely at him. Silence between you two.

A minute later, you finally seem to have control of yourself. You stare at him before a frown and a pout form on your face. And then you sulkily turn your head away with a small “Hmph.”

Nikolai snorts. “The hell? You're angry at me now?”

“You hurt me, you big meanie! I couldn't breathe!” You say angrily. Nikolai stifles his laugh, only finding your rebel adorable. This stupid duck called him ‘meanie', how cute.

“That's what you get for being stubborn. You should be grateful that I helped you get a fulfilling sleep from morning to morning.” He says before he approaches you. Nikolai gazes at your lower half and hastily pulls your skirt to cover yourself. You shriek and upon realizing what he did, you bite your lips in embarrassment.

“I'm gonna undo this and if you do anything funny, I don't mind repeating the same thing yesterday.” He threatens, only to be met with your dissatisfied glance.

“Hmph.”

“Don't 'hmph' me.”

“Huh-hm!”

Nikolai says nothing other than staring at you with a face full of displeasure. His hands then continue to untie you before he discards the rope to the floor. You groan and stretch your body, massaging a few spots as if you are that strained. He spares you a glance before he rolls the rope and pushes it into the crook of his coat that is hanging on the wall, making it disappear into some kind of dimension.

“Huh?” You suddenly exclaim. Nikolai turns to you and sees that you are rubbing your eyes. “Am I seeing things?”

“Yes.” He lies but you do not look too convinced. Not wanting to explain unnecessary things that you will not understand, Nikolai nudges his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “Go wash yourself, stinky.”

“Hey!”

He turns away before you can see his smile and leaves the room.

— ♡

“Eat.”

Nikolai puts a bowl of oatmeal in front of you. It is plain, appears very unappetizing and is so depressing. Nikolai knows that face you made when he served you that. He silently pushes the small tray that holds honey, peanut butter and jams towards you—condiments enough to give some taste to the food.

“Thank you…” You mutter, gazing at him adorably. Nikolai huffs before he turns, about to leave. But you quickly grab his arm, halting him. “Uhm… Can… Can you stay here? Accompany me?”

“You are so annoying,” Nikolai grumbles before he takes a sit across you, leaning back and sighing loudly. You only grin before you take the honey from the tray and pour a good amount onto your oatmeal. You stir it before you start eating it.

“You're not eating?” You ask before offering a spoonful of oatmeal to him. Nikolai shakes his head.

“No thanks. I already had breakfast.” He says.

“But this is not breakfast. This is… brunch.”

“Well, I'll get my lunch later with Viktor and Nastasya, so—”

“Oh!” If you have a pair of bunny ears, Nikolai can definitely see how they perk up straight in excitement. He already expects what you are about to say and as much as he wants to cut you off, perhaps he will let you get your hopes up.

“You're going out? Can I come?”

“Yep, called it.” He says to himself before rubbing his neck. “Uh… how about 'No, you can't'?”

“Hm…” Your shoulders drop, as well as your smile.

“Hey, listen.” He flicks his fingers right in front of your face. “In the end, our relationship won't go beyond… whatever this is. I am not going to be all buddy-buddy with you and for sure I won't be your friend. Never your friend. You are a major loner, I get it. But that won't be a reason enough for me to drag you fucking everywhere.”

“I-I am sorry…”

A tickle.

As if something is twitching the corner of his heart down, Nikolai tears his gaze away from your sad pathetic face. The solemnity of your expression is tugging an emotion he wishes to not experience anymore. He takes a slow deep breath, trying to soothe his heart, trying to keep it cold as long as he can.

He watches you eating your oatmeal silently. You occasionally stir the oatmeal and add some more honey, sometimes adding a drizzle of peanut butter on top of it. Do you like it sweet, he wonders. Or perhaps you prefer some extra taste in your food. Sometimes you make a little nod and a subtle smile to yourself when the sweet oatmeal finally hits your taste bud—that pleased expression is a good indicator that you are not that upset… right?

Nikolai cannot lie, your quietness is very eerie. Over the past week, you would be the chatterbox of the house. Always have something to say, always have something to point out, always so noisy that Nikolai has gotten used to your voice at the dining table.

Say something. —His heart whispers, a thought that is merely a cold breeze passing by.

Say something. —His throat thunders quietly, threatening to voice out that wish but he swallows it before a word can make it out of his mouth.

Say something. Anything.

“Hey.” He speaks, catching you off guard as your eyes widen when you look up at him. “You look like you have something to say.”

You blink confusedly. “I do?”

“Don't lie.” He attempts again, a little frustrated. That face you made just confirms that you do not really have anything to talk about and Nikolai actually does not want that. He wants you to have a topic. He wants you to ask something about him. He wants you to drag him out of this quietness that he thought he wanted forever.

“Well… Well, uh… firstly, you're not mad… right?” You ask cautiously and he snorts scornfully.

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“How could I not be sure of myself?”

You shrug your shoulders. “You do look like you are unsure about a lot of things. Sometimes. Not all the time.” You say with a shadow of a smile. The tension on your shoulders seems to be lifted as you start to warm up again—Good, good. That is what Nikolai wants.

“I am an adult with responsibilities after all.” He replies with a proud smirk.

“Like… illegal responsibilities?” You say. He cackles, shrugging before tilting his head.

“Yeah.”

“Did you leave yesterday for… work?”

“Uh-huh. Had to kill someone. That's why I get home the next day.” He says before he takes out a stick of cigarette and lights it up. You nod at his words, eyes roaming around.

“You kill… right?” He nods. “Have you ever felt guilty for that? I mean… surely you don't kill just bad people, right?”

This girl… is getting on my nerves.

Nikolai stares at you for a moment, all while inhaling the toxin that is held between his fingers. He searches for your eyes—do you have some kind of ability that allows you to see things that shouldn't be seen? Sometimes he dislikes how you always manage to hit a certain nerve whenever he presents the chance.

Alas, he does not feel that repulsive. Sooner or later, you will disappear from his life forever. You will not know him and he will not know you. The path between you two is entwined only for a while. So, what is the harm, right?

“Used to,” Nikolai says after a couple minutes of silence. “Guilt is something you can't control anyway. Nuances and conundrums exist, yes, but you don't choose to feel guilty.”

You tilt your head as you swallow your oatmeal before talking, “But you can choose to not feel guilty though.”

His eyebrow jerks up, amused. He leans forward, resting his chin on the back of his hand, smiling. “I disagree. You can learn to be apathetic, just like what I'm doing, but there are a lot of times when guilt will always bite you in the ass, even when you do not want it. An uncontrollable disease, if you will.”

Your eyes widen and you blink at him, confused. You shake your head a little. “Doesn't that mean you agree that people can choose to feel or not to feel guilty if they can learn to be apathetic about it?”

“But that also means that guilt is not a choice because you have to 'escape' it by learning apathy, no?” Nikolai leans back. “It's either you let yourself be consumed by guilt or fight back by adapting something else. Go insane and convince yourself that you are a madman. The proof is—” He sighs before snorting scornfully, biting the inside of his cheek before he unravels more of himself than he should.

The proof is that I exist.

“Why do you believe that it's a choice? Sounds like you're not a nice girl at all.” Nikolai quickly asks, diverting the topic. You seem to be surprised at the sudden question, perhaps you were waiting for his mask to crumble.

“Oh. Oh, I just… Well… My father—”

“Gah, of course.”

“Y-Yeah…”

Fewer words are needed to get where you are coming from. Nikolai has the idea already of your abusive and incompetent father. Hells, he even knew some stuff about your mother. A conclusion he could make is that you most likely think that your father is acting like an asshole by choice.

“If… If guilt is not a choice, as you said, do you think my father feels guilty for not trying to find me?”

“Well, if I were you, I sure as hell would wish the guilt would consume him to the point of suicide,” Nikolai replies nonchalantly, receiving a surprise gasp from you. He cackles. “Too harsh? Why? Never thought of killing yourself before?”

“Some… Sometimes. But I never have the courage to… actually do it. I believe there are beautiful things I have yet to see, so it would be a shame to leave the world so soon… Although the journey to see those beauties would take a while.” A chuckle erupts from your lips. “My savings are often stolen after all.”

Nikolai snorts before he smacks his lap and gets up. “Well, if you want to stay positive before your inevitable misery, be my guest. Who knows what the loan sharks will do to you.” He says before he leaves the kitchen and enters his bedroom. He gets ready to go out, starting his routine with washing his face and changing his clothes. Fitting a black jacket over his body, Nikolai gets his personal belongings and takes one of his guns, slipping it into his jacket. He walks out of the room as he adjusts the belt around his waist.

“Are you leaving?”

He is met with the sight of you holding a clean empty bowl. His eyes wander around the kitchen. The table is now clean. Seems like you just finished eating and cleaning the dish. Nikolai looks at you again and nods. “Do whatever you want. Just don't do anything stupid.” He says before walking away to the door, wearing his boots.

“Nikolai,” You call again, in which he turns. “I really can't… go with you?” You attempt again and at this point, Nikolai does not even comprehend your thought process of attempting the fruitlessness over and over. Is this something that has to do with your desperation? For Devil's sake, he is not going to baby a pathetic girl like you, especially when you are his victim who is supposed to disappear within an hour after he kidnapped you that night.

“I said—”

“Sorry, sorry. I won't ask again…” You say quickly before retreating to the kitchen, doing God knows what. Nikolai sighs, shaking his head before he leaves the house and locks the door. He noticed the clear sadness and disappointment on your face, the timidity that formed to take over your beam. Now that he thinks about it, you were not really smiley today, especially after he denied you of your childish wish.

Something feels so incomplete. The more steps he takes, the heavier his heart is. Reluctancy is digging. Nikolai tries to recall what he has missed from his humble apartment unit that he has forgotten to take along. His hands trail over his body, from the pocket of his jacket to his jeans to his own arms, caressing his own skin in an attempt to recollect any incompleteness.

What was it that I missed? What was it that I wanted today?

Nikolai grunts, frustrated. He turns around and stomps through the corridor, back to his unit. His hands are quick to unlock the door and once he opens it, he sees you standing closely by the window just beside the door. Your palms are on the window pane. Your face is visibly surprised, eyes wide, lips slightly apart. He frowns—were you standing by this window, waiting for him? How are you this desperate?

Guilt is certainly not a choice. 

“Nikolai?”

He takes a deep breath, rubbing his own neck. “Five minutes. I'll give you five minutes to get ready.”

You blink profusely, mind gearing fast to process his words. You nod as quick as you can and your feet are already on their way to the bedroom before you can even respond to him. Excitement works faster than your mouth. 

“Five! Five, okay, okay. I-I won't take long!” You exclaim—more of babble, really—as you squeal loudly in delight. Your figure bounces in merriment as you jog into the room, getting ready to follow him. As for Nikolai, he purses his lips, fighting hard to push back the smile that threatens to form. But as soon as you get out of the room, wearing your baby-blue dress again with the white cardigan, he cannot help but smile, especially when you hold onto his body to support yourself while you are wearing your heels.

“What are you getting excited about? We are just going to see Viktor.” Nikolai sighs before taking a dark beige coat that is hanging behind the door. “Wear this over yourself.”

“What? No, it's gonna make me look ugly. Blue and beige don't suit together!”

“Hey, you're not calling my coats ugly.” Nikolai huffs, pouty. He shoves the beige coat onto you. “Take it, take it. Take it, you little duck. I don't wanna risk anyone recognizing you just by your dress.” He says. Now you are the one pouting as you half-heartedly wear the beige coat that covers you from shoulders to ankles. It is bigger on you since it is Nikolai's size after all. 

He yanks you out of the house before he once again closes the door and locks it. Nikolai walks off and you are more than happy to follow him, matching his pace while linking your hand to his arm. He eyes your hand that is holding him and says nothing. But you are gazing at him so cheerfully—the sadness that clouded you earlier has disappeared, traced to nowhere. Your smile is directed at him almost all the time until you two finally get to his car.

“Nostalgic, ain't it?” He teases before opening the door to the front passenger and practically shoving you in. But really, he does not even shove you hard because you are more than willing to enter the vehicle yourself. He closes the door before getting inside by the driver's side.

“What's with the change of heart?” You ask curiously as Nikolai starts the engine.

“Uh… Viktor wants to see you.”

“Aww, I thought you needed me to accompany you or something!”

Nikolai winces at the sound of your happy voice. “I don't need a girl to accompany me anywhere. Besides, his invitation works in my favour because I'm sure you're gonna be whining later because you were left alone like a cat with separation anxiety.” You giggle at his words, looking around the car. Nikolai occasionally glances at you as he drives, curious as to what you are up to. 

The car stops at the traffic light and you are already leaning over to his side, eyes wandering, seeking entertainment. You grin before you point at the fuel gauge. “You need to fill it.” 

Nikolai looks at you, lightly slapping your hand. “Smartass. Don't lecture me. You don't even have a licence, I bet. That's enough for us to go there and go back.” 

“No, no.” You wiggle your finger at him. “That's already below a quarter of fuel. Isn't it common sense to have at least a quarter if we're gonna start driving somewhere?” You argue, giving him a teasing grin that Nikolai already finds annoying. 

“You cheeky bird—” He pinches your nose, hard. 

“Aa— Ow!” You shriek, pulling away. You rub your nose, whimpering beneath your palm. He cackles before he starts driving again as the light has turned green. Between your uncomfortable wince, you look at him. 

“I really like your smile.” You say. “You are already handsome and I think your smile makes you look cuter.” 

“Wha— Agh, please stop talking to me,” Nikolai replies, flustered. He glares at you before he tries to focus on the road. But from the corner of his peripheral vision, he can still see you staring at him with a beam on your face, as if he is a centre of adoration. 

He tries to ignore it—but it is hard to do so. It feels like he is a mother of ducks and you are the duckling that follows and adores him in every second of his life. Nikolai already picked up this trait of yours. Whenever he makes you happy for any reason, you often watch him with that loving gaze. Not that he dislikes attention—Nikolai loves attention but not the bad ones, like from the cops or anything.

The kind of attention one would receive from someone who likes and adores them—the attention a jester would get in a circus, the attention a magician would get from his spectators, the attention a clown would get from his fools—yes, yes, that kind of attention. 

But he is neither a jester, a magician nor a clown. Well, he used to be one of those—or accurately, all of those. Now he is just a felon who still commits crimes for a living. A man like him should not even be looked at with amour. 

And yet, here you are.

“Ooh, are you admitting defeat now?” You suddenly say when he makes a turn into a gas station. “See! Who said girls are stupid when it comes to cars?” You giggle cheerfully, bringing a tint of a smile to Nikolai's face. 

“Whatever you say, darling. Whatever you say.” He sighs softly. You did bring up a good point. 

“Oh! Since we are here, can I go to the toilet?” You ask. Nikolai turns to you, eyes squinting. He scans your body and notices your purse that is resting on your lap. He snatches it, ignoring your little protest. He opens it, seeing that your phone, money and belongings are still in there. 

“I'm not taking chances, dolly. You're going in there without this.” 

“I-I wanna do makeup too…” 

“Do it after you pee. Or shit. Whatever you want to do. I know I have nothing in that coat, so you should be good.” He says before he tosses the purse under his seat. He leaves the car, followed by you and before you could even walk by yourself, Nikolai grabs you by your arm, wrapping his arm around your figure before he walks you to the toilet. 

He leaves you there to do your own thing. As much as he wants to be strict with you—since you are still his victim—there is a strong feeling in his heart that he believes you will not even try to escape. Hells, he could already see the image of you waiting for him like a fool in front of the gas station if he ever decides to abandon you right then and there. 

Nikolai proceeds to go to the station, to get some snacks for Viktor and Nastasya later, as well as paying for his fuel. He grabs a couple beers, sneaks some sodas into his coat, and gets a few bags of chips. He also slips a strawberry cream bun into his pocket. He walks to the counter and places his things on it. However, as the cashier scans his items, unknowing of the massive 'shopping' he just did, Nikolai's eyes accidentally halt by the television screen right behind the counter. 

The news. 

Missing Person. 

An image of a girl in a baby blue dress and white cardigan, smiling and posing cutely with a glass of orange alcoholic drink in her hand is pasted largely on the screen. A series of numbers blinking under the photo. Beside that precious photo is a small piece of information that he already knew over a week ago. 

Shit.

— ♡

“Ah—” 

Your surprised scream is subdued quickly when Nikolai covers your mouth, shushing you. He pushes you back into the toilet that you just stepped out of. With one hand, he closes the door and locks it. He pulls his hand away before he hastily fixes the coat over your body. You are confused but you say nothing. Nikolai then slips his hand into the coat you are wearing, takes out a black cap and a beige scarf from it and places them on the sink counter. 

“Huh? What the— I don't— What?” 

“I'll explain later,” Nikolai says before he uses one of his hair ties that he keeps in his pocket and roughly makes a ponytail on you. You whine. 

“H-Hey, you're messing up my hair..!” 

“Shut up.”

“What is happening? W-Why? A-Are the loan sharks…” Your hands instinctively grip onto his shirt as he puts the cap on you. 

“I'll explain later.” 

“No! Say it. Are the loan sharks h-here?” You ask, voice cracking as your nails claw into his shirt. Nikolai's hands fall to your arms, staring at your face that is now full of fear. 

Fear—the very thing that you were supposed to feel when you first woke up on his bed. 

“Please— I don't want to—” 

“No… No, it's not loan sharks…” Nikolai says tenderly. “I'm gonna explain later but we need to get to Viktor and Nastasya quickly. When you walk out of here…” He wraps the scarf around your neck, making sure it covers half of your face. “…make sure to look down and don't lift your head.” 

You look unsure, eyes pacing back and forth between the door and him. He bites his lips, knowing a seed of distrust is growing inside you right now. He tightens his hold on your shoulders. 

“If you wanna stay with me, listen to me.” 

A nod so slow turns into an eager one. Nikolai internally sighs—if he ever meets you in different circumstances, you definitely could make a good harlequin, his second Zanni. 

“Now, come on. Just look down and don't lift your head. Don't let anyone see your face. I'm trying to be nice to you, sweetheart.” He says before taking your hand and finally leaving the toilet stall. Nobody is outside. Some people are filling their fuel near his car. Nikolai looks at you briefly, seeing that your head is down low. And without wasting any time, he walks as fast as he can to his car. 

The first thing he does is shove you into the car and toss the plastic bag full of snacks onto your lap. “Don't take these off.” He warns. He fills the fuel to his car, occasionally observing you. After he is done, he finally gets into the car, starts the engine and drives away. 

“God damn.” Nikolai huffs, raking his hair back. “Really should've left you in my house, doll. Really should've left ya. Damn. You're really gonna fuck me in the ass one day.” 

“What?!” You suddenly shriek loudly, looking at him wide-eyed and face full of embarrassment. You sheepishly look away. “That's… inappropriate. I don't think I'm into that…” 

“That's not what I fucking meant, you dumb duck!” Nikolai is the one shrieking now, gagged at the thought of… No no no. 

“That's not what I meant. What I meant is… you being out here like this almost messes me up. You are in the news, as a missing person.” Nikolai finally explains before he takes a deep breath, composing himself. “I saw the news about it on the TV in the gas station. I don't remember what channel but I have a feeling that your news will go nationwide soon.” He says. 

“O-Oh… I thought you—” 

“What? Say it, I dare you. Say it, say it.” He provokes, nudging your face roughly as you try to cover yourself.

“Geez, you're so… Agh, I really am going to drop you off at Viktor's place.” He sighs. You turn to him quickly, shaking your head as you grab his wrist, holding him tightly. 

“What? No, no! I thought you said I'm staying with you.” 

“Well, I changed my mind.” 

“No, no!” 

“Yes, yes! Yes, little duck!” He argues back. 

“Hmph.” You cross your arms and pout. Nikolai grunts before he tries to focus on the road again. He thinks your sulk will be long enough until you two arrive at the destination, but not long after your little 'Hmph', you are already asking him questions. 

“Did the news say who reported me missing?” You ask. 

Nikolai glances at you, not wanting to comment on how unsteady your temper is. “Not your daddy, surely. The news has a photo of you and the photo has you in this kind of dress and holding an orange drink.” He tells you. “You were smiling in that photo too, like someone took it. You would not drink, smile and dress cutely like that when your dad is around, would you?” 

“Oh…” You mumble before you look down at your lap. “Perhaps my coworkers or manager reported it. I have been absent from work for a while now…” 

“Honestly, that is the most logical reason. Considering that your dad is a man of hiding, especially from big, scary bratva. They want his ass the most. You are kinda the second afterthought. But that doesn't mean you are completely free. You will pay for your dad's debt one way or another.” Nikolai says. You frown, fiddling with your fingers nervously. 

“W-Why? Why me? I'm not the one who owed them money… I don't even know them.” You protest, voice slightly hoarse and shaky. 

“It's a basic principle for lending, unfortunately. You are the collateral of your dad, like it or not. When a borrower, your daddy in this case, does not have any means to do his repayment, lenders can use any collateral asset he has to get their money back. I guess your dad didn't have any security on his loans when he started it, which is why the loan sharks turned their heads towards you.” He explains. “His loan was basically a default the moment he went bankrupt.” 

“What is default?” 

“When you fail to pay your shit, that is default.” 

“How do you know these things?” 

“Eh… Worked for a very important guy in some other country for six months, let's leave it at that.” Nikolai smirks, winking at you. You blink profusely. The tales that he told about loans and complex things are already a haze in the back of your mind. 

You suddenly gasp in amazement. “You worked internationally before? Where?” 

“I said let's leave it at that, didn't I?” Nikolai sighs but you grasp his arm, shaking it as if you are urging him to tell you. He purses his lips. “Japan.” He says shortly. 

“Ooh! What do you work as? His… accountant assistant? Money manager, perhaps, if that is even a thing? Secretary?” You bombard him with questions, and the big smile on your face gets brighter upon you having the chance to learn more about Nikolai. 

However, a word from your question gags him for a short second. He contemplates whether to tell you or not—it is dangerous. The more Nikolai talks to you, the deeper you are trying to dig into his Pandora's box. And he has to question his fate—why do you seem to always succeed in doing it? 

“What did you do before for that very important guy?” You repeat. 

“I work as his court jester, the one who fooled him into his quintessential buffoonery.” 

“Huh?” 

He grins. “If you get what I'm saying, you get it. I'm not repeating. Only smart people would understand me and certainly not you.” He says as one of his hands reaches up on top of your head and messes your hair. 

“Hey! Don't do that!” You whine, pushing his hand away. Nikolai laughs briefly, enjoying the sulky face you have now. You huff, leaning back in the seat before your head turns to him again. 

“Speaking of the… bratvas… The loan sharks… Are you not afraid of them? They must have… pressured you so badly that you kidnapped me as quickly as possible.” You say and you physically flinch when Nikolai bursts out laughing.

“Nah, they're not scary. A much scarier villain is one who doesn't conform to anyone or work in a big ass group, you know?” He replies. “The fact that they're taking this long to seek your father—it is an indicator that they're incompetent fucks beneath it all. Committing crimes half-assed, for the sake of what? Mere profit?” 

“Are you implying that… you get into this criminal life, not because of monetary purposes?” You ask carefully. Nikolai turns quiet as he glances at you. “I mean… they're committing crimes for money, obviously. But what about you? Why are you working this job? Is it for money too? If that is the case, you wouldn't mention that last bit…” You say before he snorts scornfully.

“You—”

“Why choose this life when your guilt is uncontrollable?” 

Nikolai is silent. Why?—It's the way for me to relieve myself from it. From guilt. From the confinement of my own conscious and subconscious.

“Maybe God decided to fuck around and find out when he decided to give me this mind. And, it's the sign of my own freedom to do whatever I want despite my brain telling otherwise.” Nikolai replies to you with a grin.

A silent stare. He expects you to be confused but when he spares a glance at you, he notices how your expression… It is neither a smile nor a frown—rather, an epiphany. The way your eyes are beholding him is a sign of danger of a threat that he has always been concerned about—the threat of someone rooting out the nest of his enigmata. 

Say something—a small voice in him pleads for mercy. For once, he finds it very hard to figure out what you are thinking, albeit that ability is already ingrained in him for the past several days. And he does not like it. It feels like you are hiding something from him when he cannot figure you out. 

You suddenly smile before turning away. 

Say something!—the voice is a shout so deafening. Unfortunately, it is spoken at the back of his heart and only towards himself. 

Nikolai shifts uncomfortably in his seat before he focuses again on the road. Conversations are done for the moment you stop talking and replying. 

It only takes about two minutes before Nikolai and you finally arrive at a small town. He parks his car in front of a shop before turning off the engine. He grabs the plastic bag full of snacks that is on your lap and stuffs the stolen goods from his coat into the bag. You are not noticing his doing, however. You are more busy looking around at this foreign part of the city. 

“Where are we going?” You ask excitedly, a contradiction of your eerie silence and smile earlier. 

“There.” Nikolai points his finger at a shop just right beside the car. The neon lights, spelling VIY Studio, on the signboard are bright red. Some of the LEDs at the edge of the board, however, are barely cooperating. 

“VIY Studio… Tattoo and piercing?” 

“Yeah. Now, come on. Wear my coat and scarf. Once we finally see Nastasya and Viktor, you can take them off.” He says. You nod and adjust the big coat, big scarf and big cap on you. Nikolai watches for a second, muffling a chuckle upon seeing how adorable you look with his coat engulfing almost all of your height. 

Nikolai leaves the car first before he opens the door for you. You still look around in curiosity but knowing how your face is literally on the news right now, Nikolai shoves your head down to hang low, receiving a small whine. 

“Come on.” He says before he grips your wrist and practically pulls you along into the tattoo studio.

“Is this Viktor's place or something?” 

“Nastasya, Viktor's girlfriend, is a tattoo and piercing artist. She owns this studio and at the same time, it is also a place for informants to drop their info. Informants who act in the underworld prefer to have their true identity hidden, you see. They're not like the informants for big organisations who have the resources and protection to keep their safety.” Nikolai explains. 

“So, you hired an informant?” 

“Quite so.” 

“For what?” 

“For you to shut the fuck up.” 

“Hmph. Meanie.” 

The door opens. Nikolai notices how you are eyeing the interior in amazement. The walls are solid black and red, with various gothic accessories on the wall. There are three black sofas and a table in the middle, with stacks of sketchbooks and papers on it—it is the waiting area. Within the area, there is also a long glass counter, showcasing a lot of piercing jewellery.  A woman from behind the counter looks up and her eyes widen upon seeing Nikolai. 

“Kolya, baby! How are ya?” The woman stands up and gets to him. She is just as tall as Nikolai. She kisses his cheek before briefly hugging him. She is wearing a black strapless tube top and black tight shorts, layered with some kind of mesh fabric over. Her cleavage is decorated with an abstract snake and roses tattoo. Her left arm is covered with tattoos with skull motifs and the pattern has crawled over to her shoulder, barely reaching the tattoo on her chest. 

“I'm good, Zoya. Uh, where's Nastya? And that bastard Viktor, if he's already here?” Nikolai asks, smiling when the woman, Zoya, scratches his chin like he is some kind of feline. Your eyes widen upon seeing their interaction as you try to take off the scarf, cap and coat from your body. 

“Nastya and Vitya are both in her room there. And who is this young lady— Oh. Oh…” 

“Yeah…” Nikolai scratches his neck awkwardly. Zoya stares at him before she cackles. Her hand reaches to your cheek, slender fingers caressing your skin. 

“You're a famous young lady, aren't you?” She teases before she bends down a bit to look at you straight. “My name is Zoya. I'm Nastasya's coworker.” She says as she offers her hand to you. She looks at you again, staring. “My… You're very very cute, baby. Very cute. Say, do you like girls?” 

You slowly reach to take her hand, shaking it. Your eyes roam all over her face, her tattooed arm and then her tattooed breasts. 

“I think I do.” 

“A'right, enough introduction!” Nikolai pulls apart your hand from Zoya, who is pouting at the man. She huffs. He turns to her, blowing raspberries. “This girl is not a candidate to be your girlfriend, Zoya. Anyway, I really need to see Nastya now. Talk to you later, okay?” He says before pulling you deeper into the studio. Zoya grins as you pass her, waving at you. 

And you happily wave back, before Nikolai smacks your hand to drop down. 

“She's very pretty.” You say as Nikolai leads both of you to an office. There are three offices, special for each tattoo artist working there, including Zoya and Nastasya. Nikolai gets to the door with her name on it and twists the knob, pushing it. 

“Mmh… That's a good boy… Fuck…!” 

“Oh.” You gasp. 

“Mm-hm, right there, baby, a-ahh~!” 

“Oh— Oh, my. Oh, wow.” You gasp again. 

“God.” Nikolai closes the door, shutting his eyes. “Agh, I think I saw her… Agh… I definitely saw his dick…” He grunts before he grabs your hand and drags you to the waiting area again, only to be met with a grinning Zoya. 

Nikolai is about to open his mouth but Zoya shushes him. “Ah! Don't give me shit for it. I did not know they would be eating the fuck out of each other.” She says, shrugging her shoulders. Nikolai huffs and plops down on the sofa, crossing his arms. 

You look around and place Nikolai's clothes that you wore on the sofa. Then, you awkwardly sit beside Nikolai, even scooting closer. 

“Erm…” 

“You don't look that freaked out seeing that.” Nikolai suddenly says, glancing at you. You smile, liking the way he starts a conversation first. 

“The motel above the bar doesn't really provide the best privacy, oftentimes.” You say and he nods. That basically means you probably have seen and heard people fuck from the motel. Zoya then walks up to both of you, offering two cups of water. 

“Water, ladies?” She grins, winking at you. Nikolai snorts, taking one before you do the same too. 

“Thank you…” You say to her and she seems to squeal before happily jogging away into her own office. Nikolai's eyes only follow her trail with slight judgment. 

“She likes you, alright.” 

“Are you close with her?” 

“Define closeness. We knew each other because of Viktor and Nastya… and we did sleep with each other a couple times before.” He says nonchalantly. “Just casual sex, nothing serious.” He adds. However, your head is turning at him and then Zoya's office back and forth. 

“Were you two together?” 

“Like I said, it's nothing serious. We are not into each other in a romantic way… She wants a wife, actually.” He replies before putting the bag of snacks on your lap. Your hands are quick to rummage through the bag and instantly take out the strawberry cream bun that he stole. 

“So, what about you? Do you want a spouse as well? Get married and have kids?” You ask as you munch on the bun, humming cheerfully at the taste. 

“No. I don't.” 

“Really? Why?” 

“Not interested. Not worth it. Not idealistic. Not unshackling.” 

You giggle, nudging his shoulder. “The way you talk about it sounds like you just got divorced.” You say. Nikolai snorts, shoving your face to the side lightly. But his gesture only brings a short laugh from your lips. “I think you are definitely a husband material though.”

“Is that so?” He smirks as he drinks the rest of the cold water.

“I like you.” You say and his eyes immediately jerk towards you, staring. 

And you gaze back at him, with a soft smile on your face. His jaw hangs open slightly and his breath hitches, dumbstruck, dumbfounded. He looks at you, mismatched irises are shaken—but you are looking at him with a certain hope, as if you are trying to pull him to play along with a dormant fantasy that you are not even aware that you yourself are wallowing in.

Nikolai shakes his head slightly—disbelief. “Nice try.” He replies shortly before turning away. 

“Kolyushka!” 

A familiar voice erupts in the studio. Both you and Nikolai turn around, seeing Viktor approaching with Nastasya trailing behind him. Nastasya is also a tall woman, albeit a little shorter than Zoya herself. Her hair is wavy, dark burgundy. She has multiple piercings visible on her body—on her eyebrow, septum, lips and collarbone. Unlike Zoya, she is sporting a plain black crop top and tight black jeans. And her body is much more covered with tattoos—evident by both of her arms are mostly covered with ink. 

Sometimes Nikolai wonders how Viktor could pull such a lady, even being in a relationship with her for almost nine years now.

“Here they are, the horny fuckers who keep their guests waiting!” Nikolai says before he stands up. Viktor only grins and waves at you happily before he wraps his arm around Nastasya and nudges her to face you. 

“This is the girl I told you about, Nastyushka!” He says. You are stunned by his energy but you do smile, regardless, at Nastasya. There is a small fear inside you since you have heard stories from Nikolai about her. Her eyes scan you from head to toe as she crosses her arms, turning to Nikolai. 

“I thought I told you to not bring your victims, dead or alive, to my studio?” Nastasya says. 

“Huh? Nikolai said Viktor wanted to see me.” You ask, tilting your head. 

“What? For what? It's dangerous to let you out to the public! I'm not stupid when it comes to kidnapping!” Viktor protests. 

Nikolai feels your eyes, Viktor's and Nastasya's at him—all of them are in confusion. And he slowly turns away, staring at the wall, counting the paint streaks that are barely visible from his distance. The silence is deafening until Viktor suddenly snorts. 

“Softie.” 

“Shut up.”

“Aw, you big softie! You likin' the babysitting job now huh, do ya!” 

“This is your fault!” 

“What fault?! How is it my fault?!” 

Nastasya sighs, palming her face. “Hey, quit it! This is not a debate forum!” She says before she checks her phone. She looks at Viktor. “The delivery is almost here. You wait outside.” She orders and Viktor salutes her before marching out. “You two, come.” She says to Nikolai and you. Clinging to Nikolai's arm, both of you follow Nastasya into her office. 

Her office is quite spacious, with a table full of sketchbooks and a section that is covered with black curtains. There are shelves full of equipment for tattooing and piercing just beside the covered section.

“What's behind the curtain?” You ask curiously, receiving a surprised look from Nastasya. Nikolai turns to where you are pointing at. 

“The workstation for tattooing or piercing.” He replies. You coo, nodding before your head turns to the table. Curiosity is still clear, beaming on your face. Expecting your impending questions, Nikolai tells you, “Customers would have a consultation here. That's why there are sketchbooks of tattoo designs and piercings.”

“Did you get your tattoo here?” 

“Just a few small ones.” He says. “The one who tattooed me was Zoya though.” 

A pout. “You seem to be closer with her than I thought…” You murmur before you sit beside him on one of the chairs across from Nastasya at her working table. Nikolai frowns upon hearing your comment, turning to you. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

No answer from you. Nikolai blinks in confusion before he sighs internally and decides to not say anything more. You are already acting so mysterious since that weird look you gave back in the car. And now here. He does not have the energy to decipher each of your quirks—especially when you two are reaching the end of your encounter. 

“Food is here, people!” Viktor enters the office with two bags of takeaway food. He places them on the table as Nastasya also gets up to take out the food from the plastic bags. Viktor turns to you. “Sorry, sweetheart. No food for you because we just bought four, enough for us and Zoya! I did not know I wanted you to come here!” 

Nikolai clicks his tongue, seeing the shit-eating grin that Viktor gives him. However, you only smile at him. “It's fine… I already ate back in the house. And Nikolai bought some snacks. They are enough for me.” You say. Nastasya snorts and pats your head before giving Nikolai his portion of food. 

“You're a good girl.” She says. Your eyes gleam upon feeling her sweet touch on your head. She pulls away and you turn to Nikolai with a joyful smile. 

“She is nicer than I thought.”

“Is that so…”

Viktor proceeds to take a seat on Nastasya's chair while his girlfriend leaves to grab something. He is already munching on his food, as well as Nikolai while you are just pathetically choosing another snack from the plastic bag that you have been carrying. 

“So, why are you here?” Viktor asks. “Ah-ah! Before you, Mr. Jester, want to lie and protest me… it won't work, alright? You brought her out, on the very day she's on the news as a missing person!” 

Nikolai sighs, stirring the pasta in his food bowl. “I know, I know. My bad.” 

“Of course it's your bad, asshole! But that's not what I'm asking and you are evading it. Why bring her out?” Viktor says, leaning towards Nikolai and tapping the table as if he demands the truth from him. Nikolai bites his lips. 

He is not even sure why he drags you along. He fully intends to leave you in the house, despite your pitiful pleas to be with him. He is well aware of the heaviness that was swallowing him when he took more and more steps further away from his apartment unit alone. Reluctancy was digging. Something about the lack of your presence brings him to an uneasiness—incompleteness. 

Nikolai glances at you who is just silently eating oreshki beside him. You have been nothing but an annoyance. Always demanding things from him. Always clinging to him. Always teasing him. Always speaking about random crap you found curiosity in. Always smiling. 

And he hates that. 

He hates that he is always giving in.

“I—”

“I just want to follow along.” You say before he can manage to form an excuse. “I… I don't really like being alone in the house and… it feels horrible. So, I, uh… bothered him to follow along.” You add quickly, giving Viktor a wavering smile. 

Viktor, however, does not seem to be eating up your attempt. He slurps his noodles before looking at you and Nikolai back and forth. “Right, so, why were you shocked as well when I said that I did not expect you to be here?” He asks. 

“That's… uh…”

You could not manage to reply. Instead, you act busy by eating more of the oreshki. Viktor scoffs and looks at Nikolai. Nikolai frowns and turns away. “Don't say anything stupid.” 

“I'm not!” 

“You look like you are about to spout bullshit.”

“Yeah, of course you would recognize one. You used to be a professional crap yapper back in the day, right?”

“Are you boys arguing again? Geez…” Nastasya returns with a black metal suitcase. Nikolai's eyes glimmer immediately upon seeing the suitcase. She puts it on the table and seeing that there is no chair left for her to sit, she plops down on Viktor's lap, receiving a grunt from him. 

“Oof, ma'am. This feels so sexy.” Viktor grins before he kisses her tattooed neck briefly. 

“Is this the thing?” Nikolai asks, sitting straight. 

“Yes. The knock-off of—” 

“Hey, wait!” Viktor raises his hands. “Are we sure we want her to listen to this confidential information?” He asks as he points at you. Nikolai turns to you, observing. You are looking at the suitcase, full of wonder. You are not eating anymore but your hand is on your stomach, in which he notices your fingers seem to be rubbing it. Your head turns towards him and he quickly looks away.

The thought of leaving you out, shooing you away—even though it is really none of your business sends a bitter taste on Nikolai's tongue. And the fact that he can somehow feel your pleading eyes on him, despite not directly looking at you—he is already disheartened. 

“She will bombard me with questions on our way back anyway. She can hear what she wants,” Nikolai replies shortly before he places his half-eaten pasta on the table. He slides the bowl towards you before pulling the suitcase closer to him. 

“What's the password?” 

“TJ4532.” 

He puts the password into the padlock and a click is heard. 

“What's this?” You ask and Nikolai rolls his eyes—See, she will ask and try to have some fun as well no matter what.

“Well, let me tell you!” Viktor pats his own chest proudly before hugging Nastasya's waist tightly. “This is an identification system developed by T.J. Eckleburg, the Eyes of God!” He announces excitedly.  

“But… it's just a laptop.” You add as you lean towards Nikolai. The suitcase has a laptop in it and Nikolai takes it out, placing it on the table. 

“It is just a laptop. But this laptop has the system installed in it. Since the system is heavily advanced, this laptop has been modified to only work the Eyes of God's system.” Nikolai explains. “Must I add... this is not the real one. It's a knock-off of the original Eyes of God.”

“Yeah, unfortunately,” Viktor says. “It's not easy to get access to the original one. It's owned by a madlad known as Francis Scott Fitzgerald and you would die before you could even get a hand illegally on this system.” He adds and you gasp.

“Francis Fitzgerald? That billionaire? Then, how could you even build a knock-off from that system?” 

“A whistleblower sold the blueprint to create the foundation of the system to the underworld. The guy Kolyushka looked for developed his knock-off version of Eyes of God and sold it to the people who were willing to buy it. So, he bought it from him.” Viktor explains before shrugging his shoulders. “It would not work as perfectly and efficiently as the original, but it will work. I have tried it, actually.” He adds. 

“Huh… Something tells me that the whistleblower who revealed the blueprint does not receive a good fate.” You murmur. Nikolai cackles as he is typing things on the laptop.

“Pretty sure that whistleblower got a taste of fifty dollars punch.”

“Or a thousand,” Nastasya blurts in. “Fitzgerald can be a maniac.” 

“Yo, Kolyushka. You think you can take that madlad on? 1v1 him?” Viktor says, laughing shortly. Nikolai only snorts, glancing up at the couple with a cackle. 

“How much money do you think he would spend to avoid getting bombarded with literal explosions?” 

“Woah, baby! You sound like a terrorist there.” Nastasya says. Don't tell me… You do have explosions in there?” 

“Wanna see?” 

“Stop it, you're creeping my girlfriend out!” 

“I'm not scared. I'm amused.” Nastasya huffs. 

“Uh, what are we talking about?” You suddenly speak up after a moment of silence—or more accurately, eating. Nikolai turns to you, seeing a small smear of pasta sauce on the corner of your lips. His hand instinctively reaches up to your face, thumb touching your lips. 

And at the same time, your tongue sticks out to lick the sauce on your lips—it accidentally bumps against his thumb. 

“Sorry.” Nikolai pulls away quickly, tearing away his eyes from you and faces straight on. His heart is beating fast—a slight wetness can be felt on his thumb and his fingers clench, hard. Nikolai purses his lips, trying to compose himself. He looks straight, towards Viktor and Nastasya—but again, he is haunted by the couple looking at him and you, astonished. 

Trying to bury away the awkwardness, Nikolai slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a couple of tissues before shoving it onto your face. “C-Clean yourself, you messy duck.” 

You whimper slightly but nevertheless, you still take them and wipe your mouth. 

“Are we sure that tissue is totally clean and not being used in one of your mastur—” 

“I'm going to mutilate you, you know that?” Nikolai cuts Viktor off and the latter makes a gesture of zipping his own mouth before blowing raspberries at him. He huffs and whines childishly at Nastasya, telling her to kick Nikolai in the balls and ass with her heels—which Nastasya just blatantly ignores and continues to eat her own food. 

“So, how do you three know each other?” You suddenly pose a question. Nikolai grunts, palming his face. He begins to think he is digging his own grave when he brings you to meet Viktor. Because he knows. He knows Viktor is starting to sense something weird about his encounter with you. He already made his own conclusion on the first day of your kidnap. 

You have always been trying to get to know Nikolai better. Nikolai is well aware of that. He does not know how he manages to keep you wondering despite the many conversations he has shared with you, despite the many nights and dinners he has gone through with you. Diverting your curiosity away from his secret is a skill he has developed the moment you asked for his name in a sweet sugary manner. 

But Viktor does not know that. Hells, Viktor is seeking entertainment on his demise. Seeing how Viktor acts is like seeing his own reflection.

Fuck this guy. 

“Well, aren't we glad that you are asking, sweetheart? Kolyushka and I have known each other since we were twenty. We met at a nightclub.” Viktor begins his tale. “I tried to pickpocket three people. Almost busted my ass when the bouncer interrogated me but Kolyushka covered me up. We clicked and I gave one of the wallets I stole.” He says before taking a chug of his drink. 

Viktor continues, “We used to work in a shady circus. He really loves those kinds of things, you know? Clowns, games, tricks, horror. Couldn't really remember any details but he left to go to Japan.”

“To work as a bank manager!” You suddenly chime in, clasping your hands. Nikolai could not help but blurt out a laugh before he buries his face into the sleeve of his leather jacket. Even Nastasya snorts a chortle. Viktor is only beaming in amusement. “What?” You ask, displeased by how you are being laughed at. 

Nikolai takes a sharp inhale of breath before looking at you, raking his hair back. “Fuck! I was about to get mad at this bitch babbling his mouth but hell… How did that even come out?” 

“Well, you explained about debt to me earlier! What other people would know that stuff?” 

“I don't know. Fucking anyone who wants to get loans like your good-for-nothing of a father?” 

You stare at him with an infuriated pout. You cross your arms before turning to Viktor. “Why was he in Japan?” You ask and Nikolai is speechless—his words are coming out incoherent when you attempt to get answers about him but not from him. Viktor is sneering—at this point, his name is really defining his smile. 

“You know, sweetheart? I actually have no clue either. But what I did know is that this bitch disappeared for more than a year and then I finally got to him. Then he got arrested for identity theft, murder and assault! How the hell did you not get thrown into Meursault?” Viktor babbles. 

“Meursault…?” 

“Yeah. It's a special prison in France to keep criminals who have abilities away. Kolyushka, you are a top-class ability user with limitless potential! You are supposed to rot in Meursault!” Viktor says as he points at Nikolai in an accusing manner. Nikolai smirks proudly before he averts his eyes. Praise does boost his ego to the peak.

“You’d be surprised how easy it is to break in and out of Meursault with a couple of explosions.”

Nastasya shrieks, looking at him frustratingly. “Why explosions, again? Are you a global terrorist or something? You have a stock of fuckin' grenades in there?”

“Uh…” You raise your hand politely. “What abilities? Don't all criminals have 'abilities' though?”

Viktor frowns. “… Do you know what kind of ability we are talking about? Actually, do you know what we were referring to when we talked about Fitzgerald earlier?” 

A shake of your head. 

“Ouh. Well, fuck. Uh…” 

Nastasya chuckles. “Special abilities, we meant. Ability is a special supernatural skill possessed by some people all across the globe.” She answers, her voice calm and sultry, unlike Viktor. Nikolai looks at Nastasya and shifts uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Like… what? Powers? People can create fire and turn into monsters?” You ask with a giggle shaded with disbelief. 

“Well, yes.” 

The answer from Nastasya sounds so serious that your giggle falters into a jumble of confusion and bafflement. “R-Really? People can do that?” Your voice is a murmur as your eyes trail from her to Viktor. “Do you have an ability?” 

Viktor shakes his head. 

“You?” To Nastasya. And similarly, she shakes her head. 

Your head turns to Nikolai who is propping his chin with his hand, his elbow resting on the table as he is facing you. Your lips part, as if you want to say something but it seems that your heart is pulling your voice back, deciding that words probably meant nothing when the truth has already been figured out by both of you.

You know he knows you know. 

Crooked lips manifesting honey and sugar, excited twinkle. Your gaze is as tender as ever—the very same ones you have never tired of giving to him.

“That's very… wonderful. I think you are a very wonderful person, Nikolai.” 

Discomfort. 

Not from the softness of your voice, nor the saccharinity of your words—his heart is starting to rattle, and the grip on his ideal is getting loose again. He almost forgot this sentiment he thought he had cast away. A familiar taste is beginning to form—the very taste he felt when that man told him, 

Splendid. 

“Kolyushka.” 

“I'm going to the toilet.”

Nikolai spares not a glance at any of the people in the room as he steps out. 

— ♡

“Did I say something wrong?” You voice out, guilty. 

“Nah, he just needs good ol' therapy,” Viktor says before he pats Nastasya's thigh. She gets up and begins to clean up the empty food bowls on her working table. Viktor leans back, finishing his drink before Nastasya takes it to throw away. 

“I think I did something wrong…” You say, looking down. “Sometimes when I say something to him, he would be silent and… I don't know, it looks like his mind is not within reality.” You mumble, rubbing your own arm as if to seek comfort in the growing rue. 

Viktor is silent, as well as Nastasya. Though, the lady then excuses herself to leave to throw the garbage, leaving just you and Viktor in the room. Nikolai's absence makes you feel somewhat alone—as if he has taken the fragments of your fulfilment along with him. 

“Hey, girl.” Viktor calls. You look up. He solemnly smiles at you. “He was not like this, you know?” 

“He wasn't like this..?”

Viktor nods before he takes out a cigarette and lights it up. He takes an inhale of it before blowing it out. “Oh, he really wasn't. Matter of fact, he was a bubbly and cheerful guy. He was freaking loud and obnoxious too. Like… Like a jester. Evil jester. But unfortunately, after he got out of prison, it was like a switch flipped. I don't even recognize my friend anymore. Does he even think I'm still his friend? Huh… Well, that's an interesting thing to think about.”

“Like a jester… huh…” You mumble. “He must be a very fun person to be around then.”

“Mm... I guess.” Viktor cackles. “Why and how are you attracted to him anyway? Just curious.” He asks lightheartedly as he smokes briefly. You feel the familiar heat creeping up to your face and you hastily bury half your face into your clenched fists.

“I don't know… I think… I think he is just nice.”

“Nice?”

“Mm-hm. I know he was rough the first few times... but he actually treated me very very well. Much better than anyone else. And…And whenever he's around, I feel fulfilled, sort of… You know?” You say shyly. “I feel like my life is complete when we spend time together. Like… Like I actually enjoy my life and I am actually alive.”

“You’re sure you’re not mentally unwell?”

You freeze. Your eyes warily trail to Viktor, seeking any hint coming from his expression, but he looks genuinely curious.

“I-I don't think I am mentally unwell… My father is most likely unwell though.”

“You got jokes, a'right. Kolyushka would love that.”

“R-Really?”

“Oh? Of course when I say his name you get all excited and shit. Lovey-dovey, goodness, I hope you two explode.” Viktor says sarcastically as he rolls his eyes. You pout, huffing. “I wonder if things would go differently if I’m the one who kidnapped you.”

“No, I don't think so.” You answer that too quickly and Viktor snorts. “Besides, you have Nastasya… And Nikolai told me stories…” You say the last bit in a whisper. 

Viktor bursts out a short laugh, clapping his hands. “Well, ain't he right? I mean, I'm already content with what I have now. Kolyushka clearly has something else he wants in mind.” He says. “And you? What do you actually want?”

You avert your eyes away from Viktor, staring down at your hands. “I… I wanna make him smile and happy… When I look at him sometimes, he just… looks so lost. Like just now. Maybe it's because he got into prison, but somehow it seems that there's a lot more than just a mere loss.” You utter as your head is walking around the haze of memories of your time spent with him.

“I think he has a very cute smile… I want to see more of that… I don't have friends and my life is… quite lonely. I don’t want to be left out. I don’t want to be unloved. I want to love someone, if that is even possible, considering… my situation right now…”

Viktor turns silent, however. But his eyes are wandering over your dreamy ones. His lips quirk up slightly. “Well, you better do that quick since you’re gonna get retrieved by the loan sharks, sooner or later.”

His words hit you like a strike of lightning. Your sincere smile that was lifted because of the thought of making Nikolai happy slipped away—replaced with a grimace on your face. “Do I really have to go..?”

You gulp. “I don't… I don't want to leave… I don't want to leave K-Kolya…”

“That would be his decision.”

— ♡

“Thanks for this.” 

You watch as Nikolai bids farewell to Nastasya and Viktor. As soon as he returned from the toilet, he already wanted to go home. He gathered his belongings as well as the black suitcase and you were left with little choice to defy him.

You wait for Nikolai to finish talking with Viktor and Nastasya. But, you are approached by Zoya. “Are you leaving already, baby?” She asks with a hopeful smile. Her smile is quite the contrary to her appearance. You thought she would be more fierce and stern, like Nastasya. But instead, she is gushing over you very cheerfully. 

“How about we exchange numbers? You work in a bar, right?” 

Well, I am technically not working anymore… And I have a group of bratvas hunting my dad. 

“My phone is dead… Nikolai doesn’t let me charge them.” You say, altering a small fact that it is you who does not want to charge your own phone. Though, Nikolai never forbids or allows you to charge your phone. He only has ever mentioned it once and that was at the laundrette. 

“Awh, that sucks… But! We could—” 

I need to make it clear, now. 

You clasp your hands together, bringing them close to your chest—a gesture of begging for forgiveness and repentance. “Uhm… I apologise, Ms. Zoya. But… I’m sorry! I cannot pursue a relationship with you! My heart is beating for someone else.” 

She is dumbstruck.

“B-But I do think you are very beautiful! A-And you were very welcoming and kind to me and—”

“Getting rejected before you could even confess, my lady?” Nikolai suddenly appears by your side, covering his mouth from erupting a degrading and taunting snicker. “Someone got rejected~ Someone got rejected~ Little Zoya got rejected before a confess~ Boo-hoo!” He chimes mockingly. Zoya grunts, raising her fist as if to threaten to punch him but a cough from Nastasya is enough to halt her. Nikolai chortles before his hand wraps around your back before he pushes you to walk out of the studio. He waves at Zoya who is still frozen before following you. 

Both of you get into the car, with you still looking at the studio. Your eyes can still illustrate the vision of Zoya's dumbstruck face. “I feel bad.” You say, lips puckering in remorse.

“She is thirty-one years old. She’ll recover,” Nikolai replies before turning on the engine and sighs. “Gosh, today is so tiring. And all I did was try to get the laptop and for some reason, a really bothersome baby-blue speaking doll is bringing me a lot of jeopardy today.”  

Grinning, you say, “I had fun today.” 

“You should freaking be.” 

“I really am. It was fun meeting people who are acquainted with you.” You say. “I feel a little guilty that perhaps how I acted forced you to bring me along…” You mutter before your hand lifts up and slowly trails to touch his that is resting on his thigh. 

“I’m sorry if I burden you a lot today. But I just want you to know that you really make me... erm... fulfilled, today.”

Nikolai swallows nervously. His eyes wander down to where your hand is. Pull away, pull away, pull away—he repeats to himself. His fingers are shivering slightly, as if a heavy stone is placed on each of his joints, not allowing him to fucking pull away, shove you away and scold you to stay still. 

After thirty seconds of heartbeats—after allowing your warmth to seep into the pores of his skin, after allowing your fingerprints to etch themselves onto his paleness—Nikolai’s hand finally moves, turning a little, enough for his fingers to wrap around your hand, holding it. 

No words are exchanged. 

Thirty seconds of heartbeat, thirty seconds of allowing his warmth to be shared with you—he finally speaks. “I have to drive.” He says. You nod, understand, and pull away from him. You lean back to the seat, with your hands on your lap. One of them is caressing the other, the one that just holds his. 

Nikolai fights his desire to continue peering at you. He sits straight, preparing to drive. For one last time, he checks his phone.

Viktor: You can find her dad. With Eyes of God.  Viktor: And then we can be done with this job.  Viktor: You want her gone, find her daddy.

©cherikolya 2024 — do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated

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

[mayofyo]

since nikolai can sew i wonder if he would enjoy knitting or crocheting or other art-related hobbies. i think maybe he would be into fashion/costume design if he made his jester outfit, or maybe he only knows how to sew for the sake of finding new ways to brutally kill people and i'm just delusional.

[mayofyo]

🎀

[mayofyo]

borb

Here’s a comic from my AU! I’ll add more characters soon.

[mayofyo]

fyolaizai

[mayofyo]

fanart of @doukeshi-kun 's new fic bc its so good its mandatory to read it :3 reader x canon save me!!!

[mayofyo]

bro im turning 21 this year and the only thing i want is fictional men railing me, am i cooked

no you're not. even if you're 81 and still wanting a fictional man to rail you, you're not cooked

[mayofyo]

O LOVE THIS LMG

🎀P girl 🎀 nso 🍓

☆(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*

[mayofyo]

KAngel Selfie Transparents (last part!)

[ Source ]

[mayofyo]

In the catzai au, is Fyodor an actual rat and Nikolai a dove?

perhaps

[mayofyo]

so beautiful wtf

Sketching, sketching

[mayofyo]

[mayofyo]

people died

art trade

[mayofyo]

A group photo before chaos~❤️