Dreck

Sitting together? He’ll put his arm around your waist, his hand almost resting on your hip. Carrying you? He's a gentleman, avoiding any "danger zones". And when he walks past you and you feel like it's the perfect moment for a light spank, he just passes by, letting his eyes drift down for a moment but never making a move.

You were about to tell him to just go for it, but then, during a hug, you feel him dip lower than he should, his hands sliding down. You almost laugh when you finally felt his palms on your butt, because with the height gap, he had to bend down so low it was almost comical. You let out a tiny laugh and hugged him tighter, silently telling him it was okay.

I got my new helmet yesterday. Gonna grab a helmet cover and a headset for it soon, maybe even next week

Nikto is back at the base. But if he usually goes through his gear with an empty head, distancing himself from the outside noise, now something is churning inside.

He shouldn't be thinking about this so much. But the conversations in his head won't let him forget.

The thing is, a few days ago someone approached Nikto with a question about you. It wasn't a conversation specifically about you, more of a general question about what Nikto does with his permanent residence during long absences. Nikto answered briefly that you live there and keep things from gathering dust. But as the conversation went on, the question surfaced as to why you two live together even when Nikto returns.

The person he was talking to doesn't know the details of your cohabitation. But the mere fact of this indirect conversation about it set off a wave of discussions in his head. And now he can't empty his mind.

The thought is very simple — why does Nikto want to see you in his home forever so badly? One of the main voices answered curtly that it's simply convenient with you. Another followed up, asking why that is. What are you doing that makes Nikto not even entertain the thought of you no longer living with him. A third voice adds fuel to the fire, asking since when did it become normal to periodically have sex with you and let you touch him wherever you want.

"Мы, видимо, где-то мощно проебались... (We've massively fucked up somewhere, apparently...)" the main voice quietly utters, raising his elbow and tiredly covering his eyes with it.

Nikto was certain there was nothing between you but the formal relationship of a homeowner and his temporary caretaker. But every thought that you might, in theory, go somewhere else makes Nikto grit his teeth and clench his fists.

Not one of the voices in his head wants to let you go.

You were worried. The last few days, König had been different. Quieter. For some reason, he'd stopped "accidentally" hugging you in the hallway. And overall, he'd started almost avoiding contact. You thought that confessing you're a system had pushed him away. On top of that, one of your parts had been extremely harsh with him recently...

Today, you couldn't take it anymore. You needed to corner him and ask if everything was alright.

You knocked softly, but he didn't answer. Knocked again. And this time, you opened the door without waiting for a response, afraid he'd simply decided to ignore you.

The room was dark, only the dim glow of a tablet providing any light. König had fallen asleep, his head dropped onto his shoulder. And, since the tablet was still on, your gaze slipped uncontrollably to the screen, catching on the open browser.

Hundreds of tabs. "Dissociative Identity Disorder: A Guide for Partners." "How to Recognize a Switch." "What to Do If an Alter Doesn't Accept You." "Tactile Hunger in Systems." "How to Be Supportive Without Being Overbearing."

An indescribable, warming feeling rose in your chest. König, it turns out, can be this sweet... Apparently, he was simply trying to be caring and to understand you. But you still needed to give him a few personal explanations - otherwise, König might think that since one alter isn't fond of touch, hugging you at all is now forbidden.

You leaned down and gently wrapped your arms around his neck.

Slowly, sleepily, he opened his eyes, and a second later his huge arms half-consciously closed around your back.

Today the plan was to go to the store — the fridge was out of groceries. You look out the window and frown. Mid-April. What the hell is with this blizzard outside?!

Nikto comes up from behind and peers out the window over your shoulder.

"Мы сходим (We'll go)," he says, resting a hand on your other shoulder, then turns away.

You sigh and head to the front door, watching Nikto put on his winter boots and jacket. You slip the wallet into his pocket, knowing perfectly well he wouldn't have forgotten it.

"A couple dozen eggs, dumplings, milk, ground meat. And check for a few soup seasonings too. Coffee… and sugar. Want me to write a list?" you recite the shopping list, leaning your shoulder against the wall. Nikto pats the pockets of his jacket and pants, double-checking that the wallet and phone are in place.

"Нет. Мы пошли (No. We're off)," Nikto replies curtly, turning and opening the door.

You see him off with your gaze, staring at the door for a couple more seconds after it closes.

That brief moment with the door open was enough to make you shiver from the cold. And that was just the air from the stairwell… It must be even colder outside.

You go to the kitchen, opening the fridge and verifying that the list you recited was accurate. Maybe you should have added chicken fillet…

The plan was for you to go to the store alone, but since Nikto volunteered himself, let him. It's still his house and let him decide what he wants for dinner.

The apartment holds its usual ringing silence. Almost. A dull thud sounds from above — the upstairs neighbors dropped something. But otherwise, it's dead quiet. So you decide to break it — you walk over to the shelves with CDs, pick a random nineties movie, and slide it into the TV player. Let it create some background noise. And you'll watch it a bit — maybe it'll catch your interest and draw you in.

That's exactly what happened. The movie made you forget about the blizzard outside. But you immediately get up, hearing the turn of a key.

You step into the hallway, seeing Nikto with a couple of full grocery bags. What the hell did he buy? You don't remember the shopping list being that long.

"Welcome back," you say, taking the bags and carrying them to the kitchen to put everything away.

Oh god… A package of your favorite tea, a whole assortment of treats you've been craving the last few days.

Seems Nikto knows better than you what needs to be bought. The bags contain quite a lot of meat products and vegetables that had completely slipped your mind.

You put everything in its place — some in the fridge, some in the freezer, some in the cupboards. After taking off his boots and jacket, Nikto helped unload the bags as well.

Soon, only a few of the treats you wanted right now remained on the table. Sometime in between, Nikto had already turned on the kettle and now took out the mugs.

While he makes tea for the two of you, you come up from behind and gently hug him. He still carries a slight chill of the outdoors.

"Thank you," you say into his back, and after a couple of seconds, you step back, letting go.

He gave a short nod and handed you your mug. Perfect temperature. The taste is perfect too.

Sometimes the thought crosses your mind that, since he's away from home for so long, he must forget a lot about you. It's amazing how he manages to get everything exactly the way you like it best, every single time.

You take the treats and return to the TV, where the movie is still playing.

"Кодекс бесчестия (Code of Dishonor)?" Nikto's voice sounds, and you just shrug in response.

Nikto sits on the couch and pats the spot next to him. You huff and, gripping your mug tighter, sit down on his lap.

He doesn't push you away. So you correctly understand who's in control inside him right now.

Nikto's hand settles on your side, holding you steady. You place your palm over it, stroking gently with your thumb. Your gaze turns to the screen, continuing to watch the movie.

Outside, snow is still falling in flakes, bringing december back to april. But a warm man, tea, and your favorite treats keep the cold at bay.

The only thing i actually own from the planned list right now is a toy remington haha I’m gonna buy the airsoft replicas last. Those things cost a fortune

I really want to replace the helmet. My current MICH 2000 is the size of a giant bucket and I look like a literal mushroom in it The gloves need to be swapped from fingerless to full-finger (safety first for airsoft) and probably a size down Everything else is just a matter of time

The biggest struggle is definitely going to be the NVGs… I don’t exactly trust aliexpress with something like that

You don't know why, but after approaching Krueger with a knife in plain sight, you end up behind him in a sharp movement. From behind, you press the knife to his throat. With the dull side. Deliberately, so as not to wound him, because it's… just a joke. You just couldn't suppress your impulsive urge to make such a vile joke.

You planned to remove the knife after a couple of seconds and show that the blade was turned the wrong way, to reassure him, and then laugh about it together. Or maybe you'd get smacked upside the head for "jokes" like that. Also acceptable; you deserved it.

But the moment you meant to pull the knife away, a chuckle came from Krueger, suspiciously resembling a moan.

Krueger spun around and pinned you against the nearest surface, gripping your wrist until it hurt. The knife pressed its sharp edge against his throat.

"I like it better this way. Don't mix it up next time." His voice came out almost like a growl, laced with a strange enjoyment of the situation.

You can literally feel his breathing grow heavier from the moment the blade touched his throat.

Krueger is holding your wrist too tightly. It hurts. You want to pull your hand back, but you feel the blade shift slightly. Because of the mesh, you can't see the damage, but subconsciously you know a thin red line has appeared on Krueger's neck.

You didn't notice how your heart started pounding a frantic rhythm. You wounded him. You didn't mean to hurt him with this stupid joke. But he made you turn the blade and do it. Damn it. Why does Krueger look so satisfied?

You relax your fingers, letting the knife fall from your hand. A couple of seconds later, Krueger releases your wrist and, picking up the fallen knife, steps back.

You straighten up, adjusting your clothes and trying to look off to the side. You need to apologize…

Suddenly, you notice an outstretched hand. Krueger is holding the knife in a fist, gripping the blade itself, offering you the handle. If you take the knife too quickly now, Krueger's hand will…

You carefully place your open palm under the handle, hoping Krueger will release the blade so you don't have to wound his hands too.

Fortunately, Krueger let go of the blade, and the knife dropped into your palm, your fingers immediately closing around the handle. You promptly stashed the knife far away, to a safe distance.

"Next time, turn the blade the right way and come from behind from the start."

And with that "advice," Krueger left you alone with yourself.

Warnings: 🔞NSFW (non-detailed sex)

Nikto, lying on the bed, stared silently at the ceiling and listened to the book review you were watching. There's only one computer in this house, and it's in Nikto's room.

It's already late evening, time to turn in.

"Закругляйся (Wrap it up)," Nikto says, turning over and checking his phone for just a moment, just to see there are no new notifications.

He didn't see it, but he felt your nod. The voice from the video cut off, and a couple of minutes later, the computer screen went dark.

Nikto fixes his gaze on you and, before you can leave, pats the spot on the bed next to him in invitation. You pause for a second, but then sit on the edge and lie down.

Nikto returned to his home country and stopped in front of his apartment door. He took a silent breath and turned the key. The door opened.

The familiar scent of home. So organically blended with yours.

He doesn't undress, just sheds his jacket and shoes. He moves deeper into the apartment, finding you at the computer. You turn around and wave at him with a barely noticeable smile.

"Welcome back. Want me to heat something up?" Your calm voice sounds as you swivel the chair in his direction.

Nikto steps closer and opens his arms slightly. You stand up and hug him. The man wraps around you gently, burying his face in your neck for a moment with his eyes closed.

You smell like home.

In reality, you aren't connected in any way. Just talked once at the store about picking out some household cleaner. Sometimes ran into each other at the playground in the courtyard. You say he saved your life by offering you to look after the house while he was away. He didn't bother to interfere.

Soon he lets you go, and you disappear into the hallway. The sound of the refrigerator opening. Nikto followed after. The microwave started humming. The kitchen filled with the aroma of food. Mashed potatoes with cutlets. And tasty gravy. Better than mom's, but just as nostalgic.

Nikto was right to let you watch the house.

The food is reheated. You set the tea next to it and stand, leaning against the kitchen table with your own mug.

Nikto sits at the table and pulls the fabric off his head. You pay no attention to his appearance. You've never really cared much about anyone's looks anyway. And Nikto truly feels relieved that you don't ask unnecessary questions about him.