FF: "The Unforgiven" [Soul Eater, Black*Star/Tsubaki, hard T]
It is important for instating the appropriate atmosphere of this fic to read it while listening to Metallica's "The Unforgiven" on repeat. I even went as far as uploading it on my MediaFire account for your convenience. :3
The Unforgiven
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He is no longer a boy-now a man, standing tall and proud on the mountains of achievements he’s had in his time.
No longer just a student but a mentor, yet still a soldier for his school to call upon whenever the need arose.
So many things had changed-he had changed so much-since the last time they had been in a place as remote as this, and Tsubaki couldn’t help the thrill in her veins at returning to the basics together, taking on a simple mission together for the sake of pleasing Shinigami-sama’s whim and need.
Their task was easy enough-retrieve the demon sword that was being developed by a witch in the small town unbeknownst to its inhabitants and leave without causing too much of a ruckus.
It should’ve been an easy job…
So why were they running away from the residence, chased away by the rocks, sticks and other knick-knack thrown by the townsfolk?
This had happened once before-and it had gone exactly the same way-and this time she knew what the cause of these people’s peculiar behaviour was.
Upon noticing the tattoo on Black Star’s shoulder the people’s previously decent conduct took a sudden and rapid change-it was almost enough in itself to give her whiplash-and their vehement animosity had forced the pair out of the vicinity of the town.
A heavy sigh tore from her partner’s broad chest as he stared with listless eyes in the direction they had just come sprinting from.
He mumbled something about having forgotten how idiotic people could be with their ghost hunts and being scared of their own shadows.
But however well he masked it, he could never deceive her eyes and heart-she saw with vivid clarity the hurt that played upon his features just beneath the surface.
He had been labeled a cold-blooded murderer and unworthy human being by people who did not know the first thing about him. News of his great deeds had never reached their ears in this remote piece of land and instead they relied on faulty information from some twenty years now-information that wasn’t even valid anymore. And still they refused to see the light, to recognize the wrongs of their reasoning.
It was all so unfair that it wore on Tsubaki’s heart relentlessly; she couldn’t even look her technician in the eyes, shouldering the shame that those people should’ve felt for their unjust demeanour in their stead.
Black Star scratched the back of his head, muttering in a disgruntled matter that their assignment had just got needlessly complicated and how much of a pain it was and how unsuited his big self was for this kind of petty mission.
Tsubaki only listened, her grief for her meister’s fate robbing her of her words.
She just listened to him quietly and stared-experiencing a myriad of feelings, none of which were the least pleasant-at the star tattoo on his bare shoulder that seemed to stare right back at her with an air of condescension and triumph at the injustice it had brought upon its bearer.
They continued their mission regardless, both their mentalities a little worse for wear.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He kissed her with such unbridled passion that she felt as though her skin might burst in flame from the sheer intensity of their union.
Their hands were roaming one another’s form in a flurry of activity and desperation for attention and friction.
His hands were kneading her breasts, massaging her sides, tracing the lines of her curves-he was all over her.
She reciprocated with matching fervour, her nimble fingers twisting in his hair, sliding beneath his shirt and pulling him closer into her embrace.
They struggled somewhat clumsily in their haste and desire with ridding themselves of their clothing garments, her blouse and bra being the first to leave the stage. She wrestled with the buttons of his shirt and she could feel his grin growing against her lips in their kiss while she fumbled with the accursed obstacles.
When they parted for air he used the chance to aid her in her predicament, throwing his shirt to the side himself and planning to get back to their earlier activities.
He was somewhat surprised to find his lover wearing a morose expression as she stared at his bare shoulders, her gaze heavy with a sadness he could not place.
Alarmed, he asked her what was wrong and, a bit more tentatively, if he’d done something wrong.
She just shook her head slowly and made a step closer to him, back in his embrace. But instead of resuming her previous flurry of activity, she rested her head lightly-as if he were fragile enough to break if she didn’t handle him with extreme care-on the crook of his neck, her right arm hugging him around the waist. He returned the one-armed hug hesitantly; still clueless what had made her mood change quite so suddenly.
She started tracing patterns on his right shoulder against which her head was resting and at first the patterns seemed random and pointless to his garbled mind’s eye.
But after she repeated them several times-tracing his soft skin with her even softer fingertip-he recognized it. How could he not, for it was the bane of his existence?
She was fingering the outlines of his brand as the last survivor of a clan of petty murderers who would’ve done anything in exchange for an adequate sum of money.
The previous haphazard whirlwind of passion subdued to infinitesimal levels as the two just stayed close together, leading a conversation without words.
Then Tsubaki pulled her head away from him and leant in to kiss his shoulder, right in the center of the star tattoo.
When she locked her eyes with his still puzzled gaze again, there was the gentlest look in her eyes then, a mix of sadness, acceptance and sympathy swimming in her features.
She wanted him to know that even if he would forever remain unforgiven by the world and everyone for sins he had never committed, she would help him shoulder the brunt of their blindness and groundless accusations.
She had told him that they were in it all together.
That meant that even if he was to remain branded, labeled and cast out by the whole world, she would still keep true to her word and accept his fate as her own; that in her eyes there was nothing he had done that required forgiveness.
The next kiss he placed upon her lips was filled with such heart-warming tenderness she knew she needn’t worry if she’d conveyed her feelings to him.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
A/N: Plot bunnies ate me alive last night, right when I was planning to sleep. D: I just had to write this after listening to Metallica’s “The Unforgiven”, hence the title. Read the song lyrics if you don’t know them and tell me whether the text isn’t meant for Black Star’s struggle against people’s prejudice-the only part I don’t think applies to his situation is the verse about the “tired man he is” and “dying regretfully” and what have you.
It’s alright even if you don’t like it. But it felt to me like a profound moment that just had to be written out. I still hope you enjoyed it though and opinions are love~!
The Unforgiven
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He is no longer a boy-now a man, standing tall and proud on the mountains of achievements he’s had in his time.
No longer just a student but a mentor, yet still a soldier for his school to call upon whenever the need arose.
So many things had changed-he had changed so much-since the last time they had been in a place as remote as this, and Tsubaki couldn’t help the thrill in her veins at returning to the basics together, taking on a simple mission together for the sake of pleasing Shinigami-sama’s whim and need.
Their task was easy enough-retrieve the demon sword that was being developed by a witch in the small town unbeknownst to its inhabitants and leave without causing too much of a ruckus.
It should’ve been an easy job…
So why were they running away from the residence, chased away by the rocks, sticks and other knick-knack thrown by the townsfolk?
This had happened once before-and it had gone exactly the same way-and this time she knew what the cause of these people’s peculiar behaviour was.
Upon noticing the tattoo on Black Star’s shoulder the people’s previously decent conduct took a sudden and rapid change-it was almost enough in itself to give her whiplash-and their vehement animosity had forced the pair out of the vicinity of the town.
A heavy sigh tore from her partner’s broad chest as he stared with listless eyes in the direction they had just come sprinting from.
He mumbled something about having forgotten how idiotic people could be with their ghost hunts and being scared of their own shadows.
But however well he masked it, he could never deceive her eyes and heart-she saw with vivid clarity the hurt that played upon his features just beneath the surface.
He had been labeled a cold-blooded murderer and unworthy human being by people who did not know the first thing about him. News of his great deeds had never reached their ears in this remote piece of land and instead they relied on faulty information from some twenty years now-information that wasn’t even valid anymore. And still they refused to see the light, to recognize the wrongs of their reasoning.
It was all so unfair that it wore on Tsubaki’s heart relentlessly; she couldn’t even look her technician in the eyes, shouldering the shame that those people should’ve felt for their unjust demeanour in their stead.
Black Star scratched the back of his head, muttering in a disgruntled matter that their assignment had just got needlessly complicated and how much of a pain it was and how unsuited his big self was for this kind of petty mission.
Tsubaki only listened, her grief for her meister’s fate robbing her of her words.
She just listened to him quietly and stared-experiencing a myriad of feelings, none of which were the least pleasant-at the star tattoo on his bare shoulder that seemed to stare right back at her with an air of condescension and triumph at the injustice it had brought upon its bearer.
They continued their mission regardless, both their mentalities a little worse for wear.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
He kissed her with such unbridled passion that she felt as though her skin might burst in flame from the sheer intensity of their union.
Their hands were roaming one another’s form in a flurry of activity and desperation for attention and friction.
His hands were kneading her breasts, massaging her sides, tracing the lines of her curves-he was all over her.
She reciprocated with matching fervour, her nimble fingers twisting in his hair, sliding beneath his shirt and pulling him closer into her embrace.
They struggled somewhat clumsily in their haste and desire with ridding themselves of their clothing garments, her blouse and bra being the first to leave the stage. She wrestled with the buttons of his shirt and she could feel his grin growing against her lips in their kiss while she fumbled with the accursed obstacles.
When they parted for air he used the chance to aid her in her predicament, throwing his shirt to the side himself and planning to get back to their earlier activities.
He was somewhat surprised to find his lover wearing a morose expression as she stared at his bare shoulders, her gaze heavy with a sadness he could not place.
Alarmed, he asked her what was wrong and, a bit more tentatively, if he’d done something wrong.
She just shook her head slowly and made a step closer to him, back in his embrace. But instead of resuming her previous flurry of activity, she rested her head lightly-as if he were fragile enough to break if she didn’t handle him with extreme care-on the crook of his neck, her right arm hugging him around the waist. He returned the one-armed hug hesitantly; still clueless what had made her mood change quite so suddenly.
She started tracing patterns on his right shoulder against which her head was resting and at first the patterns seemed random and pointless to his garbled mind’s eye.
But after she repeated them several times-tracing his soft skin with her even softer fingertip-he recognized it. How could he not, for it was the bane of his existence?
She was fingering the outlines of his brand as the last survivor of a clan of petty murderers who would’ve done anything in exchange for an adequate sum of money.
The previous haphazard whirlwind of passion subdued to infinitesimal levels as the two just stayed close together, leading a conversation without words.
Then Tsubaki pulled her head away from him and leant in to kiss his shoulder, right in the center of the star tattoo.
When she locked her eyes with his still puzzled gaze again, there was the gentlest look in her eyes then, a mix of sadness, acceptance and sympathy swimming in her features.
She wanted him to know that even if he would forever remain unforgiven by the world and everyone for sins he had never committed, she would help him shoulder the brunt of their blindness and groundless accusations.
She had told him that they were in it all together.
That meant that even if he was to remain branded, labeled and cast out by the whole world, she would still keep true to her word and accept his fate as her own; that in her eyes there was nothing he had done that required forgiveness.
The next kiss he placed upon her lips was filled with such heart-warming tenderness she knew she needn’t worry if she’d conveyed her feelings to him.
x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x
A/N: Plot bunnies ate me alive last night, right when I was planning to sleep. D: I just had to write this after listening to Metallica’s “The Unforgiven”, hence the title. Read the song lyrics if you don’t know them and tell me whether the text isn’t meant for Black Star’s struggle against people’s prejudice-the only part I don’t think applies to his situation is the verse about the “tired man he is” and “dying regretfully” and what have you.
It’s alright even if you don’t like it. But it felt to me like a profound moment that just had to be written out. I still hope you enjoyed it though and opinions are love~!