Euphoria; (Fyodor x F!y/n)

·2·

You wake up, in a comfy bed. You feel relived at first, thinking it was all a dream and was a side effect of the alcohol you had consumed the night before. But, as you start getting your vision back, you start to see that It was not your bed, or your room, or even your house. 

You frantically get up, but as soon as you do, the headache slams against your skull like a brick, and you groan at the pain. 

"Bad night?"
You hear a deep voice straight across from the bed you lie on. You realize this person had a thick Russian accent. As you peek through your curtain of [h/c] hair, you spot the guy from last night. He was sitting on a chair, flipping through a book, his thick long dark locks in his eyes, and his legs crossed over each other. 

"..." 

"No reply hm?" He says without looking up from his book. 
You look down at yourself, and you realize that you weren't wearing the dress you had worn last night. Instead, you were wearing a white nightgown, and your neck, wrists, and knee's were patched up with bandages. 

You take a moment to process, but you soon find yourself steaming like a freshly baked cookie, your face and ears turning red with embarrassment. 

He undressed me??! Oh my god.. You think to yourself. 
You look back up to the man, and he is still reading his book. 

He catches you staring, and begins to stand up. He walks over and cups your chin with his fingers. 
"Oh dear, why is such a pretty face turning so red for? Perhaps you have a cold?"

"N-no I do not-!" You stutter out the words, and you begin to get out of bed. 
You wince at the pain when you start to walk, but you walk out of the room and into a room at seemed like it was a bathroom.

You thought you heard a slight chuckle behind you as you walked away, but you tried to erase it from your head.

As you look ahead of you, you see a carefully laid-out set of clothes for you, a towel, soap, and shampoo waiting for you. 

Hm..maybe this guy isn't as bad as I thought.. You think to yourself

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You get out of the shower, feeling fresh and new, a towel around your neck, keeping your wet hair separate from your shoulders.

As you go downstairs, you realize how big of a house you are in. It's practically a mansion! 
You walk down the stairs, and you spot the strange man from earlier. He is still reading the same book as before, but there was a faint sound of cello music coming from somewhere. 

As you make your way down, he spots you, but looks back down at his book as you sit down across from him.

"The dress looks good on you dear." He says without looking up from his book.
You find yourself blushing again, at a loss for words. His voice was so deep, with that Russian accent. 

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you hadn't realized that the man had made his way over to you, leaning so his face was so close to yours, you could faintly smell vodka coming from him. 

"I'm afraid I did not catch your name!" He exclaims.

He moves a little bit closer, your noses almost touching. 
"Care to tell me?" He whispers

"y-y/n!" you manage to make out. "My name is y/n."

"Beautiful name you have there young lady! My name is Fyodor. Fyodor Dostoevsky." He says.

You end up just staring into the mans deep purple eyes. How odd they were. They seemed as if, they were glowing, but they were dull at the same time. 

"Amazing.." You whisper to yourself.

"Hm? What was that?" Fyodor asks. 
"Oh! It's nothing!" You stammer, embarrassed. 

"Oh really.." He says. He cups your chin in his fingers, and you could feel yourself steaming up again. His fingers were cold as ice in contrast. 

He stares at you for a good minute, examining you thoroughly. 
Then he lets go, picks up his book, and leaves you all alone. 

What was that..
You could still feel his touch, that pleasant but faint smell of vodka radiating from him.

Stupid stupid feelings... you think to yourself.