Adult-FanFiction.org : Anime

Mind Games and Coffee	By : Solaras Category: Weiß Kreuz > General Views: 5491 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Weiß Kreuz, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 10
- 11
- 12
Disclaimer: Weiss Kreuz is not mine. All its
characters and affiliates are also not mine. Nothing involving Weiss
Kreuz is mine. Sadly this is true.

Author’s Notes: At
last the chapter is here! Yay! I really
should be working on my research project, but… yeah. Yall know how it is. The plot bunnies start attacking, and
everything else goes out the mental window.
Oh with the show…

Review Responses: Aww
lots of reviews this time :)

DakotaRei –
Thanks for being understanding. I know
how it feels to wait for an author to update… it sucks. I should have some downtime after this week,
so maybe the story won’t stay dormant quite so long this time. ^_~

Takeda - *Blush*
that’s so nice of you to say. It’s a
nice counter to the critic in my head.
As for plot… well I’m trying, succeeding is another matter. Oh and see chapter! Call off Farfie please *_* whimper.

Annime – Thank
you for your honesty. I can relate to
being disgruntled over discontinued stories.
I can’t promise to update often, at least right now; although, I may
have spurts where I do, depending on school and work. But I have no intention of abandoning the
story. I have no delusions that I will
be able to quickly update and finish, but I also know that I am stubborn enough
to not give up. This is very much a
WIP. At first I just wrote what is now
Chapter 1, thinking of posting it as a one-shot. Obviously that evolved into a BxS, and now
evolution continues. I know where the
story is going now, and I hope with a little patience readers will either stick
with me, or rediscover the story later. I’m
a lousy author, and I know that (I’ve seen so many better than me), but I hope
to see you again in this story’s future.

Charis – Yes it
continues! I love my story too, well
actually I hate it most of the time cause it’s a convoluted piece of *beep beep
beep*, but I’d hate to see it die. Just
hang in there, check back once a month and you never know one of these days
I’ll finish it.

Schuldig – I
remember you! Welcome back. I need to watch
the series again myself. I just had to
put in plot. *sigh* Well I don’t know
about the update soon part, but it’s me, so your probably used to that. Haha I’m such a bad author. Anyway welcome back. It makes me happy to see that readers are
finding the story again.

Random Loser – I
remember you too! Yay, it’s like a reunion only without my annoying
relatives.    Just keep checking back
every now and again and will have updated eventually. I vow to not abandon this story. Schwarz would probably kill me if I did. ^_^

~telepathy~ aka communicating

/thoughts/ aka Schuldig reading someone’s mind

German Words:

Ja - Yes

Was – What

Ich - I

Chapter Eleven

            Schuldig
sat in the floor of the hall bathroom.
He idly twirled a matted lock of blood painted hair. Previously he had seen to Farfarello, making
sure he went to his own bathroom to clean up.
Crawford and Farfarello had claimed the larger bedrooms, which included
their own bath; the Irishman so he could clean and bandage himself at all
hours, and Crawford because he was Crawford.
The precog would be upset if the two of them stained everything
burgundy. Dried blood never looked as
sharp as the freshly spilt kind. After
the stuff began to congeal, it was just a sticky mess, and after dried, it was
just annoying. Schuldig scrapped at his
nails.

            The
telepath usually didn’t get so involved in Farfarello’s escapades. Sure he aided in the targeting, finding
someone alone and with no one waiting for them.
Often he helped hold the victim down initially, but he usually didn’t
get his hands so dirty. The hunt was
Farfarello’s, and so was the twisted art that spawned from it. Schuldig liked long range methods of killing,
guns and mental attacks, but occasionally he added his own artistic touch. Occasionally he got a little too swept up in
the red vortex that was Farfarello.
Farfarello’s mind careened about in deadly joyride fashion. One false move would demolish control. While the initial rush swept Schuldig along a
rollercoaster high, coming down resembled bungee jumping with a non-elastic
rope.

            “You should
be more careful.”

            “But it’s
fun Dad,” Schuldig said with a laugh. He
quickly stopped and cradled his head.

            “And the
side effects?” Brad said more softly.

            “Fun
outweighs them.”

            “Only while
the fun lasts.”

            “It was fun
then.”

            “Is it fun
now?” Brad asked as he moved in from the doorway.

            “My head
hurts.”

            “Did you
take something?” Brad sidestepped the
prone German, and turned on the shower.

            “Ja.”

            “What?”

            “Don’t
worry, not the good stuff. I won’t be
passing out. It’s not that bad,”
Schuldig replied, which Brad acknowledged with a nod. The precog stuck a washcloth under the
spray. “Just a little carried away,
that’s all.”

            “You know
better,” Brad said firmly.

            “Don’t preach
to me,” Schuldig growled, “you’re not…”
Schuldig winced at his own overly loud voice.

            “Not a
telepath, no. Have I ever claimed to
be? I do, however, know what you are
capable of.”

            “Not the
same.”

            “Retain
more control around Farfarello. Don’t
get distracted.”

            “I’m not
distracted” Schuldig quickly parried.

            “And the
last few days?”

            “It’s
nothing.”

            “Schuldig,”
Brad sighed. He knelt down in front of
the telepath, who had his head resting on his knees. Gently Brad tilted Schuldig’s face up, and
began wiping away the blood crusting his eyelashes together. He removed the hideously clashing yellow
headband. “I think this one’s ruined,”
Brad remarked.

            “I have
another one,” Schuldig said. Headache in
the beginning of recession, he opened his eyes.
Drops of honey scrutinized him in return. Schuldig watched as the steam from the shower
began to cover Brad’s glasses. “You
should get contacts.”

            “Glasses
are easier.”

            “You hide
behind them.”

            “I don’t
hide.”

            “You hide
from me.”

            “What’s
that supposed to mean?”

            “Behind
glasses, suits, work, the length of a desk, and those fucking mental shields,”
Schuldig snapped. “What if I said I was
serious?”

            “Schuldig…”

            “I’m not
drunk. What if I said I was serious,
right now?”

            “Serious
about what?” Brad questioned as he
leaned away.

            “You know
what I’m talking about! Don’t assume
that because I can’t read your mind, I don’t know anything. I’m trained to analyze people.”

            “And I
strategize and plan. Outcomes and
consequences. Focus and control.”

            “Screw
control and consequences!”

            “That’s the
kind of thinking that got you here, sitting on the bathroom floor,” Brad stated
calmly. “You need to be more aware of
consequences.”

            “Telling my
future, Herr Crawford?” Schuldig sneered.

            “There is
no future, only possibilities.”

            “And what ‘possibility’
bothers you about this,” Schuldig hissed before hurling himself on top of the
stunned precog.

            Brad’s head
thumped against the tile floor, narrowly missing the toilet. Schuldig took advantage of the ensuing gasp,
to snake his tongue in his captive’s mouth before Brad could protest. The telepath ignored his remaining headache,
as he gripped Brad’s chin with one bloodstained hand. In an unconscious gesture, Schuldig mimicked
his own previous captive state, but with a change of cast. He pinned the precog’s wrists with a death
grip, hoping that his leverage would hold out against the boxer’s superior
strength.

            The kiss was hard and angry. Schuldig swept his tongue along the roof of
Brad’s mouth, his teeth, his gums; mapping and claiming with every stroke. He felt the rough pad of Brad’s tongue along
the smooth bottom of his, and hummed his appreciation. Brad was kissing him back. No matter what had been or would be said, or
what was and wouldn’t be; Brad was kissing him back. The past could be blurred and the future
denied, but not the present. Schuldig pulled
back slightly, sucking on Brad’s bruised bottom lip.

            “What could
possibly be so wrong, Brad?” Schuldig’s
words were more breathed into Brad than spoken, as the telepath opened his eyes
to stare at his captive’s, hoping for something in return. A stray thought, a crack in the ever
impressive shields, or even a word, anything that would let him in. Crawford closed his eyes, shutting Schuldig
out, and turned his head. Eyes the color
of dead leaves opened behind a barrier of translucent glass, and stared
steadily at the base of the vanity. The
voice that followed the action was crisp and level.

            “Takatori is
going to hurt you, and I have to let him.”
Schuldig jerked, as if struck, and levered his upper body off the
oracle.

            “Was?”

            “Farfarello
too.”

            “Brad…”

            “It has to
happen this way.” Schuldig moved off
Crawford completely, and sat with his back against the tub, his gaze fixed on
the prostrate figure before him.

            “What has
to happen Brad?” the telepath asked in a voice not quite stable. “We’re Schwarz, and you said; no we all
agreed that we look out for each other!”
Brad picked himself up the floor, and in an uncharacteristic move,
hesitated.

            “I… just be
you, Schuldig. Play your games. I won’t stop you.” Brad made a move towards the door, but the
telepath grabbed him by the shoulder and wheeled him around.

            “Damn right
you won’t. What’s going on? Hell if I’m going to listen to you, if you
don’t have my back. Tell me what’s
happening!” Schuldig near screamed,
forcing eye contract; once again trying to find some kind of sign within the
sealed mind before him.

            “Do you
trust me with Schwarz, Schuldig?” Crawford
asked as he held the telepath’s gaze.

            “You’re
such a bastard, Crawford.”

            “Do you
trust me to plan for Schwarz?”

            “Ich…” Crawford brushed the back of his hand along
the redhead’s jaw line, and cupped his chin in a soothing gesture.

            “Do you
trust me?”

            “Ja.”

            “Then play
your games.”

            “With
who? What target?”

            “Weiss.”



End Chapter

What is it with this story and short chapters? Every chapter demands to end much sooner than
I originally wanted. Oh well, maybe in
the end it will seem coherent or something like that. Anyway, I can’t promise when I will update
again, as I am in the middle of a bunch of research for school. Maybe plot bunnies will attack again. See everyone next time.

Solaras

PS – Writing review responses got me thinking and I wanted
to say, well first off, thank you to everyone who keeps checking the story even
though I’m slow to update, but also I wanted to let everyone know that I have
no intention to abandon the story; even if it takes a long time to finish it. I may have reports to write and work to go
to, but this story is always on the backburner waiting for some free time. Now for real… thanks and see you next
chapter.

God, I’m such a sap.
I get a little support, and it goes straight to my head…

Night ladies and gents
- 10
- 11
- 12
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Mind Games and Coffee