literature

2p!Russia x Reader - Nikolai (Part 1)

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Author's Note: This is apart of my Lola's Loft series. Background on this series is linked in the description. I suggest looking at that before reading to understand the plot. But if not, it's cool, you will still understand. Thank you for reading!


Contains mature language, dark themes, and OOC.

September 6, 1925.

Smack.

You gripped your cheek, wincing at the stinging pain that wouldn’t subside. You fell to the floor, the pain in your face was all you could focus on as your legs gave out under you. You quickly reached out to the dirty couch to break your fall. Tears streamed down your swelling cheek as your cradled the ache. Lifting your lashes you dared to look back up at him. He was caressing his hand, tending to himself rather than even think about helping you.

“You did that to yourself,” he spit out, turning away from you back to the cracked mirror on the wall. You were still trying to massage the pain while your mind raced with things you wanted to say back to him. Evil, mean things. Words that would hurt every part of his self esteem and break him down to how low you were. To kill every inch of his ego until he cried like you did every night. You wanted to say so much. But you could only think of one thing.

“Yes, Al.”

“Good, now stop being a stubborn brat and go get ready,” he tied his tie as he ordered you. You stood up to leave. He caught you by the arm” “And you back talk again, you’ll meet my bat rather than the back of my hand.” You nodded.

You walked out of his office to the hallway. You finally wept as loud as you could, cradling your cheek. You brought your fist to the wall, venting your pain. You turned to the office door that read, ‘Al Jones’. You spit at the title, “If I saw a little cash being thrown my way, maybe I wouldn’t be so stubborn, you ass!” You heard his feet moving behind the door and you started running out of the hallway.

As soon as his office was out of sight, you slowed down. Exiting the hallway, you entered the club. ‘Lola’s Loft’ was run (and so creatively named) by Al himself. The brothel was built by his father in 1903 and was running still, just under new employment. Clientele from all around the world has stopped by in Lola’s, it was known for its internationalization. Just the other day you were draped around a ‘Turkish’ man while taking a drag off of a Swedish man’s cigar.

Since your job was to accompany men and keep them happy, you had a lot of time to meet and talk with the guests. Some weren’t terrible company. Others were completely awful. But you endured it, for a minimum wage. Minimum wage was an overstatement for the suffering you went through with some of these men. A week ago you had taken a shiner from a big shot Canadian man. He was Al’s brother so that meant “be extra good or you’ll see the side of my bat”. He seemed quiet at first but as soon as you brought him to your room he was rowdier than a mechanical bull. You trembled.

You walked through the thin air of the bar, filled with smoke and ash. Hoots and hollers rang out over the sound of the blues music. You turned to the stage to see the other girls performing. They were doing routine 23, ‘The Moondrop”. The center of the stage was the older Hungarian lady named Elizibeta that you had taken a liking to. She had taken you under her metaphorical wing when you first came to the cabaret. She had worked for Al’s father for a decade until Al took over. She was a special lady, strong. She had told you her whole life before. Starting from when she was a little girl growing up in Hungary, to when she had married and divorced her Austrian lover, to when she found Al’s dad and became the dancer she is today. She used to say how she was a tomboy her whole life and though she would never even wear a dress let alone garters and stockings. She used to say those things, until Al had a ‘talk’ with her about her attitude. Elizibeta still wears the scar from his infamous baseball bat.

You winked up at her as she spread herself across the stage, admiring how she would still go on with a smile on her face. Turning away from the stage you walked over to the clientele that were coming through the door. The bouncer took their coats and hats that wear damp from the rain outside. Three men stood, the middle one looked like he could pick up a car with ease. His stature was extremely intimidating as he looked down at you, easily  a foot taller. His mouth curled into a smile as he nodded to you. He turned to his men, waving them off in a language you didn’t understand. They walked to the bar, ordering drinks and surrounding themselves in the girls there. The large man turned back to you.

“Why, hallo there little one,” he smirked, leaning down so you didn’t have to break your neck to face him.

You smiled, you didn’t expect him to be inviting. His accent was a thick Russian one.

“Good evening, sir,” you curtsied, “You are just in time for the next show. Come with me?” You extended your dainty hand to his large calloused one.

“My name is ____,.”

“Nikolai.” He stated back.

He took your hand, taking you arm in arm to one of the tables. He sat in one of the throne like chairs facing the stage. You ordered him a White Russian and draped yourself over his lap. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders to rest your hands in his dark hair. You legs crossed effortlessly in his large thighs, holding yourself close to the cold man.  He chuckled and ran his hand down your spine tenderly. You sighed and rested your head on his shoulder, hushing for the performance.

The newer girl came out on stage. She was as small as a child and you often thought she really was. But you trusted Al wouldn’t hire someone under age. But sometimes he was desperate. You didn’t really talk to her as much as the other girls. The only things you knew were that she was extremely attached to her older brother, often talking about him a lot. She was swept up in the excitement parties and ended up in the US, like a lot of the other girls.

The piano started and you felt Nikolai gasp under you. You looked to his face to see a large, sweet smile plastered. “Dis is my favorite song. It’s an old Russian waltz my mater used to sing to me.”

Soft melodies filled the club as the pianist dashed along the keys. The girl, Natalya, began swaying to the music. Her feet started turning in a solo waltz as the music played. Another dancer, a man, came on stage. He took Natalya’s hand and danced with her. You were mesmerized by the sweet waltz, only being broken when Nikolai under you began singing with the tune. He was vocalizing in a deep Russian, he sang the lyrics softly, his chest vibrating with his words. You looked away from the stage to him. His lips moved lightly with the lyrics while his head swayed slowly, lost in the song. Your eyes watered at the sentiment of it. He seemed like such a hardened man, it was different to see this person appreciating nostalgia.

You looked back to the stage, there were now 5 couples swaying and stepping in time with the waltz. The tune began slowing until it stopped and the dancers on stage took a bow. Nikolai’s big arms circled around you to clap loudly at the performance. His smile was now a sweet small grin. He patted your head, sweeping your hair back. You smirked, another happy customer.

You got up out of his lap and turned to him. “I’m glad you enjoyed the show. Be sure to look to one of our staff if you’re in need of a lady for the night.” You turned to walk to the entrance to greet another client.

You felt a heavy hand pull you by the skirt and drag you back to a lap. You sat down with an ‘oof’ and looked at him quizzically. “Do you need something, Mr. Nikolai?”
He petted your hair sweetly before gripping it around his hand, pulling you to his face. You lifted your heavy lashes to look at him cautiously. His expression was that of hunger.

“I am in need of you, moy dorogoy.”
Thanks for the read~!
Lola's Loft Background - [link]

Translations:
Moy dorogoy - My darling, term of endearment

This Series Chapters
Nikolai Part 2 - [link]

Other Lola's Loft Stories
2p!France - [link]

I do not own hetalia or you.
© 2013 - 2024 daphapotimus
Comments9
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Foenixe's avatar
It's really nice, I like this pic already. 
Just a little mistake, it's not "may dorogoy" 'cause this masculine, it's "moya dorogaya" ;)