Rwby Ship Names Novels & Stories

"Saffron, I asked you a question. What happened to your dress?" Atlas asked again like he cared. Why was he calling her name like they were pals? How did he even know her name? This was the first time in seven years that they talked. Atlas isn't one to care about mere workers in the mansion, let alone commit their names to memory. So why her? Ignoring Atlas was not an option, so she parted her lips. "I–" Saffron was about to lie her way through when she caught sight of Caspian walking over. "Talk to me! Did Caspian do this to you?!" Atlas frowned and grabbed her jaw, forcing her to look his way. "How did–" so this was it? Atlas orchestrated last night's incident? He set her up! Now Caspian would think she was involved with Atlas! There's no way for her to prove her innocence anymore... "Ahh!" Saffron cried out loud and moved back with her rear hitting the wall. She slid down slowly until she was sitting on the floor, bawling her eyes out. "I'm just an insignificant Chef who is only here to work, please I beg you, let me live… waaah… I want to live…!" She continued crying as she lamented sorrowfully like she was already having her last minute of life. Caspian walked past without acknowledging any of them with a mere glance. After he ambled out of the corridor, Atlas moved away and glared condescendingly at Saffron, "Don't think too highly of yourself. You've served your purpose. You were a mere pawn." ... Saffron, a Chef who wanted nothing but a simple life, ended up becoming a pawn in a life and death's game for three brothers. However, time will tell if she's a pawn, or the Queen on the chess board.

“You fucking bitch, I told you to stay here, and I will think about what I can do for you to not assassinate you, but you're just being a bitch” He yelled and turn my back like always I did whenever I was punished by a stick. "Bitch” He yelled throwing stick after stick, I felt my body turn numb getting to continue beating. “This time I won't let it go easily” He yelled, tearing my cloth. My body jerked back, his cold hand roamed my back. “I teach you today what happens when you just disobey my single command,” He said, turning me, removing a thin cloth from my body. "No, Liam" I screamed. “Why, It was always meant to be mine. Right?” His face had an evil smirk on. “Please no, Liam. Not like that…” I whispered, hugging myself with my hand hiding my naked self from his burning eyes. “No Amber… This will only happen like this, You fucking bitch tried to deceive me” He said, taking a fistful of my hair with enough grip to make me cry. “I won't do that again, Promise,” I said showing him my pinky finger like always we seal our promise. “Amber…” He sighed, like controlling himself. “Promise…” He said, taking my pinky finger with his finger. “This time promise will be sealed with my way baby” He smirked, bending my pinky finger. His eyes were like some beast that just want to hurt someone so badly. Author Note : This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Update on weekends

"The Rossi family doesn't need a Don. We just need a Donna." As the only heiress of the Rossi family, this was the law that I had set when I received the Browning pistol—a pistol that resembles the ultimate authority in the Rossi family—from my Papa when he was on his deathbed. But three years ago, the police relentlessly investigated the money laundering business that my fiance, Lorenzo Moretti, was in charge of. If that business were to get exposed, the Rossi family's hundred-year-old legacy would be ruined. In order to protect my family's legacy and to allow Lorenzo to continue legalizing my family's businesses, I decided to become the scapegoat for all the crimes. On the rainy night of my arrest, I personally handed the pistol over to Lorenzo. "Protect my family for me before my return." This gave Lorenzo legitimate authority to run my family. He used the pistol to purge my subordinates and take over the family business. He even broke my law by announcing to the public that he'd become the next Don soon. An invitation with golden borders is soon leaked from the family's inner circle. Lorenzo's and another woman's names are printed on the cover. During a visit, my private lawyer says mockingly, "If you don't get out of prison now, the Rossi family might take on another man's last name for real." I just sneer in response. After that, I get bailed out of jail in advance and return home to celebrate Lorenzo's "funeral". But no matter how many times I scan my iris at the biometric scanner in the estate, the result always comes out wrong. A young woman, who's toying with the pistol, opens the door at that moment. The contempt and disdain in her eyes are plain to see. "Where the hell did a crazy woman like you come from? You came to the wrong place. This is my private turf, you know."

Leon Vincent, the shark of Warren Street, is the one who raised me. Twelve years ago, a fire tore through the orphanage and took everything from me. He was the one who pulled me out of the flames and gave me a second chance at life. To repay him, we make a weird deal—a 99-debt contract. I have to either obey him or be abandoned 99 times. After that, the debt will be cleared. Every time he goes on a date with some high-society socialite, he'll toss another insanely expensive piece of jewelry into my safe. In just two short years after turning 18, I've accumulated 96 diamonds in my safe, each one marking the 96 times he's cast me aside. One day, his fiancee, Elena Harrington, sends me a provocative email. "Dearest Isabelle, Leon and I are finalizing the wedding invitations. Do you think velvet with gold foil or matte leather would be more elegant? The ceremony's early next month. Can't wait to see you there! Love, Elena." Right after that, Leon calls, asking me to pack his bags for the summit in Parienne tomorrow. I simply send the wedding gift I've prepared in advance—a seven-figure emerald necklace—straight to his darling Elena without any words. That night, Leon returns to the apartment and finds out what I've done. He praises me for being considerate. Late into the night, he pulls me into his arms with rare tenderness. Nothing is left between us; no clothes, no holding back. He whispers that he wants to give me a special kind of reward, one that only I can carry. Somehow, Elena discovers my pregnancy. She stands on the balcony of Vincent Estate, screaming like her life depends on it. "Leon, I'm begging you! Don't let her have that baby! If you do, I'll jump!" The cold and proud Leon begs me, for the first time, to get rid of the baby. Everyone at the party awaits my breakdown, but I just smile softly and nod. "Alright. I will." He whispers in my ear, "Our marriage is just a business arrangement. I don't even like her. Once we're divorced, I'll give you another baby." What he fails to realize is that it was never in my plans to keep this one. There are only three more times left before I pay off this life debt from when he pulled me out of that fire all those years ago. After the 99th time, I board a ship bound for Azara to join a medical research mission. From that moment on, my life will be mine alone to live for.

Before my death, I repeatedly remind my son, Clark Sinclair, what to do after I pass away. I stress that my heart must be donated to my husband, Craig Sinclair. He has suffered from dilated cardiomyopathy for 30 years. This is the last thing I can do for him. Clark shakes me off impatiently and snaps, "Enough. Stop pretending to be kind. Dad was never sick." I think I must have misheard him. "What?" He lets out a cold laugh and continues, "If you hadn't refused to divorce him all these years, why would he have needed to fake an illness just to be with Vern in secret?" My whole body trembles as I demand proof. Clark hands me a marriage certificate. On it are the names Craig and Verna Bloom, my widowed sister-in-law. The two lean against each other intimately, smiling sweetly at the camera. In an instant, rage and grief overwhelm me. The family I spend half my life building turns out to be nothing more than a complete lie. Clark continues expressionlessly, "Actually, Vern is my real mother. Your child was drowned in a bathtub long ago. Back then, Dad and Vern couldn't resist each other. She went into premature labor and nearly bled to death. She gave birth to me on the same day you gave birth. "Dad was so frightened that he developed heart palpitations. He was afraid you'd never stop causing trouble if you found out, so he pretended to be sick for 30 years." Curled up on the floor, I cough up a mouthful of blood. "Why tell me now?" Clark looks at me with eyes full of nothing but hatred. "You stole Vern's place for 30 years. And now, even on your deathbed, you want my dad to owe you a favor. Why should he?" An inexplicably bitter taste fills my mouth. In the end, I die consumed by regret. When I open my eyes again, I find myself in the delivery room next to Verna's. A wave of excruciating pain surges through my lower body.