#codz x reader

reader, a misplaced gun for hire catches the (mostly negative) attention of the one they were supposed to kill. what could possibly go wrong?

> tags . dubious consent . fighting . rough sex . tied up . biting . hair pulling . top!richtofen .

> words . 7299

-

You knew exactly what you were there for, orders written in neat calligraphy on expensive paper tucked in the inner pocket of your scraggly jacket that was now covered in bloodstains and dirt. It laid heavy on the soul, yet simultaneously weightless as you lived with the reality of your own reality and the darkness of its existence. You stared at Richtofen often, and with each glimpse you were reminded yet again of the mission, and even still you hadn’t acted on it. Blood dripped from your calloused hands and a puddle lay at your feet, and here you were casually talking to the Doctor that lived and breathed more days than he was supposed to. You let him treat your wounds, surviving together with Dr. Edward Richtofen as your comrade as you reread the letter that ordered for his removal, spoken in complicated words that would only confuse the average person who happened to read its content, but you knew its message all too well.

You remembered the day you received the order, sitting in a medium-sized room covered in fancy paintings and large bookcases, a desk in front of you with everything you’d expect: a pen, a half-drunk mug, a photo in a nice frame and a small stack of paper on the right hand side of the desk. Everything was completely ordinary. Even the figure was completely ordinary, neat and smart as they shook your hand - strong and confident - before sitting down in their chair behind the desk and making idle conversation before they adjusted their tie and set down a piece of paper before you.

Frankly, context meant nothing to you, glancing over the pages of a full character analysis on this guy. Dr. Edward Richtofen. No children, no wife, working closely with a man named Dr. Schuster. You flipped through the words, catching group 935 and illuminati yet it slipped through your mind just as swiftly as it had entered it. You flipped idly to the back page, a comprehensive study of his movements and where to find him. It was an easy acceptance to say the least, the why had no influence on your decision, it wasn’t the first time you had been tasked with the removal of pests within important organisations, fathers and mothers who didn’t even know it was happening until it did, their ending sealed once the money had been placed in your palms.

“You came with excellent references, may I add.” The figure added once you let go of the paper and it fell back to the table, pages stapled together. “I trust you will deal with this situation swiftly. I believe I must pay half upfront?”

You had heard all this praise before as you lean back in the seat, strong and comfortable behind you. “Yes, half now and half after I’ve finished my part of the deal.” You nod slightly, before the question you always ask slips past your lips. “Why? Seems like a pretty simple guy who does his work and goes home.” You didn’t care much for the politics of the hit, only there for a payout, and Group 935 didn’t ring any bells.

The figure became serious, a ghost of a frown appearing on their mostly neutral and professional expression. “He is a traitor. All traitors must be eliminated for the sake of the structural integrity of this whole business. You will see when you read his file… terrible things to be leaked to an outside perspective, especially to one that doesn’t understand the vision.”

You shrug and stand up, “it’ll take about 5 days, give or take.” You offer your hand, which the figure stands up and takes. The two of you shake hands, as if what was agreed was completely normal and a perfectly legitimate business transaction.

Now here you are, stuck in a place of sin and tragedy as you wait patiently to lap up the orders of the one man you were supposed to eliminate. He was arrogant and perverse, totally up his own ass as he sits at the campfire and explains vaguely the situation you were all stuck in. Each time he opened his mouth you daydreamed about strangling him, he wouldn’t go easy, you could tell he was strong and most probably a fighter in such a situation. He’d go for the eyes, clawing into the skin as his lips went purple and he gurgled before going limp under you.

“Ah- but of course- we need to connect the teleporters!” Richtofen places his hands on his lap, and you come back to your senses. He’s sitting up straight, fingers long and bony under the stretched out material of the gloves that were pulled up to the middle of his forearm. He’s painted with one of those faux-smiles that makes him look completely deranged, eyes dark and unfeeling as he manually moves his pupils to each and every one of you.

“You goin’ to tell us how to do that?” You ask, “None of us know what you’re talking about.” You always feel a slight change in the air whenever you talk to him, it’s minuscule and hardly there, but it’s still there nonetheless. You can tell he doesn’t particularly feel for you, there’s nothing there to peel back and observe and he’s bored with what he finds. You’d be offended if you cared.

“Nah, I’m guessing we just link the two together.” Dempsey leans back. “Should be easy- oorah.” Of course it’s Dempsey who responds, molded into his pretty puppet as Richtofen toys and guides him along. Nikolai and Takeo are too normal for Edward Richtofen, Nikolai a drunk and Takeo simply quiet and observant as the large brute Dempsey once again sticks his two pence in where it’s not needed.

You look over at Dempsey before back to Richtofen who nods. “Yes. And if Dempsey gets it so should the rest of you.” It’s as if he’s giving his dog a treat to train it, the doctor glancing over to you with a ghost of a smirk on his face, and you imagine grabbing the rock next to him and bludgeoning said smile from his features. You can’t even find the energy to argue that Dempsey basically just said the exact same thing Richtofen did, reassuring the positive behaviour as you fully expect Dempsey to roll over and allow Richtofen to give him belly rubs like the good boy he is.

“And what do we do once the Teleporters are connected?” Nikolai speaks up, “Or is the part where you do not tell us what is next.”

“Aha- well, my methods are a little unusual, however you must trust me to bring about the most efficient results- which will only happen if you don’t ask questions and do what I tell you to do.” Richtofen answers simply, putting both his hands up in the air. “And so far you are following my orders spectacularly.” He lets out a soft groan to punctuate his sentence, and the action stops any further comments. Richtofen waits for the awkwardness to set in, before finally speaking up once again. “I will take the first watch, the rest of you may sleep.”

You watch him for a few moments before deciding to clear your throat. “I’ll join you, it’s better in twos.” You don’t even know where it came from, yet by the time your brain catches up with your mouth it has already been said and set in motion.

Richtofen simply smiles, looking at you. He does not say anything, tapping a gloved finger against his thigh as the others get to their beds for some needed rest. You know the flesh covered by fabric is muscled and toned, his fingers tapping rhythmically against strong thighs as he leans down to grab his water bottle. There’s a part of you that just knows the action is calculated as he unscrews the top and brings it to his lips, eyes on the fire as he takes a slip and swallows the room-temperature liquid, muscles in his neck moving as takes a few more sips and finally pulls the bottle away from his lips, rescrewing the cap and placing it next to him. You watch it all, narrowing your eyes as Richtofen looks over at you casually.

He waits for a while, fire crackling and spitting in the new silence before the doctor finally stands up, striding casually over and sitting down, filling the empty space of the seat right next to you.

“See, I’m curious.” Richtofen leans in to get closer to you, hands on his thighs as he lowers his voice to make sure he isn’t heard by the rest of the group.

“Yeah?” You raise a brow, turning to face him slightly.

“Ja.” The sides of his lips perk up. “I know a lot about the others, yet with you I seem to hit a wall. Why is that?”

He’s closer than he’s ever been before, and it sickens you. You know he’s doing this to dig his fingers deeper in the flesh, to hook and hold you into place as he walks all over you with those pathetic heeled boots of his.

“You don’t ask a lot of questions.” You finally decide to answer, looking back at the flames. “Don’t act like you care, Edward.”

Richtofen furrows his brows slightly at the use of his first name, yet doesn’t say anything as he sits up and adjusts his jacket. “Well, what if I did care?” He muses.

“Like you care for the rest of them?” You turn to fully face him, raising your brows. “Like hell I'll believe that. Dr. Edward Richtofen doesn’t give a shit about anyone but himself.”

Richtofen smiles, dark eyes glinting in the dark as he leans forward slightly. “I doubt that.” He speaks slowly, and his fingers tap against his thigh. You wonder if he’s deciding whether to make a move on you.

You take the bait, moving in one fluid motion as you grab the firearm from its holder and jab it muzzle first against the bottom of Richtofen’s jaw. “Keep your fucking distance from me, Edward. I don’t like you. I probably won’t ever like you. You won’t mold me into your project like you’ve done with Dempsey, so quit getting so close to me, I know more about you than I’d like to, so let’s leave it at that.”

“Such a tease.” He inches closer, gun following his oesophagus as he moves. “What could you possibly know about me?”

You feel your eye twitch as he gets closer to you, you know there’s a reason why you haven’t killed him, yet you can’t even allow yourself to admit it. It eats and degrades you, the reality of your reliance on his knowledge, and your reliance on him. You need him. It’s visceral and acrid as it rests on your mind, eating holes into your brain matter each second you reflect on such a reality.

“You’re a fucking spy, Edward. All that time you were working under Maxis you were telling your shady illuminati friends everything you were doing.” You spit at him, remembering the evening you spent reading over his notes and realising his baseless depravity. “You’re a traitorous coward, Edward. I was supposed to weed you out from that position you were in, people ordered your death with no hesitation and even smiled at me once the deal was sealed.

Richtofen’s eyes darken slightly, staring at you whilst he studies your features for what feels like forever. He cracks the expression by flashing you a wide smile that finally reaches his eyes. “Well done.” He purrs, “Are you going to tell the others?” He tilts his head, his pupils wide and black as his hands on the seat behind you.

“I’ve been considering it.” You pull the pistol away from his skin and he lets out a breath. You would not kill him today, it was decided. “I can’t see why I shouldn’t.”

“Yes you can. Otherwise you would’ve told them by now.”

You look away from him, shaking your head as you scoff. “You haven’t given me a good enough reason to. Besides, I still haven’t fulfilled my part of the contract, my ego tells me I shouldn’t tell anyone that I haven’t killed you yet.”

“So you’re a true puppet?” Richtofen raises his brows, “Aha- I shouldn’t be surprised you’re so malleable and quiet. Are you capable of thinking for yourself, or does someone need to put money in your hands for you to?” Richtofen leans back, straightening his back as he looks at you from the corner of his eye. “And you have the audacity to bring up Dempsey.”

You look back at him sharply, roles reversed as you lean closer to sneer at him. “Did I not just say I hadn’t said anything because you didn’t give me a reason? How would the others like to know that before all this you were working on human subjects and treating them like cattle? What about then?”

Richtofen’s lip twitches. “That information is irrelevant to your mission, how did you find out such a thing?”

“You’ve got some pretty influential haters, Edward.”

Edward turns sharply and firmly grips your chin, pulling your head downwards to force you to look up at him. “Aha- let me get this straight, they order my death through some incompetent lackey who gets sentimental and can’t decide for themselves if they should fulfil their mission? Am I correct?” He continues to look down at you, upper face only slightly visible from under the shadow of his cap as his lips curl into an unamused frown.

You don’t think twice, pulling your pistol from its holder and flipping the safety and aiming at Richtofen’s thigh. The Doctor grips your wrist just as quickly as you move, pushing your hand away as you pull the trigger and the bullet lands in the floor right next to Richtofen’s boot. He yanks you forward by the wrist and headbutts you, using his other hand to grip your neck as you jerk backwards and catch the momentum to push you backwards. You land hard on the floor, head pounding as you look up at him adjusting his cap. You feel the heat of the fire next to you, reaching out to grab the ash from the fire before throwing it up at Richtofen, the doctor grunting as it lands in his eyes whilst you rush up on your feet and throw yourself at him, the two of you crashing to the ground as you push your knee into his abdomen, the doctor shouting and wrapping both his hands tightly around your throat.

You sneer down at him, his pupils blown wide as the whites of his eyes are red from the irritation from the dust. His fingers are dug roughly into your neck, you know he’s once again listening to your pulse, and you begin to believe it’s entirely subconscious as you pull the pin from his tie and whack him in the head with it, Richtofen releasing his grip as you fall on top of him and he lets out a huff as all the air is knocked from his lungs. Adrenaline pumping through your veins as you sit up and pull him up with you by the collar, the man bleeding and gasping as you punch him hard in the face and he lets out a loud groan. His hat is somewhere next to the both of you, and he’s so disoriented all he can do is look up at you with glassy and blown pupils. You think of how easy hurting him comes to you, a second punch connecting with his face as blood drips from his nose and he looks back up at you, eyes wide and manic as he finally finds the ability to laugh whilst driving his gloved fingers into your wrists. You know he can feel your blood pulsing hot and fast through your veins, landing another blow to his face as he coughs and splutters. Tears make his hair wet as he smiles wildly up at you, blood coating his teeth. “Do it.” He croaks, “Finish the job. Do what you were always supposed to do.”

“You’ve manipulated yourself into every position you’re in and secured it. You know I can’t kill you, you’ve made it so I can’t.” You finally get your hands around his neck, squeezing as the man chokes and reaches down to grab the knife strapped to his thigh, pulling it out of its holder whilst you notice the movement and move a hand from his neck to grab his forearm and yank his hand above his head, “You’re slow, Edward.”

Richtofen’s eyes twinkle as he takes laboured breaths, knife catching the light as you glance in its reflection, glowing eyes staring back at you as you turn and look at the zombies creeping through the doorframe, nails digging walls as they groan and smell the blood on the both of you.

“Shit- Edward- get up-“ You furrow your brows down at him as he pushes you off of him. He raises his head to look at the undead pouring through the doorway as you get up on your feet so fast your head spins. You call to the rest of the crew, yet Dempsey and Nikolai are already ready, shooting into the small horde as gunpowder and death mix in the air.

You rush over to grab your pistol discarded next to the fire, joining in the fight as Richtofen simply sits up and wipes his face, blood smudging against his muzzle as he looks up at you.

The horde eventually diminishes, and the crew finally turn to face the two of you. Dempsey crosses his arms and frowns.

“What the fuck was that?” He barks, “Seriously? If you hadn’t fired that fuckin’ gun we’d all be dead!” He looks from you to Richtofen, “Christ!”

“What even happened?” Nikolai furrows his brows.

Richtofen is now standing up as he neatens up his hair with his fingers, red smudged over gray as the blood on Richtofen’s hands get in his hair. He places his cap back on his head casually, blood dripping down the side of his face from the wound caused by his own pin whilst his nose has already started to bruise. He’s bloody and still catching his breath, soft bruises painted on his neck. “We do not need to explain ourselves.” His answer is simple, adjusting his tie that now has a small hole from where you ripped out the badge. “Do we?” Richtofen looks at you, and his look is so serious and demanding that you simply shrug in response.

“The two of you should move these bodies.” Takeo is examining the mound of zombies that is now basically in your front room. “It is too much hassle for us to move, and they will begin to stink soon. If the two of you fight, it will not be at our expense.”

“I appreciate you not saying anything.” Richtofen looks over at you, dried blood still stuck to his pale skin, “I really do.” You can’t tell what he’s trying to get from expressing his gratitude, so you simply give him the best answer you’re able to.

“Shut up.”

“You do not believe me?” He raises his brows before he gives you a comical frown and places a hand over his chest in hurt. “You have power over me, and you did not choose to exercise that right. Many others would, especially given what you’re dangling over me.” He takes his cap off and holds it over his chest. “I’m eternally grateful.” He hums, looking at you with those predatory eyes of his.

“Hmph.” You grunt, rolling your eyes and leaning away from him. “Let’s not play this game. Just stay the fuck away from me unless you want that ‘little secret’ to be leaked to everyone, and they end up killing you.” It’s more of a warning than a threat, Richtofen frowning.

“Okay.” His answer is boring and he’s clearly bored, expression fading as he falls back into neutrality and stands upright; placing his cap back on his head. “I believe that is the rest of them. I need to clean myself up, you should too.”

-

A few days have passed in relative silence, boredom seeping in as you sharpen your knife one evening, holding the blade up and watching it gleam before catching Richtofen’s eyes in the reflection and swallowing thickly. You push it back into its holder, turning back to look at Richtofen who’s now looking away from you and back to his own work.

He has stayed away from you, and he does so almost naturally as he continues to work towards getting the five of you out of this place. None of the rest of the crew address the silence between the two of you after your.. altercation, and you suspect that Richtofen never really liked you in the first place.

Well, the crew usually stayed quiet about it, until Dempsey sits down next to you and finally poses the question. “So… What was it about?” He flexes his muscle and looks at the recent stitches in his forearm before raising a brow up at you. “Must’ve been pretty fuckin’ bad since neither of you have spoken since.”

You can feel Richtofen’s eyes burning in the back of you, and you smile as you look back at him. “Oh nothing crazy.” You muse, acting casual as you turn away from Richtofen so he can’t read your lips. “I have some information on him and he got mad about it.”

Dempsey perks up, “What kinda information?”

“Oh I can’t tell you that.”

“Bull-shit. He got some info on you, too?”

Richtofen places both hands on your shoulders as he looks down at Dempsey. “My dear Super-Soldat, do you mind if I steal a moment?”

Dempsey shifts uncomfortably in his chair and nods. “Sure.” He looks at you. “Come find me after.” He doesn’t need to be told twice to leave, especially considering that it was the two of you talking.

Richtofen waits until silence sets in to sit down in Dempsey’s chair. He doesn’t move close to you, doesn’t even look at you as his eyes rest on the wall in front. “Don’t play this game with me. You rely on me, I do not rely on you.”

“Now why would you think threatening me is even a remotely good idea?” You cross your arms.

“Because I am not intimidated by you because you are weak. That idea of power that I planted in your frail mind has withered and reduced to nothing.” He answers. “I see you are unable to rise up and take control, therefore I am unimpressed with you.” He shakes his head, sighing. “And here I sat thinking that you were most certainly recommended with the highest of praises.”

You do not take the bait this time. “Huh.” You shrug, “Well, Edward. I do not know what you want from me. I did ask you to stay away from me.”

He purses his lips together in thought, before turning his head to look at you. “I need something from you.” You can tell that each word is carefully thought out, the cogs turning in the complicated machine of his mind. “I am working extremely hard to make this whole thing work, and nothing I am achieving is helping me with something.. personal. So to speak.” He gestures with his hands, clasping them together before gesturing to you. “You. I need you.”

“I’m not following.”

Richtofen smiles softly, “I need you to help me release all this pent up frustration from endless nights of helping you.”

You narrow your eyes, “Why me? I can tell you can’t stand me.” You’re completely in disbelief, yet a little intrigued all the same.

“Aha- well, you elicit such strong feelings it just makes it worse. I need something from you, and you can hold something over me, a transaction of sorts. It just has to be you, you’re repulsed by me-“ Richtofen pauses, closing his eyes and taking a breath before opening his eyes and continuing. “And I need to see that look.”

“Is this a joke?”

“Not at all. It will benefit the both of us”.

“How will it benefit me in any way?” You laugh, “I’m not sexually attracted to you, Edward.” You ponder briefly on if that’s true.

“Well, you could pretend it is some sort of blackmail situation, and that you have some sort of power over me. I imagine considering your lifestyle it would not be hard to do.” He adjusts his now-pinless tie. “Besides, it is invigorating to have sex with something you have previously hurt, or been hurt by.” Richtofen adds the last part quickly, flashing you a knowing smile.

You weigh up the pros and cons in your mind, "No strings attached?” You ask, raising a brow.

“I am expecting you to kill me at some point, so yes, no strings attached,” He nods.

“Then sure. But don’t expect me to like you in any way.” You extend a hand for you to shake, expecting this arrangement to at least make the boredom more tolerable.

Richtofen takes your hand and shakes it, his hand is firm and cold under the gloves, thin fingers wrapping around your own. At least you could now get a feel for them on your tongue, wondering if his hands were calloused from use, if he was just as skilled with them as you imagined he was.

There’s something that changes in Richtofen once the two of you shake on it. He grabs your hand before you get the chance to pull away, “Please, if I may.” He says so more out of courtesy than a genuine desire for your total consent, raising your hand to his bruised face as his eyes flutter shut and you press against his bruised nose.

He lets out a soft moan, and his eyes open quickly enough to catch the flash of disgust and shock that finds itself on your face. His breath hitches, and he lets go of your fingers.

“We can’t do it here.” You guess his intentions. “Dempsey might check in on us.”

Richtofen purses his lips slightly, clearly a little irritated at what you’ve just said. He sits upright and straightens his jacket before moving on from the conversation and what just happened. “Will you meet me in the back room later?” He raises his brows, “You know. The one with the mirror.”

You shrug. “Sure. When?”

“When the rest of the group get drunk.” Richtofen speaks of such a thing casually as if it was something that happens all of the time in your little world.

The shine in his eye is so knowing you find yourself briefly believing his mania, crossing your arms as you raise a brow. “Sure…”

Richtofen turns to look at you and smiles with that sick fakeness of his. “Auf Wiedersehen. I will see you later.”

You guess it was your goodbye rather than his, rolling your eyes as you take the opportunity to leave and close the door behind you, completely wrapped up in your thoughts

You find Dempsey a few meters away from the door of the room, staring at him as he looks at you with his arms crossed. “So?”

“So?” You raise a brow over at him. “I probably shouldn’t go around spreading gossip, it’s almost childish.”

“Fuck sake.” Dempsey sneers, “He’s got his claws in you too. He’s like some sort of fuckin’ virus. Why can’t you tell me? I won’t tell the others.. promise.”

“Strangely enough I don’t believe you.”

“Listen, we are all in this together, meaning whatever you have against him should be shared to the rest of us, it’s just what should happen.”

“I’m sure Nikolai would agree.”

Dempsey scrunches his face tightly at the idea that both he and Nikolai could agree that it’s a matter of the group over the individual, and his personal conviction quashes his need to know what exactly you’ve got on Richtofen as he scoffs, swears loudly, and walks off.

The day moves on slowly from then on. You take down a few crawlers, hands bloodied as you insert the change into the machine as it whirrs to life and you listen as the glass bottle falls into the opening. You take it from the machine, the bottle warm to the touch as you open the cap and take a healthy swig. It tastes like lemon and gasoline, not a personal favourite as you feel the usual tingling in your limbs as the beverage kicks in. It makes you burn hot with a burst of energy, and gives you the stamina to burn through it. The remaining hordes are simple to deal with, ending the day bloodied and covered in sweat whilst the effects of the bottle burn down into a soft and faint hum in your limbs.

You make your way silently to camp, and when you arrive you are faced with the three of your comrades all laughing loudly and talking to one another, several bottles of Nikolai’s (seemingly endless) vodka strung around the fire as Dempsey is now wearing a ripped string of fabric around his head as he shouts loudly. He jumps over the fire successfully as Nikolai stands up and roars with enthusiasm, clapping his hands together as Takeo nods approvingly.

You stare at the sight, none of the men noticing you as you turn to look down the hallway, half expecting Richtofen to already be there whilst gesturing you closer. He’s not there, but you follow him anyway. Making your way to where he told you to be as the laughter fades into the background and is replaced with the unsettling silence of the place you were all stuck in.

You open the door and step inside, it’s dark, squinting slightly before you hear the door behind you close and then click as it’s locked. You can’t believe it. Rushing to the door as you attempt to open it, the frame rattles as you pull and bash on the door. “What the fuck, Edward! Let me out!” You shout, “What is this!”

The lights turn on overhead, and your heart drops as the door opposite finally opens and dozens of zombies begin pushing out, finally noticing the large window in the side of the room with the lights now on, Richtofen smiling over at you as he makes a gesture to the zombies.

You decide right then and there that now was the time you’d kill him.

The blood and death surrounds you as you stand there, breathing heavily and uncontrolled as you try desperately to catch your breath and break down the lactic acid cramping your muscles. The zombies all lay dead before you, blood dripping from your hands and onto the floor as you look down at your feet and notice a bit of the wood sticking up from the floor.

You lean down and yank it up, the wood coming away from the floor with one sharp crack. You look to the window, Richtofen continuing to watch you from behind the glass with his hands folded behind his back. He doesn’t move as you get closer, slamming the wood against the glass with such brute force it begins to crack after the third slam. You shout the fourth time, the cracks spreading across the window before it finally gives way and shatters; Richtofen simply steps back to avoid the shards.

“How could you?” The question comes out aggressive rather than hurt, sneering as you step over the windowsill and completely ignore the shards of sharp glass around you.

“Scientific curiosity gets the better of us all.” Richtofen pouts and raises his brow. “Shall we?” He runs his fingers down his jacket before reaching back upwards and twisting the top button between his thumb and pointer finger. “I’m sure you have extra adrenaline that needs to be let out somewhere. You were a spectacular specimen to watch, You’ve left me flustered.”

You’re covered in blood and grime, standing in the broken shards as Richtofen unbuttons his jacket before you. He doesn’t particularly need your consent, rather outlining his need once again for courtesy’s sake. You’re surprised he wasn’t fucking his fist earlier as you get a glimpse of his erection straining within his trousers.

Power.

You take a step forward, the glass crunching under your feet before you take another step forward and get even closer to him. His jacket is off by this point, the man discarding it on the floor as it falls off his arms. The two of you are looking at each other, Richtofen’s pupils blown wide as he doesn’t find the need to smile. He has you where he wants you, malleable and willing.

You suddenly grip his shirt and rip it open, the buttons popping and landing on the floor as Richtofen sneers and grabs by you the hair, pushing you head first into the wall as his ribcage rises and falls under his skin.

You’re exhausted and a little disoriented, and he knows that. Pushing his crotch up against the back of you as he continues to pin you against the wall by your hair. “Aha- and where are we going to find a replacement shirt?” He raises a brow as you feel his hard cock press into the back of you, jutting out his bottom lip as his arm flexes.

You can’t believe you’re letting him do this to you, out of everyone in the whole world, you’re the one who’s going to get his dick in your ass - and the idea makes a hot ache pool in your abdomen as you look back at him.

You feel him twitch against your body as he looks at you, and you guess the look you’re giving him is much needier than you’d like it to be. You’re sweaty, bloodstained and frustrated, Richtofen yanking your hair back and causing you to let out an open-mouthed grunt as he leans forward and presses his lips against your neck. He can taste the salt of your flesh, running his teeth along the roughness of your skin as he runs his fingers down your abdomen and palms at your crotch. You squirm under him, gripping his wrist to make him release your hair as you try to regain a small bit of your dignity.

He only yanks you back harder, forcing you to lean your head on his shoulder and expose more of your neck to him, the vulnerability making you grip the side of his head and dig your nails deep into the skin of his face. He moans at the feeling, shoving your head back against the wall as you pull away and simultaneously slash at his skin, four red nail marks etched into his skin as he stares wide-eyed at you for a moment.

You feel as though that moment drags on for eons before Richtofen forgets everything and immediately rushes to unbuckle his belt and pull down his trousers enough to pull out his achingly-hard cock. You guess he’s lost all ability to think as you watch him from over your shoulder and watch the blood trickle down the side of his face. He looks good so desperate for you.

His tie is still wrapped around his neck despite the fabric of his shirt being torn and discarded away from his body. Richtofen’s skin is clammy and a soft pink colour as he pulls the knot and unravels the fabric. It still has a small hole from where you ripped out the pin previously stuck there. He grabs your two wrists and yanks them roughly behind you, as you fall into the wall and grunt. “Edward.” You scoff. “There’s really no need.”

“No need?” He raises a brow, blood dripping down the side of his face. “Don’t be stupid.” He ties your wrists together tightly as they ache from the pain.

“Oh so you’re scared of me, Edward? Scared I’ll cover you in scratches?” The pain does nothing but turn you on more, the heat in your abdomen scalding hot as you swallow thickly.

“Don’t be such a tease. This is for your own good.” Richtofen leans forward, speaking closely into your ear as his fingers slowly undo your belt. “Doesn’t it feel so good to give up control?”

The idea makes you slightly nervous, staring ahead as he continues to talk into your ear.

“I’ll make you feel good.” He continues, cupping your ass with his cold and gloved fingers before his hands pull down your trousers and you can feel the cold air hit your body. “Even though you don’t particularly deserve it.” He muses, pulling off one of his gloves as he pushes his now bare pointer and middle finger into your mouth. You wrap your tongue around his cold and long fingers, callouses brushing against your tongue as you angrily look back at him.

Richtofen waits until saliva runs down your chin before smiling and pulling his fingers from your mouth, you sneer at him, and he uses his other hand to firmly push your head against the wall, crushing your skull slightly as he pushes two fingers into you. The stretch hurts slightly, gritting your teeth together as your face burns from embarrassment. “Fuck you.” You find the dignity to spit at him, the liquid landing on the side of his face as Richtofen simply continues to smile and push deeper into you, moving his two fingers around as you groan.

“Ja- That’s it.” Richtofen purrs, watching you try and fight back the expression of pleasure from appearing on your face despite the pain. He begrudgingly does know what to do with his hands quite well, you think.

Richtofen soon pulls out his fingers once he believes he has stretched you out accordingly. Staring at you through half-lidded eyes whilst he licks up his palm and wraps it around his own cock, stroking himself sloppily a few times before pressing his cockhead against your entrance. He yanks the tie binding your wrist to force you to arch upwards against the wall, slowly pushing in as you grunt and grind your teeth together.

Richtofen lets out a soft huff, closing his eyes as he pushes in more and moves his hands to dig his nails into your wrists as you cry out. “Gott.” He mutters, using his left arm to hold you by the hip as he begins to thrust in and out of you, right hand exploring your body as it moves across your chest to find the pocket where you keep your orders.

“What- what are you doing?” You fight back a groan, not enough strength left inside of you to physically try and stop him as Richtofen continues to fuck you.

Richtofen simply smiles as he pulls you back from the wall slightly and leans his chin on your shoulder. He opens the paper, “Read it.” He orders breathlessly in your ear, “Come on. This- this is part of our agreement.” He moans softly, and the noise is so close to your ear it makes you flush and swallow your own moan.

You stare at the paper, knowing exactly what it says as Richtofen digs his nails into your skin once more, Richtofen suddenly stopping his thrusts as he waits for you to obey.

“I’m not fuckin’ reading that.” You find a small amount of fight left in you, probably from the stamin-up as you lean back to push Richtofen deeper inside of you again. “Just get this over with already.”

“Just read it.” Richtofen orders you again, “Then I’ll continue.” He’s still leaning against your shoulder, whispering into your ear as his hand keeps you in place. “It’s simple, so simple even someone like you can do it. You are able to read, yes?”

The comment makes anger bubble up inside of you, gritting your teeth together as your eyes focus on the neat handwriting. “Eliminate-“ As soon as the word escapes your mouth Richtofen begins to move his hips once again, yet this time it feels as though he’ll leave bruises into your skin. “Eliminate-“ You struggle to simultaneously read it out loud and stop yourself from moaning, panting and huffing as you rest your forehead against the wall as Richtofen pushes himself all the way inside of you.

“Read it!” Richtofen groans, unable to control his volume as he threatens to stop his thrusts once again. “Do this- for me.”

“Eliminate Dr. Edward Richtofen.” The words tumble from your mouth as Richtofen grips the paper so tightly you can’t decipher the rest of the writing.

He moans and throws his head back, you know he wants to remind you of your failure, you can feel the pride radiate from every pore as he continues to drive himself in and out of you with no regard for your body. It’s hot, you can’t help but think, ravaged by the one you can’t stand, your mortal enemy really. You’d touch yourself if you could, desperation seeping into every sinew as you press your thighs together and struggle against the tie binding your wrists together.

Richtofen seems to sense your own personal, selfish need as he raises his head and you feel his smile from behind you. He tuts, “I can’t unbind you, you know that.” He coos, “You’ll kill me.”

He knows you so well you can’t even find the strength to argue back. “You do it then.” You spit.

“Why would I do that?” Richtofen laughs before moaning and you feel him twitch inside of you. He’s close, yet you refuse to let him reach his own orgasm without even a thought about yours.

“Fucking do it. Touch me. Please.” You blurt out.

Richtofen thinks on it for a few moments before tossing the paper to the side and allowing his hand to slowly move its way to your own sex, his hands cold and calloused as he runs his tongue along your neck and bites down on the sensitive flesh, blood pooling in his mouth as he licks up the wound and swallows.

You shudder under him, nodding to yourself as you groan and tense from how quickly his hands threaten to push you over the edge, Richtofen continuing to bite and suck at your flesh whilst your chest heaves and you can’t help but moan out his name, Richtofen moaning yours in response as he finally reaches his orgasm and spills deep inside of you.

You expect Richtofen to stop once he reaches what he needs, yet his fingers only speed up against you whilst he whispers something to you in German you don’t understand, gasping as you reach your own orgasm and practically crumble against the wall. Richtofen wipes his hands against your clothes, pulling out and stuffing himself back into his trousers as he looks down to his bare chest.

“Unbelievable.” He complains loudly as you continue to catch your breath. “What am I going to do now?”

“Untie me.” You look back at him, unamused.

“Oh yes, of course.” He smiles. “Aha- maybe I should keep you like this, use you whenever I like.” He runs his hand up your back and you huff, Richtofen laughing before pulling on the tie and it unknots itself and falls to the floor.

Richtofen looks you over as you turn and rest up against the wall. “You look terrible.”

You glare up at him as you pull your trousers up. “Fuck off, Edward.”

“You should come inside.” She suggested, concerned that the man might catch a cold if he remained on the balcony any longer.

The Russian let out a soft chuckle, a hint of a smile gracing his lips. “I have grown accustomed to the frigid temperatures,” He remarked politely. “It’s much like home.”

She tilted her head, observing the way Nikolai scarcely gave her his full attention. One could only speculate about the multitude of thoughts that occupied his mind. He was undoubtedly a man of great complexity, yet there were moments when it appeared as though he displayed his emotions openly and simply. In this instance, she could not surmise him.

Pulling her coat closer to her body to fortify as a barrier against the frigid wind, she ventured onto the balcony. Overlooking the courtyard blanketed in thick snow, she approached the rickety railing with caution. She dared not lean against the ledge, baffled at how it hadn’t already collapsed under the weight of snow settled atop it.

In the periphery of her vision, she noticed Nikolai. His shoulders were slumped, and his head was bowed, conveying a weight of emotions that were not immediately discernible.

With genuine curiosity, she posed a question. “What’s on your mind, Nikolai?”

A deep sigh slipped past his lips and into the air as a wispy mist. She faced him completely, her eyes filled with a sense of urgency as they quickly examined him.

Nikolai composed himself and addressed her with sincerity, uttering a single word. “Home.”

With a contemplative frown, she pondered whether he had more to share. As he remained silent, a sense of foreboding seemed to envelope him, casting a dark shadow over his presence.

A shiver ran down her spine, and she moved closer to Nikolai as a cold breeze swept in. He seemed to feel the chill as well, as his shoulders scrunched up and he subtly made a face.

“Do you miss your home?” She inquired with genuine concern.

Nikolai placed his hands in his pockets, maintaining his gaze on the distant horizon, and nodded subtly, acknowledging the girl’s attentive observation.

“Despite the persistent state of war in my homeland,” Nikolai stared down at his boots, hearing the snow crunch beneath his feet as he shifted his footing. “I find myself longing for the comfort and familiarity of my native soil.”

She felt a pang in her chest, contemplating whether it was due to the chilly air or the wave of sadness she felt for the Russian.

“I understand.” She uttered in a gentle tone.

Nikolai softly hummed; his face almost devoid of emotion as he turned to her. His eyes were visibly drooping, clearly weighed down by sheer fatigue.

“Oh, Nikolai, you’re exhausted.” She said, feeling slightly apologetic for being so direct.

Nikolai would be a terrible liar if he even attempted to refute her words, and instead eyed her indolently.

Her arm extended in a courteous gesture, inviting Nikolai to accompany her as she gracefully led him inside.

        There we all stood Richtofen, Dempsey, Takeo, Nikolai, and myself, directly in the middle of ruined Stalingrad, surrounding the mech that holds the fresh corpse of Nikolai's alternate self.

        The final soul had been collected in the summoning key, leading us all one step closer to Agartha. I turned to face my Nikolai from Dimension 62, noticing how he couldn't keep his gaze from his alternate universe self.

        They couldn't be more different. Your Nikolai was a noble soldier, while the other was a depressed drunk, abandoned by his own government when he wasn't needed anymore. He just continues to stand there as if mourning his counterpart, the rest of us watching him silently.

        I gently placed my hand on his shoulder and gave him a weak smile. "Are you alright?"

        Nikolai looked up when I placed my hand on his shoulder, turning his gaze away from his counterpart. His eyes looked even duller than usual; his shoulders relaxed and slumped. The man looked tired, not physically, but mentally. He seemed to be carrying the weight of something heavy on his shoulders.

        "I'm…I'm fine," he mumbled after a slight pause.

        His response didn't seem convincing whatsoever. My face turned into an expression of sympathy as I removed my hand. Nikolai kept his gaze on me for a moment longer before sighing silently and turning his attention back to his dead counterpart resting in the mech's cockpit. He didn't seem to know what to do or say at this point. It was almost as if he was reliving all of his trauma all over again. Meanwhile, Richtofen, Dempsey, and Takeo all watched the scene in silence, their own expressions varying between worry and concern.

        "How about you guys give us a minute…alone." I gestured for them to leave as I took a step closer to Nikolai, having our shoulders brushing. I was ready to hold all the weight he was carrying, even for a moment.

        Richtofen, Dempsey, and Takeo exchanged glances between themselves before shrugging and walking far enough away to give us both some privacy.

        Once me and Nikolai were left alone, I took a step closer to him, my shoulder brushing against his as Istood beside him. Now able to view his expression more clearly, the look of exhaustion and weariness visible in his eyes. Nikolai's shoulders slumped even further as he took a deep sigh, still struggling to find the right words to say.

        "You don't have to talk if you don't want to, but I'm here if you need to," I said, looking up at him.

        Nikolai nodded silently, his gaze still fixated on his dead alternate counterpart. He was quiet for a moment, but eventually, he spoke up in a low voice.

        "It's strange…seeing what I could have become…if I didn't have you all," he murmured, his voice trailing off as he seemed lost in his thoughts.

        He paused, letting out another heavy sigh before continuing. "I can't help but wonder…what would have happened if we never met?"

        My heart could shatter into a million pieces as his voice reached my ears, sounding more broken than it ever had before. I looked back at the body, then back at him. "Well, you don't need to worry about that," I said, gently grabbing his hand in mine.

        Nikolai's hand twitched slightly when I grabbed it, but he didn't pull away. He merely gripped my hand tightly in return, silently appreciating the gesture.

        His gaze was still focused on his counterpart in the mech, the broken and lost expression never leaving his face. "I…I know," he mumbled softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "I just…I can't help but wonder about the 'what-ifs' sometimes, y'know?"

        "Well, there are far better what if scenarios you could think about instead," I responded lightheartedly.

        Nikolai let out a soft chuckle in response to my lighthearted comment, his grip on my hand lessening slightly. "Oh yeah?" he replied with a hint of a smirk, finally turning his gaze away from the mech to look at me. "Like what?"

        "Well for starters what if Richtofen's crazy plan works and we save our crazy asses? What if we get our happy ending?" I respond matter of factly.

        Nikolai's smirk widened into a small smile, amused by my matter-of-fact response.

        "I suppose that would be a much more pleasant 'what if' to think about, wouldn't it?" he mused, his expression becoming a little more lighthearted.

        He paused for a moment, his grip on my hand remaining tight as he considered my words. "You really think we'll get a happy ending?" he asked, a hint of skepticism in his voice.

        "I don't know, but we can dream, can't we?"

        Nikolai chuckled softly at my response, his smile growing slightly wider. "Yeah…I suppose we can," he agreed, his expression becoming more thoughtful.

        He was silent for a moment longer, his gaze drifting away from me to the ruined city surrounding us both. "You're always so optimistic," he noted softly, his grip on my hand still tight as he spoke. "How do you do it?"

        "Well, I have you for starters. And I'd rather be optimistic than sulk around waiting for death."

        Nikolai chuckled softly again, his expression seeming a little lighter now. "I suppose that's true," he acknowledged, looking back down at me. "You do have a way of brightening up even the darkest of situations."

        His gaze lingered, seemingly lost in thought for a moment before he spoke again. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

> EDWARD RICHTOFEN . ( primis )

Edward is all over the place since his undertaking of the kronoriums secrets. He’s up late and up early, frantically flicking through the pages with his head in his hands and eyebrows knitted so tightly together he ends up with constant cluster headaches.

Of course, that’s up until you drunkenly confess your love to him one bitter night the one time he sticks his head out of his hole. He’s taken aback, but by no means is it a terrible thing to hear, quite the opposite.

He stops staying up so late mostly, curled up against you and sleeping soundly as if he’s not carrying the burden of the world on his shoulders, most of all, he’s not burdened by the fact he’ll eventually have to kill a different version of you. You were a special case, he tells you, although you can’t really understand what he’s saying and just nod along and watch his pretty lips say the words. You had decided early on you wouldn’t indulge in kronorium talk.

Despite the clear highlights of such a predicament, there’s still the issue of the fact there’s only one of you. Edward always finds a way to get stressed about something, even if it’s arguably the best thing that’s ever happened to him. “You must be careful.” He pleads, kneeling down between your legs with the side of his face resting on your thigh. “Bitte.” His brows are knitted together, the inner parts pointing upwards towards the heavens. Perfectly sculpted, you say to him. You reassure him, although he never really accepts it. His anxiety shifts from the kronorium to you, yet sometimes you can get him to forget after sneaking him away from the others, pressing your finger to his lips as he flushes and nods his head.

He tries to come to terms with it, running his thumb over your skin as you talk to one another. He looks at you, knowing that ultimately there’s only one of you, and he’s in the timeline where he’s yours. It’s terribly romantic, he thinks.

> DR. RICHTOFEN . ( ultimis )

He’s always been a bit… weird. Sneaking a glance over at you as he pouts slightly, top lip jutting ever so slightly more than the bottom. You just can’t help but gravitate towards him, your relationship starting out as more of a ‘friends-with-benefits’ type ordeal where you consistently ask him to keep the gloves on whilst he’s busy unbuttoning his shirt.

He personally invites you to one of his dissections (as if it’s some extraordinary event rather than the two of you standing in some gross backroom). You naturally accept, the two of you locking the door behind you as Richtofen guides your hand from behind as he tells you how to cut in your ear. It’s perversely romantic.

He doesn’t change from being depraved like before, instead, he only seems to get a little more so. He’s casually reading you his dissection notes, being more open to talk about anything really. His dark eyes never seem to leave you, a weird possessive streak within him that only seems to grow at camp Edward.

“It’s a shame. I would’ve loved to see a younger version of you.” He muses, looking up from his cadaver. The dissection had become your love-language, sitting on a table opposite him so Richtofen can imagine it’s your cavity he’s elbow deep in, sometimes you’ll even take your shirt off to ‘help’ him concentrate. You saw his expression at the realisation that another version of you had not followed the other team, and it seemed to shift something within him. He hardly ever left you from then on.

> tags . (not very) graphic descriptions of violence (it’s just what you’d expect Richtofen to think about) . internal monologue + thoughts . just me rambling about Richtofen in fic form really

> words . 1479

-

The stars hung high in the night sky. The clarity made it cold, bitterly so. The wind shook the leaves from the trees and made it feel as though the floor itself shook and wept from just how bitterly cold it was. The winter made the walking carcasses slower, yet such a characteristic meant that the living suffered just as much, maybe even more so as the three of them shivered and quietly prayed to whatever would hear them and grant their salvation of warmth, of comfort. Thinking of families with blurred faces as they laid there under the thin and worn blankets, yearning for the unknown and forgotten.

Not Richtofen, of course. He laid there, hand behind his head as he stared up at the stars whilst listening to teeth clattering and trying to guess who was quietly weeping from exhaustion. It was exhilarating for him, neat dacryphilia dressed in uniform as he laid there. Tiredness was a mere physical obstacle, for his mental condition was pure and unfiltered, unaffected by the limitations of the human body. Insanity they had named it, what fools the weak minded were, how he savoured the look of Maxis’ face once he pressed the button. The satisfaction of betrayal, how it makes the pulse quicken.

Richtofen blinked manually, he had settled on that they were Nikolai’s weeps. He suspected that Nikolai was so cold he had sobered up from being so unwilling to move and let the cold in in order to take a swig of alcohol. How human. Soft, cloth mother over the wire mother. How predictable —- boring.

Was Richtofen cold? Most probably. He still had his boots on, hat placed neatly next to his chosen spot as he turned onto his side, coming face to face with what he could only describe as a large, overbearing figure hunched over their rations like some sort of raccoon. He sat up, hair slightly messy as he furrowed his brows and rested on his elbows. Was this a hallucination? Richtofen did not believe his mind was capable of creating something so ridiculous, yet so real at the same time. Was he tired? He did agree boredom had been grinding him down to the hilt, the lead of the pencil pushed into the paper and reduced to the wood over time. A monotonous process, but such was erosion. Yet did Richtofen believe it? Not one bit.

Er hat nicht alle Tassen im Schrank - or rather, he doesn’t have all his cups in the cupboard. The concept of Richtofen being at any other working level but his best was ridiculous, he himself was not thinking straight. Therefore resulting in the reality of a figure who was currently prying open a tin with, what seemed to be a hatchet.

He wondered if they knew of the four of them. He wondered if they had been stalking them and knew they’d be asleep. He also wondered if they then knew that at least one of them was usually of sound mind enough to call an alarm if something happened. Richtofen should be doing something, but seeing someone out of his usual intimate circle was tugging at his scientific curiosity, his need to know more. To pull back the skin and observe the muscle as it twitches and spasms. To taste the flesh, drink the blood and snort the brain matter fresh from the operating table.

He slowly stood up, silently, stalking and staring as he watched the figure. It’s a woman, for that he can guess. He has not become so detached from reality that he can't notice simple biology. He is not moved. He can see the muscles in the forearms move, moving closer until the figure turns and looks at him, wide eyed.

Is she stupid? Richtofen hears his voices ask, all together like the choir he remembers sitting at the table and listening to when he was much younger. It is predictable that you’d be caught. The hymn continues, and Richtofen watches her skittle off like the wild animal she is.

All wild animals can be domesticated. He thinks to himself, his own thought this time. Time corrodes all. He stands upright, adjusting his tie as he stares at the darkness where the creature fled into. He would get his hands on them, break and rip and crush. He’d do anything for that, scientific curiosity buzzing away at his innards as he lets out a shaky sigh and adjusts his trousers.

—

The next morning, Richtofen was distracted. He pushed around the beans in the tin, his hunger allowing his thoughts to be more wild, more unfiltered as he reflected on the glinting muscles and wildness only caused by the nature of such an environment to survive in whilst his stomach cramped.

“Eat. Kraut.” Dempsey snarled over at him. The rest of the group sat a distance away from the doctor, yet their palpable hatred did nothing but stir Richtofen on. He often wondered if they’d kill him, how they’d do it, and if they’d leave him to bleed out on the dirty floor. Neck twisted or intestines strung out and hung on the branches of the trees surrounding them whilst Richtofen watched as they dangled and caught the warmth of the sun's rays. They wouldn’t do it yet, not in the winter when they’re all too cold to even consider something so manual. Their acknowledgement of Richtofen’s strength left him giddy and half-aroused.

“You’re on wood duty.” Nikolai grunted. “Some creature got into food supplies last night, so I must help find more.”

Richtofen narrowed his eyes. “Why me? Menial work is your job.” He knew it was done on purpose, but it irritated him to no end all the same. “Menial labour.” It stuck like an oilspill to wildlife, totally unfair and wholly ridiculous. “You hurt me.” He stuck out his bottom lip.

“You will live, Richtofen.” Nikolai swiftly nipped it in the bud, yet Richtofen knew the soviet was satisfied, they all were. Fat and complacent as they silently smiled down at him. He ached for the past days of their experiment days. Perfect specimens cut and prodded and pumped full of the element, now they had forgotten their pains and shackles. Shame.

Richtofen let out a long, irritated sigh. He stuck his fork in the tin, placing it on the side as he nodded. “Ja. This is true, but I won’t forget your clear disrespect.” He looked over at the three men sitting close together, tapping his temple. “I never forget.”

Dempsey rolled his eyes. “Just do your fuckin’ job, Doc.” The name came out as sharp as it usually did, a sneer on the marine’s lip as if just speaking his name would curse him and his bloodline for generations.

Richtofen sat up, pulling down his jacket with a soft hmph before turning on his heels and beginning to walk off into the forest.

The sun shone through the bare branches of the trees, casting shadows on the hard dirt floor as Richtofen moved quietly and with ease. He counted his bullets in his head and how he could save them. Stabbing, bludgeoning, breaking. All perfectly marvelous ways to cut down a horde.

He stares at the axe buried in the tree stump. Nikolai’s handiwork is often rough around the edges, the man having no particular preference for the neat and tidy. Richtofen finds it irritating, but only slightly. He wraps his fingers around the handle and pulls it out of the stump with only a small amount of force, the blade cracking away from the wood and falling heavy into his hand. Richtofen likes the weight, likes the way it feels in his hand, he thinks momentarily on the feeling of the impact against flesh and bone, how loud the sound of the skull breaking would be.

By the end of the next few hours, Richtofen has stripped down to his under-vest. He’s sweaty, wiping away the sheen with his forearm as he lifts the axe above his head and buries it in what he hopes is the final zombie that finds the confidence to approach him. They’ve been few and far between, always in a group of around half-a-dozen, and Richtofen expects it’s because the rest have found themselves excited and ready to jump the three others running about somewhere. He’s thankful, but not totally, silently wishing he could get cornered and feel that rush of adrenaline that always seems to run south and leaves him distracted. He walks back over to the log sitting on top of the stump, taking a shaky breath before splitting the wood into more suitable firewood. All of his hard-work is bloodstained, but Richtofen can only say that everything he touches has blood on it.