😩❤️ugh.

ah fuck it, thinkin abt: taking public transport with kruger and nikto (especially self indulgent bc i absolutely despise my commute)

going onto a train car hand in hand with nikto and it’s not so bad at first. it’s a little crowded but you’re not shoulder to shoulder with anybody (except nikto).. until the next station over where a whole flood of people get on and it turns into nikto essentially caging you into the train wall with his body.

the thing about nikto is that he and everything about him; from his height, to his built body, and even down to the aura he exudes. it all silently commands respect. so there’s a very, very clear distinction between nikto’s space and everyone else’s. and all other passengers aboard tries their damndest not to step into it, at all costs, even if the train is packed to capacity.

he glances down at you, mirth twinkling in his icey blue eyes. “are you ok, rodnaya?” his eyes never leaving yours, even with the intensity of the moving train and the slight sway of the floor.

a little nod from you has them crinkling in a way you’re intimately familiar with, which is when he’s happy. his heart flutters just a tiny bit, overjoyed at being able to protect you and keep you safe, even in mundane happenings like this.

his eyes then survey the train car again, making sure that no one’s too close to you. he leans his head down, murmuring into your ear, “look at them, khoroshenkaya, packed together like sardines in a tin.” he chuckles (unreasonably hot and dangerous considering the situation you’re in) and gently takes your chin in his hand.

“hm, and you.. my little prince/ss. my sweetheart. i’ll do whatever you ask, yes? anything and everything you want.” pressing a chaste kiss to your lips through his black surgeon’s mask.

by the time you and nikto snap out of your shared reverie you’ve missed your initial stop by three stations.

oops.

ah well, riding the train in the opposite direction now just gives him additional time to sweep you off your feet..even if you’re already dating.

˖◛⁺⑅♡

when the doors of the bus swing open, kruger always ushers you inside first. tapping his card twice on the reader (as if he’d ever allow you to pay for anything) and letting you to grasp his hand to lead him to your desired seat.

if space allows, he’d like for you to sit on one of those single seats, facing the aisle with him standing at your side as if he were your knight.

but if there were only those double seats available he’d assist you to sit in the window seat and him, the aisle seat. his arm wrapped around your shoulder and pulling you closer to his chest whenever the bus swerved a bit too hard.

and if there were no seats available?

kruger held onto the overhead grip, his leisurely stance very out of place with the wild way the bus turned this and that direction. his other arm was wrapped firmly against your waist, squeezing you tightly to his side.

“faring well haschen?” his hand rubs up and down your waist soothingly, eyes flitting to yours to see if you’re doing alright.

“yea—ah!” the bus swerves abruptly again, as if out to specifically ruin your day. kruger adapts easily, catching you before you could go flying (as if you weighed nothing), arm casually readjusting around your waist.

he sighs, exasperated from this god awful driving, coaxing you to cling onto him even more.

“hold tight, mausi.” he nuzzles his mouth into the crown of your head, a kiss through his mask. your arms wrap tightly around him, more akin to a python’s grip than an actual hug (he doesn’t mind, he never does). while bored, your eyes hone in on the way his arm tenses and flexes when he has to adjust his grip on the handle, downright ogling at him and his casual strength.

“enjoying the view, schatzi?” you can hear the smirk in his voice when his comment snaps you out of your daze.

“no.” your curt reply a little too fast, a bit petulantly as you bury your face into his chest, slightly flushed. he can only chuckle as he pats your waist comfortingly.

“ ‘s ok mein liebe. you can have more of this view at home.” he spends the remainder of the bus ride just admiring you and your cute little expressions when you catch him staring.

the rest of the ride goes well without a hitch (ie. you didn’t go flying through the bus’ front windows) even if you did get tossed around a bit.

and when the bus finally stops he wraps an arm around your shoulder, ushering you quickly out of the bus and nearly shoulder checking some poor sap on the way out.

kruger is one mean bastard and impatient to boot, and he’s not afraid to show it. ‘tsk-ing’ when someone’s walking too slowly for his liking or taking up too much room on walk ways

he WILL shoulder check someone for the above mentioned, he absolutely would. he’s more than willing to be rude to someone who’s annoying you (or heaven forbid, being MEAN to you, god help them) and in turn, him as well.

if someone’s standing too close or cuts you off when walking he’ll bark out an authoritative “watch it.” or “move.” it always sends people packing. and if it doesn’t? that nasty glare of his and murderous aura always does the trick.

has and will continue to run with you in his arms up and down the stairs. he got so fed up with the crowded stairs one time that he just scooped you up bridal style and ran up those stairs in 5 seconds flat, without even having to take a breath after.

“what mausi?” he questions, playing dumb and shrugging his shoulders. “you can’t just pick me up and run up the stairs seb!” you smack his chest, embarrassed. he laughs it off “well it worked didn’t it? and besides schatzi, what do i have these muscles for if not to help you, hm? i’m retired now, these are all for you.” and well. you can’t be mad at him after that can you?

god help any other passengers that happen to be nearby if both nikto AND kruger are accompanying you on public transport. everybody else would be maintaining a 6ft (minimum) distance from you three at all times, at all costs. (and, hey, no complaints from you, so. /shrug/)

Oooh taking off nikto's mask thoooo

when you saw nikto's face for the first time, it was on a balmy night. you were deployed to a small section of the middle east, hunting down one of zakhaev's groups. but it'd been so, so long, and even a man such as himself, one burdened by the need for revenge, can only wait for so long.

so, you set up camp for the night.

you traded cigarettes with one another. he had the cheap, crude kind-- the sort that you smoke only to take the edge off. (really, you only liked them because his chapped lips touched each one before he passed them onto you.)

you still remember the look in his eyes. he was magnetic, this character that disturbed you but drew you in with every little quip and brooding look. there was-- is-- something about him that you just can't shake.

the night set in, and after smoking for quite a while, you both got into the tent. it was small. if a strong wind came through, it would've knock it down with the two of you in it. but you weren't nervous, not with nikto around.

he always wore a face-covering, often a mix of fabrics and tactile material. you knew of the campfire tales from your rookie days of what he endured, of how zakhaev tortured him, each story more exaggerated than the last. you don't really know what happened, you just know it was bad enough for him to always hide behind a mask.

like a fool, you asked him about it. and he answered by turning around, presenting the clasp to you, daring you to release him from the measly pieces keeping the mask together.

you did. your fingers hesitated before undoing the clasp, but you did it. he did not flinch-- he wasn't bluffing or trying to prove a point. he just let you do it, and you weren't sure of why. maybe it was because you were alone, or that he liked that your mouth touched his cigarettes, or maybe he just wanted to give you something to write home about.

was he beautiful, or ugly? was he "atrocious" and "blighted by scars?" maybe. maybe not. this character that people formed, that he played into, was not all it was made out to be. he looked just as tired as everybody else, just as sullen. you saw him as andre that night, not just nikto, the man who kills and terrorizes.

Nikto checking their home security camera, in the living room. His wife is doing yoga. But only in her pullover sweater and underwear. Make it it even worse.

He’s got the BIGGEST hard-on! While on the cargo plane

Ahaha!! I can picture this too tho

He's literally staring at you as you do your yoga so calmly. Fuck, you're in a downward dog? And he gets to see your full ass from the camera's view? The way your underwear just get a little stuck makes him fucking hard, it makes your ass look big as hell.

And he's just there, watching his phone while everyone else prepped to jump from the plane. Nikto couldn't care less, getting to see your pretty bum all in the air, exposed legs moving slowly to adjust positions. Fuck, his pants were so tight on his groin 😩

Then he has to go through the whole mission with a boner, thinking of nothing but you as he risks his life for his job. Ah, but at least the money is going into getting you a new yoga membership :)

@fishsinsareacknowledged @zoloftwithdrawalnausea @frogcereal29 @puracatt @latinoid @xoxunhinged @simping4konig

repost cause tags weren't showing up

God damnit Nikto would have such heavy breaths. From the way his mask is made, full coverage leaving not even a space to breathe even you can tell from a mile away that he had good healthy lungs. Lungs that could bear being squeezed and suffocated for hours and still get a good exercise in.

Something about the way he breathed when he was just using a cloth to cover his face. Something rough about how his throat is scarred and deformed from how much he screamed and begged.

Something about how he liked to breathe you in. A soft almost shy look in his eyes after he ducked down just to get your scent in his lungs, warm, sweet.

Something about how he slowed and quieted his breaths down when you sleep with him. Making sure he doesn't move too much or wake you up with his breaths because it would kill him mentally.

Nikto who accidentally wakes you up because he's having a panic attack about his own breathing. Far too controlled to be comfortable for him to breathe, too soft, too little breaths against the side of your head.

"Nikto are you-"

"We are fine little star-", and he speaks too softly it turns into a wheeze. He wasn't made for whispers.

"Nikto baby, you can breathe, I'm not gonna be-"

"We- we woke you up, forgive us just-"

And he heaves when you pull his head to his chest. Suffocating him in that familiar way his mask normally does, it turned him soft. Weak.

He doesn't speak for a while, just breathing so very heavily against your chest. Your scent dizzying and yet so damn calming. The next time you check on him, he's asleep. They'll talk in the morning.

i submitted one page lol, the direction said 5 pages

i have to lock in right now or i will be so cooked

Nikto baring more than just scars. Something new. Something deep. Something stark against his grizzly ice cold visage.

Nikto with smile lines around his pretty almond eyes. Feline-like eyes all soft and relaxed when he looks at you, glacial blue irises swallowed up by the black of his pupils. It's when he goes back to work that Krueger notices the little creases indented around his shadowy eyes. stern. Cold. But still weeping with the marks of something soft and warm.

Nikto with a big slavic nose. It's so often covered with his mask, and he's always gently nudging you with it. It's beautiful- no matter how many times he rejects the compliment. The happy grumble that leaves his throat when your lips grace against it. It's no longer muffled and trapped against thick taut fabric- a striking feature hidden from sight. Now it hides in your hair. Your neck, the scent of your skin and sweet shampoo replacing the dirty fabric that smells of cold and grit.

Nikto's lips are torn and scarred, and yet they're so warm. Warmed by the tea he drinks with you, warmed by your soft lips gracing his. You let him kiss you. You let him. Your pretty mouth, so good- too good for what he feels he can offer.

He becomes something more than just a hideous snarl, a gnarling dog's bite. Baring his teeth to preserve what's left of his dampened soul, what's left of his tattered body. A corpse aching for more than just coarse dirt.

Your name seldom leaves his gnarling teeth. It's hidden between the seal of grit teeth and firm tongue- it's not meant for anyone else. You gave it to him. Your name exchanging between mouths. between teeth. You gave it to him so sweetly- so easily. As easy as breathing. How could he not give his back for such a gift? He has to protect it. From both comrades and enemies alike. They couldn't appreciate it like him. Not utter it like a prayer, filling his lungs with air and purpose.

Nikto who turns his nose up whenever someone remarks about the little subtle changes about him. Who needs to know? They don't need to know. He's not sweetened. Don't be ridiculous.

Lying has never been his strongest skill. But he can stay silent. He's good at that.

He can keep this secret. His secret.

happy thai new year everyone

1 month difference, references are my saviors (T__T)

it happened again and again, i nap at midnight, i wake up at 9, no more time to do tasks and i keep letting myself nap

i keep lying to myself again and again about really finishing my tasks after a small nap at midnight