Drabbletag 5 - Supernatural, Bela/Ruby, Unbroken
Title: Unbroken
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bela/Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: drabbletag 5 - Bela/Ruby, Hell
Word count: 250
A/N: warning for torture and consent issues, though nothing especially graphic.
Summary: Bela doesn't give up easily.
It never changes, in Hell.
Every time, they offer her the knife, and every time, she says no. Not because she cares about those poor, benighted souls on the rack. Because they want to make her do it, and fuck that.
So she gets the knife instead, twisting under the memory of a rib, splitting smoke that still feels like skin. Funny, how tightly the mind clings to what the body used to be. She tries not to scream, and every time, she does.
This time, the demon that comes to her wears a woman's shape, long blonde hair, eyes like an oil slick.
"You don't have to stay here," she says, a silken promise. Bela's heard it all before. But as the demon leans in close and draws the blade of an immaterial knife down the side of Bela's face, she whispers something impossible: "I made it out."
And then she tangles a hand in Bela's hair, wrenches her head back for a vicious kiss. Bela hisses sharply, not quite in pain, and somewhere between the demon's mouth on hers and the knife cutting deep, something twists and changes - an infinitesimal shift in the atmosphere, a loosening of chains. Maybe it's all in her mind. Maybe it always was.
Whether it's meant as a game or cruelty or a fighting chance, Bela doesn't know. But she flexes her fingers, tests her bonds. The demon offers her a smile like a secret shared, and says, "don't forget."
She won't.
Fandom: Supernatural
Pairing: Bela/Ruby
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: drabbletag 5 - Bela/Ruby, Hell
Word count: 250
A/N: warning for torture and consent issues, though nothing especially graphic.
Summary: Bela doesn't give up easily.
It never changes, in Hell.
Every time, they offer her the knife, and every time, she says no. Not because she cares about those poor, benighted souls on the rack. Because they want to make her do it, and fuck that.
So she gets the knife instead, twisting under the memory of a rib, splitting smoke that still feels like skin. Funny, how tightly the mind clings to what the body used to be. She tries not to scream, and every time, she does.
This time, the demon that comes to her wears a woman's shape, long blonde hair, eyes like an oil slick.
"You don't have to stay here," she says, a silken promise. Bela's heard it all before. But as the demon leans in close and draws the blade of an immaterial knife down the side of Bela's face, she whispers something impossible: "I made it out."
And then she tangles a hand in Bela's hair, wrenches her head back for a vicious kiss. Bela hisses sharply, not quite in pain, and somewhere between the demon's mouth on hers and the knife cutting deep, something twists and changes - an infinitesimal shift in the atmosphere, a loosening of chains. Maybe it's all in her mind. Maybe it always was.
Whether it's meant as a game or cruelty or a fighting chance, Bela doesn't know. But she flexes her fingers, tests her bonds. The demon offers her a smile like a secret shared, and says, "don't forget."
She won't.