casualties of war
Title: Casualties of War; or, six things Elle lost, and one thing she didn’t
Series: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Elle, Elle/Adam, Elle/Gabriel. Mentions of Elle's unnamed momma and Bob.
Rating: R for sexytimes. I don't think they're that explicit but then again, I'm a jaded soul.
Warnings: ANGST. Sex. Character death. And douchebags, this story is full of them. Also: Elle being far too complacent for her own good (hey, I don't agree with it, but I'm just the messenger). And not necessarily dubcon but...hm...sex with a douchebag. Douchecon? Oh and S3 spoilers.
A/N: Always see this kinds of fics, thought I'd try one of my own! Beta'd by mollivanders who is awesome and I love her (in a totally platonic way, I think). Any fail in this story is entirely my fault, not hers. Just a quick question: there was a sleeping bag or something they were laying on in the Canfield house, right? It was sitting in near the hole in a previous scene, right? AM I MAKING THIS UP? Well for the purposes of this story, it was there.
Enjoy! (if you wanna know where a particular quote came from, just ask)
i. the heart that truly loves never forgets;
(or, how she lost her mother)
Elle doesn’t remember much about her mom. But sometimes she likes to look in the mirror at her own reflection and imagine what she might have looked like as something other than a flat image in a picture frame. She pushes and pulls at her face, rearranging her features to erase the ones that remind her of her father, trying desperately to deconstruct herself into two pieces.
Finally she does it once, molds herself into something she recognizes and a memory snaps across her mind like electricity across a grid. She remembers a pretty woman with long blonde hair and a soft smile humming a lullaby as she held Elle on her lap. She remembers how warm her touch was, and how she held Elle and told her she loved her as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of pretty blue sparks all over her skin and light bulbs exploding.
Then suddenly in her memory she was awake, sitting in the grass outside her house, coughing and screaming as she watched flames eat her grandmother’s home alive. Daddy and mommy weren’t there, just strangers petting her hair and telling her everything was going to be okay.
She doesn’t know if the memories are related, but the feeling in her tummy like she’s been hit by a brick tells her they are.
ii. whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad;
(or, how she lost her mind)
The shrinks ask her about how she feels after she’s been tied to tables and injected with poison that crawls in her veins like spiders; they think she’s got psychological problems. She replies, her voice hoarse from her screams, that she thinks they get paid too much to tell her what she already knows.
iii. like virgin snow that shows the bloody footprints;
(or, how she lost her virginity)
She’s eighteen and now he doesn’t have any excuses. He can’t say no.
“If I could die, your father would kill me,” he murmurs as she begins kissing his neck, hesitantly and clumsily reaching down to touch him through his pants. She thinks Adam Monroe probably has done this with virgins like her a million times before, so he’ll know how to make it special and good and it probably won’t hurt at all.
He pulls her down roughly and slams her against the tiny cot, his grip painful against her shoulders. His kisses are bruising and hurried, crushing her lips against her teeth and filling her mouth with the taste of blood. Her pretty sundress is pushed up to just under her breasts and her underwear discarded before she has a chance to react.
She hears him spit in his hand and then touch himself before she’s overwhelmed by a sharp and sudden pain as he pushes inside of her. She bites her lip and unsuccessfully strangles a scream as her body sparks uncontrollably in reaction. He rests only for a moment, a guttural moan escaping his lips as his flesh burns under her fingertips, before he begins thrusting against her. His movements aren’t gentle and he doesn’t look at her, doesn’t kiss her, and only a few minutes later she feels a welcome emptiness before she shudders at the feeling of sticky wetness against her stomach.
“Sorry, love,” he says in response to her disgusted face, “but the world doesn’t need another one of you.”
Throwing her his only towel, she cleans herself off before she fixes her dress and retrieves her underwear. Tears stain her face and she begins to walk out, but before she can leave he grabs her wrist hard enough to leave a mark and pulls her towards him. She’s inches from his face and she burns with shame.
“Don’t you ever try to boss me around like that again,” he snaps, his voice cold and harsh. He releases her arm and she slaps him, hard, before she runs out.
iv.my relief must be to loathe him;
(or, how she lost her father)
When she finds her daddy dead in his stuffy office chair, she feels guilty that mixed in with her anguished scream is a quiet sigh of relief.
v. you can’t buy love;
(or, how she lost her heart)
She lets Gabriel kiss her, so sweetly, and it’s like he wants her more than anything right now. His hands are gentle and a little clumsy but that’s okay, she is too. She’s never been with anyone but old, terrible Adam Monroe, so she’s not really sure what she’s doing either.
They kiss for a few minutes just standing there, his hands weaving through her hair and grabbing fistfuls of it gently, pressing her closer to him. She lets her hands explore under his shirt and she grabs the top of his pants playfully, pulling him down with her as she sits on the floor.
He puts his hand behind her and lowers her down on her back, but the floor is hard and she whimpers in protest, wiggling underneath him to signal her discomfort. Gabriel smiles a little and nods in agreement. He reaches over and grabs the sleeping bag sitting on the floor next to them and spreads it out, inviting her to lie on it. She rolls on to it playfully and pulls him down with her. “You’re so considerate,” she murmurs, before capturing his mouth with her own once more.
Soon his mouth finds the skin of her throat and he pulls at her clothes hurriedly, ripping her shirt in the process. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to give me yours later,” she says, running a finger through the rip in her shirt before finishing the job herself. The shirt falls off in pieces and she smiles teasingly. “But I’m glad it’s gone for now.”
She unbuttons his shirt hastily and casts it to the side as he tugs at her pants to pull them off. They’re tight against her skin so she pushes at them herself as he does the same with his own. He’s warm against her, the feeling of his skin touching her own igniting the natural static between them, and she sighs in pleasure at the sensation.
He’s considerate as he explores her body, touching her with precision and respect. He makes sure she is sated and ready before he takes what he needs, entering her gently and slowly and it actually feels good. His name is ripped from her in a throaty scream when she comes and it rings in the empty house like bells.
vi. but you can pay heavily for it;
(or, how she lost her life)
She feels her heart break into pieces when he pushes her into the sand and tells her she’s nothing to him, in so many words, and she wishes she could shatter and melt and drip away. She doesn’t love anyone, and she loves him; that has to mean something, right?
When she feels a searing pain on her forehead she squeezes her eyes shut and tears stream down her cheeks. She’s dizzy and scared wants to reach out and shake him and ask him why, but she doesn’t have the strength. His weight pushes against her like he wants to bleed her dry and her heart beats in an imperfect rhythm. His name is a sigh on her lips as the sound of blood rushing in her ears and the gentle hum of electricity lull her into unconsciousness.
She wonders how long it will take for everyone to forget her.
vii. anything worth having has a price;
(or, how she kept her dignity)
Elle used to think killing people was wrong; couldn’t these people change? So daddy told her a story about a dog he had when he was a little boy, and how it was so sick and in so much pain, that patching it up temporarily didn’t change the fact that it’s life was over. Either it dies now with some dignity, or it dies later as a shadow of itself, sad and pathetic.
It hurts more than she thought it would. But she’s so proud; she didn’t scream.
Series: Heroes
Characters/Pairings: Elle, Elle/Adam, Elle/Gabriel. Mentions of Elle's unnamed momma and Bob.
Rating: R for sexytimes. I don't think they're that explicit but then again, I'm a jaded soul.
Warnings: ANGST. Sex. Character death. And douchebags, this story is full of them. Also: Elle being far too complacent for her own good (hey, I don't agree with it, but I'm just the messenger). And not necessarily dubcon but...hm...sex with a douchebag. Douchecon? Oh and S3 spoilers.
A/N: Always see this kinds of fics, thought I'd try one of my own! Beta'd by mollivanders who is awesome and I love her (in a totally platonic way, I think). Any fail in this story is entirely my fault, not hers. Just a quick question: there was a sleeping bag or something they were laying on in the Canfield house, right? It was sitting in near the hole in a previous scene, right? AM I MAKING THIS UP? Well for the purposes of this story, it was there.
Enjoy! (if you wanna know where a particular quote came from, just ask)
i. the heart that truly loves never forgets;
(or, how she lost her mother)
Elle doesn’t remember much about her mom. But sometimes she likes to look in the mirror at her own reflection and imagine what she might have looked like as something other than a flat image in a picture frame. She pushes and pulls at her face, rearranging her features to erase the ones that remind her of her father, trying desperately to deconstruct herself into two pieces.
Finally she does it once, molds herself into something she recognizes and a memory snaps across her mind like electricity across a grid. She remembers a pretty woman with long blonde hair and a soft smile humming a lullaby as she held Elle on her lap. She remembers how warm her touch was, and how she held Elle and told her she loved her as she drifted off to sleep, dreaming of pretty blue sparks all over her skin and light bulbs exploding.
Then suddenly in her memory she was awake, sitting in the grass outside her house, coughing and screaming as she watched flames eat her grandmother’s home alive. Daddy and mommy weren’t there, just strangers petting her hair and telling her everything was going to be okay.
She doesn’t know if the memories are related, but the feeling in her tummy like she’s been hit by a brick tells her they are.
ii. whom the gods would destroy, they first make mad;
(or, how she lost her mind)
The shrinks ask her about how she feels after she’s been tied to tables and injected with poison that crawls in her veins like spiders; they think she’s got psychological problems. She replies, her voice hoarse from her screams, that she thinks they get paid too much to tell her what she already knows.
iii. like virgin snow that shows the bloody footprints;
(or, how she lost her virginity)
She’s eighteen and now he doesn’t have any excuses. He can’t say no.
“If I could die, your father would kill me,” he murmurs as she begins kissing his neck, hesitantly and clumsily reaching down to touch him through his pants. She thinks Adam Monroe probably has done this with virgins like her a million times before, so he’ll know how to make it special and good and it probably won’t hurt at all.
He pulls her down roughly and slams her against the tiny cot, his grip painful against her shoulders. His kisses are bruising and hurried, crushing her lips against her teeth and filling her mouth with the taste of blood. Her pretty sundress is pushed up to just under her breasts and her underwear discarded before she has a chance to react.
She hears him spit in his hand and then touch himself before she’s overwhelmed by a sharp and sudden pain as he pushes inside of her. She bites her lip and unsuccessfully strangles a scream as her body sparks uncontrollably in reaction. He rests only for a moment, a guttural moan escaping his lips as his flesh burns under her fingertips, before he begins thrusting against her. His movements aren’t gentle and he doesn’t look at her, doesn’t kiss her, and only a few minutes later she feels a welcome emptiness before she shudders at the feeling of sticky wetness against her stomach.
“Sorry, love,” he says in response to her disgusted face, “but the world doesn’t need another one of you.”
Throwing her his only towel, she cleans herself off before she fixes her dress and retrieves her underwear. Tears stain her face and she begins to walk out, but before she can leave he grabs her wrist hard enough to leave a mark and pulls her towards him. She’s inches from his face and she burns with shame.
“Don’t you ever try to boss me around like that again,” he snaps, his voice cold and harsh. He releases her arm and she slaps him, hard, before she runs out.
iv.my relief must be to loathe him;
(or, how she lost her father)
When she finds her daddy dead in his stuffy office chair, she feels guilty that mixed in with her anguished scream is a quiet sigh of relief.
v. you can’t buy love;
(or, how she lost her heart)
She lets Gabriel kiss her, so sweetly, and it’s like he wants her more than anything right now. His hands are gentle and a little clumsy but that’s okay, she is too. She’s never been with anyone but old, terrible Adam Monroe, so she’s not really sure what she’s doing either.
They kiss for a few minutes just standing there, his hands weaving through her hair and grabbing fistfuls of it gently, pressing her closer to him. She lets her hands explore under his shirt and she grabs the top of his pants playfully, pulling him down with her as she sits on the floor.
He puts his hand behind her and lowers her down on her back, but the floor is hard and she whimpers in protest, wiggling underneath him to signal her discomfort. Gabriel smiles a little and nods in agreement. He reaches over and grabs the sleeping bag sitting on the floor next to them and spreads it out, inviting her to lie on it. She rolls on to it playfully and pulls him down with her. “You’re so considerate,” she murmurs, before capturing his mouth with her own once more.
Soon his mouth finds the skin of her throat and he pulls at her clothes hurriedly, ripping her shirt in the process. “Well, I guess you’ll just have to give me yours later,” she says, running a finger through the rip in her shirt before finishing the job herself. The shirt falls off in pieces and she smiles teasingly. “But I’m glad it’s gone for now.”
She unbuttons his shirt hastily and casts it to the side as he tugs at her pants to pull them off. They’re tight against her skin so she pushes at them herself as he does the same with his own. He’s warm against her, the feeling of his skin touching her own igniting the natural static between them, and she sighs in pleasure at the sensation.
He’s considerate as he explores her body, touching her with precision and respect. He makes sure she is sated and ready before he takes what he needs, entering her gently and slowly and it actually feels good. His name is ripped from her in a throaty scream when she comes and it rings in the empty house like bells.
vi. but you can pay heavily for it;
(or, how she lost her life)
She feels her heart break into pieces when he pushes her into the sand and tells her she’s nothing to him, in so many words, and she wishes she could shatter and melt and drip away. She doesn’t love anyone, and she loves him; that has to mean something, right?
When she feels a searing pain on her forehead she squeezes her eyes shut and tears stream down her cheeks. She’s dizzy and scared wants to reach out and shake him and ask him why, but she doesn’t have the strength. His weight pushes against her like he wants to bleed her dry and her heart beats in an imperfect rhythm. His name is a sigh on her lips as the sound of blood rushing in her ears and the gentle hum of electricity lull her into unconsciousness.
She wonders how long it will take for everyone to forget her.
vii. anything worth having has a price;
(or, how she kept her dignity)
Elle used to think killing people was wrong; couldn’t these people change? So daddy told her a story about a dog he had when he was a little boy, and how it was so sick and in so much pain, that patching it up temporarily didn’t change the fact that it’s life was over. Either it dies now with some dignity, or it dies later as a shadow of itself, sad and pathetic.
It hurts more than she thought it would. But she’s so proud; she didn’t scream.