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cicerFandom: Weiss Kreuz
Pairing: Crawford/Schuldig
Notes: Written many, many moons ago for the![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
stagesoflove Seven Deadly Sins challenge. ETA 10/07: Greed drabble added
Pride: Ego
Crawford was a man who took pride in his work, and in his abilities and accomplishments. He knew that he had power, much more power than so many others could ever dream of. He enjoyed the control that his abilities afforded him and he exploited that imbalance of power at every opportunity. He took pleasure in every vision of destruction to come and savored each moment of killing when it finally arrived. When he looked down at his enemy, when he held their lives in his hands, he enjoyed the rush of power and the knowledge that in that moment he held complete control. His decision, his very whims would dictate whether someone lived or died. It was a heady feeling, one he did not hesitate to thoroughly enjoy.
Crawford liked to feel this control in every aspect of his life. When he wasn’t using his abilities to end the lives of others, he liked to exert his control over his teammates. He made Nagi write and rewrite reports just to revel in the sense of power. He would secure Farfarello in his straightjacket in his cell for the same reason, to know that he was the one in control of when Farfarello would get out. He knew that in that moment Farfarello hated him most because he was god.
But his favorite thing was to tie Schuldig down and ravish him until he screamed, until he begged, until Crawford could drown in the glorious feelings of power and control.
Crawford reveled in the knowledge of his power.
Envy: Jealousy
Schuldig drowned himself in his first cup of coffee of the day and tried to block out the sounds of thousands of people’s minds, stirring and awakening, the growing mass of tangled thoughts. He tried to distract himself. The TV was on. He spared a glance at the couch where Farfarello and Nagi were sitting watching a program. Their esteemed leader was still in the shower.
Fucking Takatori. He had decided that he wanted them to come in early today for some reason, so they’d all had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to rush over. But they couldn’t leave without Crawford, who was taking his sweet time getting ready.
Schuldig wondered if Crawford was deliberately taking a long time just to jerk them around and further assert the fact that he was the one in charge. Schuldig wouldn’t put it past him.
Bastard. He always had to be in control. Always had to be the one giving orders. Schuldig didn’t mind the whole I-am-the-alpha-male attitude once in awhile. After all, he enjoyed manipulating others as much as anyone else. He could understand it and respect it. But Crawford had a tendency to take it too far, and Schuldig didn’t much like being anyone’s puppet, not even Crawford’s.
It was because of his talent, probably. It was easy to be in control when you always knew what was going to happen. Schuldig hated it. More to the point, he envied it. If he had the power Crawford did, he’d be only too happy to give Crawford a taste of his own medicine, show him what control looked like from the other side. Schuldig grinned darkly at the thought.
If only.
With a wistful sigh, Schuldig returned to his coffee and the voices in his head.
Wrath: Reconciliation
Crawford does not particularly like fighting with Schuldig, especially because it is so hard to anticipate what he will do next. It is even harder, if not impossible to keep track of what, exactly, Schuldig’s mood is at the time. Schuldig’s moods change more quickly that the winds, and usually his bad ones will pass over quickly. As soon as he’s found something new to amuse and entertain himself with, he’ll forget whatever it was he was angry about. But sometimes Schuldig settle into a black mood over some perceived slight that he refuses to be shaken out of. The sheer amount of destruction that Schuldig can incur while in such a mood demands that Crawford intervene, as much as he is loathe to do so.
Usually, if Crawford was to attempt to shake Schuldig out of one of his hissy fits he would do so by trying to distract him. Sex, or a new toy of some kind, usually worked best. At the moment, however, Schuldig had locked himself in his room. Crawford sighed, and was glad that Nagi and Farfarello were out at the moment. Their presence when Schuldig was in one of his moods generally only made things worse. Well, he supposed the first step to restoring relative peace in the household would be to get Schuldig to open the door.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly on the door. “Schuldig?”
“Go away!” Schuldig yelled.
Crawford tried the door. It was locked, but the lock was relatively cheap. Crawford considered his options. Schwarz had a job to do tonight, and he really had to get Schuldig out of his room, no matter the cost. He winced. After a moment of thought, he gave the doorknob a firm twist and snapped the lock. He stepped into the room.
It was times like this he was very grateful for his particular gift. He Foresaw the lamp being thrown at his head and ducked.
Lust: Vitality
The sheets were sticky and Schuldig clutched at them as Crawford moved above him.
Head thrown back, Schuldig gasped for breath and grinned. He loved this, the thrill the pain, the exquisite pleasure, the whole package. He enjoyed every minute of it.
Sex, Schuldig felt, was truly underrated. It was too often brushed off as a cheap, immoral activity that wasn’t truly satisfying. Of course, the people who thought that way were generally the sort of losers who liked to pretend that they were very proper people. But Schuldig could see right into their thoughts, their dirty little secrets. Sure, they might pass themselves off as virtuous people. They’d get married, pop out a few kids, go to church on Sundays, and decry all the sex in the media and the lack of morality in popular culture. Then they’d take their wife’s minivan and go off and get a blowjob from a cheap whore. Or they’d invite the poolboy in for lemonade and whole lot more while their husband was busy at work.
Hypocrites. They were as obsessed with sex as everyone else; they just thought it made them look better to pretend that they weren’t.
Schuldig freely admitted that he loved sex. He loved the feeling of sliding into warm flesh, digging his fingers into hips and thighs until the skin underneath his hands bruised. He loved slipping his fingers under his partner’s clothes and yanking them off, and then having his own clothes ripped off his body. He loved being shoved onto the nearest available piece of furniture and fucked until he screamed.
Schuldig grunted as Crawford moved suddenly, thrusting hard.
Fortunately for him, Crawford was just as enthusiastic. Somehow, people tended to be surprised by that. But Crawford wasn’t a prude at all, he was just reserved. He never really hid his enjoyment of sex, just toned it down. Saved it for the right time. Really, though, Schuldig knew that Crawford loved sex as much as he did.
Schuldig arched as Crawford suddenly bit his shoulder, hard. “You’re not paying attention,” Crawford growled into his ear. Schuldig grinned.
Yeah, Crawford was just as much of a pervert as he was. And he was very, very glad.
Gluttony: Deceit
Crawford had learned long ago to be afraid of Schuldig’s obsessions with anything vaguely edible. Schuldig loved food, especially bad food. He particularly liked incredibly artificial food, the kind that had likely never seen the outside of a chemical lab. Still, as bad as his addiction to artificial foods was, it was not as bad as his cooking. And Schuldig especially liked to cook.
He could barely boil water, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to cook. No matter how many his experiments in the kitchen resembled toxic waste, no matter how many times he nearly destroyed the entire house, no matter how much his teammates begged him for mercy and to stop cooking, he persisted.
Put bluntly, Schuldig’s taste in food resembled his taste in clothing: bad. He seemed to always want to combine things that should never be put together.
His latest creation was some kind of stew with several unrecognizable and highly suspicious ingredients. Which may have been the reason Crawford was hiding in his study. Not that he would admit he was hiding. He hated to acknowledge that he was hiding from his own teammate’s cooking. But he supposed no one would think any less of him for it. After all, he knew Nagi and Farfarello were hiding downstairs themselves.
Crawford was pulled from his thoughts as Schuldig burst into the room cheerfully.
“Brad! I made stew! Want to try it?” Crawford grimaced as Schuldig offered him the pan, waiting expectantly.
A quick glance into the immediate future told Crawford that the wrong answer would have him sleeping on the couch for a week.
Schuldig shoved a spoonful of the steaming mixture at him, beaming, and with a wince, Crawford reluctantly took it and swallowed.
“Well?” Schuldig asked.
“Delicious,” Crawford croaked. He managed to wait until Schuldig left the room before running for the bathroom.
Sloth: Reflection
Waking up was a blurry process. Schuldig blearily swam towards consciousness and awoke to find himself half-sprawled across the bed and nearly falling off. The dull hum of voices in his mind grew a little louder; the sound of a thousand minds stirring to life. Flickers of foreign thoughts drifted across his mind.
where did she put my keys
have to make the kid’s cereal
ugh what the hell did I do last night
fucking alarm clock
maybe I’ll just call in sick to work
Schuldig stretched and groggily batted away the tangle of thoughts. He shifted over and turned to look out the window. Rain. The streets looked cold and wet. Schuldig briefly relished the thought that he was safely inside where it was warm and dry. Shifting under the warm, fluffy covers, he agreed with himself that he was very glad to be inside. He cheerfully entertained the idea of staying in bed all day. Nothing much else that had to be done anyway. One of the perks of being an evil telepathic assassin was being able to set your own hours.
Schuldig carefully sent out tendrils of thought to his teammates. Still asleep, all of them. He poked experimentally into Nagi’s dreams and was immediately amused at the expanse of technological and computer software that greeted him. Nagi couldn’t be a normal teenager, no; he had to have wet dreams about computer equipment.
Farfarello’s dreams were unsurprising and dull, filled with a lot of religious imagery and bloodshed. Schuldig liked violence as much as anyone, probably more so, but there really was more to life. With a tsk, he pulled his mind out of Farfarello’s and settled into the mind of the man lying in bed next to him.
He liked Crawford’s mind. It was always a cool, methodical hum at the surface, and a rich, simmering storm underneath. Sifting gently through his sleeping thoughts, Schuldig was thrilled to discover the nature of the dream he was interrupting. Sex dreams were his favorites, after all, especially ones starring himself.
Grinning, Schuldig curled further against Crawford. Maybe it was time to wake him up and make his dreams come true, so to speak. Schuldig decided that he would take this as an opportunity to enact his previous goal of staying in bed all day.
He had a feeling Crawford wouldn’t object.
Greed: Obession
Crawford handled his financial investments very carefully. He paid strict attention to his stocks, then rates of interest in his bank accounts (of which he had several), and dozen of other smaller investments. He was careful with his finances. He had several accounts all over the world, out of necessity, and some just in case. It was important to him. Money provided a special kind of power, it could do things that even violence and supernatural abilities couldn’t.
And he had to take care of these things himself. While he had quite a few brokers and other experts he consulted for information and advice, he handled everything personally and made all the decisions himself. He didn’t trust anyone else to take care of things properly.
He certainly couldn’t look to his teammates. None of them knew or cared about finances, choosing to either spend money like water, or not at all. Money meant little to them; they didn’t understand how important it could be.
Schuldig laughed at him sometimes, poking fun at Crawford tendency to hoard money, and check up on his investments obsessively. He supposed that Schuldig simply thought he was greedy. Crawford ignored him. He didn’t understand.
Pairing: Crawford/Schuldig
Notes: Written many, many moons ago for the
stagesoflove Seven Deadly Sins challenge. ETA 10/07: Greed drabble addedPride: Ego
Crawford was a man who took pride in his work, and in his abilities and accomplishments. He knew that he had power, much more power than so many others could ever dream of. He enjoyed the control that his abilities afforded him and he exploited that imbalance of power at every opportunity. He took pleasure in every vision of destruction to come and savored each moment of killing when it finally arrived. When he looked down at his enemy, when he held their lives in his hands, he enjoyed the rush of power and the knowledge that in that moment he held complete control. His decision, his very whims would dictate whether someone lived or died. It was a heady feeling, one he did not hesitate to thoroughly enjoy.
Crawford liked to feel this control in every aspect of his life. When he wasn’t using his abilities to end the lives of others, he liked to exert his control over his teammates. He made Nagi write and rewrite reports just to revel in the sense of power. He would secure Farfarello in his straightjacket in his cell for the same reason, to know that he was the one in control of when Farfarello would get out. He knew that in that moment Farfarello hated him most because he was god.
But his favorite thing was to tie Schuldig down and ravish him until he screamed, until he begged, until Crawford could drown in the glorious feelings of power and control.
Crawford reveled in the knowledge of his power.
Envy: Jealousy
Schuldig drowned himself in his first cup of coffee of the day and tried to block out the sounds of thousands of people’s minds, stirring and awakening, the growing mass of tangled thoughts. He tried to distract himself. The TV was on. He spared a glance at the couch where Farfarello and Nagi were sitting watching a program. Their esteemed leader was still in the shower.
Fucking Takatori. He had decided that he wanted them to come in early today for some reason, so they’d all had to get up at the ass-crack of dawn to rush over. But they couldn’t leave without Crawford, who was taking his sweet time getting ready.
Schuldig wondered if Crawford was deliberately taking a long time just to jerk them around and further assert the fact that he was the one in charge. Schuldig wouldn’t put it past him.
Bastard. He always had to be in control. Always had to be the one giving orders. Schuldig didn’t mind the whole I-am-the-alpha-male attitude once in awhile. After all, he enjoyed manipulating others as much as anyone else. He could understand it and respect it. But Crawford had a tendency to take it too far, and Schuldig didn’t much like being anyone’s puppet, not even Crawford’s.
It was because of his talent, probably. It was easy to be in control when you always knew what was going to happen. Schuldig hated it. More to the point, he envied it. If he had the power Crawford did, he’d be only too happy to give Crawford a taste of his own medicine, show him what control looked like from the other side. Schuldig grinned darkly at the thought.
If only.
With a wistful sigh, Schuldig returned to his coffee and the voices in his head.
Wrath: Reconciliation
Crawford does not particularly like fighting with Schuldig, especially because it is so hard to anticipate what he will do next. It is even harder, if not impossible to keep track of what, exactly, Schuldig’s mood is at the time. Schuldig’s moods change more quickly that the winds, and usually his bad ones will pass over quickly. As soon as he’s found something new to amuse and entertain himself with, he’ll forget whatever it was he was angry about. But sometimes Schuldig settle into a black mood over some perceived slight that he refuses to be shaken out of. The sheer amount of destruction that Schuldig can incur while in such a mood demands that Crawford intervene, as much as he is loathe to do so.
Usually, if Crawford was to attempt to shake Schuldig out of one of his hissy fits he would do so by trying to distract him. Sex, or a new toy of some kind, usually worked best. At the moment, however, Schuldig had locked himself in his room. Crawford sighed, and was glad that Nagi and Farfarello were out at the moment. Their presence when Schuldig was in one of his moods generally only made things worse. Well, he supposed the first step to restoring relative peace in the household would be to get Schuldig to open the door.
Taking a deep breath, he knocked lightly on the door. “Schuldig?”
“Go away!” Schuldig yelled.
Crawford tried the door. It was locked, but the lock was relatively cheap. Crawford considered his options. Schwarz had a job to do tonight, and he really had to get Schuldig out of his room, no matter the cost. He winced. After a moment of thought, he gave the doorknob a firm twist and snapped the lock. He stepped into the room.
It was times like this he was very grateful for his particular gift. He Foresaw the lamp being thrown at his head and ducked.
Lust: Vitality
The sheets were sticky and Schuldig clutched at them as Crawford moved above him.
Head thrown back, Schuldig gasped for breath and grinned. He loved this, the thrill the pain, the exquisite pleasure, the whole package. He enjoyed every minute of it.
Sex, Schuldig felt, was truly underrated. It was too often brushed off as a cheap, immoral activity that wasn’t truly satisfying. Of course, the people who thought that way were generally the sort of losers who liked to pretend that they were very proper people. But Schuldig could see right into their thoughts, their dirty little secrets. Sure, they might pass themselves off as virtuous people. They’d get married, pop out a few kids, go to church on Sundays, and decry all the sex in the media and the lack of morality in popular culture. Then they’d take their wife’s minivan and go off and get a blowjob from a cheap whore. Or they’d invite the poolboy in for lemonade and whole lot more while their husband was busy at work.
Hypocrites. They were as obsessed with sex as everyone else; they just thought it made them look better to pretend that they weren’t.
Schuldig freely admitted that he loved sex. He loved the feeling of sliding into warm flesh, digging his fingers into hips and thighs until the skin underneath his hands bruised. He loved slipping his fingers under his partner’s clothes and yanking them off, and then having his own clothes ripped off his body. He loved being shoved onto the nearest available piece of furniture and fucked until he screamed.
Schuldig grunted as Crawford moved suddenly, thrusting hard.
Fortunately for him, Crawford was just as enthusiastic. Somehow, people tended to be surprised by that. But Crawford wasn’t a prude at all, he was just reserved. He never really hid his enjoyment of sex, just toned it down. Saved it for the right time. Really, though, Schuldig knew that Crawford loved sex as much as he did.
Schuldig arched as Crawford suddenly bit his shoulder, hard. “You’re not paying attention,” Crawford growled into his ear. Schuldig grinned.
Yeah, Crawford was just as much of a pervert as he was. And he was very, very glad.
Gluttony: Deceit
Crawford had learned long ago to be afraid of Schuldig’s obsessions with anything vaguely edible. Schuldig loved food, especially bad food. He particularly liked incredibly artificial food, the kind that had likely never seen the outside of a chemical lab. Still, as bad as his addiction to artificial foods was, it was not as bad as his cooking. And Schuldig especially liked to cook.
He could barely boil water, but that didn’t stop him from attempting to cook. No matter how many his experiments in the kitchen resembled toxic waste, no matter how many times he nearly destroyed the entire house, no matter how much his teammates begged him for mercy and to stop cooking, he persisted.
Put bluntly, Schuldig’s taste in food resembled his taste in clothing: bad. He seemed to always want to combine things that should never be put together.
His latest creation was some kind of stew with several unrecognizable and highly suspicious ingredients. Which may have been the reason Crawford was hiding in his study. Not that he would admit he was hiding. He hated to acknowledge that he was hiding from his own teammate’s cooking. But he supposed no one would think any less of him for it. After all, he knew Nagi and Farfarello were hiding downstairs themselves.
Crawford was pulled from his thoughts as Schuldig burst into the room cheerfully.
“Brad! I made stew! Want to try it?” Crawford grimaced as Schuldig offered him the pan, waiting expectantly.
A quick glance into the immediate future told Crawford that the wrong answer would have him sleeping on the couch for a week.
Schuldig shoved a spoonful of the steaming mixture at him, beaming, and with a wince, Crawford reluctantly took it and swallowed.
“Well?” Schuldig asked.
“Delicious,” Crawford croaked. He managed to wait until Schuldig left the room before running for the bathroom.
Sloth: Reflection
Waking up was a blurry process. Schuldig blearily swam towards consciousness and awoke to find himself half-sprawled across the bed and nearly falling off. The dull hum of voices in his mind grew a little louder; the sound of a thousand minds stirring to life. Flickers of foreign thoughts drifted across his mind.
where did she put my keys
have to make the kid’s cereal
ugh what the hell did I do last night
fucking alarm clock
maybe I’ll just call in sick to work
Schuldig stretched and groggily batted away the tangle of thoughts. He shifted over and turned to look out the window. Rain. The streets looked cold and wet. Schuldig briefly relished the thought that he was safely inside where it was warm and dry. Shifting under the warm, fluffy covers, he agreed with himself that he was very glad to be inside. He cheerfully entertained the idea of staying in bed all day. Nothing much else that had to be done anyway. One of the perks of being an evil telepathic assassin was being able to set your own hours.
Schuldig carefully sent out tendrils of thought to his teammates. Still asleep, all of them. He poked experimentally into Nagi’s dreams and was immediately amused at the expanse of technological and computer software that greeted him. Nagi couldn’t be a normal teenager, no; he had to have wet dreams about computer equipment.
Farfarello’s dreams were unsurprising and dull, filled with a lot of religious imagery and bloodshed. Schuldig liked violence as much as anyone, probably more so, but there really was more to life. With a tsk, he pulled his mind out of Farfarello’s and settled into the mind of the man lying in bed next to him.
He liked Crawford’s mind. It was always a cool, methodical hum at the surface, and a rich, simmering storm underneath. Sifting gently through his sleeping thoughts, Schuldig was thrilled to discover the nature of the dream he was interrupting. Sex dreams were his favorites, after all, especially ones starring himself.
Grinning, Schuldig curled further against Crawford. Maybe it was time to wake him up and make his dreams come true, so to speak. Schuldig decided that he would take this as an opportunity to enact his previous goal of staying in bed all day.
He had a feeling Crawford wouldn’t object.
Greed: Obession
Crawford handled his financial investments very carefully. He paid strict attention to his stocks, then rates of interest in his bank accounts (of which he had several), and dozen of other smaller investments. He was careful with his finances. He had several accounts all over the world, out of necessity, and some just in case. It was important to him. Money provided a special kind of power, it could do things that even violence and supernatural abilities couldn’t.
And he had to take care of these things himself. While he had quite a few brokers and other experts he consulted for information and advice, he handled everything personally and made all the decisions himself. He didn’t trust anyone else to take care of things properly.
He certainly couldn’t look to his teammates. None of them knew or cared about finances, choosing to either spend money like water, or not at all. Money meant little to them; they didn’t understand how important it could be.
Schuldig laughed at him sometimes, poking fun at Crawford tendency to hoard money, and check up on his investments obsessively. He supposed that Schuldig simply thought he was greedy. Crawford ignored him. He didn’t understand.
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-05 09:16 pm (UTC)Schuldig arched as Crawford suddenly bit his shoulder, hard. “You’re not paying attention,” Crawford growled into his ear. Schuldig grinned.
This and the description of Crawford's mind make my inner fangirl dance in glee. Seriously, "a cool, methodical hum at the surface, and a rich, simmering storm underneath" - beautiful. ^__^
no subject
Date: 2005-10-06 01:49 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 05:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-05-29 06:41 pm (UTC)