#THE BLOOD LEAVING HIS BODY SO THAT IT MIGHT FEED HIM AFTERWARDS. HIS BELOVED CARRYING HIM TO SAFETY SO THAT WHEN THE BLOOD LEAVES HIS BODY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lilsuzn · 3 years

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MLQC Victor - Fluff abc headcanons

Fandom: Mr. Love: Queen’s Choice

Warnings: None. Fluffy flluff. The reader is gender neutral :)))

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

The ambition.

The witt.

The open-mindedness.

The kindness.

The creativity and imagination.

The passion.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Smile. He loves it, because it’s a clear indication of your happiness.

Your eyes light up, cheeks become so adorably pink.

He has a different picture of your smile on a main screen and lock screen of every device he has. Even his work laptop.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Given his initial attitude you couldn’t believe how after your first time together Victor got cuddly out of the sudden.

He’s not clingy. He doesn’t do it at any given occasion, but when you are alone in the comfort of his home - he will want to cuddle and might even get a bit touchy-feely sometimes.

Spooning on the couch is his favorite. He can be a big or a small spoon. He doesn’t really have a prefered role. Victor just wants to be close and keep you warm.

Candles and slow music.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Perfect gentlemanly manners.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

His ideal date would be a cosy, romantic dinner at his place. Just the two of you. Everything will be served to you. And don’t even think about helping him wash the dishes afterwards.

He can be quite aloof in public.

If he bares himself to you - it’s only in private (if at all).

When the look in his eyes softness and the corners of his lips tug upwards - that’s when he pulls you close and lays kisses all over your face.

Doesn’t really know how to talk about his feelings. Won’t really try unless absolutely necessary.

Will take extremely good care of you if you need it. Sick? Tired? Grumpy? Sad? He would nag, but is ready to stop the earth and move the sun if it is to make you smile at him again.

He’s a hard worker and would rather die than to give up on keeping you happy. And by his side.

F = Family (do they want one? If they do, when?)

YES.

Whenever you are ready and if you want to have kids at all - he will be happy to provide.

Only thought of you carrying his child makes him all hot and bothered, but that’s obviously not all.

He just wants to have everything with you. Beautiful wedding, big house, children... maybe even a dog, if you into THOSE -.-

He sometimes imagines you both gray and old with your grandchildren. Making cookies in the kitchen or walking around the park.

He (very) secretly dreams about ending your love story the same way it ended in the Notebook (that he has officially never seen!). Embracing each other. Closing your eyes for the last time knowing that your children are safe and happy. That’s just who he is deep deep deep inside - a hopeless romantic.

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

Well, he doesn’t really believe that gifts are an indication of love. People give each other gifts all the time and for no apparent reason.

He cherishes every gift you give him, but if it was the only thing you did, he wouldn’t be too happy about it.

Same goes for him. He’s a man with money. He might not be able to give you ANYTHING you might want, but he can sure provide you with a lot.

And he will. He could never leave you wanting without a good reason. He sees it as his responsibility to gift his beloved one with everything a woman might want.

Every work trip - a bag full of ‘I’m sorry I left’ gifts. He just needs to prove it to you that he was thinking about you every second he was away and how else could he do it?

He also likes to present, well, himself with jewelry or clothes for you to wear. Something beaming like your smile? Something precious like you are for him?

He just can’t deny himself the pleasure of seeing you look so gorgeous in something he personally picked out.

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Oh, so you thought you would be able to NOT hold hands on every possible occasion? Cute.

Don’t feel like cuddling on the couch or in the bed? Okay, hands holding it is.

Feel like cuddling? Okay, but don’t let go of his hand.

Walking around the town together? You better believe he won’t let a chance to show off his wonderful woman slip. Yes, madam old lady walking by, yes mister homeless guy going down the trash container, yes madam sales lady and you, random guy on a bike - she’s my babe.

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

If you injure yourself by being distracted while ie. cutting something with a knife or stirring something hot - he will get a bit upset with you.

But even though he will bumble discontentedly under his nose, he will take better care of you than you need. Hurt your right hand? He will feed you, write things down for you and whatever else he sees necessary. Hurt your foot? You’re being carried around and he will be mad if you try to walk on your own. “I know it’s nothing serious, but what if it gets worse when you always walk so carelessly?”

If somebody else hurt you? Well, he’s ready to kill with cold blood. Wouldn’t hesitate.

Stabs as a warning.

If you got seriously hurt he would probably close himself in the bathroom and cry for a while, but nobody but him will ever know.

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

He finds such acts very childish and would never prank you. He flinches with only a thought of the word.

If you attempt such a thing to him, he will get VERY UPSET.

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Full of love.

He doesn’t like to kiss just for the sake of it or for the expectation to kiss your partner.

If your lips meet it’s always in an emotion-filled kiss.

No matter if it's a featherlight, sugarsweet, lovingly sensual or burning hot kiss - it's always intense in it’s own way.

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

Acts of service - His mane operational system. He lives to please you. To treat you like a goddess you are for him. Acts like he’s taking notes of your preferences, dreams and dislikes. Only buys the coffee you like. Stops eating meat for you. Do you remember saying that you wanted that cute, sakura starbucks mug, but had no idea where to get it? He does. He ordered it for you already. Remember briefly mentioning that you would want to see Tokyo in winter? He already has a whole trip planned.

Gifts - well, I already covered it in G, but I’ll just add that he will surely be reluctant to buy you some seemingly useless stuff even if you ask for them.

Physical touch - once again, Victor isn’t really clingy or touchy feely. He has his moments, we all do, but usually he just likes to hold hands and that’s all he wants for outsiders to see. At home he gets a little more physical, but not too much. Some affectionate caressing and hugs. Kissing is not that often of an occurrence, but when it happens is usually preparation for devil's tango (which with him happens pretty often but that’s not the list for the details).

Quality time - See Q.

Words of affirmation - Well, he is a good critic. Too good. However it’s just because he wants you to push your limits to thrive. He will tell you that he’s proud of you, appreciates what you are doing for him/your relationship and other things that are usually task/success related, because that’s the only appreciation words he appreciates. Words are empty for him. He’s a lawyer, he knows how willingly people lie to get what they want and how hesitant they are to make some more effort when it comes to it. Will tell you that he loves you at least once a day, because he always adds it to his to do list. Won’t praise your beauty too much, but you can tell he likes what he sees when he likes it. If you wear red lipstick the man will basically drool, but will not say a word until he pushes you down on his bed… and the rest is history.

M = Memory (favorite memory together?)

Remember that third date I mentioned? The one his kissed you for the first time on?

It was a very nice date.

He took you for a walk around the rose garden. Bought you your favorite coffee to keep you warm during the breezy evening.

Didn’t let go of your hand for a moment.

You looked so pretty that night. Smiled so pretty. TALKED so pretty.He didn’t even realise when he stopped and leaned down. He could not have noticed when you closed the gap between you.

But the kiss was outwardly. That first one and every other you shared that night.

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

To disappoint you.

He sure is scared of losing you, hurting you and a few more, but seeing you disappointed by him…

To imagine such a thing is already hurtful for him.

O = Oddity (what is one quirk they have?)

Taking photos of you while you’re asleep.

He just can’t help it. You’re so beautiful. And cute.

Would never show them to anyone though. Not even you.

No… He couldn’t even confess to you about it. It’s just his little secret.

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Is ‘dummy’ a pet name? Because… Dummy.

‘Baby’ might also happen if he's feeling playful or you did something cute.

If he’s in a good mood you can count on ‘my love’ or ‘my lovely’ - but never in public.

Q = Quality Time (how do they like to spend time with you?)

Can’t do without it.

As I said in D, Victor will both serve you and entertain you. Whatever you want to do - he’s okay with doing it with you.

He might not really pay any attention to some of your movies and work on his laptop instead, but he wouldn’t even dream about leaving you alone and doing it in his comfortable office instead.

He rearranged his home office so you would come over and you both work together more often and more happily. Now you sit across from each other and, heh, see H.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

Me? Myself?

Beyonce - Ego. OBVIOUSLY. Check it out if you don’t know it. (it’s a tiny, little bit suggestive, beware)

But in the more romantic mood…

The Neighbourhood - Sweater Weather

S = Secrets (how open are they with you?)

You need to put a lot of work for him to finally open up.

After that first time, however, if he finds your reaction pleasant, he will start testing the waters on his own from time to time.

THEN, if you won’t fail his many, many tests of course, he will open up for good.

No secrets. No hiding his feelings. He’s your book that is eager to be read.

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

He doesn’t fall for anyone. Ever.

If he was to, I’d have to be a conscious decision. With a lot of thought put into it.

That’s what he was telling to himself his whole life, a least.

But then when he met you… it wasn’t a love at first sight, but it took approximately a fithteen minutes of group conversation for him to get all tingly on the inside.

He didn’t ask you out that day and he regretted it alot. The next time you run across each other on the street, he spears no time.

He kissed you on your third date. Neither of you voiced it, but the situation was very clear.

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He acts upset.

He’s angry and he either actively doesn't talk with you or throws passive aggressive comments around.

He doesn’t beat around the bush. He’s upset.

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

You're absolutely supreme in his eyes.

Beautiful, intelligent, talented.

He takes a lot of pride by introd you as his partner. Takes you everywhere he can as his plus one, so he can show you off to even more people.

Talks instead of you as he does that, but obviously you are more than okay with that.

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Do I even have to say it?

Because it’s obvious. Have you even ever heard about this guy?

He would kill and die for you.

Do anything to keep you by his side and happy. That’s just who he is - a fighter… for you.

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

His talent to read people is one of the main things he owes his success to.

Even if you don’t show what’s inside your head in your face, he sure will find other ways to read you.

You can’t hide anything from him.

Y = Yes (how would they propose to you?)

As I said, he doesn’t show it off much, but it’s quite clear in his gestures towards you - he’s a hopeless romantic that is madly in love with you.

Christmas morning. Sipping on hot chocolates that Victor made for you. You open your presents.

As always, you end up ashamed of how little you spent on him, even though you couldn’t really afford more. He bought you so many things you’re not even sure you’ll be able to store it.

After going through a few bigger presents, you finally go down on the smaller ones.

One of them particularly tiny, causing an awwww to leave your lips.

You got a few rings from Victor before and even more pairs of earrings. It really didn’t seem suspicious, especially since you’ve been dating for only a few months then.

But after you open up the box and see it… you get a bit confused at first.

White and yellow gold molten together creating an uneven coloration of a band that bends and twists and splits like a branch that holds two gleaming diamonds like they were two blooming flowers. One white - bigger, other pink - smaller.

Their cut - unseen. Enhancing their flower-like look even farther.

At first you are consumed by inspecting every detail - the way the metal cups the stones to like a tree does flowers. Causing a petal ilusion to grow even more realistic… You don’t even notice when he goes down on one knee before you until he puts his hand on your thigh.

You look at him. Your eyes wide in shock.

He has never been a man of words and some might say that his proposal ‘speech’ wasn’t romantic… But for you it was more than just perfect.

“Marry me, (Y/N).”

Z = Zen (what makes them feel calm?)

Seeing you calm. Seeing you happy.

Knowing that you don’t have to worry about another day, because he’s been working hard his whole life to provide for you.

#mlqc victor #mlqc #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #mlqc fluff

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deathonyourtongue · 3 years

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Sanguine Nocturnus | 4

Summary: Even after 2000 years, the world can still surprise you. Pairing: AU!Henry Cavill x OFC Word Count: 2.7K Warnings: It’s a vampire fic. Death. Blood. Gore. Sex. Horror. Not for the kiddies or the squeamish. I mean it. A/N : Sorry this took so long. Hope y’all enjoy it!!

The invitation came just as Lucrezia said it would, the handcrafted card a modern iteration of the same gaudy pomp and circumstance that Henry had come to expect over the years. For a moment, he considered not going, but given everything Lucy had made him privy to, he knew better than to play coy; it wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility for the coven’s security task force to show up at his door like a far more sinister Secret Service.

Given the occasion, Henry knew better than to show up in his usual fare, and instead pulled a bespoke number out of the closet. The three-piece suit combined black satin and vermillion brocade, the pattern emblazoned on the waistcoat and the piping of the lapels. With a matching pocket square and two elegant brooches for his tie, he slipped on a pair of black Oxfords and made his way through the ancient streets that were so different, yet still held the same familiarity they had when he was human.

With the moon hanging over the temple of Venus as though the structure itself was holding up the orb, Rome looked primed for a ceremonial changing of the guard, and as he came upon the coven’s high wrought-iron gates, Henry could almost feel the change on the wind.

ID to enter the coven was simple enough; a smile would do the trick, so long as one’s canines were on full display. Like the rest of his ilk, Henry was able to retract his fangs when they weren’t needed, and when they were--whether it was to feed, or simply put the fear of the unknown into a human--his blue eyes would flash as though catching a stray bolt of lightning; it was a trick rarely seen, one only elder vampires seemed to have. Fledglings’ could only make their natural color more vibrant when necessary. While it was equally impressive to humans, it did little to frighten their own kind.

It had long been rumored that the Villa Nocturnus had been designed by Michelangelo, but having been around far longer than many of his cohorts who presently resided in the coven, Henry knew this to be a simple fallacy. The truth was that the Medicis had used the coven’s villa as inspiration for their own, and that their architect had asked for intercession from the renowned artist. It had been another scandalous choice by the powerful family, only because anyone who’d lived in Rome at that time knew the Villa Nocturnus as a place of darkness and ill-repute, a legacy which still lived on, especially among Rome’s older population.

Built primarily out of limestone and concrete, the villa had been redesigned and restored innumerous times throughout history, with facets of contemporary style added or removed as was fashionable. While the exterior underwent regular facelifts, it paled in comparison with how often the interior was reworked. Originally just a place to gather, feed, and sleep in relative privacy and safety, the elders had always sought to improve the villa both in functionality and aesthetic. As technology improved, so too did the comfort of the lowly Roman vampire, and now, with everyone carrying the world in their pocket, Henry could only imagine what changes were in store for him.

Though mostly unchanged from the last time he’d visited, Henry immediately noticed the addition of automation to the property. Doors now opened and closed with sensors, and in the parlor, roving donors had been replaced by a touch screen dispenser filled with every blood type, the machine able to fix a glass to whatever specifications the drinker might desire. The biggest change however, had been to the sleeping quarters. No longer relegated to coffins, those who chose to reside within the coven’s walls full time were able to enjoy the luxury of a regular bed, thanks to a specialized tint on every window and security shutters for extra protection. From what Henry had been told, the place turned into something of a Fort Knox while the coven slept, a peace of mind his kind had not known before.

Henry’s thoughts were pulled away from all the technological changes in the villa by the sound of chanting. Though vampires prided themselves on being far superior to humans, much like their living counterparts, they could never truly shake the traditions of old, and so the changing of the guard went on in the same fashion it had since the inauguration of the coven. The chants accompanied the procession of the departing Elder, the ominous notes setting the tone for the ceremony that would see one vampire set into the earth for at least a century, while another took his place, ruling over the coven with only the former elder’s powers and notes to guide him; it was no wonder they always demanded a tutor.

“Charissimi immortuos, nos congregentur hic hodie ut videre ad transitum de saeculum.”

The fact that the ceremony began similarly to a Catholic mass had never been lost on Henry; just one more remnant of the Vatican’s stranglehold on all. The thought crossed Henry’s mind, fleetingly, that perhaps having a young ruling elder might not be so bad after all; he would shortly possess the power to make changes as he saw fit, with very little input from the rest of the coven. In fact, the only person he truly had to listen to was Henry himself--if he wanted to learn the proper ways of existing.

“We now come to the Veneration. Cassius will open his vein for our new Elder, imparting all of his knowledge and wisdom, his strength and power, to our new ruler. Afterwards, you will all have a moment to bid our beloved Cassius a peaceful rest. The Veneration will now begin.”

Henry could see the starvation in Gregory’s eyes, knowing the fledgling had been fasting for two days prior to the ceremony; while it was par for the course, Henry couldn’t help but wonder if it was in coven’s best interests to starve so young a vampire prior to giving him some of the most powerful blood in the country.

He watched, unblinking, as the titanium blade was swept elegantly down Cassius’ forearm, the cut made just deep enough to allow a free flow of the elixir Gregory so desperately needed, and to prevent the younger vampire from doing any harm to their departing elder. Henry could tell when the first drop of blood touched the fledgling’s tongue, Gregory’s eyes widening as the world was revealed to him. The natural inclination was to close one’s eyes as the swoon came, the warmth and richness of the liquid relaxing the body and the mind without fail.

Almost too quickly however, Gregory’s eyes were open again, and Henry found himself staring at eyes that seemed electrically charged. He wasn’t sure what color the young vampire’s eyes were naturally, but the ice blue that flashed through them was unlike anything Henry had ever seen...In any fledgling...Ever. Blinking, his eyes flashed to the tall windows, looking for any sign of lightning that may have reflected off young Gregory’s pupils. Though he was met solely with a black sky and a smattering of stars, there was no way to be certain that it wasn’t just some trick of the light.

Henry shook off the uneasy feeling as he watched Gregory be pried off Cassius’ arm, the fledgling trembling with need and power. There was no doubt he would have to be fed often and that weaning him down to one meal every few days would have to wait. With age, the hunger, the crazed need for blood, dissipated and vampires as old as Henry and Cassius could comfortably go a few months without feeding, although neither him nor the former Elder were ever in much need to do so. Feeding was now a luxury to be enjoyed, like dining at a five-star restaurant every night simply because one could.

Grabbing a glass of O_--one of the easiest bloodlines to drink--Henry made quick work of finding Lucrezia and Vinicius, his eyes never leaving Gregory. Unlike Cassius, who was ushered into the vaults to begin the process of going to ground, Gregory remained out in public, still trembling as he inhaled glass after glass of A+ to try and take the edge off.

“Well, that was far less tumultuous than last time,” Vinicius commented as he sipped his own glass, eyebrows wiggling in good humor as everyone began to form a line to dispatch Cassius with words of praise; a line Henry and a few others had no intention of joining.

“Last time was a forced coup in case you forgot,” Henry deadpanned, watching as Gregory finally began to calm enough to set his glass down, the fledgling immediately fixing his long, strawberry blond hair, tying it back into a low knot before righting his clothes.

“Yes, well, poor Quintas was never the same after he bit that flu-ridden girl. You know they’re still testing his blood?” Vinicius replied, shaking his head as he remembered the last great pandemic, one which had thankfully left many of them untouched, albeit desperate for clean blood. While disease rarely affected vampires, drinking from those who had been poisoned, had raging infections, or were close to death could all have profound and lasting effects on the immortal body, no matter how powerful.

Henry’s eyes stayed on Gregory, watching as the fledgling made eye contact with Fares. Once a prisoner of war under the Parthian Empire, Fares had leapt at the chance for immortality as a means of freedom from bondage. No longer seen for his worth in labor, but rather his quiet, gentle nature (even when feeding), Fares had lived out his days in the coven’s safety, venturing out only when he had to, and only with those whom he trusted most. Having been only 22 when he was changed, time had not withered away his innocence, or the tender affection he felt for humanity and his fellow kind. It was glaringly obvious as he watched Fares smile shyly at Gregory, the fledgling immediately taken with the older vampire. It didn’t take long before the rest of the room seemed to disappear for the two of them, both men entranced by one another.

“Who do you think will make the first move?” Henry smirked, jerking his chin in the direction of Gregory and Fares, the two barely keeping an inch between them as they flirted and made small talk.

“Why don’t we go find out? I heard the baths were being reserved for our new Elder and a few chosen guests.” Lucrezia answered as she slipped her arms through Henry and Vinicius’, dragging both men behind her as she made a beeline for their new leader.

It didn’t take long for Lucrezia to work her charms on the new Elder, Gregory as taken with her as Henry had been the first time they’d met. The offer to share his reserved bath came quickly after, and before he knew it, Henry was following the small group down the hallways and into the depths of the villa, the floor sloping gently beneath his feet as they approached the massive pool of crystalline water.

Steam rose from the liquid, swirling and mixing with the clouds of incense and oil that burned throughout the room. True to the old Roman style, the baths were lit with hanging lanterns, the flame burning Jasmine-scented oil as it provided just enough light to guide their paths towards the entrance. Sixteen white stone pillars flanked the large pool, the lamps hanging from the very tops of the columns; Henry wondered for a moment how many servants of the house it took to clean the smoke stains from the ceiling. Guided towards the end of the room by two servants, three additional staff bowed lowly, all at the ready to help the group undress.

Henry was the first to wade in, the heat of the water doing wonders for the oft-ignored cold of his skin. Gregory and Fares followed, both still too entwined in each other’s attention to pay much mind to their guests. Their eyes only gazed outwards once Vinicius and Lucrezia had entered the water and Henry had cleared his throat quietly.

“So, prof. How long’ve you been around?” Gregory asked, tipping his chin up towards his new teacher in curiosity.

“Long enough to have served under Caesar,” Henry answered without hesitation, his gaze locking on Gregory’s to enforce the fact.

“Long enough to have served alongside him,” Vinicius confirmed, adding his age to the list.

“Long enough to be painted on papyrus,” Lucrezia winked, her own gaze moving to Fares with an encouraging grin.

“Long enough to have witnessed the Parthian empire first hand,” Fares admitted, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.

Gregory took a moment, looking around at each face as though he were seeing them for the first time. His mouth opened and closed, one finger lifted into the air as though the question he had in mind had simply vanished.

“And what powers do you have?” He finally murmured, Henry able to tell by sight alone that whatever inquiry he’d meant to make had been put on the backburner for another night.

"You read too many pulp novels, but...I possess the usual gifts. Sight, smell, sound, telepathy, flight..." As though to prove his point, Henry floated high above the pool of water with effortless grace, his arms extended in a pose similar to that of Christ on the cross.

"Impressive." Gregory smiled, although as Henry read his thoughts he could tell the word held more than one meaning for the elder.

Sinking back into the water, it was Henry’s turn to smile as he picked up on Vinicius and Lucrezia’s thoughts, the pair beckoning him over with an offer that would be difficult to refuse under the best of circumstances. His eyes took on a more vibrant shade of blue as he waded over, keeping his pupil in his sights even as he did so.

“What can you teach me that I haven’t just got from Cassius?” Gregory asked, feeling the shift in the room and stretching out his lithe form in reaction to it.

“One can always learn new lessons,” Henry smirked, licking his lips before pressing them to Lucrezia’s neck, his fangs grazing over the tender skin just below where her jaw met her ear. Hands gliding over her body, Henry kept pace with Vinicius, watching out of the corner of his eye as Fares finally made his move, capturing Gregory’s lips in a deep, hungry kiss.

The servants, used to the debauchery of the coven, maintained discretion, providing the only accoutrement necessary for carnal pleasure. Henry continued to busy his mouth on Lucrezia’s body, blindly dipping four fingers into the bowl at the edge of the pool, the ancient and familiar scent of Rose Otto filling his nostrils briefly before his hand sank under the water.

It was Gregory who cried out first. Lucrezia’s sigh of ecstasy followed shortly after as Henry and Vinicius took her in unison, her nails cutting into Henry’s neck as she leaned back against the solid wall of his chest. Mouths melded together like honey left out in the sun, fingers traipsed and danced, and before long, soft moans turned into outright apostasy as all five undead creatures grew closer to release. Lucrezia, accustomed, but never ungrateful for such passions, forced herself down on the two swords she sheathed inside her, neck arching like a swan’s as she offered herself to her lovers. Gregory, making a discovery with every plunge of Fares’ body into his own, drew his elixir as much for comfort as for desire, having never experienced anything even remotely as intense as he felt with the man who held him close. The exchange of crimson never failed to be a catalyst for those who were on the edge, and as they drank from one of Rome’s famed beauties, Henry and Vinicius filled Lucrezia’s vessels in equal measure.

In the corners of the room, the servants readied the sherry glasses, warming them over an open flame before filling them with the coven’s finest and freshest.

#henry cavill #henry x ofc #deathonyourtongueoriginals #sanguine nocturnus

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cheshiresense · 6 years

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Sky Arcobaleno!Tsuna + Hunger

Premise: Basically, Arcobaleno are batteries. The Sky Arcobaleno bears the brunt of the Curse to keep the world going while the other Arcobaleno elements are responsible for keeping their Sky going. The strongest and purest Sky is needed to stand as a pillar of the world and keep the other Arcobaleno elements in check, and the other elements need to be the strongest and purest in order to feed their Sky for as long as possible.

The Sky Arcobaleno eats their Flames, which allows them to keep their adult form and stay alive, but the more Flames they consume, the more it reflects on the other elements by de-aging their bodies. Because the Sky carries the weight of the Curse, in exchange, the six elements that serve them are theirs to command. If their Sky wants to eat, the elements can’t refuse. And Giglio Nero Skies have always known their duty.

Once the Sky Arcobaleno eats all the Flames available to them, the Sky would starve and die as the Curse becomes too much for them, and the other elements would either cease to exist soon afterwards because the Sky Arcobaleno has eaten too much of their Flames, or they would live on under the rule of yet another Sky until their Flame reserves have been completely drained dry. After that, a new generation of Arcobaleno is chosen, and the cycle repeats itself.

Reborn remembers Luce. Remembers the way she drew them in, welcomed them, gained their trust, bonded with them. And then ripped it all away in a single moment when she called them together and Checkerface sealed their fate with the Curse.

They were still adults at first. But then Luce started eating, told them it was her right and their duty and they had no choice. Reborn had never felt so furiously helpless, and he’ll never forget what it feels like to have someone feed on his Flames like some kind of leech. It didn’t matter where he went either. He fled halfway around the world and Luce could still drag his Flames from him, still gorge on them like she was hungry every minute of the day.

On good days, it only feels like someone has sliced his belly open and is feeding on his organs, and it makes him wonder if this was how Prometheus felt. On the bad days, it’s a violation at a soul-deep level that Reborn couldn’t describe even if he wants to. It isn’t all the time, but it’s often enough that Reborn can never seem to recover between bouts of feeding.

They all deal with it similarly and differently. Reborn throws himself into his work, into as many different fields as he can, takes as many jobs as possible, and sometimes, his exhaustion almost numbs the sick feeling in his gut and the weakness that tugs at him more and more as the years go by.

Viper holes themselves up in the Varia, distracting themselves with missions and money. Some days, Reborn thinks the reason Viper is so obsessed with money when they never were Before is because the endless calculations gives them something to focus on.

Skull signs up for as many suicidal missions as he does stuntwork even though he barely knows how to hold a gun properly, and the few times they bump into each other, Reborn knows that the only reason the Cloud is still alive is because Luce demands it. (Skull tries though. Because one day, it might even stick.)

Fon disappears into the Chinese Triads and stays away from his family like he thinks he might contaminate them or give Luce a way to hurt them too through him.

Lal and Colonello stay apart as much as possible. Lal can’t stand to see Colonello in pain, and Colonello can’t stand to see Lal’s guilt eating away at her as surely as the Curse is eating away at him. For the most part, they think she’s been spared. At the very least, Luce can’t eat her Flames, and her pacifier remains a dull empty grey.

Verde disappears too, into his labs, and he constantly swings back and forth between an almost feverish madness in his attempts to figure out a way to break the Curse and a detached sort of apathy when the despair takes over and he gives up.

The day Luce dies is a relief even though it doesn’t really change anything. They’re babies by that point, all of them except Luce, and they’ve been called together at the Giglio Nero mansion for the boss’ final moments.

Skull breaks out into raucous cheers when the news breaks. Luce’s subordinates look offended and outraged but the Cloud just grins wildly at them, daring them to shoot. Viper and Verde don’t even bother looking up from the deskwork they brought with them. Fon continues meditating like he doesn’t hear the death knell echoing across the grounds. Reborn breaks out a bottle of champagne and some glasses and makes a toast with Colonello and Lal in celebration. They all do their utmost best to make clear just how much they loathed the beloved Angel of the Giglio Nero Famiglia. Reborn for one doesn’t give a damn if they’re disrespectful. Luce doesn’t deserve respect.

They weren’t just called here for Luce’s passing though. Unbelievably enough, Luce’s Sky Flames burned themselves out before she managed to eat all their Flames. And so here they are, stuck in bodies that look somewhere between two and five as they wait for Checkerface to appear and bequeath the Sky Pacifier to Luce’s twenty-six-year-old daughter - who looks like her and spouts the same Greater Good bullshit like her, and already they hate her just like they hated Luce - and they all stand around and pretend they aren’t scared out of their minds. They sustained Luce for almost thirty years. They don’t have much time left, and they’ve long since resigned themselves to the fact that they would die for this Curse, for a monster-god and his mad plans, for a Sky who was supposed to care about them as much as they cared for her.

Checkerface does appear, the Sky Pacifier disappearing from Luce’s folded hands and reappearing in Checkerface’s, and the whole room tenses even as Aria takes a determined step forward, inclining her head respectfully as she reaches out to accept the Pacifier.

Except... Checkerface stares at her for a moment, and even if they can’t see his expression, they can almost taste his disapproval.

“What has Sepira’s line come to?” He murmurs as if to himself. “To produce such a weak Sky? But I suppose diluted blood was destined to out sooner or later.” And then to a frozen Aria, “You are unsuitable for the position. The Pacifier will go to another.”

And then without another word, he disappears, without leaving so much as a hint of who the next Sky Arcobaleno will be.

They all leave that same night. Aria seems shell-shocked but none of them could care less. If she has any sense at all, she would realize just how lucky she is, to now be able to live a full life. Reborn and the others - not so much. Not anymore. Not for a long time now.

They don’t know what to do. They wait for a month, together, however irritated it makes them to be in each other’s space for even that long, but nothing attacks their Flames, no invisible presence appears to begin feeding on them yet again, and eventually, they part ways, go back to their lives, uneasy but unsure of what to do about it. They keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but it doesn’t, at least not for another six years.

They don’t know why no Sky has called for them or why they haven’t started eating. They know the Curse hasn’t been broken, if only because they’re still babies, and they still have their Pacifiers, and the Flames Luce ate won’t ever come back no matter how much time passes.

Maybe Checkerface couldn’t find a suitable replacement Sky. But whatever the reason, at least they’re not actively being used as someone’s food source anymore.

The day Reborn arrives in Namimori - six years after Luce died - to train the heir to the Vongola throne and instead finds the Sky Arcobaleno haunting the Sawada household, he almost turns around and books the first flight he could find to Anywhere-But-Here.

The only reason he doesn’t is because the new Sky Arcobaleno is Sawada Tsunayoshi, who should be thirteen and would’ve been seven six years ago. He’s also currently in a body that looks younger than it should be, not quite a toddler but smaller than the average thirteen-year-old’s should be, more pre-pubescent child with stunted growth than teenager, and looks about one gust of wind away from keeling over dead.

This is a new low even for Checkerface, and Reborn is ruthless and sadistic and mostly heartless too, but he feels the ravenous pulse of Sky flames from his perch in the tree across from the house, spots the emaciated cheekbones and hollowed-out emptiness in the boy’s eyes, and he can’t quite make himself get up and leave.

They’re close enough now that Reborn’s Pacifier is already glowing faintly, and Tsunayoshi’s should be doing the same. Even if the boy himself doesn’t know how - did Checkerface explain nothing? - instinct should ensure the boy would latch on to Reborn’s Flames and start eating.

But they don’t. Reborn thinks he feels a whisper of want, of desperate hunger reaching for him, but a moment later, even that’s gone too.

It takes him longer than he’d like to admit to make himself go inside. He’s so stupid, he can already hear the other Arcobaleno yelling at him for his stupidity, because if the Sky Arcobaleno learns how to latch on to Reborn’s Flames, he’ll be able to do it to the rest of them too, no matter how far away they are. But he goes anyway, if for no other reason than morbid curiosity and perhaps momentary madness. Besides, what’s that phrase youngsters like to use these days? Right. YOLO.

He braces himself for another Luce, for speeches about the greater good of the world, for Checkerface’s belief in Sacrifice parroted at him, taken as gospel.

He gets none of that. Instead, he meets Sawada Nana, who is - as that idiot Iemitsu spouted in great length - the perfectly welcoming, perfectly courteous, perfect housewife, but so clueless that it makes Reborn suspect brain damage, and completely oblivious to the way her son finds it easier to simply sit on the dinner table rather than in his chair to eat and picks at his food like he wants to throw each bite back up.

Luce told him once, through a serene smile that didn’t match the hungry darkness in her eyes, that normal food tasted like ash to her, and don’t you see Reborn, I need to eat too.

And of course he meets Sawada Tsunayoshi, who stumbles around the house like each step hurts him and doesn’t move unless he has to. Whose hands are covered in cuts because he has a habit of digging his nails into skin and rubbing back and forth until he draws blood. Who takes one look at Reborn, slaps a hand over the Pacifier around his neck, and spends the next hour doing his utmost to kick Reborn out of the house. He only stops when he exhausts himself. Reborn is impressed he actually managed to last an hour before he collapsed.

The story comes out in bits and pieces once Reborn’s half-dragged, half-goaded Tsuna back up to his bedroom for some privacy.

“Mom won’t notice anyway,” Tsuna mutters, slumped on his too-big bed. “She doesn’t notice anything. Nobody in this town does.”

Reborn wonders if that’s Checkerface’s doing. Probably.

Reborn coaxes out the story, aims for gentle because there’s something in Tsuna’s eyes - something flat and tired and dead - that makes him think pushing won’t do any good. Tsuna doesn’t really seem to care enough to hide anything from him anyway. Reborn just has to ask the right questions, and that’s something he’s almost always been good at.

Except when it came to Luce. How he didn’t hear the lies, he’ll never know.

And that’s how he learns of Checkerface’s visit to Tsuna when Tsuna was seven, of how the monster-god told him there was a way to make him feel better, of how Tsuna’s Flames were sealed two years prior by Vongola Nono and his own father and he hadn’t felt right ever since, of how Checkerface revealed that the Curse would shorten his lifespan and Tsuna doesn’t have a choice in the matter because it’s for the good of the world, but at least it would break the seal, and he would still be able to live a decent number of years because his Flames are strong. And finally of the method Tsuna can use to keep himself strong, to keep himself alive - by using the other elements that were already in place to support him. It’s what they’re for, and if Tsuna uses them up before he dies, Checkerface will be on hand to pick a new batch for him. The burden he has to bear is a heavy one but this at least would make it a little fairer and ease that burden just a bit.

Reborn’s heart seizes at that, and again, he has to suppress the urge to escape the house, the town, the country. It’s not like it would do any good anyway. He stays put instead and says, “So you know.” and the logical follow-up demand, “Then why haven’t you eaten?” Because Tsuna hasn’t, not once, in the past six years.

For the first time since the conversation started, Tsuna dredges up what little energy he seems to have regained just to pick his head up to peer incredulously at Reborn like he’s questioning Reborn’s intelligence.

“I can’t eat your Flames,” He says.

“They’re yours,” He says.

“I can’t just take them because I’ve been cursed,” He says.

“That’s wrong,” He says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

And for the first time in decades, Reborn is left completely speechless.

Reborn stays. For one, he still has a job to do, even though it’s a rather moot point now, seeing as there’s no way the Sky Arcobaleno will be able to carry the Vongola rings on top of the Curse, and Timoteo might as well be a footnote in Reborn’s list of priorities at this point, but that’s not a conversation he wants to have before he sorts out what he’s going to do, so he might as well pretend he’s well on his way to shaping Tsuna into the Vongola’s perfect pet mafia boss.

For another, he looks at Tsuna and just... can’t leave. There’s a voice in his head that tells him this is one of the stupidest things he has ever done, only topped by his life-ruining mistake of falling for Luce’s charms, but he just... can’t. He couldn’t say why, if someone had the balls to ask, but maybe part of it is remembering that Tsuna’s first reaction upon seeing him and realizing who he was was to try and make him leave. Even now, sleeping in the same room, their Flames unavoidably brushing against each other, Tsuna doesn’t try to feed on him. Reborn can’t even begin to guess how much self-control that takes. Luce never even tried to hold back.

He follows Tsuna around over the next several days and sees the way people mostly just ignore him, like they know Tsuna’s there but they found him so insignificant that they couldn’t be bothered to talk to him or befriend him or even bully him.

Something in Reborn bristles at the sight.

The teachers are abysmal at teaching, and Tsuna barely pays any attention. Reborn thinks he should reprimand the boy for that, but he’s not really here as a tutor anymore, and the longer he observes, the more he realizes it’s not just his lessons that Tsuna doesn’t seem particularly interested in. It’s everything.

Reborn doesn’t dare shoot him with a Dying Will Bullet. He has no desire to see what dragging out Flames that are already so drained and unstable would do to Tsuna. If it drags out Flames at all. It’s just as likely Tsuna would simply drop dead, with no regrets to bring him back.

Sometimes, Tsuna throws up his meals. His body simply can’t digest it, and after the third time it happens, Reborn sits up with him on the floor of the bathroom, handing him a glass of water and a wetcloth when Tsuna finally surfaces from the toilet, looking paler than ever and too thin by far.

“I do eat,” Tsuna protests when Reborn mentions it. He flushes - barely - when Reborn raises a judgmental eyebrow at the toilet. “I do.” He grimaces. “Flames, right? I do eat it.”

Reborn stills, and then very deliberately does not flinch away, because even just two weeks is enough to foster just enough trust for Reborn to believe that Tsuna won’t eat his Flames.

“Most of the time, I eat my own,” He mumbles, and Reborn has to suppress the urge to gag at the very idea. “I have- I guess I have a lot? Once the seal broke at least. And it- it doesn’t make me full, but it makes the hunger a little better for a while.” He cracks a smile that’s less amused and more self-deprecating. “I’m running out though. I can’t eat as much of it anymore.”

Reborn keeps his face blank and breathes through the nausea roiling inside him. “...You said most of the time?”

Tsuna’s gaze drops to where his hands are twisting the wetcloth between them. “Um, yeah. I...” His shoulders hunch a little. “It was an accident, the first time. There were these two men in suits, and- and they said I had to go with them as leverage against the- the ‘Vongola Young Lion’-” Reborn’s lip curls with scorn. “-and they had guns and they were threatening me and-” He breaks off again and takes a breath. “They had Flames. Inside them. I could... sense the colour I guess? One of them was blue, the other was red. And I just- I was so hungry.” His head comes up, and he looks at Reborn like he’s simultaneously imploring him to understand even as he resigns himself to condemnation. “I didn’t even know what I’d done until after. I just... reached out and... ate, and they died. And I couldn’t sense their Flames anymore.” His shoulders sag. “I still- Sometimes, bad guys still come after me. They’re the only ones I- I eat. So. Yeah.”

Reborn takes a moment to digest everything. First of all, Iemitsu’s an even bigger moron than Reborn thought, which he didn’t believe was actually possible but one learns something new every day. And second of all...

“Does it help?” Reborn asks, tugging absently at the brim of his fedora, wondering why Luce never tried this method. Or maybe she did and it wasn’t enough.

Tsuna blinks owlishly at him. “Um, you mean- Well it doesn’t- it doesn’t make me full.” He hugs his middle in a way that pulls his shirt against his body, and there’s just something extra horrifying about being able to count the ribs on a child’s body. “I’m always hungry. Just... less hungry and more hungry. If I eat... someone else’s Flames, it makes me less hungry for a while. It works better than eating my own Flames too.”

Which makes sense. By eating his own Flames, Tsuna isn’t actually gaining any more sustenance. It’s like trying to fill a half-empty hole by scooping more water out of it and then pouring that same amount back in. All while more water drains away at the bottom because Tsuna is also fueling the world. Reborn is frankly astonished the boy’s even still alive.

Reborn is sitting less than a foot away from Tsuna. He can practically feel just how hungry Tsuna is. And still, still, his own Sun Flames remain untouched, an iron wall of resolve standing solid and firm between him and the black hole of a Curse inside Tsuna.

Out loud, he only says, “Okay. Okay, I can do that.”

Tsuna blinks at him, confused. Reborn doesn’t say anything else that night and only nudges Tsuna back to bed.

Reborn disappears for the rest of the night and reappears in the morning. It’s a Sunday, Tsuna is only just sluggishly crawling out of bed, and then he stops and gawks as Reborn opens the window and tosses in two criminals he found a town over, both with dormant Flames inside them.

“They won’t be missed,” Reborn tells the stunned Sky. “Now eat.”

Tsuna’s jaw flaps for a moment longer before he snaps it shut, only to whisper-shout, “Reborn! You can’t- Oh my god you can’t just kidnap people and- and- and feed them to me!”

Reborn sighs and points at one. “That one’s yakuza. Has a fondness for small children.” Tsuna blanches. Reborn points to the other. “And that one’s a serial killer. Just starting, with four kills under his belt. Not the sort you want remaining on the streets.” He gives Tuna a pointed look. “So it’s fine. Eat.”

Tsuna stays frozen on the bed. There’s something in his face now though, something that reminds Reborn of Luce as he stares at the unconscious bodies on the ground, on the verge of losing control.

“You’re sure?” Tsuna asks one last time, voice gone thin.

Reborn nods. “I am,” and then he has to fight not to look away as Tsuna’s eyes burn with the same orange that glows in his Pacifier, he all but falls out of bed, fingers fumbling for his prey’s flesh, and between one breath and the next, flashes of indigo and red struggle briefly in Tsuna’s hands before the Sky drags them to his lips and literally eats them.

Reborn has never been gladder that he at least avoided this scene with Luce, and she had to resort to eating their Flames from afar. (Would she ever have stopped, if she had them right in front of her twenty-four/seven? Or would she eat them all in one sitting?)

The two men are dead by the time Tsuna finishes. Their Flames weren’t that strong to begin with, nowhere near the strength and purity that the Sky Arcobaleno is supposed to feed from. But when Tsuna finishes, he only looks a little mournful that his meal is over. When he looks at Reborn, there is only a miserable sort of gratitude there, no lurking darkness ready to swallow him whole, and Reborn lets himself relax a little.

“I’ll clean up,” Reborn says briskly, and a routine is set from that point on.

Reborn doesn’t even know why he continues helping Tsuna. He makes sure the people he tracks down are always criminals of the more unsavoury sort, for both Tsuna’s and his own peace of mind. Killing someone is one thing. Yanking out someone’s Flame core for food is quite another, and... well, Reborn just makes sure to stick to the scummier side of society. Luckily for everyone involved (except the scum), there’s plenty of those on planet earth.

“You don’t have to,” Tsuna tells him later, after Reborn brings him yet another meal. He tries to find at least one person every couple of days so that Tsuna doesn’t have to eat his own Flames anymore, and something inside him unknots itself upon seeing a little colour return to Tsuna’s cheeks, a little more weight on his bones.

“You know that, right?” Tsuna persists. “You don’t have to do... this. We both know I can’t be Vongola Decimo. You can just... leave. I’ll be fine. I’ve been taking care of myself for years.”

For a certain measure of ‘taking care of’, in Reborn’s broody opinion.

“I don’t even know why you’re still here,” Tsuna mumbles when Reborn’s only response is to arrange the cooling corpses in the alleyway so that it looks like a knife fight gone wrong for both parties. “It would be... safer if you weren’t. What if I- I get too hungry one day? You could get hurt.”

I’m your Sun, Reborn thinks, unbidden, and apparently he knows exactly why he’s doing this after all. And you’re my Sky. A proper Sky. Not like Luce.

Tsuna is young and inexperienced and an odd mix of civilian-raised and mafia-numbed and death-acclimatized, but he is also... kind. Or perhaps just someone with a very particular sense of right and wrong. He has lines in the sand - some that he’s resigned himself to putting a foot over from time to time, others he won’t cross even at the expense of himself, and once upon a time, Reborn wouldn’t have found that especially notable, might even have scoffed at these morals when they’ve already ventured so far into murky territory, but nowadays, in this situation, when it involves the Curse and the Sky Arcobaleno and decades of being violated by one puppet master, only for this one to say no, Reborn can’t help but appreciate that.

“I’ll leave if it seems like you might lose control,” Reborn only says in the end.

Tsuna still doesn’t look happy because they both know full well that leaving - if Tsuna really wants to eat - won’t do Reborn any good. It’s just that staying might do even worse.

But Reborn doesn’t budge from his decision, and Tsuna eventually drops the argument. For now.

Reborn doesn’t call Gokudera. That volatile mix of self-esteem issues and anger is not what Tsuna needs to deal with. Besides, the boy is looking to serve a famiglia, preferably one that would look past his parentage and with enough clout to give Gokudera a chance to make a name for himself. It’s not a good quality to have in a Guardian, whose first priority should be the safety and support of their Sky.

And even if Gokudera did check off all the requirements for Storm Guardian, there’s also Fon to consider. Reborn rather thinks his fellow Arcobaleno would sooner pitch himself into the ocean before willingly acknowledging and strengthening the bond between himself and their new Sky, but there’s also a small chance that Fon will meet Tsuna and then promptly lose his mind like Reborn clearly has and end up sticking around. And however calm and polite Fon normally is, he’s still a Storm with a possessive streak a mile long.

Likewise, when Tsuna walks to school, sometimes they’ll bump into Sasagawa Ryouhei who leaks a cringe-worthy waste of Flames everywhere on his morning runs. He’s almost the spitting image of Knuckle too, but the first time Reborn - perched on Tsuna’s shoulder as they make their way to Namimori Middle - spots the boy and makes the connection with Vongola’s first Sun Guardian, his fingers twitch for a gun, and Leon hisses on his fedora.

Fon isn’t the only one with a possessive streak.

Reborn starts tutoring Tsuna. Future Vongola boss or not, Tsuna still needs to pull his grades up. He isn’t failing but he could definitely do better. Reborn has to tone down his teaching methods though. Even eating more, Tsuna is frailer than Reborn would like, frailer than Luce ever was, and his Flames are volatile on a good day. But Reborn’s never not excelled at anything he put his mind to, and he isn’t about to start now.

“Am I even going to live long enough to need any of this?” Tsuna asks once dubiously.

Reborn spritzes water in his face with his spray bottle. “That’s not the point. You can do better so there’s no reason not to try.”

They both pretend they don’t notice how Reborn never gives him a straight answer to that question.

Reborn doesn’t only tutor him. He teaches him how to fight too. Not with Flames because he doesn’t want to destabilize those any further than they already have been, and from what Tsuna’s told him, he’s used his Flames before, when he retaliated against the hitmen and assassins that came after him, it just always left him drained so Reborn doesn’t ask him to show what he can do. But basic self-defense is something Reborn can teach, along with how to hold and assemble and use a wide variety of weapons.

And when Tsuna goes with him on one of Reborn’s hunts, they make their excuses with Nana, and after Tsuna’s eaten, Reborn takes him to the local shopping center or an amusement park or the hanami gathering when the spring day coincided with one of their weekend outings.

“I’ve never left Namimori,” Tsuna confessed the first time he insisted on going with Reborn so that Reborn wouldn’t have to spend an entire night dragging his prey all the way back to the Sawada residence.

So Reborn starts planning their trips to include more than just hunting down food, and even if the places they go to aren’t anything special, Tsuna doesn’t seem to think so if the way he sometimes smiles is anything to go by, small, hesitant, flickering things that never stay on his face for long, but they’re genuine at least, paired with wide wondering eyes at every new place they go to, and with every passing day, Reborn finds himself more and more invested in coaxing out those smiles.

Reborn thinks about telling his fellow Arcobaleno that he’s found their new Sky. But he reasons that they’re more likely to drop everything and move as far away as physically possible from Japan than anything else. There’s no point telling them and causing panic, and no point telling them that Tsuna is different either - for all that they’re in the same boat, and Lal and Colonello aside, they’ve only ever been friends in the loosest sense of the word, and for some of them not even that, so he doubts they would believe anything he said about the Sky Arcobaleno.

They all still remember - of the six of them who spent any amount of time with Luce all those years ago, it was Reborn who got attached fastest, who fell hardest for Luce’s warm smiles and charisma.

Reborn does ask Tsuna if he wants to meet the others. He is possessive but even he knows better than to hoard a Sky all to himself if that Sky wants to claim his other elements.

“Would they like me?”

“I like you, don’t I? And I don’t like that many people. You should be honoured.”

“Yeah, but you were easy, Reborn.”

“...”

“I- I mean, you wanted to stay. From the beginning. I felt your Flames reaching for me right away. I think... you wanted a Sky? And I’m not sure why cuz I’m not much of one, but your Flames at least thought I was a suitable one from the start. So. That’s why you were easy. You wanted to stay, so you stayed long enough to get to know me. I don’t know if all the others will. And even if they do, I dunno why they’d want to stay once they know me. I’m not... anything special. I still don’t know why you stay.”

Tsuna says no, in the end, if only because he’d rather they don’t see him like this, so Reborn doesn’t call them. He knows Tsuna thinks he’s a nothing-special Sky, that at least half the reason Reborn stays is out of pity. Reborn doesn’t know how to explain that that’s not it. He barely understands his own reasons. Tsuna is right about one thing though - as embarrassing as it is, Reborn does want a Sky. He always has. He just never met one strong enough to attract him until Luce, and Luce was poison on so many levels. One would think Reborn would’ve learned his lesson after her - once burned, twice shy - but no, apparently his own Flames still don’t know better. And no matter how unstable Tsuna’s Flames are, they’re also magnificently powerful, even after six years of damage from the Curse.

Eventually, the Flame cores from the criminals Reborn hunts down aren’t enough. Tsuna starts to fade again, hollow-eyed and too-thin and tired all the time, and he can’t even keep down the Flames he eats, throwing them back up in a sludge-like tar that reminds Reborn a little of the Vindice’s Night Flames.

“It happens,” Tsuna just mutters when Reborn comes back with twice as many unconscious Flame-active bodies as usual in an attempt to make Tsuna eat more. “Sometimes, they just don’t work. They don’t- They just taste like ash.” Reborn flinches. Hears the ghost of Luce’s voice. “I’ll be fine. I just have to ride it out. I’ll be able to eat them again later.” His smile is a tight, brittle thing that doesn’t even reach his eyes, one Reborn hasn’t seen in a while. His gratitude is genuine though. It always is. “Thanks though, Reborn. For all of this.”

Tsuna gets worse. He tells his mother that he’s coming down with the flu again and Nana obliviously excuses him from school. It’s obvious they’ve done this song and dance before. Then he retreats to his bedroom and only drags himself out for meals that he throws up later and leaves him shivering like there’s ice in his bones and crying like someone’s carving out his insides with a rusty spoon. Reborn can’t do a damn thing except offer him water and try to keep his sudden fever down.

A terrifying idea begins lurking at the back of his mind, and Reborn does everything he can not to think about it because that way lies the kind of madness he swore he would do everything he can to avoid.

Then a letter from Nono arrives, and at this point, almost three months already since he arrived in Namimori, Reborn’s almost forgotten Vongola. But the Nono tells him that there are Vendicare escapees heading to Namimori, and that it’s Tsuna’s job to deal with them.

Reborn tells him of course. There’s no point hiding the truth.

“I’ll take care of them though,” Reborn promises grimly despite Timoteo’s orders of non-interference. Timoteo isn’t his boss. His contract only stipulated that he had to train Tsuna to become the next Vongola boss, and even that became irrelevant because a Guardian bond superseded any contracts, and Arcobaleno business superseded everything. This is both. “They might try to lure you out, but I won’t let them hurt you.”

Tsuna stares hazily at him, blinking sluggishly through his fever. Reborn makes a note to hunt down another criminal tonight. Tsuna hasn’t eaten in four days.

“Can I eat them?” He finally asks, and that dark edge of hunger is back. Reborn barely twitches in the face of it now. “They’ll be strong, right? If they could escape a mafia prison? So if we get them, can I eat them?”

Well, why not. At least a few of them should have stronger Flame cores than the average killer on the street. “Sure, Tsuna.” He brushes fingers over Leon, whose eyes glow yellow for a moment. “I’ll make sure not to kill any of them so you can see if any of them suit your tastes.”

Tsuna smiles, all serrated edges and eldritch hunger, and all Reborn can think in that moment is, I have made a monster of myself for you and I don’t care.

He thinks he should mourn that more than he does.

It’s an on-and-off thing, as Tsuna said it would be. He goes back to the pathetically weak Flame core diet for several weeks, and then he’d spend a few weeks after that heaving up anything and everything he tries to force down. And then back. Reborn watches it happen three more times but he gets sick of seeing Tsuna suffer long before that. The last time, a week goes by, then two, then three, then a month, and still he can’t stomach the food Reborn brings for him. He can barely get out of bed anymore. Reborn knows he’s resorted to eating his own Flames again. He stays up half the night, listening to the rattle of Tsuna’s breaths and feeling the writhing agony of his cannibalized Sky Flames, half-expecting to wake up to a corpse any day now. He’s at his wits’ end, and that insane idea at the back of his mind is looking less and less insane by the day.

And then one day, in a moment of startling lucidity, Tsuna turns to Reborn, white-faced and clear-eyed and determined, “I want you to leave.”

Reborn fully admits to staring for a full minute, rendered speechless by the sheer stupidity of such a request. “No.”

Tsuna is already shaking his head. “My Flames, I can’t- sometimes I feel like they might start acting on their own and I- I’m just so hungry-” He breaks off, madness staining his eyes orange before he shakes his head again and yanks himself back into the present, clinging to his sanity like a drowning man to a lifeboat. “I might hurt you. And I know I can still- Even if you go back to Italy, I could still hurt you, but if you’re not here, I think I’ll be able to control it better. You’ll be safer away from me. So you have to leave. I-” He smiles shakily, and for a second, he looks on the verge of tears. “I’m so glad I met you, and I’m so glad you stayed, but you need to go now.”

“No.” Reborn repeats flatly, and he thinks again-

“You have to!” Tsuna yells at him, and then he doubles-over and starts coughing up black Flames into the wastebasket Reborn quickly snags for him. It goes on and on and on, and Tsuna isn’t the only one shaking by the time the boy finally collapses back into bed, chest barely stirring with each shallow breath.

Something in Reborn snaps.

He’s never done it to himself before, but he lived with it for almost thirty years, so he knows how to find the Flame core within himself, how to grasp a shard of it in his mind’s eye, and finally how to break it off from the whole.

He almost passes out from the pain, but there it is, glittering at his fingertips, a yellow-gold so pure it fills the room with light.

And on the bed, Tsuna freezes, and then his head snaps around like a hound scenting blood. There’s a terrible darkness in his eyes, on his face, all his attention on the piece of Flame core in Reborn’s hand, and he’s halfway off the bed before his shoulders jerk back, an invisible wall slams down, and he actually reaches up and slaps himself.

It’s Tsuna again, looking out from those eyes, flickering between orange and brown, swaying on his feet even as he shakes his head. “No. No no no!” And then his Sky Flames surge up and out like a tidal wave. It’s the first time Reborn’s ever felt the full weight of it, more powerful than Timoteo’s, more powerful than Luce’s, and Reborn only gets a second to marvel at it before Tsuna snarls, “Get out!”, and he’s flung right out the window, shoved clean over the front lawn and gate, and dumped on the sidewalk just as a barrier of Sky Flames erect themselves around the house. They glimmer orange for a moment before the colour disappears, but when Reborn extends a hand, he meets resistance, and he can get no further.

The barrier doesn’t fall the next day, or the next, or the next. Reborn fumes and swears and even dares to fire a few bullets at the barrier, to no avail. Nana comes and goes like there’s nothing there but Reborn can’t get in no matter what he does.

Four days pass, and Reborn’s had enough. He calls Viper, because if anything can slip past even a Sky barrier, at least the first time, it would be a Mist with Flames of equal purity.

“I need you to come to Japan. I can’t tell you what for until you get here.”

“You know my usual fees for favours.”

“I’ll pay.”

“I’ll be there in three days.”

“I’ll pay triple if you get here by tomorrow.”

“Done.”

“I’ll send you the location.”

Viper doesn’t realize who exactly is residing in the Sawada residence until they actually arrive. Or at least they don’t realize it’s the Sky Arcobaleno. All of Vongola probably knows who Reborn’s been sent to teach.

Viper tries to leave as soon as they realize. Reborn has a gun to their head and a concentrated Chaos Shot glowing at its muzzle in the time it takes them to back-peddle half a foot.

“You’re going to get me inside,” Reborn tells them with a calm he doesn’t feel because Tsuna’s lifeforce, so entwined with his own these days, is slipping away like sand through an hourglass. “You can consider leaving without a bullet in your brain your payment.”

“Have you gone insane?! Do you know who that is?!”

“Considering I’ve been tutoring him for the past seven months, I would say so, yes.”

“Then why are you still here?!”

“I don’t have time to explain things to you. Just get me inside. I’m not asking you to stick around after that.” The Sun Flame bullet brightens. He stares unblinkingly through the glare of it, straight at Viper. “Get me inside. Now. I won’t repeat myself again.”

Viper does it of course. They’ve never been quite as suicidal as Skull. It takes some work, but Viper manages to worm a hole through the barrier within the hour, and as soon as they’ve made it big enough for Reborn to slip through, Reborn is gone, tearing back into the house and up to Tsuna’s room as fast as he can manage.

Tsuna is a broken motionless sprawl of limbs on the bed. His Sky Pacifier is still glowing but he barely twitches even when Reborn shakes him by the shoulder.

Reborn still has the soul shard he snapped off from his own Flame core, and he presses it to Tsuna’s lips the moment he gets some semblance of awareness from his Sky.

“Eat.” He orders, demands, begs. “Damn you, Tsuna, eat it or I swear I’ll force it down your throat if I have to!”

And - at last - when Tsuna finally gives in with a noise at the back of his throat that sounds achingly like a sob even as he swallows down the piece of Reborn’s Flame core and his own Sky Flames flare like wings unfolding for the first time, Reborn sits back on his heels and feels like he can finally breathe again.

#khr #r27 #sawada tsunayoshi #reborn #myscrap #hunger verse #headcanon #arcobaleno #what is this monstrosity #my brain i swear #is a dark and disturbing place sometimes #but i just #really wanted reborn murdering ppl for tsuna #no big deal #offering up bloody hearts on a platter #or at least flame cores which is almost the same

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scarletgardensrpg · 4 years

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UNDEAD ♦ TWENTY-FIVE ♦ THE ASCENDANCY

PETER SÉJOUR is an Undead member of the Ascendancy, best known as the "Doctor"—a euphemistic title used to describe his role as the Ascendancy's rotbeest exterminator. Originally a Yellow Jacket spy tasked with infiltrating the Moulin Rouge to tail Kisara, Peter, after reuniting with his brother Dimitri, chose to renege to the Ascendancy two years ago. Resurrected by Neeve in Côte d'Ivoire, Peter exhibits the classic characteristics of all her creations: startling grace and beauty, the uncanny ability to pass off as a living person, and a resistance to the destructive side effects of PM-GRNT. As a result, Peter is entrusted by Nikolaas to not only regulate drug use among Undead members, but to additionally "take care of" those who have descended into madness and reverted back into rotbeesten.

BIOGRAPHY

Cecile had curled her mouth at the sight of him: pale with infection, shivering in the dark earth, all loveliness vanished in the wake of rot and filth. At her side, stood the slender, fox-faced Blue, who, almost pityingly, turned away—as if to spare him the humiliation of being observed in such a state. At last, Cecile turned away, too, tugging sharply at the cord of rope, coiled around her delicate wrist at one end and collared around Dimitri’s neck at the other. Peter would remember this moment forever: he carried it with him into death, into madness-tinged revival, into resurrection under Neeve’s steady hand. The rain. The cold. The hurt. And those words, spoken from Cecile's mouth like an iron brand upon his chest: Come, Dimitri. Laissez-le.

- ❀ -

Abidjan was a city of extremes: the cerulean port of Côte d'Ivoire, one half a pristine metropolis of commercial avenues and gleaming skyscrapers; the other half a dogged slum, steeped in sour fumes and dead grass. He would be born into the latter half, one forgotten child among countless others, and he would know only this for years and years: grime and squalor, bottomless hunger, violet-dark nights of restless fear. To live was to survive, and to survive was to kill that which made you soft. And he was soft. Or, at least, he looked it: an Adonis of unrivaled, striking beauty, soft-lipped and jewel-eyed, who never quite filled out like the other boys—but instead, remained limber and lean throughout his youth. Had his circumstances been different, Peter would have enjoyed the attention. In Abidjan, it marked him out and made him look weak. How to show that he wasn’t? He would split his knuckles on a dozen noses to prove it, use his teeth and nails like any feral urchin, and come out of every fight hoping the bruises on his face would leave permanent scars. Eventually, he found his other half. The younger boy, already so saturated with bitter arrogance, so unrestrained and self-impressed, had made his first words to Peter a taunt—Es-tu une fille?—and they’d tussled over bread, or a necklace, or something else inconsequential—until the punches began to glance, and they began to laugh. These were the better years: when there had been someone to share the vicious days and violent nights with, someone to bleed with. Dimitri's harsh beauty rivaled his own—but where Peter had stripped his away in hateful resentment for the way it made him into a target, Dimitri twisted his own into a weapon of violence. He could make any ruinous act of barbery look sublime. He could dress in only hunger and lack, yet make those things look like regal ornaments upon an emperor's robe. It disturbed Peter, and it intrigued him.

Peter et Dimitri, Dimitri et Peter. They would wind through ashen streets, hand in unlovable hand, just as two famished cubs of the savannah might prowl together, hunting joyously for something to sink their teeth into. Dimitri made survival into a sport; something to indulge and luxuriate in, reckless in his conviction that each day they were alive was cause for the grandest of celebrations—and the gravest of risks. Peter, who built armored layer after armored layer over himself, and long ago was made frigid and austere by the treacheries of the city—he had never been able to rejoice in the chaos, as Dimitri so often did. You will get us both killed, Peter snarled. But it was hard to be angry with Dimitri, who only ever smirked, cheshirely and dark: Perhaps, but I am getting us to live first. In the end, they were both right. The days were sated and tranquil; the nights wild and remarkable. But at the end of the world, his brother had been the one to get them into trouble with the rotbeest—and in provoking such a terrible creature, sealed them both to the fate of death. You could not brawl with beasts the way you brawled with people. In the gladiator arena of nature, humans would lose, everytime. Dimitri died first, caught in its jaws, made mad by its bite, himself transformed into hell incarnate—and then Peter, who, at the very end, could not bring himself after all to kill the one thing which brought happiness to his life, not even the worser shadow of him. It was almost laughable—Peter, so heartless, so merciless, so graceless—bore all three yet. Blue did not want him for this very reason, looking hungrily instead to Dimitri, imploring Cecile to save him, and leave Peter to die. And died he did.

So it would be Neeve who found him instead: a curse of separation, a blessing of resurrection nonetheless. She was the sun-skinned Queen of Eden, whose gaze never once left Peter’s while Kazimir cleaned blood and soil off of his damaged body, and who returned to him his resplendent beauty one hundred fold, feeding him the ambrosia of her own flesh and blood. It makes you powerful, she’d say afterwards, tracing a finger along the fine arch of his brow, the straight slope of his nose—along every rivulet of his face, which had afforded him bitter troubles from birth to death. Neeve was gentler than others, but for the first time, Peter thought a glint of something hungry and divine shined in her eyes, watching her watch him. Mourn not for your fearsome brother. I have made you in my image. That is a tremendous gift. He had not believed her, nor fully understood what she meant. But then—when the Undead began to tremble before him, when he learned to wield his grace like a knife to the throat—yes, he understood her, then. Neeve had put him excruciatingly close to the living—a proximity which granted him a rare peace, an ethereal loveliness, and a coveted clarity of mind. He could remember every detail of his past: memories he would have once discarded in disgust, but now held onto like a drowning man. Dimitri, Dimitri, Dimitri. I’ll be screaming through the afterlife. I’ll be hunting for you, buried under flowers. The House would rear him into a weapon: a guileful liar and spy, cold of perfect gaze and void of heart. It was who he was supposed to be, anyway—but where the other Undead soldiers were weaned on dosage after dosage of PM-GRNT 197, which persuaded them into a numb, sightless loyalty—Peter remained largely unafflicted. Another gift, though one he suspected Neeve had not intentionally meant to give him. Nevertheless: it was this gift which had allowed him to find Dimitri at last—and before he could change his mind, follow him.

CONNECTIONS

DIMITRI – THE RUINS. Prenez quelques conseils. Nobody likes a know-it-all, Peter used to advise, and it was not advice at all—rather, a pricky, sullen complain. Dimitri, damn him, would only ever flash that sunny smile, indulgent and endlessly pleased with himself. Mais—you do. And what could Peter say to that? Only that it was true, and he did not like Dimitri, but rather loved him: fiercely and without pretension, just as all brothers ought to. They were not blood, but in those days, there had been plenty of it around to seal their bond anyways: mouthfuls of it for each time they were caught and beaten; stained bandages and stinging, scraped knees for each time they weren’t. Life was hard in Abidjan, but Peter could always stomach it. Dimitri had made it stomachable. It was foolish of Peter to have thought they would both come away from death unscathed—and though Peter was indeed remade gently in Neeve’s radiant image, the same cannot be said for his brother, who, in being raised on Cecile’s manic ire, bears those very same traits, injurious and hateful. Peter, who came down from the heights of Heaven to sit in Hell with Dimitri instead, will not be so quick to give up. Dimitri, cleaved cleanly from his side by the detestable hound-girl, Blue, looks unseeingly upon Peter now and sees nothing worth his attention. As if I don’t know the shape of your soul, brother. As if you don’t know mine. He may treat Peter as coldly as he’d like—but Peter is sure the memories will return.

ZELDA – THE ANGEL. The gardener Zelda, who is gentle and ungentle in peculiar turns, produces the very poisons which, though unappealing to him, have seduced a pack of beasts into exhibiting incredible, almost frightening, reverence for her. If the seeds she doles out are the Undead’s religion, she herself is a Priestess of the Underworld. Indeed, they stand on opposite sides of the Ascendancy—she is beloved and protected; he is loathed and feared. And yet, in unexpected ways, he shares a striking kinship with her, and finds solace of a different kind in her orchard of blood and fruit. Perhaps it has to do with the way they both answer to turncoat, to traitor, to apostate—and perhaps it has to do with the graceful contours of their face and bodies, their rosy complexion, the manner with which they move through the world—that is, with thoughtless ease, as if they were made of water and wind. In the eyes of the Ascendancy, Zelda thrums with coveted, unobtainable life—and Peter, of all the Undead, sits closest to the realm of the living.

NEEVE & OKSANA – THE DEATH-GODDESS, THE WINTER-CAT. It is because of Neeve that Peter stands so starkly apart from nearly all other Undead: for those belonging to Julian are beholden to his every word like heartless soldiers, and those who answer to Cecile find themselves burdened with bloodlust. In some ways, this makes him extraordinarily lucky—and in other ways, this closeness to something he’ll never again be wounds him beyond words. Just as Sasha is Julian’s greatest joy and fiercest pride, so too had he and Oksana once been the lovely Neeve’s: her most perfect creations, molded so closely in the image of the living that they could almost taste it. Peter does not regret turning his back on the House, but he cannot deny that he misses the two of them. Neeve is, naturally, heartbroken that he has left—but whereas her grief is simple, Oksana’s is far more complex. He and Oksana are no saints, of course, and have never claimed to be—but there was a promise made at some point that they, for all their trainings in deception and con, would never lie to one another. Peter, then, in plunging a knife in her back has done something unforgivable. In the wake of his betrayal, Oksana has since descended beyond some high precipice of gracelessness, having now grown into a feral, wounded creature. He had not planned on ever crossing paths with her again, but Neeve has sent Oksana to not only finish what he failed to two years ago on his mission, but to collect him, as well.

OPEN ♦ FC: DUDLEY O'SHAUGHNESSY

#peter #o #ud #asc #all #lsrpg #lsrp #new rp #bio rp #horror rp

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