#shout out to their ruby knife and ruby piercings

[0m3n-0f-d3ath]

Happy Halloween 🦇

Click for much better quality 🤘

[crimsontrxcks]

𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

ASK MEME / ACCEPTING

The knuckles hit the smooth tissue of the abdomen with all their force, before the other fist collided with the hard jaw. A surprised, pained cry pierced through the stifling space which smelled of stale beer, cigarettes, and something unpleasantly sour that the ruby haired woman couldn't quite place. The hard sole of the black boot collided with the hip of the last asshole who tried to grab her shoulder, missing by perhaps an inch and paying dearly for the attempt. The door bit the unfortunate man's forearm, who let out a cry like a wounded beast, before quickly and humiliatingly pulling the limb back, allowing Clare to forcefully slam the door shut. Ivory skin on the wrist was stained with crimson after she wiped away the budding blood pooling on the plump lower lip. Marvelous, truly, just when she thought that the evening would end with a couple of cold beers and a fog hugging around the tired, sober mind. Emerald optics focused on the other breathing thing inside the narrow space.

Technically, this circus was his fault. The enraged stampede of intoxicated brutes, which now, like an army of bloodthirsty Spartans, were pounding on the door and shouting insults and threats, originally chased after him, for reasons unknown to her, and probably would not have interested her if, in the process of that pursuit, they had not jumped on the polished, well-preserved hood of her beloved iron pet. As soon as their filthy foot dared to touch her American muscle car, it became personal, as much as her problem as it was his. For two against a legion they were doing more than fine, yet no matter how durable, dexterous, resourceful and blessed with close combat skills they were, the numbers of that gang would swallow them like a wave, so the quick retreat to the backroom of the bar that burned her pride as a hot poker would, was the only option in the given moment. Fiery redhead would rather be torn apart like a rag doll than to cowardly run away.

❝ I would finish you off myself, but you'll need that hands to clean the damn dirt your ' friends ' out there left on my fucking car. ❞ Crimson-haired woman didn't know Billy, but she heard about him. Lack of communication nothing personal, Clare ignored every breathing human around her -- yet, there was something about the temperamental male, something residing in those sapphire orbs that seemed very familiar. Broken and wrapped in barb wire as a result, can sense its own kind. Letting out a long, irritated sigh, Clare crouched down, pulling something hidden in the black boot, before fishing another thing taking cover inside her leather jacker. ❝ If things get nasty, which they will by the looks of it. ❞ A knife was offered to the male, careful to hand it over without any accidental physical contact. ❝ You seem as a guy who doesn't need a manual to know how to use this. ❞ Opening the knife she had kept for herself, redhead drew the black blade from its sheath , which glinted eagerly in the dim moonlight that filtered through the dirty, small window.

[rand0mpandax3]

I've always thought that the word "widower" (referring to a man who's wife has died) always sounded like someone who made people widows, I.E who killed their husbands.

...so because i couldn't write a book, I wrote a story poem (idk what it's called) about it!

TW: description of gore, murder, and suicide

the widower:

1: ballad of relief, pt. 1

one day I couldn't take it anymore.

one day I stopped caring,

caring about your feelings, your house, your needs, all your abuse I bore.

one day it was all too much.

one day I held a knife in my hand,

and I am no butcher,

but I brought it to your throat,

oh it was beautiful,

as a gush of red sputtered out,

2: ballad of consent

one night you couldn't handle it,

one night you were ranting to me all about him,

how he treated you like you were a nitwit.

I simply supposed a solution,

and you reluctantly agreed,

that he needed the venom, the prosecution.

so one day I brought a knife,

into the walls of your house.

you sold him down the river, to keep it concise.

you finally saw past the veneer.

I stabbed him in his back, right down his spine.

I left the knife as a souvenir.

3: ballad of the insane

one day I heard shouting,

as a couple was walking past.

I could tell he was giving you a beating.

I could tell you couldn't take it anymore.

I couldn't help but think of freeing you,

thinking of all the thoughts I couldn't ignore.

so one day, I broke into my very first house.

from your drawer I took your knife.

I snuck up behind him and stung, quiet as a mouse.

I took the knife with me this time.

I wanted to start a collection,

of all these graves that would soon be mine.

4: ballad of the innocent

one day I heard on the news,

that someone had been on a killing spree

three more seats left open in the pews.

they came to my house, questioned me,

asked me where I was, who I was with,

the officers believed me, but had one more query:

what happened to Mr. Smith?

I kept quiet, my lips were sealed,

I acted all innocent

even though I knew that they all could never be healed.

5: ballad of the inane

one day my neighbors, they were being so loud.

shouting and fighting, I couldn't take it anymore.

so I crept into their house, and in the kitchen a knife was found.

in the middle of their argument, I interrupted,

I pierced him right between his lungs,

he started coughing, his airway now obstructed.

he fell to the floor, writhing in pain.

she thanked me, for all I had done.

his lifeless body lying still on the floor, mind now inane.

6: ballad of the widower

one day I heard people talking about my deeds online,

some agreed, and some felt anger.

my actions with them just didn't align.

there was something they agreed upon,

one thing in total,

that I needed a name, so they looked in a lexicon.

when the conflict for the day was over,

they had dubbed me a name:

The Widower.

7: ballad of restraint

one day I couldn't deal with it for any longer

one day I had to quench my thirst.

I ran to a house, I couldn't have this feeling linger

I broke through the window, and a knife I stole.

I walked in already covered in red.

through the house I took a stroll,

down the hallway, to the master bedroom

they were both sleeping, nice and warm.

I made an incision, and sent him to his tomb.

I took the knife with me,

dropped it on the floor of my very own kitchen.

I can't believe what I let myself be.

8: ballad of relief, pt. 2

one day I couldn't bear it for a day more.

I feel myself slip away, more and more each day

all because of the abuse I once bore.

so I took a knife, and held it tight.

my hand was shaking, and so was my heart.

I thought to myself that this must be right.

I punctured my heart, pushed it right into my chest.

the ruby blood poured out,

this was surely for the best.

and when I fell to the ground, my head was struck.

and right before I died I thought:

"I am finally free, for evermore I am no longer stuck"

[witchcraftandburialdirt]

"Oh come now, making such a sour expression, 'tis only blueberry wine, do you not find sweet things palettable, my friend?" The musician's bright and selenic gaze crinkled with a soft laugh as the stranger spoke, and the mental map began. A posh accent, melodic and pretty like a harp - not the voice of a farmhand, and certainly not the attire either, but anyone could slit the throat of a traveling noble and yank their clothing away. Although those dark rubies in his gaze caused the man's head to tilt in curiosity; people could have such a hue but the way they stared..no, pierced him rung similar to a death knell in his mind. Perhaps he had slit the throat of some traveler, or perhaps he was just good at playing pretend.

Now that…that would be much more intriguing than some lone prince.

"Coin? Ha! You misunderstand me, my fellow knife-eared companion, I'm afraid I'm not in need of coin, you see…" He leaned forward to take a singular sip of his wine before beginning to play his lute once more, "I have quite a special knack for acquiring it." Robin's eyes flicked to the side, hearing a horse and carriage past by and that's when he saw it - or rather… didn't. One might not think to check in the lowlight of the room but… Robin tutted, no matter, if it came down to it, he would do what was necessary - would not be the first time for that sort of thing to happen to him. And he was sure it would not be the last, still, it added an extra layer of brick to the walls he had already built up. .

Deft fingers plucked the lute's strings with a low hum as he turned his attention back to Astarion, "A long day? You are a curious one, it seems I was right in coming back here to speak with you… The others, while lovely, lack a certain…intelligence, whether drunk or not. But you, one look and I knew an interesting conversation was but around the bend. Unfortunately for most farmhands and peasants their "long days" have nothing to do with anything actually happening, just the passing of time and the same chores day in and day out." The instrument continued to keen delicate, low croons that seemed to sweep through the tavern - a gentle lull…if one paid close enough attention, they could see something scattering between the patrons. Two of the men turned to eachother, a quick shout echoing as Robin let out a sharp laugh, the two of them quickly snapping at one another that their coin purse was suddenly lost… How bizarre. And even moreso strange how quickly it was forgotten as those notes continued to sweep along the framing of the room.

"Though I suppose a man like yourself has many long days - based on the shadows under your eyes and the stain on your cuff ruffles." Robin's head tilted back as a beautifully serene melody danced off of the lute's strings, its own sigh from being caressed like a lover - "Not to say any of that detracts, no no, if anything it makes you much more...mysterious. Perhaps we could trade then, my friend, your troubles and long day's story for a tune and maybe some company while you're here? Loneliness, while often a curse granted to those with the ability to think - is a mindkiller in an of itself." He seemed all too acquainted with the feeling, "So," he plucked his decanter up once more, but did not drink from it, instead he let his nails tap upon the glass while his ears wiggled. His voice was sugary, teasing,

"Do we have a deal, darling?"

Loud cheers filled the tarvern as the sweet melodic cooing trailed off as the bard plucked away at his lute, finishing up his song with a singular tap to the wooden face of the instrument. Pointed ears fluttered playfully as he hopped from the stage and snagged up a decanter of wine, honeyed and fermented from blueberries. With a sip he was prepared to rejoin in on the festivities before his attention was caught and his ear lifted to swivel towards a lone man, another of his kind? Surely those ears told him enough. Robin glanced back to the group, quirking up a brow until his curiosity consumed him and he twirled upon his heel, wintry, snow kissed hair swirling with his atture as he made his way over. Each a curled brush's stroke against the drab background.

Candied wine poured into the man's empty cup as Robin slid into the chair across from him, taking a sip of the decanter with a blushed coo, "Should I ask what you're doing back here all alone? With the moon so bright," ah yes, it was the cosmos reflected in his eyes, "and the mood so high, it seems a shame to not succumb to some of its charms." Robin's ears perked once more and he quickly swiveled his head to see two of the men being tossed out, a harsh chuckle leaving him - "Well, perhaps not enjoying it too much… ha! Either way," Verdant eyes that screamed of spring's coming met an rufescent stare, a disarming kindness that hid the knowledge of those horrid little scars stamped into the man's neck. No matter, and he leaned back to bring his carved lute into his lap, idly plucking her strings to release jolts of pleasantries into the air,

"Shall I play you a melody, stranger? Perhaps the Notes of Joy? Mmm, what say you to that if I please you with song, you give me your name?"

When he found himself in a tavern the pale elf knew nothing of what to do with such a place. For the first time he was just there to take in the scenery, something he had failed to do when he was nothing but a spawn. Now that he had the luxury to enjoy himself, he was rather lost in the idea of everything. Possibilities and whatever else had invaded his mind. Granted, he probably looked more serious than the rest of the patrons there in the tavern. His mind clouded with thoughts of his freedom, rather than the wine that sat in front of him that he had been gingerly sipping through. Only to have it topped off once again by his new companion. Who had sat directly across from him. His eyes stared at the cup, unable to hide a scowl as he assessed how much was mixed in. Gods forbid the other share his terrible taste and mix it with his own palette. Pushing the cup aside his eyes locked with the elfs. His voice and posture slipping into a sense of flirtatious display that was practiced many times over.

"Oh? A song and a drink, how generous of you. But if you plan to get coin out of me there are other ways." His voice spilled from his lips like honey. Almost as melodic and smooth as the tunes that strung from the lute in the mans hands. It was rather calming compared to the clamor around them. He was rather composed, less messy, and rather.. out of place due to his clothes. He dressed of a noble rather than a what you'd expect of a patron from a place like this. But it was easy to assume with the bags under his eyes and the stress of his face that he needed this. Simply, a man who needed time to himself or at least, some drink to loosen his nerves.

Fingers traced the edge of his cup as he kept his stare locked on Robin. Eyes assessing his figure and posture as if studying him. "As for my reasons of staying back here. i suppose I am just winding down after a long day. No need to fret, darling. Although, the attention, mm, yes I could get used to that."

[pilot-boi]

WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS REQUESTED

USER ID: UNKNOWN

NETWORK ID: ERROR

REQUEST TO VIEW RECORDS OF PRELIMINARY EXAMINATIONS OF [subject_001] THROUGH [subject_008]

ALLOW ACCESS?

YES NO

((CW: Explicit nonconsensual surgery, explicit child abuse))

>YES

________

Yang is standing in front of him, hand outstretched to keep him from moving forward. She’s shouting at Ruby, defending him, protecting him.

But Jaune can barely hear her. It’s like a buzzing is filling his ears.

“Cinder…” he whispers, staring at her.

She’s just staring at him, clutching the stump of her arm. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her with her face not twisted into a snarl.

Not since…

And Jaune is thrown backwards in a memory long forgotten.

________

“Begin preliminary treatment.” An automated voice is speaking to him, harsh and metallic. “Subject number 008, respond.”

“Where am I?!” Jaune sobs, whimpering. His tail is between his legs as he pounds on the glass partition. “Who are you, where am I?!”

“Response accepted.”

His claws scratch at the glass, whining and yipping anxiously. The room is cold. It’s cold and dark, and he’s alone in it. Across the hall, in a similar room, he can see a girl about his age.

Her window is labeled 007.

She hangs limply from a tangle of wires, back to the ground. Wires and tubes connected to every open piece of skin. Diodes spark on her temples. Her eyes are open, and her face is completely blank of expression.

How is she not screaming and fighting?!

Jaune doesn’t think he’s ever been more afraid in his life. But he can’t… he can’t remember…

“Restraints deployed.”

“No, wait please!” Jaune screams, scratching desperately at the window. “Please no, I don’t want-” Claws on metallic arms grab his limbs, spreading him eagle and lifting him up into the air. Tears drip down into his hair as he’s held aloft upside down.

A woman with white hair and blood red eyes enters, followed by a man with a dark mustache and a cart full of needles and other looking equipment that terrifies the poor boy out of his wits.

“My dear, do you know who I am?” the woman asks silkily. Jaune screams and sobs and desperately shakes his head. “Good,” she hisses, and pats his cheek harshly. “Begin its treatment,” the woman says to the man. “Call me back when its wings are about to emerge. I want to be there at the moment of rebirth.”

“Yes, Ma’am,” the man says, nodding to her as she leaves the room. He picks pulls on a pair of blue rubber gloves and picks up a knife from the tray and.

“Take him to Y-incision,” he calls over his shoulder, and suddenly Jaune is moving, no longer upside down. He floats horizontally, sniffling and blubbering and begging. The man doesn’t care. “Beginning procedure,” the man says, placing the cold blade on Jaune’s chest, just below his collarbones. “Making preliminary incision.”

And the blade pierces through his skin.

Almost mercifully, the agonizing terror looming over Jaune’s mind seems to peak, then. It crashes down and envelops him, and all the sights and sounds surrounding him become thick and muffled.

Oh, he realizes distantly. This is why the girl looks so calm.

________

FILE CORRUPTED

TRY AGAIN?

YES NO

________

Jaune gasps and stumbles backwards.

Across the room, Cinder stares at him.

Expression as blank as when she was hanging from wires.

“Raphael…” she whispers, eyes widening.

[sprnklersplashes]

fic based on the theory that sarah fier was the one to bring ziggy back, not nick/the devil (I thought this was gonna be much shorter than it is oops)

“Just let my sister live.” 

The voice comes to her, faded, far away, but she hears it. Hears it because someone called out to her, which no-one has done in centuries, except to make fun of her. To mock her, smear her as the with they call think she is. But not this one. This one doesn’t mock her. She begs her.

“Just let my sister live!”

The picture comes into focus in front of Sarah’s eyes, as if it’s the first thing she sees waking up. Two girls, one small with flame coloured hair, one taller and covered in dirt, clutching Sarah’s own hand. Her throat is raw from screaming, her legs weak from running. Sarah can feel it in her spirit, the girl’s hand on the bone sharing her feelings with her. Weak, exhausted, and so, so scared. Not for her, but for the girl beside her, who turns helplessly in all directions.

It’s then Sarah realises the girls aren’t alone. Coming at them from all sides are... them. The people the Goodes have cursed. Cold skin, lifeless eyes, blackened hearts. Her own heart breaks when she sees them, her stomach twisting at the injustice.

William. Harry. Ruby. And now Thomas, the latest soul to be stolen by the Goodes. 

She tried. It’s been so long since someone found her hand. She tried to show them what Solomon had done those years ago, her promise bound to her bones, but it was for nothing. Her hand is small, her body incomplete, and so whatever powers she’s managed to gain here are feeble, and no match for the Goodes and their deals. They’re ahead of her, again, and she can’t do anything to stop them. Can’t stop as the older girl, Cindy, her sister calls her, runs towards what was Thomas Slater, can’t save the red-haired girl from the knife that pierces her gut. She watches, forces herself to watch, as their respective killers hit them again and again. Knife in the side, axe in the chest. The picture grows stronger as the girls’ breaths grow weaker, the veil between this life and theirs growing thinner. Sarah feels grass beneath her bare feet, the sound of the young girl’s scream attacking her ears. Of course. Life. Death. They’re such strange concepts, and soon the girls will be making the same journey she did. At the hands of the Goodes.

And she will welcome them, and is prepared they will hate her.

The young girl moans, and Sarah can feel her life ebbing away. She may be the first to go. So young, both so young. Her sister’s body shakes of its own accord as the axe hits her again, scarlet blood spurting from her mouth, staining her pretty face.

No, she screams, but her words are a mere breeze. She runs at Thomas, runs at Harry, to try to hold them back, but she is nothing. If they feel anything, they feel a slight chill, and it does nothing to them. She falls to the ground, her limbs aching from this one attempt, and failure creeps up on her again. She can’t save them. She can’t save anyone.

“Nothing will pull us apart,” Cindy promises her sister just before the axe hits her chest again.

“Never...” The young girl gasps. “Again.” The knife hits her side once more, then a final time. Her chest stammers, flutters, and Sarah watches the life flee her body.

It’s over. They’re over.

The killers disappear, vanishing back to the underground cave, their souls trapped until they’re needed again. And the girls lie on the grass, their hands reaching out to each other, never to touch in this life. 

Sarah sits and waits to greet them.

Until someone else comes running in. He runs right through her, and she feels the darkness in his blood immediately. A Goode. One who has already taken on his family’s legacy. She retches at the sight of him, although nothing comes out. This is the boy, the man, who sold Thomas Slater. Whose hands are stained with the blood of all those innocents. And who now, leans over the corpse of his victim, and begs her not to die.

The irony is enough to make Sarah smile.

“Ziggy? Ziggy don’t die on me, okay?” he begs, clutching her cold face in his hands. Sarah’s jaw clenches. She knows love when she hears it. The Goodes are monsters, but they are human, and humans love. But this love isn’t pure, not like her and Hannah. There’s a sting to it, in his desire

“What’s going on?”

Sarah turns, her blood cold at the sound of the voice. The smaller girl, Ziggy, stands before her, blinking blearily as if half asleep. It’s common for those who just crossed over, especially if it was before their time. Sarah’s experienced far more of that then she’d have liked to. It will take minutes, hours for young Ziggy to fully cross over.

Let my sister live! Cindy’s voice echoes in Sarah’s mind, her plea to her. She turns back around, sees Nick still desperately trying to save her, sending out a plea of his own, not to God. Somewhere, wherever he is, the Devil is no doubt pondering his wish, whether he will let Ziggy go or keep her blood for himself.

“No.” Her voice is small, rusty from disuse, but it’s strong, and she shouts again “No!”. She tilts her head to the sky and screams at it, screams at the Goodes and the Devil, “You will not have her! You will not have her!”

The sky opens up, rain falling right through her. If it is the Devil’s reply, she laughs at it, and she grabs young Ziggy by the arm. Her eyes still flutter, her gaze unfocussed, her form not fully here, as if sketched in in pencil. There is still time, if she acts fast.

“Wh-what?”

“They will not have you,” she tells Ziggy, even if she can’t hear her. “Your sister begged for you to live, and live you shall.”

She pulls her towards her body, where Nick Goode still tries to breathe life into her. It’s just steps away, but it feels like miles, her legs shaking with each move she makes. The Devi holds her back, unwilling to let go of his prize. Another dead Shadysider to add to his collection. Another innocent soul, demed unworthy by those in power. He wraps his arms around her, pulls them both away from her body, refusing to let his prize go.

“Not... today,” she pants. Her hand tightens around Ziggy, who blinks in confusion. She’s still not here, she still has time. Cindy’s begging rings in her ears, rings all around them. 

Just let my sister live!

“Not. Today.” She pulls herself and Ziggy the last few steps, drags her until she is beside her body. Her own will pulls the two of them forward, the centuries of hurt burning like a furnace, but it’s something else, one key ingredient that pushes her over the edge. A sister’s love, so pure and steadfast, that it holds the veil back just those seconds more. She can’t see the Devil, but she knows he is here, and she snarls at him. “Not. Her!”

She turns to Ziggy, watches the girl’s eyes open and close slowly, her lips trying clumsily to speak. She won’t remember this at all, and Sarah is glad of it. God only knows what will become of her for now, but she’s fulfilled her promise to her sister.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, and she pushes her back across.

Just before she disappears again, she sees her eyes open, her pained gasps for air. She can’t be sure if she did the right thing, saving her. Some say surviving a tragedy is worse than dying in it. She wouldn’t know. All she knows is the Devil has one less person’s blood to feed on now, but the curse remains still.

A half-victory.

“Where am I?” Sarah turns, slowly, and isn’t surprised to see Cindy behind her. She wears the same clothes she died in, but now free from blood and, whatever it was she was covered in. Sarah suspects she doesn’t want to know. She looks up at her, eyes wide and terrified, like an animal cornered by a hunter. “Who are you?”

“My name is Sarah,” she begins, but the words stick in her throat. She’s had enough of explaining herself, and only being believed half the time. Had enough of people sapping her, screaming at her, cursing her, for something she never did. “Sarah Miller.”

“Oh. Um, hi.” The young girl looks at herself, looks at the limbo surrounding them. Realisation dawns on her face, memory after memory coming back to her, and she drops to the floor, her hands pressed to her mouth to hold back her scream.

“Am I... dead?” she asks, finally. Sarah only nods and kneels beside her. She listens to Cindy’s muffled sobs, the slowly building shrieks of agony, and she lets her do what she needs before showing her where to go. It’s easy to see where this girl will end up, and at least she’ll have some peace.

“My... my sister?” she asks. “Where-where’s my sister?”

“She’s alive,” Sarah tells her. Cindy goes weak with relief, falling into Sarah’s arms and sobbing, muttering “Ziggy’s alive” under her breath. 

Sarah wishes she can do more. Wishes she could say Ziggy will be okay, that Shayside will be okay, that this whole horrible saga is finally over. But she can’t. Because the Goodes were too powerful, again, and even as her hand tightens on them, theirs does on Shadyside. All Sarah can do is hold Cindy until they go to where they need to go, and hopes that the next time someone finds her, she can do more.

Hopes that one day, she can show them what was done.

[blossom-hwa]

Kingdom |Prologue: Catching Fire|

And so we begin :) please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed!

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 1.8k

A spark of betrayal lights the flame of a war. 

Tag list [ dm or send an ask to be added! ]: @itsapapisongo​ @dearseungie​ @chrisbahng​ @reverienostalgia​ @wingkkun​ @juyeo-on​

TBZ Masterlist | Kingdom

Changmin can’t breathe. He can’t see, can’t hear, can’t even think over the pounding of his own heart as he strains helplessly against the chains that bind his arms. They dig into the stinging cuts on his skin, iron burning the magic that seeps from his blood.

How could everything have come to this, just days before Juyeon’s coronation, the coronation that was supposed to bring his kingdom to peace?

He struggles in his bonds, chains that bind the remaining magic in his veins, erasing the humming thrum that usually bubbles below his skin. It leaves him cold, empty, helpless as he strains against harsh metal imbued with spells he knows but can’t break.

His magic is gone.

Gone.

And the simmer in his blood isn’t the only thing that’s gone silent.

Bom steps around his kneeling body, her footsteps the only sound in the still air. Changmin raises his head to meet her solemn eyes, gazing down at him with a stony pity flashing in the darkness.

Changmin never liked Bom, never got over the crawling of his skin whenever she brushed by a little too close. She always seemed too cold, too uptight, and several times, he wondered how she was even ordained as a mage. Even now as he stares, refusing to back down even when he knows he can’t escape, his mouth twists into an expression of the faintest disgust, disgust for her single-mindedness that has plagued him, the Board’s gray mage, for the past five years.

“Why?” he finally asks, voice hoarse with remnants of shouts, cries of surprise and betrayal as he tried to fend away the mage standing before him. “Why would you do this?”

She’s opening her mouth, probably about to give some pithy reply to make his blood boil, but the shrine door opens with a crash and a bang before she can start. Another mage walks out, ivory robes stained with red.

High Mage Jung Sungkyu of the Ivory Kingdom. Changmin’s former mentor and a father figure.

Covered in blood.

Changmin blinks once. Twice. 

The red doesn’t disappear.

So none of this is a hallucination, a nightmare he’ll soon wake up from.

Yes, this is the mage from whom he learned, the mage who bound him and his queen together in their promise, the mage whom he looked up to for so long. That kind, powerful mage is the same, the very same as the one walking toward him with bloodstained robes and an expression of pain on his face.

Blood stains.

Changmin doesn’t even want to think about what that means for those who didn’t manage to escape the shrine, for the guards who defended him, for the queen who told him to flee, the queen he left behind.

Oh, my queen…

A mask falls over Changmin’s features, and he stops struggling against the chains now cutting into his skin. His eyes bore into those of the mage walking forward, piercing holes into his skin until the man can’t even hold his gaze anymore and drops his head instead.

“You thought you could escape and warn your friends, didn’t you?” Bom asks, eyes impassive. Her lips curve slightly, coldly, blade-like under the crescent moon. Iron. “Don’t worry, young gray mage. We’ll pass on the message soon enough. We’re just not ready, not quite yet.”

We’re not ready.

We…

“We” doesn’t only include Bom and the high mage. This is something bigger.

We.

Changmin swallows, trying not to go dizzy from the realization. With every word that falls from his lips, he only becomes more certain that he’s right.

“You’re working with the princess.”

Pawns and kings, how can he warn Juyeon and his sister when he’s miles away, stuck in magic-binding chains, and, judging from the knife at Bom’s waist, about to die?

Stall. Stall, keep stalling. “How could you betray the orders like this?” he asks, desperation dripping from his lips. “You swore loyalty to the Board above all, not to your kingdom – why would you do this?”

“I believe the Board’s balance lies in supporting the ivory queen,” Bom says, a faint but manic glint of excitement entering her eyes. It makes Changmin’s skin crawl. “I am sworn to protect the balance, no? This is what I believe is best.”

“The princess is not the queen,” Changmin snaps, brain still running. How can he do anything without his magic? “She has no title other than that of a royal pawn.”

“Oh, she’ll be queen, soon enough.” Bom smiles, a curve of the lips that feels more like a knife blade than a grin.

What does that –

Oh.

Oh, no.

No.

His queen…

His queen must be dead.

Changmin’s head snaps upward, the gold insignia around his neck thumping painfully against his chest. Desperately, he looks at his old mentor.

He wouldn’t have killed his queen, would he? Might have subdued, might have knocked them out, but – he couldn’t have killed –

The mage refuses to meet his eyes.

Red clouds Changmin’s vision, mixes with the black of night and the cold light of the moon overhead. A scream builds in his chest that fights to leaves his lips as his head drops once more.

Lost in pain, barely able to breathe, he almost doesn’t feel the gold at his chest, the carved queen and king that always rest at the base of his throat. As he breathes, though, clearing his mind, the insignia dragging his neck to the ground catches his attention.

It’s charmed as it always has been, never to leave his side until death. The gold symbol, a queen and king standing next to each other on a miniature chessboard, is a gift passed down from one gray mage to another, one of only three keys that exist to unlock a kingdom’s crown jewels. It hasn’t left his neck since the day it was given to him by his predecessor when he was ordained at fifteen, one of the youngest to take on the mantle of gray mage.

They will take it when he dies. Undoubtedly they will – it holds magic, magic they will need for whatever it is they’re planning. At the very least, they wouldn’t leave such a powerful relic to be burned with his body.

So what are they planning?

“What do you plan to do, when your princess is a queen?” Changmin tries to make his voice sound as disbelieving as possible, hopes they can’t hear the shaking in his words. He’s rewarded with a twitch of Bom’s eye. “Surely you don’t think the ivory citizens will accept her, not when their current rulers are so loved?”

“That won’t matter.” Bom’s grin makes her look ghoulish under the moonlight. “Not when the entire Board is under our control.”

Changmin’s heart almost stops. Never, not once in the history of the Board, not even when the high orders had to intervene and send down the current laws of the land, has one kingdom attempted to completely take over the other. There have been revenge plots and assassination plans, even one notable attempt by the former ruby bloodline to murder the onyx royals, but nothing… nothing of this scale.

He needs to warn Juyeon.

“An ambitious plot,” he chokes out, all of his former nonchalance gone. The insignia quivers at his throat, a reminder of what will be lost if the ivory princess succeeds. “I suppose you’ll be going to the Onyx Kingdom next.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Bom dismisses him with a flick of her hand, ready to unsheathe her knife. “You’ll be dead then, anyway.”

But Changmin doesn’t hear her. He focuses on the knowledge that they’ll be going to the Onyx Kingdom, that they’ll probably take his insignia with them.

A plan springs into his mind, fully-formed and wholly impossible. Impossible because he needs magic, magic that’s been stolen from him by the chains that bind his wrists.

Wait.

He closes his eyes, blocks out the sound of Bom’s droning voice and the cold twinkling of stars overhead.

And focuses on the faintest thrumming of magic beneath his skin.

His magic isn’t gone. It’s subdued, yes, but it isn’t gone. There’s some left, simmering in his blood, and if he concentrates it, it will be just enough for…

A smirk threatens to form on Changmin’s lips as he strains, invisibly, against the chains. Magic coalesces under his control, forming a small but warm stream as it travels through his blood, coming to a stop at his chest, just beneath the insignia resting against his skin.

Find Juyeon.

“I see,” Changmin says blandly, not having heard a single word of what Bom just said. “Interesting.”

Find Juyeon.

An eyebrow raises. “Interesting, that I’m about to kill you?”

Changmin blinks. “Hasn’t it been obvious from the start?”

Find Juyeon.

The magic in his chest grows warmer, brighter, as Bom’s face twists into an embarrassed scowl. “Any last words, then?” she snaps.

The bland look stays on Changmin’s face, even though the bejeweled knife in Bom’s hands sends shivers up his spine. “No, not to you.”

Find Juyeon.

The insignia sears against his chest with heat. His skin must be burning – he can’t smell cooking flesh just yet, though it’s probably only a matter of time – but he grits his teeth and bears it. It means it’s working. 

It means it’s working.

Silver flashes down, the knife arcing towards his neck. Changmin shuts his eyes, prays, thinks those two words over and over again, find Juyeon –

“Wait.”

The blade stops at his word. He blinks his eyes open, looking up not at Bom, but at the High Mage who’s frozen to the spot. It’s one question, a question whose answer has only been implied, an answer that he needs to know. “Is my queen alive?”

Silence follows his question, which only confirms what he knew but dreaded. And even though it feels like his heart is tearing apart, even though tears are beginning to in his eyes for the second time tonight, Changmin musters the strength to use that brief silence to speak those two words once more.

Find Juyeon.

“I see,” he finally says, staring fully at the old mage. High Mage Jung, his former mentor, one of the most powerful high mages, looks smaller than Changmin has ever believed him to be – small, weak, helpless as he gazes helplessly at the ground, robes stained with blood. “Well, you may proceed.”

“It’s not a question of whether you’ll permit it,” Bom snarls, bringing his attention back to her. “You’re at our mercy now.”

Find Juyeon.

This time, as the insignia sears its mark into his flesh, Changmin allows a smirk to spread across his face. “I suppose that’s what you might like to think.”

Bom’s snarl only grows harsher in the moonlight, but unlike before, Changmin doesn’t feel fear at the ghoulish twist of her lips. Instead, he takes a last comfort in the harsh burn of the insignia resting against his skin as the knife comes slicing down.

My queen, I’ll see you again, soon.

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for changmin and me please don’t kill me)

[mrfandomgage]

Chara, standing in the middle of a valley: So, you're sure about this? The last time I fought someone, they nearly died?

Gage, summoning his jet hammer: The faster I write this scene, the faster I go back to writing something else.

Chara: Cool it Meta, I just wanted to ask. Got a knack for big hammers?

Gage, removing his cloak: You just brought a kitchen knife?

Chara: I have a bit more focus on magic is all, gotta stay loose.

Frisk, watching with Sans: so, you're the referee right?

Sans: essentially. I need to stop them before either of them land a fatal hit is all

Frisk: That's reassuring...

Sans: On your marks. Get set.

"GO!" Sans shouts, with a thunderous sound of a Gaster Blaster firing into the air.

Chara dashes, vanishing from from sight, a trail of dirt and debris obscuring Gage's vision. Landing behind Gage, Chara attempts to plunge the knife into his back. The knife strikes into rigid metal lining, as the hammer was flipped in Gage's hand to protect himself. The hammer sweeps threw the air, clearing dust. Chara dodged, jumping back from the hammer's reach.

Gage turns around, mounting the hammer onto his shoulder with a shit eating grin. He stands as still as a statue, then moves quickly without a sound. The hammer slams into the ground, dirt and dust trailing his form, flowing in the hammer's arc down, creating a small crater, and launching rocks, and Chara, into the air, as Gage remains elevated by the pole of his hammer.

Chara cuts the air, making a bleeding tear of energy rip through sound, crashing into the ground. Blasting up dirt, stone and dust, it's unclear whether Chara landed a single blow. Chara falls to the ground, landing on a leg, and making a pained grunt.

"Chara! Are you alright?" Frisk shouted from the sideline.

"I think I fucked up my ankle, but other than that, I'm good. Probably!" Chara responds, trying to mitigate his pain as best he can.

The sound of a jet engine igniting, and the sight of a bright orange flame appears in the cloud. The fire spins, then faster and faster, until one immediate burst of energy clears all the dust in the air. Gage stands, his hammer still burning. Breathing heavily, it's is easy to see in his pose he's exhausted. It's easy to see crimson flowing from his black clothes. His arms and legs both bleeding, dripping on the ground.

Chara stands up, readying his guard, as Gage slowly reaches a stance to hold his still burning hammer. Letting go on one arm, Gage starts spinning, as if he's lost control and has become a top, only to get faster, til he's wirling like a tornado. Flying into the air, the forms become less recognizable as a human holding a hammer, but like that of a black hole with three rings containing it.

As propelled by the hammer, Gage flies down, striking right on top of Chara, cratering the area. Chara screams, as he drops to a knee holding up the full force of the hammer with his knife. Gage, holds his ground above Chara, increasing the pressure. The hammer's flame grows longer, and burns blue, pushing Chara into the ground. A bright ruby light glows beneath the overwhelming sapphire illumination.

The hammer head shatters, scattering into the air and Gage's arms swing up holding a pole. As Chara is diving at Gage, seconds from piercing his abdomen, as time appears to become still. In fact Gage and Chara realize they can't move at all.

"We have our winner. Good job Chara", Sans says in a plain tone. Sans drops the both of them as Frisk cheers on Chara for winning the fight.

Chara, dusting himself off: Are you ok?

Gage, dropping his pole and dropping himself to the ground: I'm fine. Good job on winning.

Chara: this win kinda feels... pointless? I mean, you're a god and all-

Gage, bleeding in the dirt: Pish posh. Just because I write the world doesn't mean I automatically succeed at everything or hand out things to others. I'm still fair. Look at it like this, we had equal levels of strength and power, because that's fair, it's a balanced fight right?

Chara, thinking: well, of course-

Gage, turning onto his back to look up: NOPE! Even with equal power and strength, we are unbalanced, probably even more so. With how you kicked dirt into my eyes, I had to spend energy to dedicate time to clearing it, and my most significant damage is probably a sprained ankle, while right now, I can't regenerate because I did something incredibly stupid just to try looking cool

Chara: and that is?

Gage: so, I may have froze time for every speck of dust, so I could make it seem like I was able to instantaneous wind tunnel all that dust away

Chara: you... froze time?

Gage: yes.

Chara: for dirt and dust. Just to blow it away?

Gage: I thought it looked cool

Chara: now I know how Frisk feels when I'm playing one of her video games and do something only because it looks cool

Sans, walking up: can either of you walk? If so I know a shortcut

Frisk: if not, I'll help you walk sweetie

Chara, looking at Gage: and him?

Gage, still bleeding: I can crawl

Sans: not to be rude, but that idea ironically isn't that grounded. Not to be a grass or anything, but ya gotta be stoned to do that

Everyone: *deep sighing*

[tsumuqis]

choosing, choosing, choosing | fuyuhiko kuzuryu x reader

hello again! this is the fuyuhiko angst for @iateyourdoggo-part2​ ! (3/3)

kinda short, sorry. tw: mentions of knives, gn reader, one sided

“choosing, choosing, choosing.”

y/n was currently choosing a gift to give to fuyuhiko for valentines day. It was currently saturday, the day before valentines. y/n was currently in the valentines aisle after their work shift, it was half empty due to everyone trying to pick something out for valentines. y/n sighed, there was barely anything good left. crappy and cheesy cards were spread out on the shelves, small bears adorned the floors and red and pink decorations were everywhere.

It was a mess.

and to think y/n could actually pick and choose a gift from here? y/n sighed one last time before picking up a box of chocolates and cashing them out. They tried another store, and another store, and another store. It was no use, all of the good stuff was gone, and y/n couldn’t do anything about it.

getting in their car, they searched up good valentines gifts. They scrolled and scrolled until something picked up. A promise ring? They searched up what it meant, taking any idea for a valentines present.

“Promise rings represent a promise to take a relationship more seriously - signifying more development in the relationship. Promise rings also promise hope and commitment for the relationship.”

There was a heavy silence of thinking. Could this be it? Would fuyuhiko mind it? What if he hates it? Many thoughts ran through y/n’s head as they pondered on whether to buy one or not. Reluctantly, they checked the prices.

110 dollars, 200 dollars, 170 dollars,, and 50 dollars.

The ring was gold, with a tiny ruby on it. It was very simple, but pretty as well.

y/n had exactly 62 dollars in their wallet. Hesitantly, they went to the store that supplied the ring, hoping that fuyuhiko would like it.

when y/n had arrived at fuyuhiko’s house, they saw no lights on but a car in the driveway. They peeked through the window and saw no one. Worried, they checked every spot fuyuhiko was likely to be in, coming to no avail

y/n paused before heading to the last destination they could think of. He had to be there. Where else would he be?

Starting the car, y/n headed towards their destination.

When they arrived there, there were flowers everywhere. smooth stones adorning the grassy area and the moonlight shining in through the trees. It was a peaceful place. No wonder fuyuhiko liked it.

Stepping into the public property, they noticed dirt splattered everywhere and shovels near a tiny shed in the back. Although it was always like this, it still bothered y/n. Why couldn’t the residents of this area tidy up the place?

Shaking those thoughts away, y/n came to a flower filled area. Dirt sticking onto y/n’s shoes leading them to get dirty. But y/n wasn’t fixed on that. They were more fixed on the stone hedge covered in dust.

“Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, a short life well lived.”

y/n placed the chocolate and ring box on top of the dirt that was laid under the stone.

y/n remembered how it happened.

y/n remembered how the sky seemed to be falling and how everything was completely silent.

y/n remembered when they were captured along with peko.

y/n remembered when fuyuhiko came, shouting threats towards their capturers.

y/n remembered when fuyuhiko had a knife in his hands, and accidently threw it in the wrong direction.

y/n remembers the pain piercing through their body, only to get a pitiful expression from both fuyuhiko and peko.

y/n remembers when fuyuhiko had a choice to choose either peko or y/n. 

y/n remembers when fuyuhiko chose peko, and left with her.

y/n remembers finally being able to leave and running everywhere to find fuyuhiko.

y/n remembers when fuyuhiko had enough with them, arguing on the streets.

y/n remembers when fuyuhiko walked away, done with y/n and got hit by a racing car.

y/n remembered all of it.

“choosing, choosing, choosing.”

[fireheartfaery]

Day 8: "Why are you still fighting?"

masterlist; my links

trysor onyx: onyx treasure (Welsh) ||  ọbara-rubi: blood-ruby (Igbo)

canon-compliant, non-descript

CW: mentions of sex

The sweat slides down his back, cooling and fiery all at once. He rolls his neck, lips twitching at the satisfying crack of his bones as they all settle back into place. The sword he'd been wielding stills in his ever moving hand, tip pointing to the floor, but not quite touching it.

His opponent, a ridiculous straw stuffed dummy, is in tatters all around him. He curses Aelin yet again for giving them these. He curses her more for the devilish grin she had sported and the “we're on a tight budget while the kingdoms recovering" excuse she enjoys giving him whenever he asks for things.

But he looks at the straw around him and sets up another dummy. This time he chooses two daggers, barely bigger than his hands and as sharp as his queen's wit. As sharp as some other being's anger too.

Lorcan shoves those thoughts aside at the same time that he flings a dagger into the fake heart of the scarecrow. The patchwork read on its chest folds inwards getting lost in the straw. It reminds him, unhelpfully, of the blood red lipstick she always wears, painted on her lips like the echo of a battle cry. With another growl, he throws the second dagger, letting it arc across the air and slice the dummy’s head clean off its shoulders. The straw bursts in a shower of dying gold. It is the exact same shade of her favourite colour to torture him with. Those red lips, that gold holster. His teeth hurt with the effort to keep his control leashed.

There’s a shift of sound to his right and before he can take his next breath a knife is flying from his hands and sailing past a very calm Amren as she moves slightly to the left.

"If you want to kill me Trysor Onyx," Her voice is everything cruel in the world. It sets his blood on fire. "You should have heard me coming.“

“I have not heard you approaching since we met two centuries ago."

She smirks. He holds back every dark thought bellowing to encase her. "And yet we are still here.“

He has heard this speech a thousand times. In the middle of a battle field, shouted across the screams of dying soldiers. On the infirmary bed, whispered in desperate hope and demanding survival. At the very edge of the tallest mountains, as casual and insignificant as a star without its constellation.

"Why are you still fighting?" She picks up a discarded dummy's head, throwing it between her palms like a basketball.

"Because we cannot go there." He shudders into himself, imagining the consequences.

"And why is that Trysor Onyx?" She flings the head, moves like a blade made form towards him. She is piercing when her black eyes settle on his. Lips red red red.

"The world would not survive it.“

“Then the world is fickle." She sneers, "And I do not care for it anyway."

"If we destroy the world ọbara-rubi," He let's a tendril of power wash around the room. The straw turns to dust. Her eyes burn. "Who will be there to admire you and your power?"

"Don't be petulant," She scoffs. It sounds like appetency. "I'm not vain enough to need people to watch me."

"If I recall your speech to a certain Archeron sister was dramatic enough to suggest otherwise." He raises a brow, a grin playing at his lips.

Her hands, so much smaller than his own, so much more powerful too, come up to rest against his chest. He feels every point of heat where they touch, even through the sweat drenched shirt.

"Why are you really fighting this?" There is something so earnest, so open about her expression that he feels himself fold in half from the inside out.

"Because ọbara-rubi, if I start—" He takes a shuddering breath, covering her hands with his, still on him. "I will not be able to stop. And I cannot lose you the way I lost her." His voice cracks. Even three centuries later he is not over the death of his Elide. She who forced Yrene to separate their bond so that he may live to watch their children grow.

"And if you get bored of me," The world narrows to the gaze piercing him like black flames, like confession. "I would not survive the heart ache. The world would not survive the carnage."

She releases her hands from him and immediately cups his cheeks pulling his face down until they're only centimeters apart. "You have me." She says. "Repeat."

“I have you." He doesn't even hesitate.

"And you will not lose me."

"And I will not lose you."

"Good," And the smile on her face is enough to make death himself scream. "Now please stop behaving and do what we've been dancing around for the last fucking—"

He crashes his lips to hers. It is chaos. She is immediately fighting with him, wanting to be in control. He nips her bottom lip. She growls. He grabs her ass, pulls her to him. She doesn't hold in a wild moan. He takes the opportunity to shove his tongue in her mouth. He can almost hear the curse she's thinking. But then she's jumping to his waist, and his arms are wrapped around her and they are moving through time and space and bottled fear as they finally unleash themselves.

And when his hand grazes her signature gold holster strapped to her thigh, and holding a pretty star-stone dagger— she never uses it for any other weapon— every morsel of perseverance he's kept in the last centuries burns to nothing against their skin.

"So you've finally decided to make the right decision." She smirks.

He marvels that she knows. He shouldn't. She's always been able to sense him. Maybe its their power, so similar, yet so vastly opposing.

"Stop thinking Lorcan." She frowns, sucking at the sensitive skin just behind his ear.

He is divelling, drowning in everything she is. He is alive.

"You have me." He gasps as she bites down on the pulse at his neck.

"I have you." She echoes. Her tongue trails a heated path down his brown skin.

"You will not lose me."

"I will not lose you."

"Let's go home ọbara-rubi,"

She smiles into his neck, finger nails digging into his shoulders, hard from tension.

"Can I peg you when we do?"

He gives her a thorough once over, enjoying how she squirms with impatience. "You can do whatever you want, as long as I get to fuck you to oblivion first."

Her eyes roll back as they disappear through the folds and into a candlelit room, opulence bleeding through its walls.

And the sparring room they left behind is burning to the ground, the poor straw dummies still scattered inside.

Let the destruction begin.

------------------------------------------------------------

tags (if you want to be added to/ taken off the tag list just let me know. all my channels of communication are open)

@nishlicious-01​

[taiyohima]

“He Failed them”

Characters: Fukuzawa Yuchi, The ada, new character

Fic request by: @bloody-eyez  

Type: Angst, Hurt no comfort 

Words: 1,270 

Warnings: Blood and gore, maybe cause intrusive thoughts so beware. 

Summary: They were dead. All of the. Fukuzawa failed to save them from the fruit of his own mistakes. 

Fic under the bar! 

"Saccho," Ranpo called him out, "Who is this Robinson guy? Never heard of him." He said as he tossed the letter on Fukuzawa's desk.

"..Robinson...?" Fukuzawa raised an eyebrow as he took the letter and started opening it. He didn't remember any Robinson named guy. Who is this then? Keeping aside the envelope, that was neatly torn from its opening, he sat down on his chair, the  letter in his hands. His eyes started tracing the words written in bold cursive writing. It read:

"When the battle is done, and you think that you have won- don't dance on my grave just yet.

If you are the moon I am the sun- I won't allow you to forget.

In my own time, I will take away from you what's mine- for I'm not your friend.

In the dark of nights In the depth of tides, I'll come to you then."

Fukuzawa started at the written nonsense for half a minute, before folding it and keeping it back in the envelope again. Maybe it was a mistake by the postman on delivering it here. Yeah, it was.

The sun deweled behind him and amber covering hit the room. A small breeze made his hair fly and the birds chirped softly. The faint noises coming from the agency whispered in his ears. Probably Kunikida shouting at Dazai again. All normal. Fukuzawa blinked at the ruby-amber sky before turning around to a photograph of him and his agency children.

They had rich smiles on their faces which beamed with happiness. He sighed, hoping this will stay forever.

~ ~ ~ 

The next day when Fukuzawa entered the agency, it was all silent. Deadly silent. The glasses were broken, tables and desks were flipped, some of them broken. The wall hangings and the photographs were all lurking on the wall like a dead ghost. There were gunshot holes everywhere and no agency member was present.

It couldn't be the mafia as they were on the truce. His attention was drawn to a knife that was stabbed inside the wall with a paper.

He rushed towards it, stabbing out the knife from the wall, as the paper fell off and rested near his feet. He picked it up only to  find out that it was the same photograph of him and his children. Their faces were covered in red crosses and a big circle on Fukuzawa's  photo was seen.

He turned the photograph around, finding an address that instructed him to follow it. Fukuzawa's eyes twitched at the sight of the address. 'Is this written with blood?' He thought sniffing it. '..Yeah, it is..' He nodded and thought it would be better if he followed this  address. This better is something serious. And, off he was, locking the agency door behind. Just as he walked away, the board that read, 'The Armed Detective Agency' fell off with a loud THUD in the empty hallway, not knowing that there will be nobody to pick it up again...

~ ~ ~ 

The address leads Fukuzawa into a small dark alley, that smelled of fish and spinach. His silvery-blue eyes made their way towards the end of the alley, where there was a small open space, at which people of different organizations used to fight off before it became a baren sight. 

Fukuzawa suddenly stopped a half a meter away from the ground. Horror filling him. There was a strong smell. The smell of bloodshed. The smell of heavy bloodlust. He rushed towards the baren ground. His heart racing and mind running. His slender feet stopped as they entered the ground, but the trantruma began.

Bodies soaked in a pool of their blood were laying mercilessly on the ground. Fukuzawa's eyes wild opened. His heartbeat became even faster. His hands and legs began to tremble. His heart was scattered and his blood came to a standstill. The bodies were none other than the fellows of the armed detective agency itself!

There was Kunikida, with his broken glasses and his dead body, leaning on the wall, his gun lying beside his cold hand. Yosano was laying somewhere near a broken light pole, drowning in a pool of her blood. Her knife beside her. Kenji and Tanizaki's bodies lay somewhere shredded in pieces. Atsushi lay near Dazai, with his tiger claws out, his white shirt, now crimson with blood. Dazai was hidden near a box, with blood  dripping from his fingertips and face. Ranpo's right leg seems to be chopped off and his fluffy face was bewildered, staring at the sky, as blood dripped down his lips.

There was no sign of life. Some weapons were scattered on the ground, that too, with the same red covering. Fukuzawa's breathing stopped. His blood was no longer warm, but icy cold. His heart skipped beats and it felt like living a heart attack. His legs could not carry him any longer. His knees fell to the ground, raw emotions visible on his face. His throat went sore and eyes burned.

A sharp laugh echoed on the bloody graveyard and a tall man with a bred and piercings was seen. His clothes were stained with the blood of the agency members and he had a mischievous grin on his crooked face.

"Isn't this the same Silver Wolf, I saw years ago in the war of Shrishama?" He laughed coming closer to the grief-stricken Fukuzawa.

"Krub Ivan Robinson," His throat hurt, and his voice was now raspy "Your behind all this aren't you...?" Fukuzawa asked, his head still facing the ground.

"How can you be so dense. Of course, it's me, Fukuzawa." Robinson shrugged "You seem to have forgotten your old enemy, now haven't you?"

"Why..." Fukuzawa grunted his teeth. Anger and sadness filling him.

Robinson's playful gaze suddenly turned dark. "You killed my seven children in front of my own eyes. Ever since that, my wife hasn't eaten anything and she eventually died. Your selfish self took everything away from me. My wife, my kids... Isn't it fair about me taking yours?" He smiled, "I've heard that you had changed. And, well, the rumors are right." He straights himself "When, more specifically, how did the Silver wolf stooped hunting and started saving people from hunts?"

"It is against the wolf's nature, isn't it?" He leaned closer to Fukuzawa, only to be slashed into two pieces.

"The wolf can change his nature if he wants to." He said looking down on the body he just chopped off. "You just don't have to remind him of it."

Fukuzawa turned his gaze towards the dead ADA members. Their bodies all stiff and their faces flushed. Expect Dazai's, he had a faint smirk on his face, joying that it was finally over. Maybe his dream of a peaceful, painless death was not successful. What was he gonna tell Poe, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Kyukou, and Katai? Namoi will burst into tears once she knows and Kenji's family will fall apart. He wanted to reach out to them, but he was holden aback. By every breath he took, they became more  dead. Their bodies rotting by every second.

The times that were the most fun seemed to be followed by sadness now, because it was when life started to feel like it did when they all were with him that he realized how utterly, totally gone they were. He tried to destroy the memories of them from his heart, but you cant destroy a made-up place. Fukuzawa stood there, starting down upon the lifeless bodies, knowing that he could never be anything but wholly, unforgivably guilty.

He failed all of them.

[aniray]

A Different Kind Of Love

I wrote a thing for Tommy and Lizzie because I need more of them in the world. Be gentle, please. This is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders. But I gave it my best shot.

~*~*~

Lizzie had never been one to envy others.

When the other girls had new dresses or shoes, Lizzie didn’t mind. When her father sent her out in a too-short dress and not her sister, Lizzie didn’t wish to switch places. No, she was simply glad for what she had because she learned early that even a little could become nothing if you spent all your time wanting something more. But there was one time- just one in her life- where she felt true envy.

The day Grace Burgess walked down an aisle and became Grace Shelby.

It made something twist inside of Lizzie that she’d never felt before. And it didn’t fade after Grace’s death. It only seemed to get worse. Because no one saw Tommy the way she did. No one saw him the nights he slept in the office talking to a picture that would never talk back. And for Grace to still have so much of him even in her grave… Yes, Lizzie had envied Grace Shelby.

But not anymore. -

The party was a smash. All the toffs that Tommy hated were there. The women were dressed in gowns that Lizzie had only dreamed of during her days as a whore. The men spoke of bets they’d won worth more money than any man should be allowed to have. Conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and Lizzie… Lizzie had taken the first chance to slip away from it all.

Slipping into Tommy’s office had been like taking a breath after being underwater too long. The noise of the party was faded and she could slip her heels off without breaking some rule she didn’t care about. She had never thought that her biggest complaint after marrying Tommy would be the parties. But then, she had never thought much about being married to Tommy. Some fantasies were too impossible to indulge in.

Lizzie allowed herself five minutes before brushing the skirt of her dress free of any wrinkles and slipping her shoes back on. She opened the door of the office with her head high. Appearance was everything- especially if your name was Shelby. She stepped out into the hall, the music and voices once more surrounding her. She hoped that Charlie and Ruby weren’t still awake from the noise.

Stepping around the staircase, the great room came into view. Her eyes scanned as much of it as she could, trying to spot any members of her husband’s family. But a hand grabbed her arm and jerked her backwards. As she tried to catch her balance the cold edge of a blade landed against her throat. The hand that had pulled her backwards quickly covered her mouth.

“You do what I say or those two little ones will be getting measured for coffins.” Lizzie’s entire body tensed at the thought of losing Charlie or Ruby. The man behind her pressed the blade deeper, nudging her to walk towards the dining room. “Now, you’re gonna get your husband to come out here. No fuss, nice and easy. Alright?” A nod was all she could manage, fear strangling her words.

Lizzie forced her feet to move forward. She kept her eyes on the open door of the dining room. And as she got closer she heard Tommy’s voice above the pounding of her heart. The deep rumble of his voice made something snap inside of her. Suddenly her fear was melting- giving way to anger. Because this stranger had come into her home. This man had threatened her children. And now he was using her as bait to trap her husband.

The man kept her to one side of the doors, wrapping his arm painfully tight around her waist. She heard Tommy speak to Frances, heard him ask when dinner would be served. It was a question Lizzie would have been asking if not for her current predicament. The blade had warmed against her skin, almost burning her now, it seemed like.

“Tommy?” Frances paused mid-sentence. The click of men’s shoes moved closer to the door. And Lizzie wanted to say something. She wanted to warn him. But she was a mother first and a wife second. She kept quiet. Stumbling backwards as her attacker moved further into the shadows, Lizzie felt a drop of liquid trail down her neck as a sharp sting bit at her throat. It distracted her enough that she didn’t see Tommy step out of the dining room.

But she saw the moment his eyes found her. She watched him take in the knife and the arm around her waist. She saw him peer at the faceless man- saw him recognize him. “Lizzie, you alright?” She moved to nod, but froze as the blade pressed in. somehow she managed to croak out an affirmative reply. Not that Tommy believed her for a moment. “My wife is not involved in my business. Let her go.”

But that was apparently the wrong thing to say. For no sooner had the words left Tommy’s mouth than the man moved. The arm around her waist was now at her neck, cutting off precious air. And the knife was digging into the soft flesh over her stomach.

“No. No, Mr. Shelby I can’t do that.”

Lizzie’s eyes fell to the knife at her gut. If the man said anything else, she didn’t hear it. If Tommy was speaking, she had no knowledge of it. Because all she could see was the spot of blood surrounding the tip of the blade. All she could hear were the chiming of funeral bells- her funeral bells. The scent of Ruby’s soap invaded Lizzie’s mind and she chocked on a whimper.

Was this how Grace had felt in her last moments? Had she wondered who would sing Charlie lullabies? Because Lizzie wondered. She wondered who would tell Ruby bedtime stories and help her learn her letters. She thought of Charlie’s violin recital coming up. She had promised she’d be there. And now she might miss it. She might miss everything for the rest of their lives.

Slowly, without her truly realizing it, Lizzie’s eyes found Tommy’s. She wanted to think he’d read to Ruby. She wanted to think he’d go to Charlie’s recital. She wanted to think he would be alright. She wasn’t Grace after all- he didn’t love her. And maybe that was better. Because she’d seen him after Grace and he couldn’t go through that again and come out the other side.

She wasn’t paying attention. She wasn’t paying attention and maybe if she had been she’d have seen it. She might have seen the way Tommy jerked towards her. She might have seen the hand holding the knife move away only to come back harder, faster, piercing through skin and muscle. Because between one thought and the next- one breath and the next- there was nothing but pain. -

Tommy watched the knife bury itself into Lizzie’s stomach. He watched as Fryers dragged it from one side to the other until there was nothing visible but blood. He watched the man let her go- let her fall- as he ran. And for a moment- for a split second- it was Grace collapsing in front of him. Then his mind caught up to the present and he could hear himself shouting for help. He was on his knees, suit coat in hand, pulling Lizzie against him so he could try to slow the bleeding.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, look at me.” Her blood was hot and thick on his hands. He’d had men die in his arms. He’d had Grace die in his arms. But Lizzie’s blood felt heavier- it burned him. His eyes shot to her face, took in the pale face and wide eyes. She was staring at him- like she’d never seen him before. “Lizzie, it’s gonna be alright, eh? We’ll get ya patched up quick, hmm?”

But the blood was running too fast. Arthur was there. Tommy could see Finn and Pol running. But it wasn’t fast enough. It was happening all over again. He pressed down harder, hating the way Lizzie flinched away from him. Hated the sound of her screaming in pain. But he didn’t stop- he couldn’t. Polly’s hands joined his and he looked up. She looked scared, his aunt. Scared and sad. She didn’t look like this when it was Grace. But the thought was there and gone before he could feel it tear at the wound Grace’s death had made.

Suddenly a cold hand was on his cheek. Tommy looked at Lizzie again. Her eyes were red rimmed from tears, and she was shaking from the blood loss. But he didn’t look away. She had that look- the one he’d seen dozens of times before. The one that he’d sought out on bad nights. He’d never been able to ignore that particular look- not completely.

“None of this is your fault, Tommy.” He jolted back as if she’d slapped him. Her hand was still on his cheek and he could feel her nails digging into the skin, trying to make him listen. But he couldn’t listen to that. Because it was a lie. It was a lie and Tommy Shelby didn’t lie to himself. “You listen to me,” she rasped, voice breaking on her words. “You listen to me Tommy Shelby. It’s not your fault.”

The doctor burst through the door as her hand slipped, as her eyes closed, as her voice rang in his ears…

“It’s not your fault, Tom.” -

He had never seen Lizzie so still.

She wasn’t a wild sleeper- a remnant of her whoring days. But she’d at least move her legs a bit, curl into a ball if she got too cold. But now she did nothing. Her fingers hadn’t even twitched. No, she was just laid there- still and too pale. Tommy’s eyes moved from her face to the place where her bandage was. He couldn’t see it, but he knew exactly where it was. He knew that Lizzie had fifteen stitches.

He knew that she’d not woken up once since she passed out in his arms.

That had been hours ago. The sun was just rising and the doctor had only left a few hours before. He hadn’t moved from his place beside their bed. It felt as if moving would unsettle things and he couldn’t risk it. Polly had come up to tell him what was happening in the world. Arthur and the Boys were looking for Fryers. The maids had cleaned the blood from the hall. The guests were escorted out with excuses for the host and hostess’ absence. So all was quiet.

But the stillness was a curse to his mind. It gave him time to think. It gave him time to remember. It gave the fear a chance to sink into his bones and wrap tight around his lungs. Because one wife had died in his arms and the other had almost done the same. And he knew- despite Lizzie’s words- that it was his fault. He was the one who kept bringing violence into their lives. He was the one always pushing for more and more.

What if it’s Charlie or Ruby, next?

He couldn’t bear the thought of it. His children were his entire world. Losing Grace had been a hell he’d never thought could exist. But even Tommy knew that to have one of his kids die because of his business would have him in an asylum or a grave. And if Lizzie didn’t pull through this… It would be a shitty way of repaying her loyalty. It would be a shitty way of thanking her for the drinks and the dancing and the warmth on bad nights. It’d be a terrible way to thank her for Ruby.

A light knock came at the door and dragged Tommy from his thoughts. He called for the intruder to come in. He didn’t look up as the door opened. He didn’t care to see anyone, anyway. But the quiet patter of little feet caught his attention and made him turn. Ruby stood at the foot of the bed, her eyes barely open. Her small fist rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she began to move to his side.

“What are you doing up so early, little one?” Tommy asked, as he lifted the little girl onto his lap. She settled against him, tucking her head under his chin. It was something she’d always done- come to him when she woke too early. She always seemed to find him if he was home and it was a little bit of easiness that Tommy let himself enjoy.

“Is Mummy sick?”

Tommy turned back to his wife. He tried to see her the way Ruby was seeing her. He heaved a sigh and held his girl closer. “Yeah, Rue. Mummy’s a bit sick. Her stomach is hurt and she’s resting until she feels better.” He waited for more questions, but they didn’t come. Instead his daughter told him about her dreams- horses and faeries and a tea party, from what he gathered. Nothing like the blood and screams that had filled his night.

“Da, when is Mummy gonna wake up? I want to play with her.” The words cut at Tommy. They sliced into the soft parts of him and left them bleeding. Charlie had been too young with Grace. He didn’t even remember her now. He hadn’t asked such questions. But if Lizzie died, Ruby would remember. Tommy’d have to answer questions like this every step of the way.

“Why don’t we go see about some breakfast, eh Rue?” -

An hour later Ruby was playing happily in the nursery. She had been fed and washed and gotten the attention she’d wanted from her father. She was a happy child. And Tommy was back in his bedroom. Back sitting in the chair beside his bed. Back watching over Lizzie.

For the first time in hours he saw signs of her waking. Her hands had curled into fists and her face was scrunched from pain. Tommy took her right hand and uncurled her fist. He smoothed his thumb against her palm lightly. “I know it hurts, Lizzie,” he whispered as her mouth twisted into a grimace. “I know, but you’ve got to push through. For Ruby. For Charlie. They need ya, Liz.”

Lizzie pulled her hand from his and brought it to her stomach. Tommy just barely had a chance to grab it back, before she could cause herself any more pain. But the sudden movement, seemed to hurt her anyway. A small gasp came from Lizzie and her eyes shot open. He was on his feet and standing over her in the next second. His other hand shot out to keep her from twisting about and tearing her stitches.

“Lizzie? Lizzie, listen,” he said, voice low and gentle like with his horses. “You’ve been hurt, Lizzie. You’ve been hurt, but the doctor’s come and sewed you up.” He waited to see if his words were reaching her. He thought maybe they were, so he kept talking. “Now you’ve got to lie still for me, Liz. You don’t want to rip the stitches. Just breathe and stay still. It’s alright.”

She had stopped wriggling. She was taking small breaths but they weren’t frightened ones anymore. So Tommy let her go and sat back in his seat. He gave her a moment, waiting for her questions. But like their daughter, Lizzie seemed to have none. Instead she turned her head to look at him. He didn’t know what she saw on his face, but it made her reach for his hand.

And that’s how she fell back to sleep- holding his hand. -

She woke up to fire in her belly. Pain lashed across her torso and sent tendrils into her hips and thighs. And the world was different than she remembered it. She’d had a dream, she thought. It had to have been a dream, at any rate. She’d been at Arrow House, lying in her bed. And Tommy had been- he’d been talking to her, telling her everything would be alright.

But she looked around, vision hazy from the pain and the burning, and saw white walls instead of the wallpaper from home. And it was cold, when her room was never cold. Her mind tried to piece together what had brought her to this place. But she couldn’t think.

Lizzie turned her head at the sound of a door opening. A woman dressed in a nurse’s uniform came in. A step behind her was Tommy. For a moment she forgot her worries. Because if Tommy were here, then she was at least safe. She could let him do the thinking just then. But then she realized she hadn’t seen Ruby or Charlie and something was telling her she needed to see them- that something was wrong.

“Tom?” Her voice came out low and raspy. It was like she’d smoked too many cigarettes in a row. But she didn’t care. She watched as Tommy moved closer to her, settling into the chair beside her bed. It was uncomfortable, the bed, now that she thought of it. But that too was unimportant. Her hand grasped her husband’s. “Where’s Ru-” she croaked, throat dry and sore. She swallowed what little saliva she could manage and tried again. “Where’s Ruby and Charlie?”

Tommy reached over and got a glass of water. He helped her sit up a bit so she could drink. She wished he hadn’t. The pain in her stomach flared brighter and she felt dizziness rush in. But somehow she pushed it back. He’d not answered her question and she needed him to. For whatever reason she needed to hear they were alright- that they were safe. “The children are at home. Polly’s watching them.”

She collapsed against her pillow in relief. “Good. That’s good, Tom.” But now that she knew the children were alright she turned back to her surroundings. “I’m in hospital.” Tommy nodded. “Why am I in hospital?” She could guess, of course. Her stomach was a mess of pain and she felt as if her skin was afire. But that told her nothing of how she’d come to be that way.

Tommy let out a deep sigh and sat back in his chair. The harsh light in the room showed the dark circles and pale skin she hadn’t quite noticed in her fear for her children. But she saw it now- this tiredness that wrapped around Tommy. “We had a party at the house, remember?” She nodded. They’d been planning it for weeks- her and Ada. “Well, someone got in. They got in and got to you.” She saw a flash of an image- an arm wrapped around her waist too tightly. She nodded again. “He stabbed you, Lizzie. The doctor came and stitched you up, but the bastard must have nicked something. It’s got infected.”

“Oh.” Her voice was little more than a whisper now. She’d heard the stories. She knew infection could kill her as easy as a bullet. Or a knife. Her mind took her back to that night. It was bits and pieces- nothing all together that she could tell. But she remembered fear. And she remembered pain. And she remembered Tommy, as well, a bit. “He said he’s hurt the kids.”

Tommy sat up straighter. “He’ll not be hurting anyone ever. Arthur got him the next afternoon. He’s at the bottom of the Cut.” Lizzie’s brows furrowed at that. Had he known the man had threatened the kids? Had she told him at some point? She couldn’t remember. “What’s wrong? Are you hurting worse?” There was that note of fear in his voice- the one from when she’d thought she was losing Ruby.

“No. I just don’t remember telling you about the kids.” Tommy tilted his head in confusion. “Not now- before. It’s fine, you sent Arthur so I must have told you. I just don’t remember it.” But her words only seemed to confuse Tommy more. His eyes narrowing on her in question. “You killed him ‘cause he threatened the kids, I just don’t recall when I told you- other than just now. I was probably in too much pain, I suppose,” she mumbled to herself.

The confusion lifted only to be replaced by a slight grimace. If Lizzie didn’t know better and if Tommy were another man she might have called it shame- the thing she saw in his eyes. But Tommy wasn’t another man and Lizzie did know better. “Lizzie…You only told me about the kids just now. I had him killed because he stabbed my wife when you had nothing to do with the business between us.”

“Oh…” Lizzie knew she didn’t hide her surprise well. She wasn’t sure she hid it at all. But suddenly she was too tired to care. A wave of dizziness had wrapped itself around her. Her stomach protested all the breathing she was doing. And now she felt too hot to be wasting energy talking. Something in the back of her head said that this wasn’t normal. But she could feel her eyes growing heavy again. Then she fell back into the darkness of sleep. -

The next time Lizzie woke, the doctor was there. He was standing with Tommy by the door and she just knew something was wrong. Tommy’s shoulders were too stiff and the doctor looked slightly frightened and slightly sympathetic. She couldn’t hear much, but a few words reached her as she struggled against exhaustion- words like, “…done all I can…spread too far…shut down… sorry, Mr. Shelby…”

“Get the fuck out. If you’ve no help to give then get out.” There was a dark, violent, anger in Tommy’s voice. She could hear it as clearly as she had heard his words. And she couldn’t help but feel a bit concerned for the doctor. But then her mind took in what had been said- really took it in. And suddenly the doctor was the least of her worries.

I’m dying…

She felt her breathing grow tight and her hands start to tingle. Her mind raced, pushing out the tiredness she had been feeling moments before. Her eyes locked onto Tommy again. She could see it now- under the anger. He was worried-in a lesser man it might be fear. But it was there, plain for her to see. She was dying. She was dying and there was nothing that could be done about it.

The doctor left the room and Tommy turned to face her. His brows rose in surprise to see her awake, before his face when blank. “What’d you hear?” She tilted her head in exasperation. Her eyes were beginning to sting, but she blinked to keep her tears at bay. Now wasn’t the time. There was too much to deal with. “Lizzie, he’s a fool. You’re going to be just fine, I swear it.”

But this wasn’t something Tommy could will into being. If he could wish someone alive, she’d not be his wife right now. Ruby wouldn’t exist. But no matter what he thought, even Thomas Shelby couldn’t control Death. She let her head drop onto the pillow and she stared up at the ceiling for a long moment.

“I want Ruby to go to a proper school. No tutors. She needs to learn how to be around other children- other people.” Tommy stepped closer to her, a hesitance in his steps she’d never seen before. But Lizzie kept going. “You have to go to all of Charlie’s recitals. He’s awful, and I hate that violin. But he loves it, Tom. And I won’t be there, so you have to go. Every single one.”

“Lizzie-“

“You can’t… you can’t drink too much around Ruby. It scares her. She doesn’t know why you’re angry. Same for Charlie. Don’t let him see you drunk.” But Tommy was shaking his head- that cold expression he wore when he was displeased on full display. “And you promise me- you promise me, Tommy- you’ll not let them see the other side of things. As long as you can, Tom, please.” Her voice was thick with tears, but she kept going. He had to hear it. “I don’t want them growing up afraid of every single shadow. I don’t want them living looking over their shoulders.”

“Lizzie…” He took a deep breathe when her eyes met his again. “Please shut up. Just shut up, Lizzie. You aren’t dying. You hear me? You are not fucking dying.” He stalked over to the bed and leaned over her, his fists on either side of her head. “I’ll not have my wife speaking like this. I’ll not listen to you go on about things as if you won’t fucking be there, because you will. Eh? You fucking will.” His forehead came to rest against hers lightly. He thought it was a comfort, but it wasn’t. It only proved her point.

Because it felt like love- and Tommy could only love her if she was dying. -

“No one’s seen you in days, Tommy. You’ve not called the office. You’ve not called anyone about business. And I know Lizzie’s…in a bad way-“

Tommy stood from his chair and walked around his desk. Charlie looked up from the train set he was playing with. Tommy settled onto the floor with his son and watched as he went back to his toys. Ruby was asleep on the sofa- her little hands curled into fists by her head. He’d always thought she got that from him- something of his war demons settling into her before she was even born.

“I don’t want to seem unconcerned. You know I love Lizzie like I do Ada.” Tommy flinched at that. Polly would never have said that about Grace. And he couldn’t pretend he didn’t know why. “But things are still happening in the world. And they need your attention. You can’t just…hide here and play trains.”

Tommy looked up at the same time Charlie did. His son watched his aunt with a curious expression before turning to his sister. Tommy could see the question before he asked it. But he couldn’t stop the words. “Aunt Polly? Is Ruby not gonna have a mum, too. Like me?” Tommy glared at Pol as the older woman searched for an answer to give Charlie.

“Charlie, you do have a mum. And she loved you very much. Remember?” Tommy kept his voice even despite the pain that always threatened to break through when he spoke of Grace. But he needed to say this. He needed to explain things. He’d not pass the job off on someone else. “And Lizzie isn’t going anywhere for a long time. She’d a bit sick, but she’ll get well again and be back home, yeah?”

The disappointed look his aunt sent him barely registered in Tommy’s mind. She didn’t know what she was talking about. She kept speaking as if Lizzie was already buried and she wasn’t. She was down at hospital getting better. And that was it. “You do him no favors, Thomas,” Pol hissed. But he didn’t respond, didn’t even look her way. The door to his office closed behind her and he let out a sigh of relief.

“Charlie, m’boy.” His son looked up at him and Tommy got that same ache in his chest he always did. “How’d you like to go visit Lizzie for a bit? She’s been missing you and your sister.” The excited look on Charlie’s face was answer enough. It was just further proof of how Lizzie had to get well. Because unlike Grace, she would be the mother Charlie mourned if things went bad.

Standing up, Tommy moved back to his desk. Polly had been right about one thing- business needed handling. And there were some things Polly couldn’t get involved with. So he went over the books and made calls. He wrote letters and sent orders ‘round to the Boys. He watched Charlie play and Ruby sleep. Then when Ruby woke up he’d take his kids to see Lizzie. -

Things were worse. So much worse. Lizzie was pale and sweaty. Her lips were dry and cracked from fever. But she wouldn’t stop shaking. And Tommy hated seeing her that way. It was nothing like the Lizzie he’d known for all his life. It was nothing like the woman he’d come to respect and admire. She was too tough and too stubborn to let anything bring her down.

But one accident and she was reduced to this. He hadn’t brought the kids inside the room this time. They were waiting with Ada in the hall. It had been only a few days since the first time they had come to visit. And Tommy had been sure to bring them every day since. It had made Lizzie smile to see them. And Charlie and Ruby had slept better after they saw Lizzie.

So how she had gotten to this point, he didn’t understand. The nurses told him it was the nature of things. The doctor told him that it was God’s will. But Tommy didn’t give a fuck about God’s will. His will said that Lizzie had to pull through, and it was the only one he gave a damn about.

But he could hear it- she rattle in her chest that came when death was close. He could almost smell it- death had a certain smell. You couldn’t forget it after you’d been around it. It haunted your memory. So he took a cool rag and some soap and wiped down Lizzie’s arms and neck. He cleaned the scent off of her face and out of her hair. It didn’t belong.

Dark brown eyes opened and locked onto him. Tommy watched as his wife fought against her body to turn towards him. “Hello, Mr. Shelby.” Her voice was cracked, her words were too soft. And he couldn’t quite tell if she was being playful or if she was living a memory from before she was Mrs. Shelby. Her eyes cleared a bit, and he saw his Lizzie peek through. “You look awful as always.”

He knew he was meant to smile. He had given her more smiles since she’d been ill. But he couldn’t quite get his face to move the way it needed to this time. So he settled on talking instead. “You’ve looked better yourself, Mrs. Shelby.” Her brows furrowed and he found himself smiling after all. “In fact, I recall you looking quite lovely on our wedding day.”

“You barely looked at me on our wedding day, Thomas Shelby. You kept looking out the window to Grace’s grave. As if I wouldn’t notice.” He winced at that, grateful that Lizzie’s eyes had slipped closed so she didn’t see. “But it was alright,” she rasped. “I always…knew…what this…was.” Her breathing had turned choppy. Tommy helped her sit up a bit, gave her a glass of water. She relaxed back into the pillows. Let her catch her breath. Then, “And it’s not polite to tell a woman she looks bad, you know.”

He shook his head. “I hadn’t heard that rule. But I’m not much for rules, am I?” She hummed in agreement and let her eyes close again. A knock at the door had Tommy glancing over his shoulder. Ada stood in the doorway with Charlie and Ruby at her sides. Tommy turned back to Lizzie. “You feeling up for visitors, Mrs. Shelby?” Her lips tipped up into a tired smile, as she nodded. “Come in children,” he called.

Charlie reached them first. He stood at the side of the bed and leaned against Tommy. It was clear the boy was nervous. He’d never seen Lizzie sick before, let alone the way she was at that moment. Ruby showed up a moment later, her little feet taking longer to cross the wide space. “Hello, my darlings.” Lizzie forced herself up before Tommy could stop her. Her eyes were drinking in the sight of the little ones as if she’d not seen them in weeks instead of mere hours. “I’ve missed you since yesterday.”

Charlie moved to climb into the bed and settle on one side of Lizzie while Tommy lifted Ruby so she could sit as well without hurting her mum. “We missed you too. Frances doesn’t tell the stories like you do. And she won’t sing at all.” Tommy watched as Lizzie pulled Charlie closer to her.

“Well, maybe if you ask your dad very nicely he’ll read to you sometimes. He’s very good with stories.” She shot him a sly look, “I always believed ‘em at any rate.” Tommy didn’t react, that was a conversation for another time. “Now, Ruby. Have you brought me a picture today?” Charlie sat up and pulled out two folded pieces of paper. One had a mess of scratches and scribbles on it- Ruby’s. The other had some line figures standing together- Charlie’s.

Handing both to Lizzie, Charlie went into an explanation of his. Tommy tuned it all out. He’d heard it earlier after his son had first drawn it. Instead he watched as a spark of life came back into Lizzie’s eyes. It matched the spark in Charlie’s, as if they each were drawing happiness from the other. Eventually Ruby started in, telling Lizzie about the horse she’d drawn and the flower, although if Lizzie had any better luck at telling the scribbles apart than he had- Tommy couldn’t tell.

Soon enough it was time for Charlie and Ruby to be getting home. Lizzie had made them promise to be good for Tommy and Frances, like she always did. And they had both kissed her cheek and gave her hugs that probably hurt more than she let on. Ruby had already skipped over to the door to wait for Ada to collect her. But Charlie lingered. “Can’t you stay a bit longer, Lizzie?” Tommy turned from keeping an eye on Ruby to look at his son.

“What d’you mean, Charlie?” Lizzie asked.

The boy scuffed his shoe against the tile floor and twisted his hands before looking up. “I just mean…Well, Ruby’s only little. And I like you, you’re nice and fun. And I don’t have a mum that’s here and if you go and die then Ruby won’t either. And then there’ll be no one. So could you maybe just stay for a bit? Until Ruby and me are bigger and don’t need you so much anymore?”

Tommy slowly turned his head towards Lizzie. Her eyes were bright with tears and her mouth was open as if she wanted to speak, but no words came. The sound of heels clicking reached Tommy and he saw from the corner of his eye as Ada took Charlie’s hand and led him out. He could just hear her whispering about ice cream and cake. But Tommy kept watching Lizzie.

“I-“ Her voice failed her for a moment. The first tear fell and Tommy had to look away. “I want to stay,” she whispered brokenly. “You tell him that, okay? You tell him that I want to stay with him and Ruby and you. I don’t wanna leave, Tom,” she cried, pain clear in her voice. “Please, I don’t wanna go. I wanna see him with his first girl. I wanna be the one to take Ruby to her first picture show. I wanna be there, Tommy.”

Dropping down to his knees by the bed, Tommy took Lizzie’s hand. It was too hot, he didn’t know how the kids could stand being so close when her fever was like this. But maybe he did, because he didn’t let go of her hand. “Doctor says God wants you in heaven with him. Says he’s calling you home.” Lizzie’s face fell as she nodded. More tears streamed from her eyes. The last time Tommy had seen her cry like this was when they almost lost Ruby. He brushed his thumb against her cheek to wipe her tears. “But I say,” he went on, letting his head rest in her lap, “I say you’re mine, eh? I married you. You’re mine, and I don’t share. Not with God or the Devil or anyone else.”

A watery laugh escaped her. “Thomas Shelby- taking on God and the Devil. Polly’ll have words for you about that, ya know.” He smiled a bit. Because he knew it was what she needed from him. And he’d been shit at giving Lizzie what she wanted, so the least he could do was this. Her hands slid into his hair and he let himself enjoy the feeling, savor it a bit. “I’m fighting too, Tommy. I’m fighting to stay like your fighting to keep me. Don’t think otherwise, alright?”

“I never doubted you for a second, Liz.” -

She didn’t wake up the next day. Or the day after. Or the day after that. Coma, the doctor called it. Said she might never wake up again. Said it might be for the best- keep her from suffering. Tommy’d almost strangled him where he stood. Arthur had dragged him off, held him back. Finn and Isaiah had taken the doctor out of the room.

Then the looks came. From Finn and Ada and Arthur. The look that said he’d lost it a bit. The look that said they were already writing Lizzie off. Polly didn’t have the look. But that meant nothing, she’d already written Lizzie off, now she was just waiting for Tommy to catch up. They were all wrong and he was sick of looking at them.

So he put them out. Out of Arrow House, out of the hospital, out of his mind. He had Lizzie moved back home. Set her up in their bedroom. Hired a nurse to care for her. He wondered if it was the right thing- Charlie had caught a glimpse of Lizzie laid up in the bed and hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since. But Tommy hated having her in that hospital with people just waiting for her to die.

She was Elizabeth-fucking-Shelby. She was tougher than all of them.

Frances kept the children away. Tommy was glad. He didn’t want them to see her like that. He didn’t want to scare them. So a new schedule was set up in the Shelby home. Mornings Tommy spent doing business while the children played in the nursery and Charlie was in his lessons. Afternoons were when Tommy and the kids would go to the stables to check the horses and he’d watch them run about for a bit. They’d come in and settle in his office and he’d be the dad he hadn’t been before because Lizzie was there to keep the kids occupied.

Then after dinner he spent with Lizzie. He’d read her the ledgers, ask her opinion about expanding one business or another. He’d play music for her, because she always played music in the evenings. And he’d talk to her. It didn’t escape him that he could only seem to find the words when she couldn’t hear them. The one thing she’d asked from him and he could only give it when she couldn’t appreciate it.

But it didn’t stop him. He told her about his day- the good and the bad. He asked after hers though he knew better than anyone the nothing that occupied her days now. He told her about Charlie and Ruby and Finn and Ada. He told her about the secretary at the office and how he still wasn’t used to the way she filed things. Everything he could think to say, he said to Lizzie.

“I think I’ve realized something, Lizzie.” His hand held hers and he watched her lashes flutter a bit. She was dreaming- he wondered what about. He hoped it was something pleasant. “I think I want another. Charlie and Ruby are grand, but I think you owe me at least one more. Or I owe you.” He leaned forward to brush a bit of hair from her face. Like this he could pretend she was only taking a nap after a long day.

“Yes, I think another boy would be nice. Or twins- one of each. Get it out of the way at one time, eh?” Her chest rose and fell in the same steady rhythm it had been for the past week since she’d been home. “I like the name Evelyn. Evelyn Shelby sounds like a force to be reckoned with, doesn’t it. But Pol will probably have words about that.” He could see it now, Pol staring him down telling him that there would be no Evelyn Shelby being born anytime soon.

“Now my mind’s set. I want at least one more girl. You have to give me one more girl, Lizzie. We did good with our first one. Then we can have as many more as you’d like.” He rubbed his hand across his eyes. A headache was coming on. He hadn’t slept in too long and now his body was kicking up a fuss. But he ignored the pain. He closed his eyes and let his head rest on the back of his chair. “How many babies are we gonna have, Lizzie?”

“You’ll only get one more out of me, Thomas Shelby,” a weak voice replied.

For a long moment he didn’t move, didn’t so much as open his eyes. Because he was half afraid it was a mistake- his mind playing tricks. But the hand he was holding tightened around his fingers for the first time in ten days and he needed to see her. His eyes opened and he turned to the woman lying in his bed. She looked tired- she looked exhausted, really. But her eyes were open and she was giving him a tired smile. “You’ve made my life difficult these last few days, Lizzie Stark.”

Her smile grew the slightest bit, but he saw it. “Yeah?” She nodded to herself, before shaking her head a bit. “Well you’ve been making mine difficult for years. Figure I should even the scales a bit.” Tommy ducked his head and breathed out a laugh. That spark of life that he hadn’t seen in too long lit up Lizzie’s eyes.

“I’m a bookmaker, love, I don’t like even odds.” He stood from his chair, her hand still in is, and helped her take a few sips of water. Then he brought his free hand up to her cheek to check her temperature. Her skin was still flushed, but she wasn’t as warm as she had been. The nurse had been cleaning and changing Lizzie’s bandage every day. And Tommy had stood watch every time. So he didn’t hesitate to push back the blanket and lift the shirt that Lizzie had been sleeping in.

“I’m not sure I’m up to making your babies just yet, Tommy,” she said, a hint of worry in her voice.

He raised a brow, but quickly turned back to what he was doing. “I’m not quite that impatient, Lizzie. I’ll give you at least until tomorrow.” A weak slap to his arm was all the reply he needed. His eyes took in the wound that had caused his entire household to nearly fall apart. The angry red skin, and the yellow and green drainage had cleared three days ago. Now there was no drainage at all and the skin was only a bit red.

Lizzie sighed when Tommy lowered the shirt over her wound again. “So, doctor Shelby, will I make it?” His eyes found hers in an instant and Tommy knew she could see how worried he’d been. Her teasing smile dimmed a bit and her hand took hold of his wrist. “Sorry,” she mumbled. “I didn’t mean it like that. But I’m alright, now- I can feel it. So stop glaring at me and tell me how Ruby and Charlie are.”

But he didn’t. Instead he moved around to the other side of the bed and crawled in. He slid over until he and Lizzie were side by side, arms touching. Then he pulled her gently into his arms and held her close. He felt the way she tensed for a moment before relaxing against him fully. He heard the soft sigh of contentment that left her. And he saw her tangle their fingers together, squeezing tight for a moment the way she always did to calm his mind. They stayed like that for a long while.

For the first time in days, Tommy slept- and Lizzie watched over him. -

She was better. She was alive. It had been two weeks since she’d woken up and now life was back to normal- almost. The Shelby family was being ridiculously overprotective of her. Ada barely let her do more than pour tea. Finn was her shadow if she set foot outside the front door. Arthur- of all people- wouldn’t let her drink or smoke. Even Charlie and Ruby were being extra careful with their hugs and not making as much noise. And Polly… Well Polly was alright, actually. But the one Shelby she would have liked to have hanging about was locked away in his office.

Everyone told her that Tommy’d not left her side while she was ill. They told her how he’d not believed for a minute that she wouldn’t pull through- even when they’d had doubts. And she remembered that- Tommy visiting her in the hospital, Tommy yelling at the doctor, Tommy talking to her about babies. But any trace of that man was long gone. In his place was the Thomas Shelby she was painfully familiar with.

And the longer he stayed away from her, the more Lizzie wanted to slap him. Because if this was what she had stayed alive for- besides Charlie and Ruby- then he could take a jump into the Cut. So she left her tea sitting on the table in her bedroom and made her way downstairs. Her fist rapped lightly at the door, the way Frances did, and waited a whole three seconds before entering to room.

As expected Tommy didn’t look up when she entered. But he did when the door closed and locked a moment later. Lizzie strode into the room and took a delicate seat in the chair across from his desk. “Good afternoon, Tommy. How are you today?” Her husband’s eyes narrowed in confusion. His eyes scanned her carefully, checking that all was well. But she was feeling wonderfully. “I’ve come to ask you a quick question.” He waved a hand for her to proceed, annoyance clear in the gesture. “Was it easier when I was dying?”

Tommy froze. “What?”

Lizzie leaned forward to take up his cigarette case. Pulling out a stick, she grabbed his lighter and lit her cigarette. Then she sat back, relaxing into the chair. “Would it have been easier for you if I’d died? I mean, you seemed to want me around while I was in hospital. And you apparently want to have a few more children with me.” Her eyes narrowed when Tommy twitched at that. She took a long drag of her cigarette and let the smoke linger in her lungs a while before exhaling. “It was, wasn’t it? It was easier for you to care about me when you thought I’d be gone soon. When I couldn’t care back.”

“Lizzie…” But Tommy paused. His eyes shot to the picture of Grace on his desk. Then he looked back at Lizzie. “I’ve known you for years, Lizzie. I already care. We wouldn’t be married- we wouldn’t have Ruby- if I didn’t care.”

She gave a slow nod. He was right. Of course he was right. She knew that things had changed between them after Grace’s death. But it had always been an uneven thing. She had always cared more. Until this all happened. Then suddenly she was seeing more concern and kindness from Tommy than she’d seen since she was carrying Ruby- and before that not since the year 1913. And now they were back to the same cold, nothing from before.

“Lizzie, I’m busy. I’ve work to catch up on. I can’t- I can’t do whatever it is you’re wanting me to do here.”

She watched him go back to his papers- not looking at her again. She stood from her seat. Lizzie wasn’t quite sure what she had thought. She wasn’t sure what she expected to change. Tommy Shelby was the same man he’d always been. And a few kind moments given to a woman he thought was dying didn’t change that. She walked to the door and unlocked it- her hand frozen with the knob turned. She kept her eyes on the door as she said, “We were close once, Tommy- friends. We could go back to that. But not if you shut me out at every turn.”

“Liz-“

“Don’t push me away, Tommy. That’s all I ask. You don’t have to let me in. You don’t have to- to love me.” She stumbling over the word, but couldn’t bring herself to care. She just needed to get this out. “But I’m not your enemy. And I just want to help you. So…Please don’t push me away.”

Then she left him to his work and his ghosts. -

Tommy found her in the library later that night. His mind had kept replaying what she’d said to him over and over. He’d been cold. He’d been distant. And he’d had good reason. But when she’d asked him not to push her away, he’d felt something inside him come loose. And it had left him in a storm of anger and grief and fear that he’d not been ready to face.

But he owed her this. So he locked the library door behind him and sat in the chair across from the sofa she was curled up on. Lizzie glanced up from her book briefly before ignoring him. A flare of irritation rose before he pushed it down. He couldn’t have this conversation if he was angry.

“I couldn’t breathe for days after Grace died.” Lizzie’s hand paused in the middle of turning a page. “I thought it was the pain crushing the air from my lungs. I thought it’d kill me.” Slowly the book lowered to her lap. “But then I’d called you over and you came and it was just supposed to be a quick fuck- like before she came back from New York. But we didn’t fuck. You never even got undressed.”

Her head finally lifted and he could see her eyes. “You weren’t in the right place to fuck. It’d have broken you after- the guilt.”

Tommy let out a scoff. “The guilt broke me before I ever called you.” Her eyes dropped again. “When you got stabbed it felt like losing Grace again.” Lizzie’s head snapped up that time, her eyes burning with anger. “Not- not the same. But… I thought I was going to watch my wife die in my arms. I thought I would lose the mother of my child again. And the blood- you both bled so much. But it was after that was different.”

“I should hope so, since I’m not dead.”

He raised a brow in challenge at her sarcasm. “I meant that after the guilt, I felt something else. Something I’d not wanted to feel ever again.” Lizzie narrowed her eyes in confusion. “I realized that I love you.” Lizzie stopped breathing- he could see the stillness of her chest. “It’s…different. It’s a different kind of love. But I do. And I don’t want to, Lizzie. Fuck, I really don’t. Because look what happened. You got hurt, you almost died. And if you had it would be so much harder than after Grace.”

She was breathing again- hard and fast like she was angry.

“How? How could it possibly be harder than after her? You forget, I saw you. I held your broken pieces. I watched you cry and scream and drink yourself unconscious.” She stood up and marched to the side bar. He watched her pour a full glass of his expensive whiskey and finish it in almost one go. “So you tell me, Tommy, how the fuck am I to believe you’d have a harder time losing me than losing her?”

He moved to stand beside her. His hand took the glass from her and set it back down. Then his hands found her shoulders and turned her to face him. “Charlie was too little.” He felt Lizzie tense at that. “He missed Grace for a bit, but it wasn’t… Charlie has known you his whole life. You’ve been with him longer than Grace. You’ve lived with him longer than Grace. You’re his mum, even though you aren’t his mother.”

“I’d never want to replace her with him, Tommy.”

He nodded. “I know. I know that, Lizzie.” He shook his head with a sigh. “Ruby’s older. She’d remember you properly.” He watched Lizzie’s eyes dart to the ceiling as if she could see this other Ruby and wanted to go to her. But Tommy kept her with him. “Then there’s me. Who’d pick up my pieces if I lost you?” She rolled her eyes. “I mean it. It’s not like Grace, and I hate to say this. It feels wrong to say this. But maybe it’s deeper than with Grace- simply because it was you that got me through losing her.”

Lizzie looked up at him and he saw a sad mix of hope and fear. But there was doubt more than anything. Lizzie stepped back and moved back to the sofa. She bent over and picked up her book holding to her chest like a shield. “So what does that mean, Tommy?” She kept her eyes on the books he’d bought but hadn’t bothered to read. “Why tell me this?”

“Because, you almost died and you thought I killed the man who did it for a reason other than that.” He poured himself a drink, swirling the liquid in the glass as he ordered his thoughts. “I’m telling you because you’re the person I go to when I need someone loyal and you never say no. I’m telling you because you almost died- and you deserve to know your husband loves you before you die, Lizzie.”

Tommy watched her take it all in. He watched her process it- watched her believe it. She lifted her head up the way he was used to seeing her. And when her eyes met his, Tommy knew that they’d be alright. It’d take a bit of time, and more than a bit of work. But he and Lizzie would get it. She seemed to agree, because she gave a decisive nod. Her eyes sparked with life the way they rarely did with him. “Alright, Mr. Shelby.”

It was a different kind of love, this, but he’d keep it close.

“Alright, Mrs. Shelby.”

[foreverwayward]

“Wayward Hearts” Season 3 Chapter 12: No Rest for the Wicked Part 2

Summary: After the Devil’s Gate had been opened that fateful night in the graveyard, the hunters are forced to face a new war. Countless demons now run rampant, hungry for blood and power. It’ll take everything the three have to survive when darkness once again knocks on their door. But, with only a year before Dean’s deal comes due, Sam and Riley will stop at nothing to save him; to save their family.

Masterlist

Word Count: 6380

Content Warning: language and violence

DISCLAIMER: any words or phrases in bold in the story are not my own and are credited to the writers of Supernatural.

**GIFS ARE NOT MY OWN**

As the song faded away, the Impala hummed its way down the dark road, its left tail-light busted. 

A siren broke the silence that caught the hunters’ attention. They all looked behind them to see flashing lights from the police car that reflected inside Baby over their still bruised and beaten faces.

“We getting pulled over?” Sam asked.

Dean looked into his side-view mirror. “I've got a busted tail-light. It's not like we're in a hurry or nothing,” he said sarcastically. 

The car rolled to a stop with the police unit right behind them. Dean rolled down his window as Sam gathered the license and registration from the glovebox. The officer walked up to the open driver-window with his flashlight in hand. “Problem, officer?”

Plainly, the cop ignored his question. “License and registration, please.” Not peering back up at at him, Dean handed the man the necessary papers. The officer looked them over as he talked to Dean. “Do you realize you have a tail-light out, Mr...Hagard?”

After a beat, Dean glanced up, only for his face to immediately fall. The cop tilted his head and shined his bright light on him.

“Yes…yes, sir.” Dean seemed out of sorts as he fumbled for the right words. “Uh--you know, I've been meaning to…take care of that.” Slowly turning his head back toward the road in front of him, Dean’s eyes dodged back and forth to the officer.

Riley could feel Dean’s anxiety build and she whispered from the back seat. “...Dean?”

Ignoring his girlfriend, Dean continued on with the cop. “As a matter of fact…” He suddenly opened his door fast and with force, hitting the officer in the stomach. Dean rushed out of the car and charged at him.

“Dean!” Sam and Riley shouted in surprise.

The two hurried out of the car as Dean punched the cop three times in the face. Sam tried to run around the car to stop him as his brother reached down to take the blade from his belt. Dean didn’t hesitate as he thrust it into the jaw of the officer, the knife exposed inside the demon’s gaping mouth. 

Bobby’s old car pulled up behind the patrol unit as the cop’s face flashed with light. Sam and Riley knew it had been a demon in disguise all along. 

As Dean pulled out the knife, the body fell dead to the ground. He stood over him, panting after the brawl.

As the old hunter ran over to the young hunters, Bobby looked down at the dead officer and then back to Dean. The others just stood in shock trying to absorb what they had just seen.

“What the hell happened?” Bobby was already out of breath from concern.

“Dean just killed a demon,” Sam answered in disbelief. “How'd you know?”

Still breathing heavily, Dean stared down at the corpse at his feet. His face was pale with worry, the words unable to come out of his mouth.

As the tension began to die down, Riley’s attention focused solely on Dean as she read him clearly. “Oh, my god. You--you could see it, couldn’t you?”

“I could see its face.” Still rattled, Dean’s voice was almost weak. “Its real face under that one.” His stressed expression gazed back at the others as his heart raced with fear. 

If Dean could see demons, what other nightmares awaited him that night?

------

The hunters had moved the patrol car into a more remote part of the woods off the road. They tore large branches off nearby trees to cover the vehicle as best they could so nobody would find it.

“So, what--now you're seeing demons?” Sam asked incredulously.

“I've seen all kinds of things lately but…” As Dean continued his work, he shook his head. “Nothing like this.”

Bobby shrugged. “Actually, it's not all that crazy.”

Taken aback, Dean stared down the old man, “how's it not that crazy?”

“Well, you've got, just over five hours to go? You're piercing the veil, Dean. You're glimpsing the B side.”

“A little less new age-y please.”

“You're almost Hell's bitch,” Bobby snarked. “So, you can see Hell's other bitches.”

At first, Dean appeared surprised, but then his face fell to more of a look of ‘fuck you’. “Thank you.”

As Riley placed her final branch, she tucked her hands back into her pockets. “Makes sense. I mean--this could actually help us, Dean. God knows my ability to sense demons is useless and all over the damn place.”

“Oh, well, I'm glad my doomed soul is good for something.”

“Well, yeah. You think Lilith doesn’t have demons everywhere? The cop was probably even one of hers. They’re gonna sound the alarm if we’re not careful. If she finds out we’re here, we’re fucked.”

“Well, this is a terrific plan,” he snarked. “I'm excited to be a part of it. Can we go, please?” Dean began to walk away and the others shared a look before they followed. 

------

After following their lead on Lilith, Bobby, the Winchesters, and Riley found themselves on a quiet suburban street. It was after nine o’clock at night as the minutes continued to tick away. They all hid away in an empty house left for sale, staring out the window to the lit-up house across the street.

Dean looked through a pair of binoculars to see a family at their dinner table. A man and woman sat with a blonde little girl as they served her cake and ice cream. An old man sat at the end of the table with his head lying in his plate, his eyes wide; he was dead.

Lowering the binoculars the Dean groaned. “It's the little girl. Her face is awful.”

The binoculars passed between the others as they studied the family nervously.

“Alright then,” Sam started with an anxious breath. “Let’s go. We're wasting time.” He walked past the others and moved for the door before Dean grabbed a hold of him to stop him from leaving.

“Wait!”

“For what? For it to kill the rest of them?”

Riley was still fixated out the window. “Sam, we gotta be careful or we’ll all end up dead like grandpa over there.”

Dean pointed across the street to the right. “Look--see the real ‘go-getter’ mailman on the clock at fuckin’ nine P.M.?” The others followed his glance to see a mailman sorting the mail at the back of his truck. “And Mr. Rogers over there…” he said gesturing to another house nearby. An elderly man was reading a book as he smoked a pipe in front of his large front window.

“They’re demons, aren’t they?

“Yes.”

“Ok, fine. We--we--we…” Sam stumbled over his words, worried as they were running out of time. “We ninja past those guys, sneak in.”

“Then what? Give a ‘Colombian necktie’ to a ten-year-old girl, come on!”

“Look, Dean, I know it's awful...”

“You think?” Dean questioned with large eyes.

“I don’t like it either,” Riley stated. “But, Dean--Sam’s right. This isn’t just about us saving you, we’re here to stop Lilith...for everyone’s sake.”

Bobby looked at Dean hoping to get through to him. “She's gotta be stopped, son.”

Contemplative, Dean looked to his family and then back out the window. “Oh, dammit,” he grumbled.

------

Still standing behind his truck, the mailman flipped through his deliveries. A loud sound came from across the way and the man looked up to see Dean, his face scared as if he’d been caught. The eyes of the mailman turned demon-black as he took off after the hunter.

Dean ran as fast as he could back the way he had come from with the demon following close behind. As he rounded the corner of a house, the creature charged after him. 

Only a second later, he ran into Sam holding the demon blade as the Winchester plunged it into his body. Dean grabbed the demon and put a hand over his mouth to keep him quiet as the creature’s cries muffled into the hunter’s hand.

Sam yanked out the blade and the demon flashed with light a few times before Dean dropped him to the ground. Both Riley and Sam grabbed his arms to drag his lifeless body out of view and then quietly hid beside Dean.

Not far away, Bobby chanted in Latin as he held tight to a rosary. “Exorcizo te, creatura aquae. In nomine dei patris onmipotintes.” He dropped the necklace into the opening of the water pipes and it was carried away by the running stream inside.

All the while, the young hunters continued their silent attack on the evil that guarded the block. 

Riley leaned down and grabbed the knife that had been stuffed into ‘Mr. Rogers’’ chest as the old man laid dead on the ground.  

She stood to her feet and wiped the blood from the blade onto the arm of her jacket while Dean drug away the corpse.

The three split up without a word, moving like a perfectly oiled military operation. Sam stayed to keep watch as Riley and Dean darted off in different directions.

Dean ran through some nearby trees and came up to a chain-linked fence where Ruby suddenly appeared. She shoved his face into the fence and held him there at her mercy.

“I’d like my knife back, please. Or your neck snaps like a goddamn chicken bone,” she seethed.

The demon froze feeling cold steel at her throat only to hear Riley’s voice behind her. “He doesn’t have it...”

Ruby put her arms up slightly in surrender as she released Dean. Sam had snuck up close behind and shoved the demon off to the side away from his siblings.

“How the fuck did you get out?” Dean asked in frustration.

“What you don't know about me could fill a book.”

Dean’s face changed as he reacted to seeing Ruby’s face. He moved his head back and away with wider eyes. “Whoa.”

“What?”

Not wanting to look at her horrible face anymore, Dean turned to the side. He reluctantly glanced back at her one or two more times, grimacing. “Nothing. I just--I couldn't see you before, but you're one ugly ass broad. Holy shit…” he muttered to himself.

Exasperated, Ruby turned to Riley. “Give me the knife before you hurt yourself.”

“No way,” Riley retorted. “I might consider giving it back when all this is over.”

“It's already over. I gave you a way for Sam to save him.” Her tone was more than irritated as she stared down the young Winchester. “You shot me down. Now it's too late--he's dead. And I'm not gonna let you die too.” She shot Riley a nasty look from head to toe. “Well, some of you are expendable.”

Riley rolled her eyes and crossed her arms with the blade still tight in her grasp.

Sam’s face scrunched with rage as his jaw twitched. “Try and stop me, and I'll kill you. Bitch.”

“Hit me with your best shot, baby.”

Looking in the direction Dean had been running, he and Riley shared a worried look.

“Guys, guys!” Dean whispered trying to get Sam and Ruby’s attention. “Hey. Have your little catfight later.”

They all followed Dean’s line of sight to see a man and his son standing outside on their porch staring back at them. One house over, stood a man with a briefcase, his attention locked on the hunters as well.

“Oh, shit…” Riley uttered as the eyes watching them turned pitch black.

“So much for the element of surprise.”

Realizing they had no other option, Sam forced open the gate and ushered them all out quickly. “Go. Go. Run. Run!”

In a full sprint, they all rushed for the house where Lilith had been hiding. The numbers of the possessed continued to grow into a swarm of evil as they chased the hunters. 

Dean grabbed Riley’s hand to keep her at his side as they ran as fast as their legs could carry them.

Sam reached the house first and began to pick the lock on the door. Ruby, Dean, and Riley came up behind him, anxiously peering back toward the lawn as more demons charged in their direction.

Dean tucked Riley behind him ready to protect from the hoard. “What the fuck is taking Bobby?”

“I'm trying!” As the herd of demons grew larger by the second, Sam was still having problems picking the lock.

When one of the evil creatures reached the lawn, the sprinklers turned on. She began to flail, screaming as the water burned her. Bobby had turned the block’s water into holy water and effectively made a barrier with the sprinkler system. Another demon rushed into the water and cried out in agony.

Breathing heavily, Dean smiled at the turn of events. It was a close call, but that was the first win they had had in far too long. Sam finally got the door open and hurried Riley and Ruby inside. 

Dean laughed victoriously at the demons and followed quickly behind the others.

The older brother closed the door behind them as they as they stood over a rotting body in the foyer. It was an old woman, most likely the grandmother. Her body had clearly been there for several days as the flies and maggots ate at her flesh, curdled blood surrounding her corpse.

“You think Lilith knows we're here?” Dean looked down at the woman and then all around them.

Even Ruby looked terrified. “Probably.”

As they continued into the house, they entered the living room. Sam went in first, holding the knife out ready to take on whatever came his way. Ruby let him lead her in, closely followed by Dean and Riley.

A door creaked and movement came from behind Dean. He quickly turned around to see a man coming out of a cabinet. Immediately, Dean put one hand up to cup the man’s mouth as he shushed the scared stranger.

“We're here to help. Okay?” Dean whispered. “I'm gonna move my hand, and we're gonna talk nice and quiet, okay?”

The man nodded his head frantically as his breathing was muffled by the hunter’s hand.

From off to the side, Sam asked, “Sir, where is your daughter?”

“It's not…” the father trembled as tears filled his eyes. “It's not her anymore.”

“Where is she?”

“Upstairs. In her bedroom.”

Putting out a gentle hand, Riley tried to keep her voice soft and soothing. “Listen, we need you to go downstairs--hide in the basement and wait. Use salt to put a line at the door and close it behind you. Got it?”

“Not without my wife.”

“Sir, please…”

“No, not--”

Knowing the man wasn’t going without a fight and how little time they had, Dean punched him hard in the face, knocking him out. He then picked him up and slung him over his shoulder before shooting the others a look.

“I’m coming with you,” Riley told him in a hushed voice.

Dean nodded in understanding as the two left with the unconscious man to get him to safety.

There was no time to waste. Sam and Ruby tiptoed up the stairs, their backs against the wall moving as stealthily as possible. Sam led them on with the knife in front of them. At the top, they both looked around a bit and hesitantly checked inside each of the rooms only to find nothing.

Once he reached the final door on the left, Sam leaned against the wood, trying to listen for anyone inside. After a beat, he opened the door as silently as possible and slipped inside. Sam’s hand shook as his grip tightened around the knife’s handle.

He realized he had found the little girl’s bedroom. Everything was pink and thin drapes hung around the bed in a canopy. Ruby walked in and the two shared a nervous glance. When Sam nodded to her, she then closed the door behind them.

As he rounded the corner of the bed, Sam shifted the knife in his hand, ready to strike. He pushed aside the draping as quietly as possible and the rings on the metal softly clinked. 

On the bed laid the little girl and her mother. The woman was breathing heavily, scared, as her ‘daughter’ was nuzzled into her, asleep on her chest. She looked up at Sam and trembled at the blade above the body of her little girl.

“Do it!” the mother whispered almost inaudibly.

Sam slowly raised the knife, looking down on the child that was possessed by Lilith. She moved a bit in her sleep and it forced Sam to finally realize he wouldn’t just be killing Lilith, he would be killing a little girl.

“Do it.”

He tried to collect himself knowing he had no other choice. If he was going to save his brother, the girl had to die.

“Do it!” she whispered as she wept. As her daughter stirred from her sleep, the mother grew more and more afraid. Her only hope of escape was if the strange man at her bedside killed her sleeping child. She panicked as their only window to ending her nightmare was passing her by. “Do it! Do it!” As the girl woke up and began to rise on the bed, her eyes slowly opened. “Hurry!”

The girl screamed at the top of her lungs in terror when she opened her eyes to see Sam lunging at her. At the very last second, he was stopped by Dean who grabbed his arm.

“It's not her!”

Horrified, the little girl’s breath grew rapid and heavy from what she had awoken to. Ruby and Riley stood behind the brothers waiting to see what would happen.

Dean could finally look the girl in the face without being afraid. “It's not in the girl anymore.”

The girl cried for her mother and sobbed as the woman cradled her, seeing it was her daughter once more. “Mommy's here. Mommy's here. It's okay.”

“If that’s not Lilith…” Riley started. “Then where is she?”

------

The hunters and Ruby led the mother and daughter down the stairs in a hurry as Dean guided them to the door by the kitchen. “Alright, no matter what you hear--you, your husband, and your daughter stay in the basement.” Once she was inside, Dean followed her down the steps.

“Well, I hate to be the one to say, ‘told you so’.” Ruby sniped as she, Riley, and Sam continued on down the hallway.

“Alright, Ruby,” Sam’s voice cracked with worry. He was sweating, afraid of what was to come. “Where is she?”

“I don't know.”

In the living room, Riley peered out the curtains to see the group of people outside the barrier of the lawn sprinklers. Their eyes were black as death and honed in on them. “She can’t get past the sprinklers, can she?”

“Above her pay grade. She ain't sweating fuckin holy water.”

Sam was out of breath as the seconds continued to pass. He turned to Ruby with pleading eyes. “Okay, you win. What do I have to do?”

She scrunched her face curiously. “What do you mean?”

“To save Dean.” As his big brother came up behind him, Sam began to beg. “What do you need me to do?”

Riley’s heart began to race as she looked at the clock on the wall. “Oh, god.” Her stomach turned realizing they were down to their final seconds. “No...no, no, no.” Something in Riley snapped as she shoved Ruby against the wall and held her there by her throat. “Tell me what to do! Tell me!” she growled angrily.

Dean grabbed Riley from behind, trying to turn her away. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?”

“Dean! No! We’re out of options. I don’t care what I have to do!”

They all began to talk over each other as tensions rose and panic consumed the room. Feeling everyone’s pain and torment had Riley wondering if she would lose her mind from it all. 

“You had your chance,” Ruby told her plainly before looking over to Sam. “You can't just flip a switch--we needed time.”

“Well, there's gotta be something,” Sam pleaded frantically. “There's gotta be some way, whatever it is, I'll do it.” When Dean came up behind him and grabbed him, Sam tried to fight against his hold. “Don't! I'm not gonna let you go to Hell, Dean!”

“Yes, you are!” the older brother shouted sternly. Dean’s tone fell and with love in his voice as he looked at Sam. “Yes, you are...you both are.” 

Riley’s body nearly went limp at his words and she released Ruby from her grasp. She and Sam just stared back at Dean as their eyes ached with tears. 

“I'm sorry. I mean this is all my fault, I know that,” Dean told them gently. “But what you're doing, it's not gonna save me. It's only gonna kill you both.”

A quick sob escaped Riley’s throat and she covered her mouth as she trembled. 

Dean went to her, his hand reaching out to tip her head up to look her in the eye. Tears pooled in her eyes as her crystal blue irises pierced through him. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” Dean said sweetly as he drank her in. He wanted to memorize every line on her face, every rogue freckle, every fleck of color that danced in her eyes. No one could ever convince him that she wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “I know I haven’t been what you deserved…”

“Don’t say that,” she interrupted weakly.

“It’s true. I’ve never been good at relationships--never knew how to say things I should have said.” Dean’s thumbs brushed away her tears as his hands held the sides of her face. “I should have told you every day how much I love you, how…” He swallowed hard feeling the swell of their connection between them. “...how much you mean to me.” With a loving touch, Dean swept the hair away from her face and tucked it behind her ear. He leaned in slowly before pressing a tender kiss against Riley’s lips. She whimpered at the impact and her hands desperately clung to his jacket. “I love you, Rye...”

With her lips quivering and her body ready to collapse beneath her, Riley stared into the green eyes she loved so much. As their foreheads came together, the two closed their eyes and let their bond take them away to a world that was always just theirs. 

Rapid flashes of their time together flipped through their minds; brief images of laughter, nights alone in bed, Riley’s final breath in his arms that terrible night, the first time they kissed, and countless more reminded the couple of what they had found in each other. 

For that fleeting second, the two lost themselves in their memories. 

Riley knew nothing would ever come close to the magic that lived and breathed between them. So, with her heart breaking in ways she never imagined possible, she whispered through her tears, “I love you, Dean.”

When Dean turned to Sam, his little brother could barely meet his gaze. Tears flooded his eyes and his face ached as he fought to hold himself together. “What am I supposed to do?” Sam cried softly.

Dean paused and forced his best smile. “Keep fighting, take care of my wheels.” He then looked to the two people who meant more to him than anything else. “Take care of each other.” 

There was a moment between the brothers where their eyes locked. Their entire lives had been spent at each other’s sides. They were more than brothers, they were two sides of the same coin; neither knowing how to exist without the other. 

With his final seconds drifting away, Dean tried one last time to be the brother he always wanted to be. “Sam, remember what Dad taught you...okay?” Sam nodded, wanting to be brave for Dean as tears he could no longer hold in began to fall. “And remember what I taught you.” Dean was about to fall apart as he struggled not to break into a sob. He refused to show the incredible fear that coursed through him or the grief that was eating him alive. Dean needed to be strong...for them. Because if Sam ever needed his big brother, it was then and there.

The ticking of the grandfather clock on the mantle went silent before the gut-wrenching sound of the stroke of midnight echoed out, practically rumbling in their chests. 

Sam, Dean, and Riley all eyed the clock knowing what it meant, Dean’s time was up.

*gong*

“No…” Riley whimpered as tears poured from her eyes.

*gong*

Dean and his family exchanged loving looks as Sam’s face glistened with tears spilling down his cheeks. He gave them both a feigned little smile as his lips trembled. Whether it was the thought of Hell or an existence without them that terrified him most, he didn’t know. It took every ounce of strength he had not to fall to his knees and weep in desperation. Dean felt himself begin to shake, fear pulsing through his veins and tearing into his gut as the clock continued to announce the end of his final hour.

*gong*

Ruby sighed. “I'm sorry, Dean. I wouldn't wish this upon my worst enemy.”

*gong*

Howls came from the distance and hung in the night air. 

In an instant, Dean’s face went white as he heard the growl of a Hellhound only feet away. He felt his heart stop as panic overtook him; nausea building from the unbearable fear. “...Hellhound.” Dean uttered through a shaky whisper.

“Where?” Sam asked through ragged breathing.

His voice was soft and scared like a child in the dark as he looked to the corner of the room. “There.” 

The growling intensified and Dean bolted out of the room followed by the others with the Hellhound on their tail. They scrambled into the office and slammed the double wooden doors, right in the face of the demon dog.

Ruby, Sam, and Riley used all their strength to hold the doors to keep them shut. The Hellhound roared and pounded ferociously against the entrance. 

Dean ran over and threw himself down to the floor by the door and frantically started to pour out goofer dust. The rattling and banging suddenly stopped and for a second, it all went still.

Riley yanked the bag from Dean’s hand as she flew to the window to pour out what remained of the dust on the windowsill.

“Give me the knife,” Ruby told Sam. “Maybe I can fight it off.”

Confused, Sam peered down at her. “What?”

“Come on! That dust won't last forever.”

Dean turned around and looked at them from behind Sam. After a few seconds, Sam took out the blade and was ready to hand it to Ruby.

“Wait!” Dean yelled.

“You wanna die?”

The older Winchester’s eyes grew wide with worry and he shook. “Sam, that's not Ruby. It's not Ruby!”

As Sam looked back to Ruby, she waved her hand and an incredible force flung him hard up against the wall, pinning him effortlessly. He dropped the knife and it clattered on the wooden floor.

With determination, Riley ran toward the weapon, knowing it was their only hope. But, she too was tossed like a ragdoll and grunted at the impact against the wall.

The demon’s hand shot out in Dean’s direction as her powers flung him backward and onto a nearby table. He was trapped and struggled to hold his head up so he could see what was happening. No matter how hard he fought, Dean couldn’t move. “How long you been in her?”

Ruby’s entire facial expression changed and became almost childlike. “Not long.” It was clear, Ruby was no longer in that vessel. Something much more evil and sinister was sharing the same air as the hunters. She looked down at her body as she spoke in a feigned innocent voice. “But I like it. It's all grown up and pretty.” Her eyes went stark white as she looked back at Dean.

“And where's Ruby?” Sam panted.

As her eyes returned to normal, she glanced over at the trapped hunters. “She was a very bad girl, so I sent her far, far away.” Lilith tilted her head to the side and her neck crunched with each little motion.

“You know, I should have seen it before…” It was hard for Dean to get his words out as he still attempted to free himself. “But all you bitches look alike to me.”

Lilith snapped her head in Sam and Riley’s direction as she slowly walked toward them. “Hello, Sam. I've wanted to meet you for a very long time.” She grabbed a tight hold of his chin, forcing him to face her. Against his will, she gave him a kiss and there was an audible sizzle from the contact of their skin. “Your lips are soft.”

Sam moved his head up and to the side, trying to get loose from her hand. “Right, so you have me. Let my brother and sister go.” He peered down at her, hoping and praying that his offer would be enough to entice the demon.

“Silly goose. You wanna bargain, you have to have something that I want.” Lilith clicked her tongue in a mocking disapproval. “You don't.” Trying not to show his fear, Sam stared her down until her attention moved to Riley. “And Riley...you know--I don’t think I like you very much.”

Riley’s jaw clenched. “The feeling’s mutual.” 

With her abilities running out of control, Riley could feel the evil seeping from the demon. It made her skin crawl until it almost made her physically sick. Her eyes watered as she listened to Lilith speak. It was as if with every breath, the screams of every child she had ever eaten echoed in Riley’s mind.

“You want to kill me...don’t you?”

“Oh, I’m going to kill you. Believe me.”

“Why? Because you killed a big bad demon before?” Lilith teased with a cocked head. “It’s really sad, you know--how you think you killed the demon that took your daddy. Because…” she smiled. “You didn’t.”

“What are you talking about?” Riley seethed.

“Your daddy made a deal with Yellow-Eyes. Azazel was the one that got to drag him to Hell as he screamed.”

The hunter shook with hate and fury. “You’re lying.”

“No...I’m not. But…” Lilith replied in a fake sweet voice before motioning with her finger, slicing open the skin at the base of Riley’s neck. The hunter grunted at the pain as she felt her skin burn. “You’re powerful, that’s for sure. But what I wanna know is...what are you?”

“I’m gonna be the last thing you see before I send you straight back to Hell, you whore!”

“I don’t think so.” Again, an invisible force cut into Riley’s flesh and she cried out. “Azazel wanted you for a reason. I say, we cut you open and find out why.”

Dean grew angry with the demon’s games and barked at her. “So, is this your big plan, huh? Drag me to Hell, kill Sam and Riley--and then what? Become queen bitch?”

Lilith peered at him from under her lashes. “I don't have to answer to puppy chow.”

Clearly in pain on the table, Dean tried with all his might to hold himself up against her restraint.

Slowly moving away from Sam and Riley, Lilith eyed Dean as she made her way to the door. Dean’s terror-filled eyes followed her every step as she took hold of the door handle.

While still staring back at the doomed Winchester, Lilith gave an order with an evil grin. “Sic 'em, boy.”

Both Riley and Sam’s hearts leaped into their throats as their heads snapped in Dean’s direction. With a final glance at his family, Dean quivered as his focus returned to the door.

Lilith opened the large wooden doors with a disgusting look of pleasure on her face as the goofer dust blew away at the hot breath of the demon dogs. 

Laughing with glee the demon watched as the Hellhound charged at Dean who was still pinned to the table. It grabbed him, its ferocious teeth digging into his legs as it pulling him to the ground. Dean began to scream, tears pouring from his eyes as his right leg was ripped open.

Desperate pleas filled the room as Riley and Sam begged for Dean’s life. Their throats ached from the sobs and shouts ripping through them.

“Stop it!” Sam cried out as he watched his brother suffer, his flesh being torn to ribbons.

Riley’s muscles knotted as she released blood-curdling screams. As she witnessed the slaughtering of the man she loved, his pain became her own. It felt as though knives were ripping through her body; her screams becoming a mix of emotional and physical torture. 

With a sinister grin, Lilith proudly watched the two hunters in utter anguish. She looked down at Dean who writhed on the floor, struggling to breathe and to free himself. 

The Hellhound began to tear into him as it shredded the meat from his body. Dean’s screams only grew louder as the agony became too much to bear. He turned over onto his stomach, trying to crawl away, but the evil hound continued its ruthless attack. Massive claws slashed the hunter’s back and shoulder as Dean groaned loudly through his sobs.

Fangs punctured him before the Hellhound flipped Dean over, only to slash deep into the muscles of his chest. Blood gushed from him and splattered like raindrops over his face, the rest pooling around his flailing body. 

With nothing left in him to fight, Dean’s cries fell silent as crimson red continued to flow from his open wounds.

“Stop it!” Sam begged.

Using what breath she had left, Riley screamed. “No!! Dean!!”

All Riley and Sam could do was watch helplessly in horror. Whatever they had imagined that moment would be like could never compare to the devastation of the reality.

Dean’s final shallow breaths were passing his lips and he began to grow still.

“Stop it!”

Blood continued to pour from Dean’s chest like a sputtering fountain until he wasn’t screaming anymore.

“No!!”

A proud Lilith smirked at Riley and Sam. “Yes.” She stretched out her hand and suddenly a blinding white light erupted from it. As it built up, the two turned their heads and closed their eyes. 

Once her light was retracted and the blinding brightness had faded, her dead white eyes returned to their normal state as she stared at the siblings in utter shock.

Both hunters were on the floor, huddled in a corner together next to a cabinet, holding each other. As it grew still they looked back up to see that nothing had happened and nervously helped the other stand.

Afraid to her core, Lilith held out her hand again as a warning while her scared voice cracked. “Back.” Sam and Riley began to walk toward her. “I said, back.”

The two seemed more hateful and determined as ever, knowing she had no power of either of them. Sam bent down to pick up the demon blade while Lilith grew more terrified with the hunters’ every movement.

“I don't think so,” Sam declared as he pulled back his hand, ready to plunge the knife into her chest.

Left with no other choice and knowing she had lost the battle, Lilith abandoned Ruby’s body. A massive cloud of black smoke erupted from her mouth as she screamed horribly. 

The loud sounds of suffering died off as the smoke disappeared into the slatted vents on the ceiling and Ruby’s vessel collapsed.  

Sam and Riley’s attention fell to the floor as they fixated on Dean’s shredded body. Tiny droplets of blood peppered his face like his freckles. His eyes were open but vacant with no life left in them

Dean was gone.

Breathing heavily, Sam bent down beside him to pick up his big brother, pulling him into his lap as he cradled his head. To Sam, Dean wasn’t just a brother, he was a father figure, his partner, and his very best friend. The one that had raised him, protected him and taught him everything he knew had been stolen from him; the pain of his loss making him ache for death himself.

Sam and Riley wept with unimaginable grief feeling as though a piece of them had been taken along with Dean. They knew it was a part of them that they would never get back.

“No…” Sam whimpered as his voice broke. “No... Dean…”

Riley fell to her knees in defeat beside Sam, her gaze locked on Dean’s green and motionless eyes. Her hands trembled as she took Dean’s hand and clasped it tightly. His skin was still warm as she brought his knuckles to her lips, kissing his bloodied hand tenderly. Tears dripped down her face and onto Dean as they slid down his arm. 

Riley gasped for a deep breath as she felt the emptiness between her and the man she loved; it was deafening. A deep hollowness consumed her and she could have sworn her heart had been ripped from her chest. She was no longer whole.

“Oh, my god...” she whispered almost inaudibly, her throat raspy from her earlier wailing. “...Dean.”

The two mourned Dean as they both wrapped their arms around him in a tight embrace as they all held each other one last time.

------

Chains stretched from place to place in a vast void as thunder and lighting roared. Dean’s screams echoed into the nothingness surrounding him while the metal links held him in place by his arms and legs. He was soaked in blood and sweat; rusty hooks pierced through his shoulder, leg, and abdomen.

“HELP! NO! SOMEBODY HELP ME!”

No words could express the terror Dean experienced as blood filled his mouth, his teeth coated in a dark shade of red. He sobbed through his pointless cries for help as his torment raged on. The seconds that passed felt like days that would never end.

With all he had, Dean shouted at the top of his lungs. His cries went unheard and reverberated into the darkness. 

“NO!!”

Dean’s eyes darted frantically in every direction only to see that Hell had swallowed him whole. There was no escape, there was no hope, there was only suffering.

Horror consumed him as his skin began to sizzle and burn from the unbearable heat around him. Alone and afraid, Dean choked on his own blood as it slowly drowned him. All that remained were the echoes of his screams for mercy as he cried out...

“RILEY!! ...SAM!!”

------

S4 Prequel: Out of Tears

Forever Taglist: @waywardmoeyy @00slayer @adoptdontshoppets @arctusluna @salt-n-burn-em-all @nerd-in-a-galaxy-far-away @becs-bunker @squirrelnotsam @x-waywardaf-x @death-unbecomes-you  @themoonandotherslikeit @wndamaximov @flamencodiva @aaspiringhero @gemini0410 @love-nakamura @klinenovakwinchester @cemmia @deans-baby-momma @paintballkid711 @da5haexowin @a-manduhhhhh @winchestergirl82 @spnbaby-67 @sandycub @bunnybaby121115​ @erins-culinary-service​ @lauravic​ @moonxdance​ @knights0fkylo​ @panicatthewestwing​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @wiredandwayward​ @the-children-of-the-stars​ @rosey1981​ @mylovelydame21​ @titty-teetee​  @walkingchemicalfire​ @saaamsayshi​ @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @fangirlxwritesx67​

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Sakamaki Subaru x Reader (part 1)

(H/L): Hair color (H/L): Hair length (F/C): Favourite color

------------------------------------------------------------------

Silence... It was all you could hear besides the forest noises. Here you were at night wearing your nightgown, which was a simple dress, walking quietly in the forest without any destination in mind. You just got bitten again by one of the Sakamaki brothers, and as usual, they haven't been gentle with you. Your neck and wrists were sore and painful and you were feeling beyond tired but you just didn't wanted to stay at the mansion, so you decided to take a walk in the forest without any care because you just... didn't give a damn about anything. It was comprehensible: chased every day for your poor blood, being humiliated because of their sadistic sides, never had a chance to spill your feelings or being acknowledged as a human being and not as a bag of blood... You were just tired of everything and feeling emotionless which scared you! You still wanted to be optimistic. You steal wanted to feel emotions besides pain and sadness. But here you are walking like a zombie through the dark forest, in search of peace and calm.

Spotting a small river, you marched there to see it more closely. "What a stunning view," you thought, "it could make a beautiful painting... but I don't know how to paint " you deadpanned. The moon was directly shining into the river making it reflect the beauty of the water happily lapping onto it and the small fishes swimming around with some fall leaves. It indeed, made a beautiful contrast with the dark forest as the moon only seems to shone on the river.

You took a deep breath of the wet wood smell which was quite unpleasant but anyway... It's more pleasant to breathe this than the smell of an old mansion. Suddenly, a gust of wind swirled the few dead leaves that were there and your (L/H) went flying around your head. Arms crossed, you shivered "What an idiot, I should have brought a coat" you muttered while trying to reheat your arms by making up and down motions on them. In the rush of getting out of the vampires' home, you neglected the fact that it was the beginning of Fall so you only went out with your nightgown and a thin jacket.

Crack...Crack...

Upon hearing the noise, your head immediately jerked upwards," please let it not be one of them or I don't know what monster !" You silently prayed with a pleading face. Not stopping, the noise came only closer and closer to where you sat...

Crack...Crack...

Slowly rising from the rock you prepared yourself to hide down into the forest as the noises only got louder and closer. Sweat started to bead on your forehead and you felt as if you weren't breathing, your breath seems to have been stuck inside of your lunges." Seriously! I only got peace for like five minutes! Can't they go away and eat they fridge instead of me for once! "

A minute passed... then two...

"Strange..." you thought. Knowing them, they wouldn't have wasted a second in piercing down your already bruised neck and gulping down your, oh, so precious blood. "Maybe it's a cold joke... or maybe they want me to faint from fear..."Just by this thought, you were getting annoyed, heck, you were even ready to shout  "Take my damn blood already and leave me alone!" But nothing came out of your dry mouth. Taking a deep breath, you cautiously rose more from the rock and mentally prepared yourself to face the vampire...

"1...2...3..."  You turned around in a swift motion, ready to be eaten again, but nothing prepared you about the thing in front of you...

A deer... A pure and simple fucking deer watching you with big black innocents eyes. Breaking down, you erupted in laughter as you try to seat down on the rock, which was quite difficult because of your shaky legs. You had been scared of a poor fucking brown deer. "I cannot believe I have been this silly!" You laughed again "It's really brought me nothing good to live with six vampires." You said quietly, your voice still quivering with giggles.

The deer was still watching you as if you where the stranger here and not him but his eyes quickly moved to the river. "I think he came to drink" with this thought you moved alongside to let him make his way to the river. Still, the deer didn't move but his eyes where still fixed on the water as if...as if he was afraid to approach it. "Maybe he's really scared of the water". Wanting to help the poor creature, you untied your shoes, removed your long (F/C) socks and barefoot, you went into the water. Taking some in your hands, you put them in the front of the now much closer deer. Watching you first then the water he waited as if he was asking you your permission to drink. Nodding to him, you put your hands more closely. Slowly bending his head down, the deer took a few sips before suddenly jerking his head up scrutinizing his surroundings.

Tension started to rose again inside of you as you started the search the thing that scared the deer.  "Please be another deer, please be another deer !" Your heart was beating more and more loudly and at a strange pace as your eyes tried to size the dark shape of the forest. The wind only blew more loudly, swirling the dead leaves around and the small noises of the forest were getting worse as if it was announcing the arrival of something dangerous.

Sensing the danger the deer ran away in the forest leaving you all alone... "Dear God, have mercy on me and let it be another animal " you muttered, nervously watching your surroundings. If only you knew that going in near a river means tension plus danger then you would have stayed in this damn mansion!

Abruptly, everything stopped... You tensed at once, your senses where high on every sight, noise or even smell. That when you felt... no... you knew that someone was behind you. Without a second thought, you violently turned around the see the one who disturbed your tranquil moment.

Sakamaki Subaru

You didn't know if you should feel happy or afraid...

Of course, you were more than happy to see him and not Ayato or Laito or even Kanato (you didn't imagine Shu or Reiji going out in the forest) but you knew that the white-haired boy was quiet violent and could break everything with a single flick. Fully turning your body toward him, you stood still in the water, your gaze fixated on him, not daring to even lift a finger.

Frankly, Subaru was a beautiful boy despite his attitude and the eternal scowl present on his face. His light snow pink hair who seemed fluffy and his stunning red ruby eyes made him and his features unique. It only goes well with his really light skin and his body shape. Your trail of thought only stopped when you saw his mouth moving. "I'm sorry,  did you said something? " you asked in a barely audible voice. "The heck are you doing here ?!" His voice was harsh as he spoke to you dryly. " I was trying to find a quiet place because... you all piss me off." You bluntly spoke. What was the point of lying to him, you didn't wanted to get (more) on his bad side so might as well be honest. His scowl only got deeper but he said nothing. With a "tch " Subaru stopped looking at you as his gaze started to take notice of his surroundings.

Right now you were dreading to ask him if he came here for your blood as you silently watched him... but maybe he didn't wanted it right now... you were just afraid to ask because if you did so maybe he would do it and you were already in the verge of fainting! So you just keep quiet in this awkward situation. The silence was back again but it wasn't as peaceful as a moment ago, it was this kind of silence that wanted to make you want to do anything to fill it. The problem was that you haven't any subject to talk about, you didn't even know if you have something in common with him. Plus he was difficult to talk with as he either ignore you or either threw his fist of rage on you. You never saw anything else on his face than a frown. You were sure that once, Laito told you that Subaru was a tsundere ... keyword: a tsundere. Sure you saw him getting embarrassed but he expressed it by breaking a wall or by insulting everything and anything but never in your life you saw him blushing.

"The heck you're looking at!" Subaru suddenly screamed, breaking the awkward silence, startled by his sudden outburst you jolted in the water. "Nothing Sir !" You said in panic... Wait did you just said sir to a boy of sixteen years!? Wanting to pass this embarrassing moment you went on with your dreadful question "Hum... you're not going to drink my blood ?" you asked with your broken voice as your mouth was dry. "Tch, these bastards tainted your blood with their filthy fangs. How can enjoy it !" "Oh... That's great... I suppose " "Don't get cocky, I'll drink your blood as soon as you recover." A small smirk danced on his face for some seconds before disappearing, "How weak are you, letting these idiots drink your blood " Spatted the snow haired.

Isn't this brat getting a little bit too much arrogant...

Your face was twitching in annoyance as you tried to remain calm" Excuse me my dear vampire but as you can see... I'm a mere human so... I cannot fucking fight a vampire!" It was a matter of fact, unfortunately, how could you beat a vampire when his strength was ten thousand times stronger than yours! Your only strength was seen through your words as you spoke little but think big.

Not wanting to talk to him anymore, you turned again to watch your feet in the water, enjoying the pleasant filling. You heard Subaru moving, getting closer to where you were. From the corner of your eye, you saw him sitting down on the wet grass looking up at the moon, mimicking him, you looked up. The moon was still beautiful and his light only shone more brightly showing your and Subaru's beauty as the wind only blew more calmly than before.

Twenty minutes passed at least before Subaru broke the silence " Back then when I gave you the knife... why didn't you killed me or my brothers? You were still watching the moon as you pondered over the question with a frown on your face."Hum... How to put this... I was shocked about these sudden situations, I mean it's not every day that you see a bunch of vampires at the same time or is being pursued every hour or asked to do strange things. But the thing is that...I didn't have the strength to kill, vampire or not..."

This response was partially true of course there had been a time when you planned to kill them but how could you? They knew every movement of yours and you were getting weaker each time they take your life vessel. But the thing was that you were quiet observant despite being physically weak. You knew that, somehow, Subaru was in depression... You weren't totally sure but the way he gave you the knife and asked you to kill him first then his brother put you on this trail. It was almost a plea for uncertain freedom. That why you first wanted to know him better in order to somehow help him 'cause you knew how hard is it to handle depression or anxiety alone. The feeling of not wanting to live or to feel a burden for the world where the worst. So how could you try to kill him? He didn't even saw the good side of life so how could you even try? True, he was a sadist and much more than mean toward you but with the little kindness left in you, you wanted to help Subaru (and maybe his brothers ).

Upon hearing your answer, Subaru watched you in a mean way "Are you an idiot ?! You could be fucking free doing whatever stupid humans usually do and YOU here, stay with a bunch of bastards! Are you this much of a masochistic?!" "Wow..." you thought "is he calling himself a bastard ? " you kept quiet, not knowing what to say. You stared back at your feet who were getting colder but you just didn't wanted to move from the water. As strange as it was you were more feeling safe in the water than on the grass. Subaru was still angrily mumbling about "stupid brainless humans ". True or not, you really did thought that vampires and humans were not so different... Each of them has a complex personality and they are all too hard to understand. The only difference, for you, is that vampires have too much pride and arrogance to compare themselves to humans.

"Say, Subaru?" You began, he spatted a harsh "What?" before you continued, "Are you feeling okay right now? " you asked in a calm and innocent voice. Silence followed your question. You turned your gaze towards him and looked at his face. You tried to read his emotions but all you could see was a face voided of emotion... even his eyes were more dull and blank than a moment ago! "Maybe I shouldn't have asked..."

"Who the fuck do you think you are to meddle in my life!" He told you in a heavy angry voice. He got up from his place with an angry scowl on his face  "Don't you dare to ask me any questions again or I won't hesitate to break you! Approach me again and I won't hesitate to destroy you! "Watching you with mad eyes, he turned his back before disappearing right before your eyes. You weren't going to lie, you were taken a bit aback by his sudden outburst. Sure you knew that he wasn't going to easily open up to you but you didn't expect this...

Vampire or not, he was still a child in his heart, afraid of everything, of the world and not knowing how to seek help and love. Him running- more like disappearing- from your question was comprehensible.

That's why you still wanted to try to help a little bit at least. It's not that you liked him in a romantic way, it's just brought in you a kind of maternal instinct (even though you were only seventeen years old). "Ah, ~ guess next time will be better... if he even comes back here..." You sure planned to return here as it was better than "your home ".

The moon was slowly going higher."Oh my, almost time to go back to school". You gave a last look to the moon before stretching your arms and shoulders while yawning from the lack of sleep. Getting out of the cold water, you putted your shoes back without your socks, because your legs were still wet. A cold wind passed through your legs causing you to shiver again" Next time, I'll be sure to bring a towel." Heading towards the forest you just hopped for one thing" I hope they won't get mad at me for disappearing like this" just by this thought, you wanted to go back in the river but you knew you couldn't... Hopefully, the Sakamaki will be more lenient towards you.

First one-shot, hope that you'll all like it ( sorry in advance for grammar mistakes😣). I'll probably do it in two or three shots.

Neutralish

[blossom-hwa]

Danger: Obsidian |2| - JUYEON

Pairing: Juyeon x gender neutral!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, fantasy, royalty!au

Triggers: death, semi-graphic depictions of blood

Word Count: 4.5k

Lesson 4: sometimes, it is not your duty or even your right to render judgment. Stepping back does not always constitute cowardice.

Previous: Amethyst >> Obsidian: Part 1 | Part 2 >> Next: Ruby

TBZ Masterlist | Danger | Kingdom

[ Send a dm or an ask to be added to the taglist! ]

Two nights later, Juyeon steps up to the shrine. Kevin walks softly next to him, while Jacob trails behind slightly, wrapped in his red cloak.

It’s unsettling, the mask that’s settled over the mage’s face since the day Hwanwoong told them his story. Juyeon is used to a smiling Jacob, one whose eyes remain gentle no matter how difficult the situation.

This is something he can’t understand fully, though. Juyeon isn’t a mage, doesn’t have the gift of magic running through his blood. Even though he knows it’s disgraceful, he’ll probably never truly comprehend just how much of a disgrace it is for a mage of such high rank to use his magic flame for something as sacrilegious as this.

All the more reason to hunt him down, though.

Juyeon presses a hand to the white stone door, listens for any hint of movement inside. He hears nothing. Raising a fist, he knocks lightly in the pattern Hwanwoong established with him two nights ago.

The door slides open with the barest creak. Kevin stiffens next to him, but Juyeon doesn’t hesitate. He enters the shrine.

White stone glows faintly in the pale moonlight filtering through the windows. Four figures stand in the shadows as Juyeon steps forward and he nearly draws the sword at his side, but then Hwanwoong steps under the light and he relaxes. “Let’s go,” he whispers.

With every turn, Juyeon expects someone to jump out, a guard or a soldier or something, but as Hwanwoong said, there’s no one here besides them and High Mage Jung. The mage lets them walk around and generally act like they aren’t prisoners, which shows some modicum of guilt on his end, but the closed-off look on the boy’s face doesn’t make it seem like it matters much.

If Juyeon had to live under the mage who did nothing to prevent the murder of two of his best friends, though, he wouldn’t think it mattered much either. He wouldn’t want to live as a prisoner under Mage Han, after all, even if it meant a cushier life.

Mage Han. Juyeon’s stomach twists. Will he have to kill Mage Jung, too?

Someone walks past Juyeon, one of the other mages in training that Hwanwoong mentioned. They haven’t exactly had introductions, but Juyeon’s heart clenches at the grief etched into every feature of the boy’s face. He looks young, even younger than Hwanwoong.

His resolve hardens as his pace quickens. Juyeon will kill the high mage if it comes to it. He’ll do it, even if he doesn’t want to, even if Mage Jung will join the cast of his nightmares, if it provides even a semblance of justice for these mages.

They didn’t deserve any of this.

Hwanwoong comes to a stop at a wall. There’s nothing on it, though, and Juyeon furrows his eyebrows just as one of the other mages steps forward. Shaking one arm out of a thin robe, he presses a hand to the stone, then draws a rectangle on the white wall. A door materializes the same way Taemin conjured the one that took him and Kevin to Castia.

Spatial manipulation, like Jacob. He must be Seoho, the mage who’s already finished his training.

They step into a dark room with no windows. The only source of light comes from a few torches around the walls and a white hot flame on a small pyre in the middle of the room, burning with seemingly no fuel to keep it alive.

Jacob’s breath catches behind Juyeon. “Castling queens.”

“You know how to put it out?” Kevin asks, looking cautiously at the fire.

“Yes.” Seoho nods. “One of the first things a mage learns is to douse our own flames in case of an accident. It will be much harder and take much more energy and magic to put out the fire of another mage, though, especially one as powerful as… his.”

The air shifts as Jacob steps forward. “He’ll feel the fire beginning to die,” he warns, staring into the bright flame. He glances over at Juyeon and Kevin. “You two need to be ready.”

Juyeon nods. “We will be.”

“Come, then.” Jacob walks closer to the pyre, the light casting strange shadows on his face. His gaze softens slightly as he looks at the other mages, all younger than him and looking terrified, despite the determination in their eyes. “This is our chance.”

Five mages form a circle around a pyre of white flame. Juyeon stands guard, Kevin resolutely at his side, as they bow their heads, extend their hands…

And the fire begins to flicker.

. . . . .

Dousing a mage’s flame is like cutting threads. Thick threads that require a lot of sawing, but threads nonetheless. The more powerful the mage, the thicker the thread.

Which means that the threads of this fire requires a lot of power to cut.

The heat of the fire scorches Jacob’s face as he stares into the white-hot flames that have only just begun to flicker at the tops. Out of his peripherals he can see Hwanwoong and Seoho squinting with equal concentration.

Five mages, two fully trained and three still students. It’s almost hopeless, almost, but Jacob refuses to think of the possibility of failure right now, not when the first thread is so close to snapping.

Though the second it goes, High Mage Jung will know they’re here.

Pressure builds in Jacob’s hands. Sweat pours into his eyes. Every ounce of magic in his blood flows to his open palms, shimmering into the air in streams thinner than a strand of hair, wrapping around the fire, choking away bits of flame –

Something gives. Jacob nearly stumbles as the first thread snaps. The burning pyre turns a shade darker, pale orange instead of white.

Jacob senses Mage Jung’s presence before he even enters the room. He starts to shout, to warn Juyeon and Kevin, but heat scorches the inside of his mouth and he chokes instead.

The door bursts open and yells fill the air as Juyeon literally goes flying into the far wall, hitting the stone with a sickening crunch that Jacob can hear even above the dull roar in his ears. Kevin shouts and there’s a faint whistling of a knife, but it ends with a clanging sound that doesn’t sound like a blade hitting flesh and Jacob knows his cousin missed.

Focus.

Focus.

More magic streams out of his hands, mixing with the tendrils pouring out of the other four mages next to him. Jacob grits his teeth, pushing the magic out stronger, faster, ignoring the boiling underneath his skin that warns of possible overload and depletion of his gift.

A flash at the corner of his eye. Jacob ducks just in time, hands still thrust towards the fire. Mage Jung sweeps next to him, a ball of water splashing onto the floor.

Water manipulation. It never looks powerful at first, but water can be used to do many things.

Like the sharp-bladed icicles slicing towards Keonhee.

Wide eyes stare at the ice hurtling through the air. One hand rises in a futile attempt at protection. Jacob feels a scream begin to build in his throat –

A gust of air blows his hair back and sends the icicles shattering uselessly against the ground.

Jacob glances at Dongju. His right hand, previously swept in Keonhee’s direction, has returned to the fire. Fury glitters in his expression as he squints harder, palms outstretched, larger bursts of magic pouring from his skin.

Another thread snaps. The flames grow smaller, darker.

Juyeon’s gotten up from the floor. Jacob hears the slash of a sword, muffled in his mind. Shattering sounds behind him, ice clattering to the floor and piercing his ankles but he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t move from his position as his magic curls around the tendrils of fire, choking them, dissipating them into the air.

Kevin lets out a banshee yell and the sickening sound of blades sinking into flesh almost makes Jacob lose his balance. A hand steadies him – Seoho – before returning to the pyre.

Another snap, one that nearly sinks Jacob to his knees. As they get closer and closer to the heart of the flame, the magic only grows harder to dissipate. But even as the thrum in his own veins begins to fade, as his skin radiates heat comparable to the dying flame, he doesn’t stop. Can’t stop.

Dongju falls, collapses to the ground in front of the pyre like a worshipper enthralled. The circle shifts, spreading further apart to protect his prone body, to fill his space. But Keonhee’s face turns paler and paler until an ice blade through the shoulder knocks him to the ground just as another thread snaps.

Red, almost black, flickers on the pyre. Jacob gasps, blinks sweat out of his eyes. He ducks with the prickling of his neck but a sharp piece of ice cuts through the clothes on his back anyway and sticky blood begins to seep down his skin. Next to him, Seoho almost looks up, but Jacob grits his teeth and forces the last of his magic into the air.

The last of Hwanwoong’s magic disappears and Juyeon almost steps on him before whirling out of the way. Kevin flies at Mage Jung out of the corner of Jacob’s eye but he can’t see what happens next, can’t pick out who let out that pained grunt and who’s the one with blood running down their skin because it’s just him and Seoho now, the only two trained mages in this room besides the traitor.

Their eyes meet across the pyre. They’re completely opposite now, the unconscious bodies of the three students filling the space between them. Seoho looks as white as snow and he could collapse any moment but then he looks down, sees his friends, his brothers lying on the floor, and his face twists once more with determination.

Pressure builds behind Jacob’s hands, blood boiling and threatening to burst from his skin. A last burst of magic coils with Seoho’s and crashes into the final flickering flame –

The pyre goes black.

A pained gasp leaves someone’s throat. Belatedly, Jacob realizes it was him.

Kevin grabs Jacob’s arm before he collapses but immediately pulls away, hissing. He looks down, confused at the reaction, but remembers – his flesh must be a brilliant red, overheated with how much magic he just used.

On the other side of the pyre, barely visible in the absence of light, Seoho kneels on the floor, crawling toward Dongju’s prone body. His hands move quickly, checking for a pulse on the young boy’s neck. Jacob breathes a sigh of relief when no wail of pain comes. Just magic overuse. No death.

Ice crashes to the floor, sparkling bits beginning to melt over the stone. Jacob turns to see the shadow of High Mage Jung, visible in the light of the torches that somehow never fell, sink to his knees.

Juyeon steps forward, walks past Jacob and approaches the pyre. His hand reaches out, picks a small black jewel off of the white stone. “Is it real?” he asks, holding out the gem.

It isn’t difficult to feel the magic radiating off the shiny surface, even in his exhausted state. Jacob nods sharply as anger boils in his stomach. A mage’s fire, used to hide a stolen jewel…

Juyeon steps forward, gripping the black stone in his fist. “High Mage Jung.” He spits the words like poison on his lips. “We have much to speak about.”

. . . . .

Just glancing at Mage Jung’s defeated face makes Juyeon want to look away immediately. Even though he wasn’t a mage, never learned from his magical teachings, he still used to admire his character. The high mage is a shell of what he once was, disgusting to look at, unbearable to listen to. Every single part of Juyeon’s body wants to scream and run away the moment he meets Mage Jung’s eyes, but he forces himself to stay put.

The jewel digs uncomfortably into his palm, he’s clutching it so hard. In his other hand, he clenches his sword, the blade stained with the mage’s blood.

This is not the mage, the honorable man he used to know. This is a mage who broke several of the most important tenets of magic. This is a mage who betrayed the Order of the two kingdoms.

This is the man who killed a gray mage and a queen.

This is the man who killed Juyeon’s best friend.

“How did you become a mage,” Juyeon asks, voice carrying in the silence, “if you are this weak?”

“You don’t understand,” Mage Jung starts. His eyes plead with his, but Juyeon shows no emotion, just a stone cold countenance. “You don’t know –”

The sword flashes, a silver streak against the faint firelight, coming to a rest at the side of the mage’s neck. “You killed Changmin, the last of the gray mages, and the former Ivory queen,” Juyeon says, voice deathly calm. “Give me a single reason why I shouldn’t kill you now.”

“You are young,” the mage pleads. “I had a wife, two daughters. The queen killed my wife when I first refused to comply, then held my daughters until I agreed the second time. How could you understand?”

Kevin gasps. Juyeon himself feels a pang of sympathy at the mage’s words – he met his wife before, and she was a good woman – but then Jacob steps forward.

The rage on his face reminds Juyeon once again of how much this man did.

“You taught me of duty,” Jacob says. His words carry through the shrine, sending a shiver down Juyeon’s back. “You taught me of responsibility and sacrifice. You taught me to value the balance of the Board above all else, above even love, the truest love. Kill your darlings, no?”

“You wouldn’t know –”

“Don’t try to tell me I wouldn’t know.”

The emotion, rage mixed with desperation and terror, startles Juyeon. His blade shifts slightly, digging deeper into the mage’s skin. This is a far cry from the Jacob he once knew, the Jacob who, no matter what, spoke softly and smiled widely and never, ever spoke back to a mentor.

But Jacob had a Valkyrie, a knight whom he loved with his entire heart. Juyeon’s own face heats with fury, fury that this high mage would dare presume that Jacob knows nothing of love, when his heart was been full of it for so long.

“I loved a knight,” Jacob continues, “a Valkyrie with the purest soul. This was the knight who came to save me from your cowardly clutches. You do remember telling me the stories of how you knew you loved your wife when you were fifteen, yes?” His lips curl into a snarl. “I think, then, I should be perfectly able to know my love at age twenty.”

The room is silent in the wake of Jacob’s silent rage. Though the fire has long been put out, invisible flames seem to rise from the mage’s skin, scalding the air that Juyeon breathes. Yet no one says a word, even as the unconscious students begin to shift on the ground.

“Do you know who I left behind at the ivory palace you helped imprison me in?” Jacob asks. His voice is soft, now, as soft as it’s always been, but an edge sharper than Juyeon’s sword glints in his tone. “I left behind my knight. I left behind my Valkyrie. I left my Valkyrie behind at the Ivory palace because they understood their duty and I understood mine.”

Juyeon may be the one physically holding the blade to Mage Jung’s neck, but it feels like Jacob holds the power to let that blade slice against soft skin, spilling blood over the white stone floor.

From the way the mage’s fists are clenched, Juyeon doesn’t think Jacob would think too much if that happened.

“I don’t know if they’re dead or alive,” Jacob continues, relentless. “I don’t know what happened to any of the Valkyries, if they’re sitting in the dungeons under the palace or lying in a pile of bodies, unburnt by a mage’s fire, soul unreleased and restless – a fire that you decided to desecrate, might I add.” Jacob snarls. Everyone in the room flinches. 

A dribble of blood drips down Mage Jung’s skin as he shudders, the blade digging even further than before. 

“I may have killed them by leaving them behind, and I wouldn’t know.” Heat really is rising from Jacob’s skin now, any remaining magic boiling in his blood as it tries to escape its constraints. “All because of the Ivory Queen’s reckless visions of war, visions that you have helped her realize.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Juyeon sees Kevin put a hand on his cousin’s shoulder. Jacob relaxes slightly at the touch, the air growing slightly cooler, but he’s still rigid, body tensed to spring as he speaks his last words to a high mage who can no longer even look his former disciple in the eye.

“I may not know the pain of having your own child held over your head.” Jacob’s fists release themselves as he takes a deep breath. “I imagine it is unfathomable. But do not, not for one single second, tell me I don’t know the pain of choosing between love and duty. Because I know it. I know it very well, High Mage.” Jacob spits the last words to the floor, crushes the title he used to look up to with his boot as he glares at the weakened man still kneeling on the floor.

Silence reigns. Not a single person, not even the two young mages who have just woken up, dare to speak.

High Mage Jung ducks his head even further, almost slumping against Juyeon’s sword. “You can kill me,” he rasps, closing his eyes. “I deserve it, as Jacob –” Jacob flinches at the sound of his name – “said. Please.”

The blade trembles. Juyeon could kill the mage and end it all, he knows. He’s already killed Mage Han. He could just as easily kill Mage Jung, especially when he’s asking for it.

But something stays Juyeon’s hand, prevents him from making the cut that will end his life. Perhaps it’s because of the mage’s daughters, who don’t deserve to have yet another parent ripped away. Or maybe he just feels like he can’t kill another person, much less a mage – how badly will that reflect on him if he ever gains his crown?

Even more than that, though, it isn’t his choice. Juyeon isn’t the one who was betrayed the most in this room. That title belongs to the five mages in this room, one of whom is still unconscious because of High Mage Jung’s decisions.

“It isn’t my decision to make.” Juyeon utters his words with certainty, keeping the blade at the mage’s neck. “Jacob, Seoho, all of the other mages you betrayed deserve to decide. I wasn’t the one who was hurt the most here.”

Jacob nods curtly before turning to Seoho. They kneel down beside the two younger mages who have woken up and begin to speak quietly.

Kevin stands next to Juyeon, refusing to look at the broken man who kneels in front of them. Juyeon swallows. Kevin watched him kill Mage Han, saw him live with that decision for all the weeks to come. He hurt Bom too – he knows what it’s like to be faced with a decision like this.

“Did I make the right choice?” Juyeon murmurs. “Or am I just a coward, pawning off the decision to someone else?”

A pause, then a shake of the head. “No, you made the right decision.” Kevin shakes his head again. “This wasn’t your battle, mainly. It was theirs. Like you said, they were hurt the most. Choosing wouldn’t have been right, coming from you.” He smiles slightly, and Juyeon takes comfort in the warmth on his best friend’s face. “It isn’t cowardly to not want to kill someone, by the way. Just as it isn’t cowardly to step back from a decision that isn’t yours.”

Juyeon’s own lips curl into a tiny smile. “Thanks, Kevin.”

Kevin just smiles back. Shoulder to shoulder, they stand before the mage until Jacob stands up, face grim but not displeased. “Let him live.”

High Mage Jung’s head snaps up. “What?”

Juyeon’s own eyebrows raise, but he can’t deny the relief that rushes through his chest as he withdraws the sword. “As you wish.”

“But – why?” The mage’s gaze fills with guilt and anguish, tears beginning to pool in his eyes. “I’ve violated –”

“You have two daughters.” Seoho steps forward, skin still pale with exhaustion, but determination in every step. “As much as you deserve to suffer, they still need you.”

“I –”

“You will lie,” Jacob interrupts. “You will lie and say that we came at night, taking the jewel with the help of the imprisoned mages who also happened to escape. When you woke up, it was gone.” He looks down, coldly. “And if the queen asks you how we were able to overpower you, you may tell her that you suspect a mage travels with the prince and the amethyst heir.” His lips curl into a dangerous smile. “If you so wish, you might even tell her this mage escaped from her own dungeons.”

The high mage gasps, collapsing even further onto the ground. “Thank you, thank you so much –”

“Save it,” Dongju snarls. “We don’t want your thanks. You watched and did nothing as Youngjo and the others were killed, and now we find out that you were one of the two who killed the gray mage?” He scoffs.

“Dongju.” Hwanwoong seems to have woken up since the mages began speaking, and he puts a hand on the boy’s arm. He relaxes, but the glare in his eyes doesn’t subside.

Jacob looks a lot like he agrees with Dongju, even if he doesn’t say anything.

Seoho steps up. “It is only fair that you stand trial after the war for your crimes. A jury of your peers will judge you, with His Majesty presiding.” He looks at Juyeon. “They will decide if you are ultimately worthy of death, or if your magic will simply be stripped instead.”

Mage Jung sags, but he nods resignedly. Juyeon nods as well. “I agree to this. Do not try to hide – we will find you. There cannot be no consequences for your actions.”

“I understand.” The mage swallows, and for the first time, dares to look up. “I also understand that you cannot accept my thanks in words. However, I have information that may help your jewel hunt, if you will hear it.”

Juyeon exchanges a glance with Kevin, then Jacob. Both of them look equally apprehensive, but eventually, they nod, slightly. He turns back to the mage. “Tell us.”

“The Ivory Queen let it slip that one of the jewels will be taken to another shrine, one of the holiest in the two kingdoms.” Mage Jung swallows. “Few have the privilege of stepping onto its grounds. I myself have forfeited mine.”

Juyeon understands at the same moment Jacob does, their eyes widening with realization together.

Kevin gasps a second later. “You don’t mean –”

“He means the shrine where Changmin was killed.” Juyeon clenches his fists hard, the jewel cutting into his skin. “She would dare…”

Jacob steps forward. “If you turn out to be lying, I will not hesitate to kill you the next time I see you.”

A long pause follows his statement, but no one protests.

Juyeon nods sharply. “We will leave. Do not follow us. If a single word is breathed to the queen on our whereabouts, we will know that you betrayed us yet again.” He snarls. “And next time, you won’t be able to count on any mercy should we find you once more.”

Even with that statement, Juyeon doesn’t lower his guard until Seoho has created the door to shift them out of the room. He barely breathes until they’ve made it far from the shrine back to their hideout at the edge of the forest. Once they’re among the trees, he lets out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

Six pairs of eyes blink at him, four more than he’s grown used to. Juyeon swallows. “I don’t know if you four can come with us,” he says carefully.

Hwanwoong nods, thankfully. None of the others look very surprised either. “We know,” he says. “We never expected it, with you looking for the jewels and all.”

Juyeon hangs his head. “Still, I’m sorry. I can’t provide safety for you, even as your prince…”

Kevin knocks him in the shoulder. “No one’s safe in a time of war, idiot.”

A tiny smile quirks the side of his lips. “That’s true. However.” He straightens. “Do you know the name Lee Sangyeon?”

Dongju’s head jerks up. “One of your rooks?”

Juyeon nods. “Try to reach the Onyx Kingdom. You’ll be safer there, especially if you can reach a domain unoccupied by ivory forces. I don’t know how far they’ve managed to conquer –” he frowns – “but once you have the energy, shift into the capital. Find Sangyeon and tell him that the crown prince sent you. You can stay there. If something happens, though, just stay out of reach of ivory forces.”

“One more thing.” Kevin rummages around in the bag that holds their things and produces a shirt, one of those he brought when they first started out. “They might not believe you if you just say that we sent you, but if you show them this, they’ll know you at least saw us along the way.”

Hwanwoong takes the shirt, folds it and tucks it into his robes. “Thank you.”

“Wait, Kevin.” Jacob steps forward. “Give me your knife.”

Confused, Juyeon watches as he takes the blade, then hacks off a section of his red cloak. “Seoho, your specialization is the same as mine?”

A nod. Jacob hands over the section of cloth. “There is a spell embedded in my cloak to mask my magic, one that I think you can untangle. Once you do, weave it into your own clothes. It will help you stay hidden from other the magic of others.”

Three pairs of eyes stare into four. Then Hwanwoong kneels, followed by Seoho, then Dongju, then the last, who must be Keonhee.

Juyeon takes a step back. “What –”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” Seoho bows his head. “We look forward to the day you become our king.”

Queens.

Oh, queens.

Juyeon’s throat chokes. “Please, don’t kneel,” he says, helping them up while trying to hide the tears beginning to brim in his eyes. “I’m honored to have you as my allies. Truly.”

“As we are honored to be yours.” Hwanwoong smiles. “Good luck, Your Highness.”

A tentative smile curves Juyeon’s lips. “Good luck to you too.”

If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to reblog and leave a comment to tell me what you thought! Thank you for reading and have a lovely day <3

(1 reblog = 1 prayer for oneus to get back safely!!)

[remedyhunger]

Capture the flag...Greek style 2.0

Jaune panted as he raced across the forest. One minute he was at the Grand Canyon, the next he discovered he was immune to fire, and now he was playing a crazy version of capture the flag.

Gods he only just got to this camp and his cabin. Luckily Ruby who he met earlier, gave him a crash course of how this game goes.

She explained to him that the cabins are split into teams. The teams today were, Hephaestus, Demeter, Hades, Ares, Zeus and Aphrodite vs Athena, Dionysus, Apollo, Hermes, Poseidon, Nike, Aeolas and Hecate.

Thankfully he was on the same team as Nora and Ren, so at least his friends were his allies. Unfortunately he heard rumors about the leader of the blue team, Yang.

Now he only met her at the Grand Canyon when she was, threatening Nora while ranting about someone named Blake that he later learned was Yang’s girlfriend who had gone missing.

His half-sister Ruby only told him that much, but warned him that Yang despite her cheerful nature was incredibly upset about Blake, and when she’s mad she tends to play capture the flag brutally.

Jaune barely missed the arrow that was aimed at him. He looked up to see a sandy blonde haired fifteen year old crouching down on a tree branch. His bright blue eyes were narrowed and serious as he reapplied another arrow to his bow.

Jaune covered his face with the sword Ruby forged for him back in their cabin, only for a jagged spear to swish right past him and toward the younger boy.

“Dammit!” He heard the boy shout.

“Sun Wukong, you really should of payed attention to stealth class, I warned you about hiding amongst the trees.” A feminine voice came from the bushes.

Jaune looked up to see the boy named Sun apparently pinned to the tree trunk sideways by his shorts. He had his arms crossed and a scowl on his face.

“You’re lucky newbie that Pyrrha was on your team, the other child of Zeus must of informed her about my whereabouts.”

Jaune who was confused by that statement watched as the young woman Pyrrha finally emerged from the bushes with her hips swaying. He realized he was staring so he averted his eyes to look up at Sun. Who at that angle with his gold staff sticking out from upon his back resembled a monkey.

“Sorry about him, he’s not always this rude.” Her voice rang with a slight giggle.

Jaune who turned to face her tilted his head and was taken aback by her beauty. She was tall, really tall, almost his height.

She had long lush red hair high up in a ponytail with an undercut. Piercings on both sides of her ears with a second on her left cartilage. She was wearing the same bronze armor chest plate he had with her camp shirt underneath. Her pants were ripped and black with red boots.

He blushed once his eyes met hers. Bright green with a tinge of blue in the middle, the blue reminding him of the stormy sky.

“Hey! Tree-trunk, Wonder Woman! Are ya gonna bring me to the stupid jail or what?” Sun’s irritated voice slashed through the silence.

Pyrrha looked up and narrowed her eyes. She walked past Jaune to climb up the large tree to retrieve her prisoner, but once she secured Sun over her shoulder she looked down and started to shake slightly.

Jaune got worried at her expression. He wanted to help her, but didn’t know how. Thankfully Sun’s body started to glow and Pyrrha started to relax. She then made her way back down to Jaune and smiled at him.

“We better get him to jail! Who knows what Yang has instore for u—-“

Just as Pyrrha was finishing her sentence Jaune noticed Sun blinking twice at his direction. He turned his head immediately only to see blonde hair behind the tree he was in front of.

Oh no that’s...mores code. He just...

Jaune heard a swish from behind and suddenly the ground moved, with a wired net springing up underneath. Pyrrha just watched in awe as Jaune was suspended into the air. The wire net puntcuing his skin slightly and capturing him for the opposing team.

“What the—“ Jaune tried to activate his fire power but the wire was made of metal and it was ice cold.

Yang stepped out from behind the tree, she had a brown cowboy hat with a violet sash on it hanging around her neck. She rolled her eyes at his attempt to burn the net down.

“It’s not gonna work Pyro Legolas.” She insisted before letting her unusual stormy grey eyes move to Pyrrha. “As for you, you’re not going anywhere.”

“Ah Ruby informed me you’re going to be brutal today. Still haven’t found Blake?” Pyrrha said with a sincere voice before her eyes widen at her slip up.

“I’m sorry, that I shouldn’t hav—“

Yang cut Pyrrha off with a growl and a flick to her mechanical arm.

“Enough, now come at me!”

Jaune gasped at the bronze knife that slid out of the wrist compartment of Yang’s mechanical arm. It was amazing, his ADHD going into hyper-focus as he tried to understand the mechanics of the creation. It had to be forged by his dad, by Hephaestus himself.

Pyrrha took a step back and placed Sun against a tree, tying his body against it with the rope she had on her. She then looked up suddenly and whistled. Jaune watched Yang sigh when another demigod suddenly landed right between her and Pyrrha. Relief hit him as he smiled at Nora who was armed and holding her warhammer tightly in front of her.

“What’s going on sis! Who’s legs do I have to break.”

“N-No ones! Nora I only wanted you to retrieve Sun. He’s now one of red team’s prisoners. You remember where the jail is...right.”

Nora frowned and sheath her hammer on her back. She looked up and then rolled her eyes at Jaune.

“Your first day and you got captured already?!”

Jaune groaned and leaned back on the wired net. “It’s not my fault, Yang is really good at stealth.”

He watched Pyrrha laugh loudly with Yang groaning in the background.

“Yang? Good at stealth?! That girl is a walking traffic light. The only reason she can sneak around is because of her magic cowboy hat. Even her mother thought stealth was her weakest ability.”

“Pyrrha shut up, and fight me!” Yang repeated, her patience running thin. She was angry.

Jaune frowned as he once again noticed Yang’s eyes being purely grey. He remembered seeing them have a purplish hue when he first met her.

“Cool it birdy, remember the rules.” Sun said against the tree he got tied to. “Yang I know you’re upset, but remember this is a damn game.”

Jaune felt bad for the daughter of Athena. She must really miss Blake. He could see it in her eyes as they shift slightly back to having that purple hue. She lowered her arm down and Pyrrha was now walking forward.

Yang let out a sob before she fell to her knees. Pyrrha caught her halfway and they both wrapped their arms around each other. Yang sobbing uncontrollably against Pyrrha’s chest.

“I don’t understand why it hurts, it hurts so much that she isn’t here with me...” Yang cried.

Jaune felt his own tears welding up, he may not have a lover, but he did lose someone dear to him. He knew the pain and emtpyiness Yang felt.

Nora flew up to him and freed him from Yang’s trap, she looked upset. Her eyes conflicted and filled with confusion. She pulled Jaune close to her side and brought him down to the solid ground, all in complete silence.

Jaune knew Nora had amnesia. She admitted it to both him and Ren. She was struggling with her identity and being one of the sources that had cause Yang this pain. Afterall she was the one Yang found at the Grand Caynon.

“I’m calling a surrender...” Sun said seriously after he mysteriously was freed from his binds. “Yang can’t lead us to victory with her mind jumbled up. Damn when I get my hands on that Tuna-brain for making her such a mess...”

Pyrrha shot him a glare and picked up the exahusted blonde who Jaune noticed was now asleep. “You know if she was awake she’d kill you for calling Blake that.”

“Don’t care, the damn Catfish not being here is hurting her, she’s my sibling Pyrrha.”

“I know that Sun, but being angry at Blake is not going to help.”

Jaune watched the two demigods glare at one another before Sun finally backed off. He turned around sharply and walked off into the shadows, a concern girl with faded black hair in a side ponytail and a scar on her right eye that glowed ice blue watched him closely.

Jaune pieced it together and realized she was the one who untied Sun from the tree. He noticed she had a red bandanna around her neck as opposed to the blue one around Sun’s. She was incredibly short and was wearing the same bronze chest plate everyone else had with her helmet now being held.

“Is he going to be ok.” Jaune asked with uncertainty before moving his eyes to Pyrrha’s back.

Pyrrha nodded as she turned to him, her eyes now softening. “Weiss will take care of him, they’re best friends, now help me get Yang back to Poseidon cabin.”

Jaune pointed to himself. “Me, why me?! And why Poseidon cabin?”

Pyrrha sighed softly and rolled her eyes. “Because that cabin is comforting to her Jaune, and I would like the company.”

Jaune looked at Nora who shrugged back with no help. He sighed loudly and walked toward the older daughter of Zeus.

“Fine, but only if we get Ruby first.”

Pyrrha smirked at him, and his heart skipped a beat.

“Deal!”