Day 5: Beauty and the Grumpy
Title: Nameless Monster
Author: Vianna Orchidia / Annasthacy Chashyme
Rating: M
Warning: AU, a little OOC, misstypo and grammar errors, present tense, a tiny bit smut ahead because that's all I can do.
Disclaimer: I don't own Shingeki no Kyojin and its character, I don't own Beauty and The Beast and its original storyline, I don't even own the song Namae no nai Kaibutsu (lit. Nameless Monster) by EGOIST, and I make no commercial profit from this fanfiction. [damn yeah i forgot to put the disclaimer in the previous ones ;;;;;]
This can't be happening.
When Levi asked that old man for his
daughter, he certainly didn't expect this empty-eyed, unreadable
wrecked mess of a girl. Yes, she's pretty, almost to a fault, with
her unique charcoal black hair and porcelain skin—but that's it.
She's just another living doll, price made high for her oriental gene
in half her blood.
Levi scrutinizes her more for a while.
He notices how she lacks facial expression. She doesn't even flinch
as he runs his sharp eyes on her body, up and down, undressing her.
He can easily picture what's beyond the ruffles and silk and flowers
she is decorated with. A lithe body, probably thinner than she looks,
clean and ready to be stained.
But when he reaches her eyes, he thinks
maybe not so clean.
Because a pair of black abyss like that
can't possibly stay innocent.
.:.:.
She is not entertaining, he finds out.
No knowledge, no passion, no emotion.
He takes her to his flower garden, and she stands still like a statue
perched for aestethical purpose among the roses. He takes her to his
giant library just to be disappointed because she can't read well. He
gives her pretty clothes and shiny jewellery, and she stares at them
as one would a heap of stones.
This girl is
boring.
She is silent he
almost mistakes her for a mute, until she answers with deep voice,
loud and steady, though devoid of any feeling. She doesn't beat
around the bush. She always talks with deliberate words to avoid any
chance of prolonging the conversation. He asks, she answers, the end.
Sometimes he
frustates himself out and ends up ignoring her like she ignores him.
But she follows him everywhere like a lovesick puppy—only she isn't
lovesick and is a doll rather than a puppy—and that fact touches
his heart more than it should. He gets used to her sitting on one of
the couches in his study, gazing at nothing, while he works on his
papers for most of the day. He pours her tea carefully every
afternoon, and sips his as he takes his time studying the girl in
front of him. And, he daresay, grows accustomed to her that he knows
by heart how her lips curve a fraction everytime he bids her
goodnight at her doorstep, or how her forehead creases a fraction
everytime he throws a sudden question, or any other microscopic acts
she does.
Only her eyes stay
empty, like her soul has been left home with her old man while her
body is sent here.
.:.:.
The
first earnest change he witnesses is when he goes to his sword
training, something he has neglected in favor of paperwork (and the
girl, he bashfully admits). Her face lights up just slightly when she
spots the swords lining up nicely on the storage room's wall in his
training ground. He watches her, fascinated, as she admires the good
blades and scorns the bad ones. Heck, he is stunned just knowing that
she can tell which is
sharp, which is easy to lift, which is heavier but deadly, and so on
by looks alone.
Scratch that
opinion about this girl being boring. She is more interesting than
any other girl can be.
Levi offers a duel.
She suddenly looks like a ten years old again—practically skipping
as she heads for the change room, jumping around picking the sword
she likes most, giving him two glittering doe eyes instead of the
usual borderless abyss.
When their blades
crashes with a loud sound, he finds his heart leaps. Adrenaline
rushes through his veins faster than he ever experienced before. He
swings his sword carefully, letting some space comes after each
clash, because he wants to study his current opponent better.
The doll-like girl
moves with practiced ease, guarded tempo, and unrestrained energy.
Her shoulder length raven hair is moving freely as well, framing her
face when sweat wets them enough. Her grip on the sword hilt is
neither too firm nor too slack. Her stance is balanced and graceful.
He smirks when the
match ends with her sword on the ground, their breaths heavy, and she
sends a wrathful glare.
Beautiful
but dangerous. Fatal femme.
He licks his lips.
.:.:.
Days and weeks pass
by with new changes here and there. He takes her to the training
ground much often. He teaches her how to read and she begins to
occupy herself with books while sitting in his study. He makes her
learn about tea, going as far as forcing her to make some for their
afternoon tea. She requests more training suits, which he immediately
provides with another set of accessories as bonus.
She makes more face
than the empty doll expression—namely anger and indignation,
everytime he manages to throw her sword to the side or tackle her to
the ground.
One day he notices
her staring off, something she has outgrown ever since she finds
company in books. He sits down beside her and strokes the crown of
her head because he knows what's bothering her. It has been three
months. She is worried about the old man.
He cups her cheek
gently with his rough hand and leans her body closer to his. Her
breath tickles his face for a second, before he presses a demanding
kiss on her lips. He has done this several times and her reaction
never changes: merely a small shift of her lips to allow his tongue
entry. He keeps his eyes open, as does she, and they stare into each
other. Somehow this side of her always irritates him, causing him to
pull away. Their kisses never last long.
No word is
exchanged when he hands her a mirror.
Her eyes follow his
retreating back for a second before she returns her attention to the
mirror. It is not decorated aside from a pair of white-and-blue wings
craved beautifully on the far bottom of the hilt. She sees this
symbol quite often, scattered around the mansion, and she guesses
it's the crest of his family.
Suddenly
mist enshrouds the mirror, blocking any light, and she gasps in
horror. But the mist clears up as quickly as it comes, and what's
beneath the mist is a picture of her long lost home. The
half-oriental girl widens her eye when her father enters the picture,
sitting straight on his beloved horse. He looks healthy. A boy with
green eyes and brown hair also appears from the house, greeting the
old man warmly, before both of them vanish behind the closing door.
And then the mist comes again, turning the mirror back into
reflective plane.
She does not really
understand about the mirror itself, or Levi, but she cradles the
mirror against her chest, a chant of thank you leaving her
rosy lips multiple times.
.:.:.
Life with the girl
is easy. She is mostly quiet, with occasional sparks of emotion in
her initially empty features. The first time she actually smiles,
albeit small but it reaches her eyes, is when she expressed her
gratitude for the magic mirror—he lost control right there and
then, pouncing on her with his lips bullying hers, hands roaming at
her sides and back, even teasing her breasts once. He gave her her
very first love mark on her neck that didn't disappear in three days,
which he always looks at smugly.
She is obedient but
not submissive. Still follows him everywhere but also starts showing
development in her swordsmanship, giving him a harder time fighting
her. Still deadpans at his questions but also starts giving valiant
remarks and comments. Still opens her eyes when he kisses her but
also starts kissing back, as gently or as fiercely as he begins it.
Levi doesn't give a
name to their relationship. She can be a wife, a mistress, a
courtesan, a friend, a sister, or a doll. It's not like anyone would
give their fifty cent on the monstrous lord of the land and his
female partner. But she leaves her bedroom and moves to his. She
makes herself comfortable around his body heat and his clean scent.
She contents herself getting tangled in messy sheets and sweaty
bodies grinding against each other.
They
rarely talk. They believe actions always speak louder—she lets him
undress her, his finger touching and lingering on places they should
not. She lets him lead her to the bed and kisses his brows, his eyes,
his nose, his cheeks, his jaw, his lips
when her back meets the cool sheet. He lets her undo the cravat
around his neck. He lets her yank his hair almost painfully when he
bites down on her delicate skin around her neck.
Sometimes he takes
his shirt off, sometimes she pulls it open, but they have a silent
agreement to leave his pants on. He will then shower kisses along her
body before going down on her, leaving the girl writhing under his
touches. When he finally enters her, he is never overly gentle, and
never ruthless—just shifting from one side to the other. Just
enough to bring both of them to complete pleasure.
When they finish
their love-making—his name still heavy on her tongue and her name
on his—he will kiss her forehead adoringly, like a father to his
daughter, and she will shed just one drop of tear because her old man
is far away from her, safe with her brunette brother. As slumber then
takes over his body, he always quietly wonders at the absurdity: a
moment of heated coupling ending with platonic feelings.
But he likes it.
Just a
second he flickers his eyes open when he thinks he hears her mutter a
quiet I love you, but
she's asleep.
He
always dreams of light and spring and her,
smiling beautifully at him.
-fin-
A/N: I know the official RivaMika Week has ended, but I decide to finish all eight prompts (though maybe more leisurely). And I can't believe I actually wrote something close to smut, even though the smut is like one percent from the whole story, sorry. The prompt is Beauty and The Grumpy but it ends up Levi not really grumpy :))
I don't really like this writing style, no dialogue and full narration, because it holds me from giving detailed events, but it really helps when I have like zero idea hahaha.
AND YEAH I PICKED THIS BECAUSE I JUST
READ A FRICKIN SHOUJO MANGA ABOUT A MAID AND AN EARL WHICH IS CLICHE
BUT I STILL READ IT ANYWAY
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