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hisui-dreamer · 2 years ago

Text

he lives in you

Characters: Leona, Floyd, Jamil, Lilia

Synopsis: You shared a night of passion with your lover before you left for the other side of the mirror, but fate's cruel hands strike once again as you realise you have to raise his child alone in your original world. Thankfully, your child is incredibly drawn to magic, and they opened a portal...?

Tags: slight angst, fluffy end because im a sap, fem reader, reader gives birth to a child, reunions, bot proofread

Word count: 2.4k+

Notes: uh i was practicing Japanese and researching Japanese names before writing this, so all my name ideas ended up in japanese? if it makes you uncomfortable, you can imagine that reader is japanese hehe

right in time for mother's day, so here's to a celebration of the motherly figures in our lives, blood related or not, for being there for us<3

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

A few months passed as you settled back into your routine at home. Eventually, with the noticeable changes in your body, it dawned on you that you were with child—his child, your lover from the other side of the mirror whom you could no longer reach.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks turn into months. You had adapted to the trials and tribulations of parenthood. Juggling the responsibilities of work, childcare, and household chores was no easy feat, but you found solace in the small moments of your child's growth and development.

Your child was a true joy to behold, a mirror image of their father in many ways, and you often see the ghost of your past lover in them. Having inherited his magic, your child experimented with their powers, leaving you to support them with what limited knowledge of magic that remained from your NRC days.

On one such experiment, your environment started to shift as a wave of magical energy engulfed you. When you opened your eyes again, he was there, right in front of you—

Hina (日来) with 日 meaning "sun, day" and 来 meaning "coming, future"

Leona reminded you of a shining sun that radiated warmth and light in your life, of how the it would surely shine again no matter how dark the night seemed, and so you named your daughter after that image

your daughter has the clearest emerald eyes and flowing dark brown locks that you often braided in a similar style to her father's

she's very energetic, always curious and asking questions, eager to learn more about the world around her

she's an obedient child, although she's eager to seek your affection and may whine a bit when things don't go her way

if there was one thing that was similar to the Leona you knew, it's that she's extremely clingy and constantly seeks physical affection, hugging your legs and asking for you to carry them any chance she has

and also the fact that she enjoyed her naps a bit too much

her lion ears are a bit of an issue in our world, but you often hide them with hoods, clever hair styling, or simply saying it's a costume

when you told her about the brilliant man her father is, she grew really excited about the possibility of meeting him, and started playing around with magic more to be like the intelligent mage he is

and then it happened, just an ordinary afternoon practicing magic had the two of you transported back to twisted wonderland, face to face to Leona

somehow, he had grown even more handsome in the years you hadn't seen him, but instead of his lazy smile, he looked confident and powerful, like the leader he was always meant to be

A sudden gust of magic swept through the air behind him as he raised his staff in response, only to immediately drop it in shock as your figure came into sight, and beside you, a small child that he had never seen before.

"Herbivore..." he whispered.

Without a second thought, Leona rushed towards you, his heart beating wildly in his chest. He felt a lump forming in his throat as he reached out to embrace you tightly.

"This better not be a dream," he murmured into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your scent. "It's really you."

after a tearful reunion and introduction, Leona quickly excuses himself from his duties with a quick meeting with Falena, and helps you and Hina settle into the palace

since you left, Leona's been working hard to do what he can do as per your promise with him

he's now in charge of foreign affairs and on better terms with his brother after much needed communication

he showers you in affection, he's even clingier than before that it almost starts a rivalry with your daughter

he puts in a lot of effort to spend time with Hina, learning her likes and dislikes and bonding over magic

uncle jack and ruggie are always fun to be around and play with her

though it wasn't his fault, leona feels guilty you had to bare the responsibility on your own for so long, and he puts in a lot of effort to make amends for any mistakes work to build a strong relationship with you two

he has a family now, and you're damn sure he'll protect it with his life

Leona looked down at Hina, feeling a sense of pride and wonder at the little girl standing before him. "Hey there," he said, his voice gentle. "Nice to meet ya, kiddo."

Hina stared at him, her eyes searching his face. "Are you my dad?" she asked, her voice small and uncertain.

Leona's heart ached at the question, knowing that he had missed so much of her life. "Yeah, I'm your dad," he said, reaching out to take her hand.

Hina looked at him for a moment before a smile spread across her face. "Can you show me magic?" she asked, her eyes lighting up with excitement.

Leona felt a sense of joy at her words, feeling a connection with her that he had never felt before. "Of course I can," he said, standing up and taking her hand. "What do you wanna see?"

Sakura (桜) meaning "cherry blossoms"

your daughter has sleek teal hair that reminds you of the sea, a single strand of dark hair, and mismatched eyes in the same manner as Floyd

Floyd had lovingly given you the nickname "Shrimpy", and it only felt right for your daughter to be named Sakura, after the tiny sakura-shrimp

she's incredibly mischievous and there's not a moment of silence with her, she's spontaneous and playful and you've got your hands full

though she is very considerate of you and will listen to your words, she's uncontrollable when she's bored and in need of a spark of interest

she's also a squeezer, much like her father, and hugs you every time she sees you or anyone she likes, and you're thankful her strength hasn't developed too much yet

she enjoys biting you, albeit gently, and you find your arms littered with bite marks, but it's her unique way of showing affection

her eel form won't show unless she's been in the water for too long (thankfully), and she enjoys squeezing you in her eel form even more

ever so curious, she's asked about her father many times, and you've told her how carefree and easygoing her father is, and that he'd love her the moment she saw her

which leads you to her magic actually teleporting you to him, her spontaneous idea having manifested itself, and you found in a dimly lit room similar to the Mostro Lounge

Floyd looked matured, his hair sleeked back and his features sharpened, though his wry smile that you loved had stayed the same

Floyd's eyes widened with shock and disbelief, and his steps quickened as he rushes towards you, his long arms outstretched in a gesture of longing. As he got closer, he noticed the beautiful and curious-looking child standing close to you.

"Shrimpy?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "No way... It's really you!"

Floyd pulled you close, holding you tightly as if he never wanted to let go. "I missed ya so much, I wish I hadn't let ya go," he said, his voice choked with emotion as tears threatened to spill. "You're not allowed to leave again, okay?"

Floyd is so ecstatic he can't stand still, once he's calmed down a bit, be immediately carries Sakura and drags you to Jade and Azul

Azul and Jade are pleasantly surprised at your return, and it's a warm welcome back

the two of them are glad Floyd won't be moping any time soon

the trio have now expanded into a franchise and divulged into many businesses, though Floyd largely acts as Azul's right-hand man

Now that you're back, he refuses to be apart from you, always holding onto you tightly and afraid you might disappear just like how suddenly you appeared

he does get mood swings where he's upset or angry, not at you though, just at how unfair things were and how he couldn't be there for you

he's a good eel who does everything to make sure you and Sakura are happy and comfortable, often cooking meals for you two

he's so curious about Sakura and enjoys playing with her and lifting her high up in the air

don't worry, he's extremely careful, this precious gem is why you got back to him!

Jade is the best uncle and Sakura wants to marry him??? (honestly same)

poor Azul is getting pranked by the daughter- father duo, though Sakura does comfort him afterwards with squeezes and kissss

Floyd looked down at Sakura, and he saw her staring back at him with wide, curious eyes in the opposite colours of his eyes. Though she resembled him physically, there was an air about her that was so distinctly his Shrimpy.

"Heya," Floyd said, trying to sound friendly. "I'm your dad."

Sakura giggled and reached out to him, her tiny hands grasping at his hands. Floyd froze, not sure what to do, letting her yand his hand forward. But then, she opened her mouth and bit down on finger.

"Hey!" Floyd cried, pulling back in surprise.

Sakura just laughed, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Floyd couldn't help but laugh too, despite the pain in his finger.

"Yer a feisty one, aren't ya, Sakura-shrimpy?" he teased, grinning down at her as he ruffled her hair. "You know," he whispered, "you can't just go around biting people like that. But I like your style."

Isami (功己) 功 meaning "achievement, credit, honour, merits" and 己 meaning "self, serpent, snake."

your son has smooth ebony locks and sharp grey eyes that make him look slightly intimidating

Jamil had shown you how much he valued his achievements over his social status, so you chose a name the could embody him

he's a quiet child who's always attentive and careful

he's rather shy in front of other people, but when it's you he'll soak up all of your affection and stare at you with longing eyes seeking praise

he's a cute helper at home too! he always volunteers to help you with chores and cook in the kitchen, though you're careful he's not close to anything sharp or dangerous

he does have an inherent fear of bugs, something he's inherited from Jamil, but thankfully you've taught him to be less destructive than his father

do expect screams and for him to be crying as a little fly chases him around though

he's incredibly smart and talented at magic, easily grasping the concepts of magic you can only teach him theoretically

when you told him about his father, you've told him about the diligent man that his father is, and how would let his guard down around those he treasured

he had listened quietly without much of a change in his expression, but you could tell there was a bubbling excitement building up in his eyes

and no long after that, he managed to teleport the two of you to a warm, airy room of marble walls

Jamil's features had sharpened, he seemed more openly confident and comfortable with himself

Jamil's heart skipped a beat as he saw you. It had been five years since he bid your farewell at the mirror chamber and lost you forever. And yet here you were standing here in front of him with a child in tow, a child who resembled him so much.

"It can't be..." he murmurs.

Without hesitation, Jamil dropped all the papers and rushed towards you, his heart pounding furiously. His eyes locked with yours, and in that moment, time seemed to stand still. He could see the love and longing still shining in your eyes, and he knew deep down that he had never stopped loving you.

Jamil couldn't stop the tears that began streaming down his face. "I've missed you so much," he said, his voice raspy. "Letting you go is the worst decision I've ever made." He reached out and pulling you into a tight embrace, his arms shaking with emotions.

he's a bit overwhelmed but still so thankful you're back in his life

Kalim barges in at this time and exclaims in surprise at your return and ??? OMG JAMIL YOU HAVE A SON?!!

Jamil has half a mind to dissuade him from holding a banquet immediately to welcome you back, and instead take things slow to not overwhelm you or Isami

asks Kalim for some privacy and the second he's away, he melts into your embrace

he hasn't felt so at ease in so long

if he wakes up in the morning and you're not right there beside him, he's panicking and searching all over the place for some confirmation you're still here

he's very curious about Isami and asks him all sorts of questions to piece together his development and personality

they definitely have a rivalry over who's braver over bugs but it just ends up with the two hugging you for safety

he's a bit awkward with how careful he is with his emotions, so it takes Isami some time to fully trust him

but trust me, Jamil will go above and beyond for his family and there's no way Isami will have to endure what Jamil did in his childhood

Jamil's eyes widened in surprise and wonder. He couldn't believe that they had created a life together. He knelt down to the Isami' eye level and looked into his eyes. "Hello there," he said, his voice gentle and warm. "What's your name?"

Isami starred back at him, his eyes wide with distrust and caution before he buried his face in your legs. Jamil chuckled softly. "It's okay," he comforted. "You don't have to be shy around me. I'm your dad."

Isami looked up at him again, this time with a mix of curiosity and wonder. "Daddy?" they said, testing the word out.

Jamil smiled warmly as nodded, his heart swelling with love and joy. "Yes, daddy," he parroted. "And I promise I'm never going to leave you or your mommy again."

Yuri (百合) meaning "lily"

Lilia's name always reminded you for lily flowers, and what better name for your daughter to embody him?

your daughter has straight raven hair with some of the hair flipping upwards resembling two horns, angular fae ears, and bright crimson eyes

she's always up for pranks and mischief, it's rare to see her without a smile

she loves exploring places, if you keep your eyes off her for one second, she's letting her curiosity take her to whatever she wants

if you're serious and stern though, she will listen to you, she wouldn't dare make her mother upset!

she's friendly with everyone and isn't shy to say hi to neighbors or absolute strangers

she's not overly affectionate, but she definitely enjoys hugs and kisses from you

she has an odd habit of taking stray animals back home in an attempt to adopt them, so you have little adventures with her trying to find an owner

do not let her in the kitchen

she has surely inherited her father's cooking abilities, somehow, she can render even a piece of toast beyond human consumption

magic comes as second nature to her, and she's always standing on ceilings

gosh her eyes absolutely sparkled when you told her about the teasing and mischievous fae that is her father

and soon, the portal opened and you found yourself in a gothic castle lit up by green candles

He's a lot taller, his hair longer and reaching his waist, and more enchanting than ever

Lilia stood in shock as your family figure come into sight. In all his years of living, he had never been so utterly stunned. After all these years, you had finally returned to him.

"Beastie..." Lilia gasped, his voice catching in his throat.

With a surge of energy, Lilia broke free from the trance-like state and hurried towards you, his hair streaming behind him like a dark flag as he enveloped you tightly in his embrace. "After all these years, you've truly come back to me?"

Carefully, Lilia held you at arm's length, studying your matured features, etching them into his memory like a cherished work of art. His eyes traced the lines and contours of your face, memorizing every detail that time had etched upon you.

"My, how you've grown," Lilia murmured, a mix of pride and wistfulness coloring his words. "The years have shaped you into a remarkable individual."

it's family reunion time!!!

he immediately drags you to the throne room where malleus, silver and sebek are

malleus is now king with two incredibly reliable bodyguards, and Lilia's his most trusted advisor

malleus is so glad his dear human friend is back, silver is satisfied that his father will have someone to be with, and sebek is screaming about Yuri, though she enjoys his loudness

for a while, Lilia is extremely affectionate, trying to make up for all the years that had gone by

when you're sleeping together at night, he hugs you tightly and it's difficult to leave his embrace

he definitely tries to cook for you two, going on and on about how the two of you need to stay healthy and need lots of nutrients

you always volunteer your portion for Yuri, and she'll gladly eat whatever her father has cooked for her

silver is an older brother often on babysitting duty, and Yuri loves watching him spar with sebek and also wants to learn

Sebek is quite fond of Yuri, and he sees his half-fae self in her

Lilia is always trying to fun with Yuri, bouncing her high up in the air and teaching her to hang upside down and swing around

plans so many family vacations, he can't wait to be exploring places with his two darlings

"Is she... ours?" Lilia asked. At your nod, he reached out to caress Yuri's cheek, his touch gentle as if he were touching fragile porcelain.

"Well, I'll be damned," Lilia chuckled, his voice cracking with emotion. "I never thought I'd be a father again. But I'm glad to meet you, little one. What's your name?"

Yuri giggled and and beamed at his touch. "My name's Yuri," she said, her voice sweet as honey.

"Yuri," Lilia repeated, his heart swelling with emotion. "What a beautiful name for my beautiful girl," he reached up to fondle her hair. "You know, Yuri," Lilia said, his voice growing serious. "I may not have been there for you when you were born, but I promise I'll always be here for you from now on. No matter what happens, I'm your father, and I'll always love you darling."

Part 2✧Part 3✧Part 4✧Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

#twstnexus #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland leona #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingsholar #twisted wonderland floyd #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #twisted wonderland jamil #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #lilia vanrouge #lilia vanrouge x reader

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wholoveseggs · 5 months ago

Text

Rules {Part Five}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Five

It was never a good idea, falling in love with the enemy. But how were you supposed to know how it would all end up?

♡♡ THANK YOU so much for all the love for this series!!! I had so much fun reading all your comments and inbox messages. Enjoy! and please don't hate me for the ending...♡♡

10.7k words {sorry not sorry} - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, smuttttt, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, KLAUS, a little Katherine cameo, ritual sacrifice, death, murder, pain, pain and more pain...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three} {Part Four}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123

Information, of all things of value in this world, is most precious. Katherine had learned that the hardest of ways.

She had been trying to keep tabs on everyone, especially the Salvatore brothers, who were the cause of her most recent headaches. Dwelling on the irony of that made her skin itch, considering the amount of time she had spent causing them grief.

She was sipping on a glass of bourbon, trying not to think about how her plans were crumbling. She hoped to charm Elijah, get him to protect her like he did last time.

But when he found her, he wasn't the same. He didn't have the same softness about him, the gentleness in his eyes. He was harder, angrier, more ruthless. She supposed that was her fault, she wondered how her life would have turned out had she trusted him...

She didn't regret her choice, she knew it was worth it, she always chose her freedom first, nothing else mattered.

And she had almost gotten away, if only she had a little more information.

But now, here she was, back under the thumb of the man who had taken everything from her.

Klaus.

"Please, just...kill me. I've told you everything that I know," she pleaded, not sure why she was bothering.

He never showed her mercy, but she couldn't help but hope he would spare her, if not for old times sake.

"You see, I believe that you believe that, but what would you not know? What could they be keeping from you? Hmm? Anything? Tell me." He said, his voice was calm as he compelled her to speak the truth.

"When I was at the Salvatore house, I saw their sister, drugged and unconscious. They were keeping her that way,"she said, her voice trembling, she couldn't control the words that came out.

Klaus smiled, the wheels turning in his mind, "Any theories on why they would do that to her?"

Katherine had an idea, but she had no proof. She had no idea what Damon was up to, but he always had a plan.

"I don't know," she said, shaking her head, she didn't like where this was going.

"C'mon, you have always been a clever little minx," Klaus purred, his hand coming up to caress her cheek, it made her feel sick.

"The only reason I can think of is to stop her from doing something," Katherine said, her mind racing, thinking back to everything she had seen, and the things she had missed.

Klaus grinned, his hand moving down to her throat, he began squeezing the air out of her.

"You can detect weaknesses like a bloodhound can sniff out a fox, so tell me, sweetheart. Is this your best guess or are you holding something back?" He asked, his fingers tightening.

She struggled, clawing at his arm, desperately trying to loosen his grip. "She's... Loyal to a fault, to those she loves, she tried to kill me in the 1800s for messing with her brothers,"

He raised an eyebrow, his face a mask of amusement, "So you think she's shifted loyalties? To whom?" He let go of her throat, and she collapsed to the ground, coughing and wheezing.

"I don't know... The only other players in town are the wolves... There's no reason for her to side with them..." She paused, her mind racing.

"There's only one other option," she said, her face contorting into a grin.

"Who?" Klaus growled, his patience was growing thin.

"Elijah.”

You woke in a strange daze, unsure of how much time had passed. You didn't feel rested, in fact, you felt sluggish.

You sighed softly, trying to gather your strength. Your mind was slightly hazy and you felt hungover. Your limbs were not responding to your commands, causing you even more panic.

Your eyes finally opened, adjusting to the light. You were in your own bedroom, laying on your bed, the soft hum of your ceiling fan was the only thing you could hear.

You had a horrible sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach, you slowly looked around. There was a pile of empty blood bags on your nightstand, a cup full of vervain, and a half-empty bottle of bourbon. It was clear that someone had been here taking care of you and keeping you sedated, judging by the empty bottle it was most likely Damon.

You rolled out of bed, stumbling across the room. Your legs were weak, and you were still groggy. You managed to make it to the door and pull it open.

It was eerily quiet, the ticking clock in the hallway was pounding in your ears. You walked towards the stairs, leaning heavily against the wall, hoping to make it all the way down without falling.

As soon as you made it to the bottom, you were overcome with a wave of nausea and dizziness. You grabbed the banister, closing your eyes, waiting for the spell to pass.

Fuzzy, half formed memories came flooding back to you. Elijah was gone, your brothers had stabbed him, and then they had drugged you, so you couldn't wake him.

You remembered Damon coming into your room, holding a blood bag up to your lips, forcing you to drink.

You remembered Stefan, sitting on the edge of the bed, brushing the hair off your forehead, telling you to sleep.

You remembered Elena, cleaning your face, her voice low and gentle, she had been crying, apologizing.

Someone had carried you outside, then Elena invited you back in. The house was under her name now, a new defense measure added. You wondered who they were trying to keep out, had Klaus finally come to town? Fear suddenly gripped you... Where was everyone?

You slowly made your way to the basement door, taking the steps one at a time, trying to ignore the overwhelming need to puke.

Once you were down in the basement, you looked at Elijah's body, lying in the same position you left him. His clothes were now charred and tattered, the pillow and blanket were gone, probably burned to ash.

You moved closer, collapsing on the floor next to his body. He looked the same, gray, his eyes closed, his hair in disarray. You brushed his hair back, leaning down and kissing his forehead.

"lijah," you whispered, reaching out to hold his hand. "I know we agreed, if anything happens, we would say goodbye and walk away, but I can't, not this time. You're a part of me, I don't think you even realize how much you have come to mean to me."

You looked at the dagger in his chest, weighing the consequences of pulling it out. You didn't know what would happen if he woke up, he could rip you to shreds, or he could pull you into his arms, and hold you until you stopped crying.

There was a fifty-fifty chance he would do the latter, and that was good enough for you. Your fingers curled around the blade and you pulled it out. Then you dropped it onto the floor, letting it land with a metallic thud.

Nothing happened.

Elijah was still.

You leaned down and pressed your ear to his chest, listening.

Nothing.

"Please," you said softly, kissing his cold cheek. "Please wake up."

You returned to laying your head on his chest, your fingers curling in the fabric of his suit.

You closed your eyes, tears running down your face, holding in a breath. Waiting, waiting, waiting…

Suddenly, his heart sprung to life, beating rapidly. You sat up quickly, looking down at him, his eyes were open.

You could hardly believe it, he was looking up at the ceiling, his chest heaving, his mouth open. Then he sat up, gasping for air, looking around the basement wildly.

He was in clear agony, struggling to breathe, he looked at you with anguished eyes, the color returning to his face.

"I can't...I can't be in this house." He rushed to his feet, falling over himself, stumbling his way to the exit.

You limped out of the basement and upstairs, racing after him. The moment he got outside, he collapsed on his knees, taking in deep breaths.

You knelt in front of him, safe behind the threshold of the doorway.

"I'm so sorry," You said, your voice shaking. "I had no idea. They drugged me and I couldn't..."

"Y/n," He interrupted, his eyes finding yours, they were full of pain. "I...need a moment,"

You nodded, holding back tears that were threatening to spill. He looked awful, his clothes were ruined, and his skin was gray and dull. He was clearly starving.

You took the dagger and rolled it past the threshold, it hit his knee and he grabbed it, holding it in his hand. He glared at the blade, then looked up at you.

"Thank you," he said, his expression softening. "So much for rule three,"

"You would have done the same for me," you replied, a hint of a smile on your lips.

He slowly got to his feet, his skin still a bit gray, his face tired and worn. He held his hand out, inviting you to step over the threshold, which you did, allowing him to pull you into his arms.

You closed your eyes, enjoying the embrace, your arms wrapped around his neck, you buried your face into his shoulder.

"This is a bad idea," he said, his voice rumbling in his chest.

"I know," you said, squeezing him tightly.

He didn't respond, simply holding you against him, his breathing steadying.

"Do you want to get out of here?" You asked, looking up at him, a sad expression on his face.

"That is an excellent idea,"

Your phone would not stop ringing.

You had been ignoring it for the last few hours. Elijah had taken you to a luxury hotel the next town over, far enough from Mystic Falls so you didn't have to worry about anyone showing up unexpectedly.

You were sitting on the bed, eating some room service, watching him try on some suits he had compelled the concierge to bring to the room.

"Who keeps calling?" Elijah asked, looking at you over his shoulder, buttoning a shirt.

"Damon and Stefan," You replied, sighing, "they are probably worried."

"Why haven't you answered?" He asked, frowning.

"Because... I'm mad at them," You admitted, picking at the food on your plate. "After what they did to me,"

"They were protecting themselves, and you," he said softly, putting his suit jacket on, and smoothing it.

You were surprised by him defending them, considering they had literally killed him.

"It doesn't matter, I can't face them right now," you said, shaking your head, "I'll just ignore their calls, it's the best I can do."

A text from Damon popped up on your screen, in full capital letters, it read:

‘WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU?! ANSWER YOUR PHONE.’

You grumbled and picked your phone up, ready to block him when you got another text. This one was from Stefan:

‘Klaus is in town, in Alaric's body. Please just let us know you are okay,’

Your breath caught in your throat, and you froze, staring at the message.

Elijah had been looking at you and saw your reaction, "What's wrong?"

"I don't know, maybe nothing," you said, showing him your phone, his face darkening when he saw the texts.

He looked at you for a long moment, like he was contemplating his next words very carefully.

"What?" You asked, wondering what was going through his mind.

"We can't do this," he said, shaking his head. "It's too dangerous."

"What?" You said again, standing up and walking over to him.

You placed your hands on his chest, sliding them up to his shoulders. He was avoiding your gaze, but his arms moved around your waist, pulling you against him.

"What's wrong?" You asked, searching his face, but he still wouldn't look at you.

"Rule two, darling," he said softly, pressing his forehead to yours, his hands caressing your back.

"Don't do that," you said, your voice breaking, your chest ached, you were holding back tears. "I don't care about the rules, I just want you,"

"You don't know what you're asking for," he said, his breath hitching, his voice low. "If Klaus finds out about you and I, he will kill you,"

"Why? Why do you want to kill him? Who is he to you?" You asked, wanting answers, your hands curled into fists on his chest.

"I've known him since I was a child, he's my brother," he said, pulling back, so he could look you in the eyes.

You blinked, not believing what he was saying.

"But..." you stammered, not sure what to say.

He swallowed hard and began telling you all about his life. His family, what life was like in the viking age, being turned vampire, learning his mother had been unfaithful, that his beloved brother was a bastard.

"I never saw him any different, none of our siblings did," he said, his voice wavering.

You could tell this was a difficult subject, you squeezed his hand, reminding him that you were there.

"We learned of our mother's infidelity in the worst way possible..." He trailed off, his voice shaking.

"You don't have to," you said, scooting closer, wrapping your arms around him and resting your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head against yours, his fingers stroking your arm. "I've done many terrible things, but what plagues me the most is what I did to Niklaus,"

"What did you do?" You asked, lifting your head to look at him, his brown eyes were watery.

He shook his head, unable to vocalize it, and you didn't push him. You held him, waiting, knowing it would take time.

He eventually continued, his voice low, filled with shame. "My mother was a powerful witch, she cursed him. She bound his werewolf side, made him weaker, unable to turn. She used the full moon to make it possible to break the curse."

You frowned, thinking over what he was telling you. It didn't make any sense, Klaus was a vampire, not a werewolf.

"I thought..." you said, hesitating. "I thought he was a vampire,"

"He is," Elijah said, nodding, "he's also a werewolf, but that side of him bound,"

He continued his story, explaining how Klaus was different, that he was a hybrid. The first and only of his kind, half vampire, half werewolf.

He told you how Klaus was angry and resentful, and that he had good reason to be. That he and Klaus had spent many centuries trying to break his curse, to free him from his chains.

"So the ritual isn't about werewolves or vampires being freed from their curses," You said, the realization hitting you.

"No, it's not," He admitted, frowning. "It's about my brother,"

You were quiet for a long time, processing all of the information. So Klaus had no intention of freeing the werewolves or the vampires, he just wanted to be free.

"So why do you want to kill him?" You asked, looking at Elijah.

He sighed, rubbing his face, clearly struggling.

"I have other siblings, and he took them from me," He said, his tone was strained, the words catching in his throat. "I've searched for decades, and I can't find them,"

You squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

"I've lost all hope of ever finding them," he said, his jaw clenching, he looked at you with his dark tear filled eyes. "All I have now is my revenge,"

You nodded, understanding where he was coming from. If you lost your brothers, you would burn the world down to avenge them.

"What is the ritual supposed to do?" You asked, curious, wanting to learn more.

"He has to kill a werewolf, a vampire, and a doppelganger. Their blood is necessary for the ritual," he explained, his fingers gently running along your arm. "When it's complete he will be weakened, then I will kill him."

"Elena is innocent... Elijah I'm sorry but you can't let him hurt her," you said, frowning.

He looked away from you, his brow furrowing, "She has to die, but not permanently,"

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused.

"A few centuries ago, there was another doppelganger, I grew some affections for her... I found a way to keep her alive," he said, his tone was flat.

"Katherine," you said, the name leaving a bad taste in your mouth.

He nodded, "I will give Elena the elixir I acquired for Katerina. It will save her,"

You let out a sigh of relief, at least Elena would be safe.

"To kill your brother, it's not an easy thing to do," You said, leaning your head against his. "Are you really prepared for what it means?"

"The full moon is in three days," He said, changing the subject, his expression was grim. "The ritual will happen then,"

"Yes," he said, without a moment of hesitation.

You sat in silence, neither of you knew what to say.

"Sometimes there's honor in revenge," he said, his hand resting on your leg. "And sometimes you just need to put down a rabid dog, no matter how much you once loved him."

"Eli-," You started, but he cut you off with a kiss, his lips crashing against yours.

You melted against him, forgetting what you were about to say. He had this way of silencing you, and it drove you crazy.

"No more talk of the ritual," he said, his fingers gently brushing over your cheek, his eyes gazing into yours. "I want to enjoy the time we have left,"

You didn't know what to say, so you nodded, and he kissed you again.

Elijah watched you sleep, the sheet barely covering your naked body. His fingers traced patterns along your skin, his touch light as a feather.

He was trying to ignore the dread, the sinking feeling of guilt in the pit of his stomach.He needed to plan, to prepare for what he had to do, but the only thing on his mind was you.

He should have known better, he was foolish to have ever gotten involved with you. When he came to Mystic Falls he told himself no weaknesses, no distractions, and yet here you were.

"Stop watching me, it's creepy," you mumbled, rolling over, the sheet falling off of you, revealing your naked form.

"Apologies," he said, unable to help the smirk that tugged at his lips.

"I forgive you, I know I'm irresistible," you said, yawning, stretching, your body arching.

He chuckled, leaning over, kissing you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, "If I asked you to do something, would you do it?"

You gave him a curious look, your fingers tangling in his hair, "That depends,"

"Would you stay here, and not interfere with the ritual?" He asked, his brow furrowing, his tone was strained.

"Elijah-," You said, sitting up, the sheets pooling around your waist.

"Please," he begged, his eyes softening.

"But Elena-," You tried to protest, but he cut you off with a kiss, his hands cupping your face.

"Your brothers will keep her safe, but if you were involved... I would lose my mind with worry," he admitted, his eyes filled with turmoil.

"I thought this was just physical?" You teased, hoping to ease the tension.

He smiled and shook his head, his thumb caressing your cheek. "I love you," he said it so softly you barely heard it, his voice cracking.

You looked at him, searching his face for any signs of a lie, but there was none. He wasn't lying, he was telling the truth, the sincerity in his words and his eyes was evident.

Your words caught in your throat, a lump forming. You couldn't bring yourself to say it, you wanted to, but it was like there was a block.

You pressed your lips to his, your tongue sliding past his lips, kissing him deeply, trying to pour all of your emotions into it.

He broke the kiss and pressed his forehead against yours, his fingers tracing your jaw, "Say it,"

"I can't," You whispered, your voice wavering.

He tilted your chin up, his dark eyes meeting yours. "I love you miss Salvatore, and it frightens me more than anything ever has,"

"Elijah," you said, cupping his face, your heart aching. "I... I love you too,"

He pulled you into a kiss, his arms wrapping around your waist, lifting you into his lap, your legs wrapping around his torso.

You were panting, the kiss was heated, needy, your fingers digging into his shoulders. You felt his erection against your inner thigh, hard and ready, and you ground against it.

"I love you," you repeated, his hands grabbing your ass, pulling you closer.

"I love you," he replied, his lips attacking your neck, sucking, biting, marking you as his.

You reached down, wrapping your fingers around his length, sliding your hand along his shaft, positioning him at your entrance.

You lowered yourself down, desperately needing to feel connected to him, his fingers dug into your hips as you sat fully in his lap, taking him deep inside of you.

He moaned, his eyes closing, his head tilting back, you leaned forward and kissed his neck, your fangs scraping along his skin.

You rolled your hips, slowly, taking him in and out of you, his breath hitching with each movement. You grinned against his skin, loving how you were making him react.

"That's it, take what you need," he said, his hand coming up to cup the back of your head, keeping you close to him.

"I love you," you breathed, your voice a soft whimper, as you sunk your fangs into his neck.

His blood flooded your mouth, warm and sweet, and you sucked, feeling his pulse beating against your lips. He tasted like pure power, it was unlike anything you had ever experienced.

He moaned, his fingers tangling in your hair, gripping it tight. You were riding him, moving your hips in a fluid motion, grinding down onto him, feeling his cock hit that perfect spot deep inside.

You pulled back, his blood dripping from your lips, his hands were on your ass, guiding your hips. He kissed you, biting down on your bottom lip and tasting you. Your blood mixing together, it was the most erotic thing you had ever done.

"That's my girl," he whispered, his voice ragged, his eyes dark with lust. "So beautiful, and mine,"

"Yes, all yours," you moaned, grinding down harder onto him.

You felt his hand moving between your ass cheeks, his finger finding your puckered hole, slowly pressing into you.

You gasped, your eyes fluttering closed, it felt so good, him inside of you like this.

"I want you to cum for me, my sweet little love," he said, his voice soft and gentle, his finger moving deeper.

You moaned, clutching at his chest, your nails raking along his skin, drawing blood. The combination of him filling you, his finger, and the taste of his blood in your mouth sent you over the edge.

You let out a long, low moan, against his lips, your walls clenching around him, milking him for everything he had.

He grunted, his eyes fluttering closed, he bit his lip, trying to muffle his moans, and he came deep inside of you.

Your body was trembling, his arms wrapped around you, holding you close to him.

You pressed your face into the crook of his neck, his skin slick with sweat, the smell of sex and blood hung heavy in the air.

You pulled back and kissed him, his hand cupping the back of your head, his fingers tangling in your hair.

"After this is all over, will you come with me?" He asked, his hand stroking your cheek.

"Where would we go?" You asked, smiling.

"Anywhere, preferably somewhere with a beach and sunshine," he replied, his fingers running through your hair.

"It's a date," you said, nuzzling his neck, breathing in his scent.

"A date?" He chuckled, his fingers tickling your sides, you giggled and squirmed away from him. "That's new for us,"

You grinned, looking down at him. "I like the sound of it,"

"As do I," he agreed, his hand stroking your cheek.

"When I first met you, I never would've thought we'd end up here," you mused, running your fingers along his jaw.

"Neither did I," he admitted, his lips turning up into a small smile.

"So, tell me about this beach trip, what would we do?" You asked, wanting to keep him talking, not wanting to leave his side.

"Hmmm," he said, thinking for a moment. "I would find us a quiet little bungalow, right on the water, with a private stretch of sand for us,"

You closed your eyes, listening to the smooth timber of his voice, imagining the soft waves and fresh ocean air.

"And we'd have our meals brought in by servants, we'd lounge on the beach, swim, and make love whenever the mood struck us," he said, his fingers dancing across your back.

"I could live with that," you said, sighing contently, enjoying his warmth.

"I'm glad," he said, leaning down and pressing his lips to yours, a soft, gentle kiss.

You broke the kiss and stared into his dark eyes, his thumb brushing across your bottom lip.

"If anything happens to me I want you to know, I don't regret a single second of it," he said, his voice soft.

"What?" You asked, giving him a worried look.

"You need to know, in case I fail, and my brother ends me before I can end him," he said, his face serious, his eyes clouded with fear.

"Elijah-," you started to protest, but he cut you off.

"Promise me," he said, his voice pleading. "If this ends badly, you will remember rule three,"

"I thought we had given up on the rules," you said, trying not to let him see how afraid you were.

"Not this one," he said, his voice cracking.

"Why? You can't seriously expect me to-"

"Please," he said, his dark eyes locked on yours. "For me,"

You sighed and nodded, leaning into him, his arms wrapping around you.

"Thank you," he whispered, his fingers stroking your back, his lips brushing against your hair.

"Just come back to me," you said, trying not to cry.

"Always,”

The problem, Damon: you talk a good game but you don't actually know anything. She'll never forgive you. And never for a vampire...It's a very long time.

Elijah's words had been echoing around in Damon's head since that morning, the smugness in the older vampire's voice made him want to put his fist through the wall.

He had made a mess of things, but he couldn't admit that to anyone. The feeling he had when he learned that today was the day of the sacrifice, the day that he would lose Elena... He simply couldn't handle it. His desire for action was overwhelming.

He didn't like everything being out of his control, so he did what he had to do. And now his brother and Elena hated him. Elijah being right was the cherry on top of his shit sundae.

In times like this, when he hit rock bottom then fell a little further, he turned to his oldest friend, his closest confidant, his beloved sister.

But you weren't picking up the phone, despite Elijah's assurances you were alive and somewhere safe, it didn't soothe his worries.

So he tried one last time, and this time you actually picked up, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest when he heard your voice.

"If you are calling to lecture me on love, I will remind you that you are no better," your voice made his throat constrict.

"I know, I'm not," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

"Are you okay?" You asked, a little softer.

"No," he answered, his voice shaking.

"What happened?" You asked, concern creeping into your tone.

"Everything's gone to hell," he replied, his voice strained. "I gave Elena my blood... Well actually I made her drink my blood,"

"Oh Damon..."

"I had no other choice,"

"She's going to hate you,"

"I know, Elijah told me,"

"Damon... He's right,"

"I know that too,"

There was a silence on the other end of the phone, he could hear you moving around, like you were packing a bag.

"I'm on my way," you said, finally. "Partly to kick your ass, partly to give you a hug,"

"Always the multitasker," he joked, his voice cracking. "But do not come home tonight, I just need to know you are safe,"

"I'll do what I want," you said, and he could almost see the pout on your lips.

He smiled, he had missed your stubbornness, and it was the closest thing to normal he had felt all day. But he couldn't risk you being involved, everyone was already in the crossfire, and the thought of you being added to that mix was too much for him to bear.

"Sister," he said, his voice firm. "Please, please, listen to me, just this once, and stay away,"

You let out a long, irritated sigh, "I'm so bored, and I'm getting hungry,"

"Well then go find someone nice to eat and watch a movie," he suggested, chuckling.

"I can't concentrate, not when everyone I love is in danger," you grumbled.

"Does that love extend to Elijah?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"Yes," you said simply, and his heart ached.

He had known, of course, but hearing you say it aloud made it real.

"Why him? Like seriously..." Damon asked, he was genuinely curious, and he needed something to distract him from the shit show he had gotten himself into. "How did you even meet him?"

"I was hunting," you answered, sounding amused. "He found my methods to be entertaining, and I found him to be a challenge,"

"Did you know who he was? What he planned for Elena?" Damon asked, trying not to sound judgemental.

"Yes, I knew who he was. But we had rules, to keep things from getting complicated," you explained.

"That didn't really work out did it?" He teased, smiling.

"No," you admitted, laughing.

There was a long pause, and he could feel his emotions starting to get the best of him.

"Damon, promise me you won't die for her?" You asked, your voice wavering.

"You know I can't do that," he said, his voice low.

"I know," you whispered. "Just please, try to survive this,"

"I'll do my best," he promised, knowing he couldn't really promise anything.

"I love you big brother," you said, and his eyes started to water. "Tell Stefan I love him too,"

"I will, I love you too," he choked out, and he heard the line go dead.

Damon stared at his phone, the picture of you, him and Stefan was staring back at him, his heart aching.

"I hope I see you tomorrow, little sis,"

The town you were hiding out in was quiet and a little boring, but you didn't mind. It was the first time in a long time you had had a few days to yourself, no drama, no life or death situations. Just perfect mundanity.

You were lounging in a café, enjoying a cup of coffee, and watching the locals, wondering what their lives were like. You envied them, their simplicity, their happiness. You imagined you and Elijah in a little house, in a place like this, with a garden and a view of the ocean.

You were lost in your own world, dreaming about the impossible, when someone cleared their throat. You looked up, a smile playing at your lips. Dinner had just arrived.

He was handsome, with curly hair and blue eyes, he had a sharp wicked glint in his eyes that sent a thrill through you. You always enjoyed a good meal with a bit of bite.

"Mind if I sit?" He asked, grinning.

"Not at all," you purred, gesturing to the chair.

He sat, and ordered a coffee, and he turned his attention back to you.

"I don't mean to be so forward, but you are downright striking," he said, his gaze running over your body.

"Thank you," you said, giving him a flirty smile. "It's a bit of a family trait,"

"Is that so? Mine as well, if you can't tell," he said, smiling.

You laughed, enjoying his company.

"You aren't from around here," he observed, sipping his coffee.

"Neither are you," you said, tilting your head.

"I'm just visiting, on vacation," he replied, grinning.

"Same,"

He was charming, and handsome, and you could feel the hunger starting to rise within you.

"I'm staying at the Inn down the street," he said, giving you a hopeful look.

"I'm staying there as well,"

"Well then, may I escort you home?"

"You may,"

The walk back to the Inn was short, you enjoyed his company, he was easy to talk to, and funny.

"Would you like a nightcap?" He asked, flashing you a crooked smile.

"That would be lovely," you said, grinning.

His hand came to rest on the small of your back, guiding you into the room. You usually enjoyed playing with your food a little before you ate, but you were committed to Elijah now, and you didn't want to stray.

As soon as you entered his room, he pinned you to the wall, moving in to kiss you. You politely dodged by pressing your lips to his neck, breathing him in.

"You are a vision," he said, his hand sliding up your arm, and into your hair.

"Thank you," you murmured, your fangs grazing his skin, his pulse racing beneath your lips.

He moaned, and gripped your waist, pressing his hips against yours. You could feel him, hard against your thigh, and you went to bite down.

Suddenly, he pulled your head back by your hair, hard. With strength you hadn't expected, he forced you back, pushing you hard into the wall, the plaster cracking behind you.

"I see why my brother is so taken," he growled, his eyes darkening.

Your heart dropped into your stomach, "Klaus,"

"The one and only, love," he said, smirking.

You tried to pull away, but his grip on you was too strong.

"Don't worry, love," he purred, his hand stroking your cheek. "I won't hurt you,"

"Fuck you," you said, glaring at him.

He smirked, and kissed you, hard, his teeth cutting into your lips.

"You're a feisty little thing," he said, licking his lips. "Even wilder than your brothers,"

You hissed and tried to struggle, his hands tightening around your arms, digging into your skin. "If you hurt them..."

"Now, now," he said, tutting. "Let's not make threats, especially when you can't back them up,"

You bared your fangs at him, but he only grinned.

"I've been wanting to meet you," he said, his thumb brushing across your cheek. "Elijah's little distraction,"

"I'm more than a distraction," you growled, struggling against his hold.

"Hmmm," he hummed, leaning in and nuzzling your neck. "I know,"

You were too frightened to speak, your whole body trembling.

"It's what I'm counting on dear,"

Klaus had been dragging you through the woods for what felt like hours.

Your fear had turned into anger and you began to try and fight him. It seemed to amuse him for a while, he'd let you run only to catch you with ease.

"Why are you doing this?" You growled, his hand holding your arm tightly, leading you through the trees.

"To be reborn, as I truly am," he said, his expression thoughtful.

You rolled your eyes and let out an annoyed sigh, he was a narcissist, the kind of man who enjoyed the sound of his own voice.

"Do you know how long I've waited for this?" He asked, looking down at you. "One thousand years,"

"I know," you sighed.

"Of course you do," he said, smirking. "Elijah loves to spill his heart out after a good bedding doesn't he?"

You didn't answer him, he was trying to get under your skin, and it was working.

"My brother has always been the strong, self righteous type, with an unbreakable moral code," Klaus chuckled, picking up his pace, dragging you along. "That is... Until he gets his face between a pretty pair of legs,"

"Fuck you," you spat, anger boiling up inside of you.

"You have a smart mouth," he said, his fingers squeezing your arm. "I think I'll like to see how you use it later,"

You freed yourself from his grip and slapped him hard across the face. No man was allowed to speak to you in that way, and you certainly weren't going to tolerate it from this monster.

His expression changed from amusement to anger in the blink of an eye. He slammed you against a nearby tree, the twigs and branches impaling you.

You cried out, blood pouring from the puncture wounds, and he grabbed a fistful of your hair, forcing you to look him in the eye.

"That was very, very stupid,"

His words sent a chill down your spine, and a fresh wave of fear washed over you.

"What's the matter?" He asked, his tone taunting. "No more choice words and acts of violence for me?"

"Don't kill me," you said, tears starting to run down your cheeks.

"I won't," he assured you, his lips brushing against yours. "But I will kill everyone in Mystic Falls if you don't do what I say. If you don't believe me... Just ask sweet little Katerina about it,"

Your blood ran cold, you knew what he was capable of, and you had no choice but to obey him.

Through the trees you could see a circle of fire, and you felt dread sink into the pit of your stomach.

"No," you pleaded, trying to pull away.

"Stop being so dramatic, love," he said, rolling his eyes.

He pulled you into the clearing, throwing you down on the ground next to the three women sitting in their own rings of fire.

You could see Elena, a terrified look on her face, along with her aunt Jenna and a woman you didn't recognize.

"Hello my lovelies," Klaus said, grinning. "Are we all ready?"

He gave you a swift kick, then grabbed you by the hair and pulled you to your feet. "I brought an assistant with me,"

He pushed you forward, leaving you to stand there as he walked to the altar, handing the moonstone to a witch standing nearby.

You looked at Elena and Jenna, they were beyond scared, their eyes full of tears, and you felt your stomach twist, you didn't know how to help them.

The witch had begun to chant, a mixture of Latin and something else, the moonstone began to spark, then it exploded into nothing.

"Bring me the wolf," Klaus demanded, looking at you with a wild, manic look in his eyes.

You shook your head, your whole body trembling, you refused to let him hurt someone else.

"It's either them or the entire town, love. That includes your brothers," he growled, his jaw clenched.

The thought of losing Stefan and Damon made your stomach clench, and tears started to run down your face.

"Bring her. Now," he growled, his tone brokering no argument.

You walked towards the first ring of fire, to the terrified woman who was writhing in pain, her cries echoing through the trees.

The ring disappeared as you approached, and you lifted the girl into your arms. She was whimpering and shaking, the transition having begun.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, carrying her to the altar.

"Good girl," Klaus hummed, taking the wolf from your arms, and laying her on the stone.

Klaus kneeled over her, looking down at her with an evil grin, his eyes were filled with a mix of desire and madness, and he plunged his hand into her chest, ripping her heart out.

Jenna and Elena screamed, watching Klaus hold up the wolf's heart, his expression triumphant.

"I'll make it quick, I promise," Klaus said, grinning. "They will barely feel a thing,"

You looked over at Elena and Jenna, their screams piercing the air, the witches chanting growing louder.

Elijah was looking up at the night sky, watching the moon slowly make its way across, his thoughts on you. He couldn't stop thinking about your smile, and the way your eyes lit up whenever you saw him.

If tonight went smoothly, he had so many plans with you, the first was taking you to Paris, a city that was sure to dazzle you. After that he would whisk you away to Rome, where you could visit the many art museums and eat all the food you wanted.

He wanted to spoil you, shower you with everything you could ever want, and then some. It had been nearly sixty years of searching for his brother, trying to uncover the rest of his family. He felt like tonight was the first chance he had to truly mourn, then he could finally move on and spend the rest of his time with you.

He had spoken with Stefan earlier, before he left with Bonnie to go stop Klaus. He liked Stefan, he was an honorable man who respected the choices of the ones he loved, even if he didn't agree with them.

Elijah hoped he and Stefan could be friends one day, once everything settled down, he knew that would make you happy. To see peace between him and your brothers. Damon would be a more difficult task, he reminded him of Klaus, cocky and impulsive, and that was a difficult combination.

The waiting was beginning to make him antsy. He had to wait for the right moment to strike, but there were so many factors outside of his control, he didn't like the feeling. He needed to distract himself, keep his mind from wandering too far.

He thought about his siblings, of sweet Rebekah, wild Kol, and serious Finn. What would they think of him killing Klaus? He wished he could have saved them, he wanted so badly to see them again.

He let out a long sigh, steeling himself for what he had to do. Klaus was no longer his brother, he had been twisted into a monster, and he had to be put down.

It was time, he could see the moon hanging high above him, it was time to end this.

You watched Klaus squeeze the wolf's heart over the altar, the blood dripping into the fire, igniting it.

"Next, the vampire," he said, grinning.

You stood, frozen, watching him, as a wave of guilt crashed over you.

"Bring me Jenna, go on,"

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes.

"No," you said in the smallest voice.

You could hear Jenna and Elena, talking to each other, they were saying their goodbyes and it broke your heart.

Klaus turned, and walked over to you, his eyes were dark and cold, and his jaw was clenched.

"Are you offering yourself in her place then?" He growled, his hand coming up to grab your chin.

You didn't answer him, you were staring over his shoulder at Jenna and Elena.

"I'll take that as a yes,"

You let him drag you to the altar, and push you down onto the cold stone, he forced you to kneel. You didn't fight him, you had lived for many decades longer than sweet Jenna and Elena, the old should always give their lives for the young.

Klaus let out a hearty chuckle and kicked you over, his hand gripping your hair.

"I don't recall you being on the guest list," Klaus yelled, looking into the dark forest.

You heard the sound of footsteps as someone approached, it was Stefan. His expression was calm, but his eyes were furious.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Salvatore?" Klaus asked, amused.

Stefan looked at you, a concerned look on his face.

"Well, I figured you could start by letting my sister go," Stefan said, his voice firm.

"Hmm," Klaus said, looking down at you. "I don't think I will, she's quite the little spitfire, and I rather enjoy her company,"

"Let her go, I'll take her place," Stefan offered, taking a step forward.

"That's quite noble of you," Klaus said, smiling. "But, I think I'd prefer my original plan. I rather appreciate the symmetry of three women...Three goddesses sacrificed at nature's altar."

He grabbed both you and Stefan and dragged you towards the rings of fire. Throwing you both down next to Elena and Jenna.

"Quite the predicament. You know, it's funny, all this talk about preserving family, and here's Stefan, granting your wish," Klaus said to Elena, smiling.

Stefan and Elena were looking at each other, a silent conversation passing between them.

"Oh, don't look so glum," Klaus said, looking between the two. "There's actually no choice,"

Klaus took a stake and plunged it into Stefan's spine, causing him to yell in pain, unable to move.

You and Elena both screamed, you got to your feet to strike Klaus, but he grabbed you by the throat, squeezing hard.

"Let them go," Elena pleaded, tears running down her cheeks. "I understand that I have to die, but they don't,"

Klaus ignored her and looked into your eyes, his hand tightening around your neck.

"Bring Jenna to the altar, or I'll kill Stefan," he growled, his fingers digging into your skin.

You nodded, tears welling in your eyes, you couldn't lose Stefan.

"Please," you whispered, your hands clawing at his.

He let you go, then walked back to the altar.

"Bring her, now," he ordered, pointing at the ring of fire surrounding Jenna.

You stood, walking slowly over to the fire, the ring disappeared and Jenna looked up at you with tear filled eyes. She looked so afraid, so helpless.

"I'm so sorry," you said, your voice breaking, as you helped her to her feet.

You walked her over to the altar, Klaus waiting patiently.

"Jenna, I'm so sorry," you whispered, your hand brushing the hair from her face.

She was sobbing, her body shaking, and you held her close, stroking her hair.

"Please Klaus, just use me instead, she's innocent," you begged, tears running down your face.

"You Salvatore's are so predictable," Klaus sighed, rolling his eyes.

Klaus walked over, and pulled Jenna from your arms, he threw her down onto the altar. Everything seemed to blur, you could hear Elena screaming, the chants of the witch, the cracking of the fire. You saw Stefan reaching out to Elena through the flames, and then, it was quiet.

Klaus plunged a stake into her heart, Elena's wails were all you could hear. Jenna's lifeless body was lying on the altar, her face frozen in fear. You had brought her to her slaughter. You had killed her.

"Such a wonderful assistant," Klaus cooed, he grabbed your chin, his bloody fingers digging into your skin. "Be a good girl and bring me the doppelganger,"

You looked into his cold eyes, his mouth twisted into a smirk.

"Now," he growled.

You nodded, then walked over to Elena, tears were running down her cheeks, but she put on a brave face as the last ring of fire disappeared.

"Elena," you whispered, tears welling in your eyes, your whole body was shaking. "I'm so, so sorry,"

"Don't," she said, her voice shaky. "It's not your fault. It's nice to have a friend here at the end,"

She held your hand as you helped her walk over to Klaus. You looked at Stefan, he was struggling to free himself, his eyes filled with worry.

"Elena," Stefan called, his voice breaking.

"It's okay, Stefan," she said, her grip on your hand tightening. "I'm ready,"

You helped her up onto the altar, and Klaus looked down at her with hungry eyes.

"Thank you Elena," he said softly, pulling her against him and moving her hair away from her neck.

"Go to hell," she said, her voice strong.

He chuckled and sank his fangs into her neck.

Elena didn't fight, she let death take her, her grip loosening on your hand, as her last breath left her.

You were shaking, the sound of Klaus drinking from her filling the silence. You had lost two friends today, and the world was suddenly a lot emptier.

When the last bit of blood left her body, Klaus dropped her to the ground and the fire in the altar went out.

You knelt next to her, brushing her hair away from her face, then you looked back at Stefan who was writhing in pain, crying at the loss of Elena.

Klaus staggered a bit, the full moon peeking out from the trees. He groaned, and started to change, his bones cracking as he stumbled forward, his expression a mask of pure bliss.

"It's happening," he moaned, his eyes turned gold, and he was overcome with pleasure. "I can feel it,"

You couldn't stand this any long, all this pain and death. You needed it to end.

You moved down the steps towards him, grabbing a branch off a nearby tree, snapping it in half.

"Come on, sweetheart," he taunted, turning to look at you, his eyes shining. "I'm indestructible,"

"I don't care," you snarled, lunging for him. "You still feel pain,"

You charged at him, striking him across the face, your rage blinding you, making you miss his fist, as it collided with your stomach.

The blow threw you across the clearing, and you landed on your back, the air leaving your lungs, the branch now lodged in your side.

You saw Damon come running out of the woods, he first looked to Elena, then to Stefan, but when he laid eyes on you, he ran to your side.

"No, no, no, no," he said, his eyes filled with panic, he pulled the wood from your side. "You're not supposed to be here,"

You could hear the concern in his voice, and you smiled up at him, cupping his face. He helped you to your feet, your wounds healing, then he pushed you behind him.

"Damon," you said softly, trying to stop him.

"Bonnie is here, it's okay, let me handle this," he said, his tone stern.

Klaus was standing there, laughing maniacally, a mad grin on his face, then his body began to shake and he fell to the ground.

Suddenly his laughter turned to screams, as Bonnie came striding out of the trees, chanting a spell, she raised her hand, causing Klaus to scream in agony. The fire returned to the altar and spread into the trees, her magic all around them as she channeled every ounce of power she possessed, bringing the hybrid to his knees.

Then she choked on her words, gasping for air, looking around for the source.

"Get the witch!" Stefan yelled, pointing to Klaus' witch, still standing at the altar, her hand outstretched.

Bonnie raised her hands, trying to focus her power, but she was struggling, and you could see the strain on her face.

The witch threw Bonnie into the air, knocking her out, her body hitting the ground.

Damon ran for the witch, and tackled her, his teeth sinking into her neck. He killed her instantly, her body going limp in his arms.

The fire disappeared, the flames extinguishing, the magic disappearing. A deadly quiet settling over everything.

Suddenly, you felt a hand in your hair, dragging you backwards, the pain making you scream.

"Elijah!" Klaus roared into the woods, "I know you are out there, show yourself!"

You saw Elijah walk out of the trees, and into the clearing, his expression unreadable, but his eyes were locked on yours.

Klaus's fingers dug into your scalp, and he pulled harder, forcing you to your knees between them.

"What a sight," Klaus mocked, grinning at Elijah.

"Hello, brother," Elijah said, his eyes still locked on yours.

"You've come to kill me?" Klaus said, chuckling. "How is that working out for you?"

He pulled you back to your feet, your whole body trembling.

"Actually, I've come to make you an offer," Elijah said, taking a step closer, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Oh," Klaus said, amused. "An offer, I wonder what that might be,"

"Spare them, and I will pledge my loyalty to you," Elijah said, his voice soft, his eyes never leaving yours.

"You're lying," Klaus growled, his hand wrapping around your throat, his fangs grazing your skin. "You're only offering yourself, so I won't kill her. That's not true loyalty,"

You saw Damon lift Elena's body into his arms, carrying her to Stefan. Then he pulled the stake out of Stefan's back, allowing him to move again.

"Elijah," Stefan called, his voice shaky. "You need to finish this,"

"I can't," he said, shaking his head. "Klaus will kill her,"

Damon rushed to Bonnie's side, trying to wake her up, and Klaus laughed, his lips pressed against your ear.

"Run to your love, if you make it I'll let you live," he whispered, shoving you forward.

You stumbled, your legs barely able to support you, then you started running towards Elijah, tears streaming down your face.

You made it to him, and his arms wrapped around you, holding you tight, he was murmuring soft words into your ear, his breath tickling your skin. And you finally felt safe again.

"Are you okay?" He asked, pulling away to look at you, his fingers brushing the hair from your face.

"Yes," you said softly, your hand gripping his jacket.

You were staring up at him, his brown eyes were warm and full of worry, and you had forgotten how much you missed him.

"Good," he murmured, pressing his forehead against yours.

Your lips met his at the same time you felt something strange in your back. An odd pressure that made you gasp into his mouth.

You pulled away from Elijah, there was a strange look on his face, his mouth falling open, and he looked down at you, a look of pure terror in his eyes.

For the first time in centuries, you felt cold, the world was spinning around you. You knew what was happening,

Your hand pressed against his chest, you could feel his heart beating against your palm. You looked up into his brown eyes one last time.

"Rule three, my love," you whispered, before your life faded away, and your body fell against him.

Elijah looked down at you, your skin rapidly turning gray, your eyes vacant. Then he looked up at Klaus, who held your heart in his hands.

"This is for betraying me," Klaus said, dropping the organ at his feet, the blood running down the stone steps.

Elijah stood there, his arms wrapped around your lifeless body, his whole world was crumbling.

He could hear Stefan and Damon screaming, but it sounded far away, the own beating of his heart drowning out the rest.

Klaus grabbed Elijah by the neck, forcing him to drop your body, and shoved him to the ground.

"Look at her, the way she's staring up at the stars, it's quite beautiful, isn't it?" Klaus mocked, as Elijah watched you, lifeless on the cold stone. "And it's all because of you,"

Elijah looked away, a tear falling down his cheek, his brother's words cutting into him.

"You're pathetic," Klaus hissed, his hands gripping Elijah's jacket, your blood staining the fabric. "To think you could beat me,"

Elijah closed his eyes, trying to block out his brother's words, but it was no use, his mind was replaying every moment with you. Knowing he would never taste your lips again, or hear your laugh. You would never fall asleep in his arms.

He looked over at Damon, who had rushed to your body. He was holding you, rocking you back and forth in his arms, with Stefan by his side, his face stained with tears, a look of anguish on his face.

Elijah's world was fading away, as he was overcome with rage and anguish, a darkness consuming him, and Klaus just kept talking, his voice becoming more and more distant.

Then something within him snapped, a creature that was lurking underneath his skin came bursting through, a monster taking the place of the gentleman.

He turned his attention back to his brother, and Klaus froze, the fear clear in his eyes.

Damon watched as Elijah pushed Klaus backwards, causing him to fly across the clearing, skidding along the dirt, landing a few feet away.

Elijah walked in a slow, deliberate pace towards Klaus , his expression devoid of any emotion.

"You're right, Klaus," Elijah said, a cold smile spreading across his face. "We are not the same,"

Klaus tried to stand, but Elijah shoved him back down, he grabbed Klaus leg and twisted it until it snapped. Klaus howled in agony, and Elijah smiled, twisting the other leg, and his brother's screams were echoing through the night.

"You want to be a beast?" Elijah growled, pulling Klaus into the air by his neck, his hands wrapped around his throat. "Let me help you,"

Damon felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and Bonnie was standing there, her eyes full of sorrow.

"Damon," she whispered, tears running down her face.

"Go, help Elijah," he said, his voice hollow. "I'll stay here with her,"

Bonnie nodded, she stood up, her body trembling. Stefan jumped to his feet to help her stay upright, and she began to chant once more.

The altar burst into flames for a third time, illuminating Klaus and Elijah in a ring of fire as they struggled against each other.

"What is this?" Klaus yelled, pushing Elijah away, trying to fight the pain. "What have you done?"

"Something that should have been done centuries ago," Elijah growled, rushing towards his brother, knocking him down, pinning him to the dirt, his hand raised.

"In the name of our family, Niklaus...," Elijah said, plunging his hand into his brother's chest, curing his fingers around Klaus's heart. "In the name of her..."

"I didn't bury them at sea!" Klaus yelled, his hand trying to pry Elijah's away. "They are safe, I swear,"

Elijah looked at him, a flicker of hope in his eyes.

"I can take you to them," Klaus pleaded, his hands gripping Elijah's wrist. “Their bodies are safe. If you kill me, you'll never find them,”

"Elijah, don't listen to him," Stefan yelled, walking towards them.

"Brother, please," Klaus begged. "She wouldn't want this, please,"

Your beautiful face flashed through Elijah's mind, and he looked back at Damon, who was kneeling there, tears in his eyes, clutching your body.

"You're wrong, Klaus," Elijah growled, his hand squeezing the organ in his grip. "She would want this,"

Then he tore Klaus's heart from his chest, and watched the life fade from his brother's eyes.

Klaus's body dropped to the ground, his heart still beating in Elijah's hand, and the flames died down, leaving the clearing in silence.

Bonnie walked up to him, looking down at the flames.

"Good," She said, her voice hoarse.

Elijah looked back at Stefan and Damon, they were kneeling next to your body, Stefan's hand caressing your cheek.

Elijah rushed over to you, looking down at your peaceful face, you almost looked like you were sleeping.

Elijah brushed the hair from your face, his hands were shaking. He couldn't understand how something so beautiful could be snuffed out so easily.

"Don't touch her," Damon said, pulling you away from Elijah.

"You did this," Damon snapped, glaring at Elijah. "It's your fault she's dead,"

Elijah nodded and stepped away, Damon was right, it was his fault.

"Damon," Stefan said, reaching for his brother.

"No, he has to answer for this," Damon said, getting to his feet, your body in his arms.

"It's over Damon," Bonnie said softly, looking up at him. "It's over,"

Damon looked down at you, and tears started to stream down his cheeks. He was shaking, and Stefan reached for him, the two of them clinging to each other, your body between them.

"I think it's best you leave," Bonnie said, her eyes filled with sadness. "Please, go,"

Elijah nodded, his heart breaking as he looked down at your lifeless form, knowing this was his fault.

"Where will you go?" Stefan asked, as he wiped his eyes.

"I need to find my siblings," he said softly, looking away from the sight. "With Klaus dead, everyone he compelled will be free, I'll follow the clues they left behind,"

He looked back at you, and his heart shattered.

"Will you be okay?" Stefan asked, his hand on Elijah's shoulder.

"One day," he replied, turning to look at him, a small smile on his face.

"Thank you," Stefan said softly.

Elijah gave them a small nod, then disappeared into the trees, heading far away from Mystic Falls. His heart forever bound to yours.

~Epilogue

Time changes all things, this was something Damon had the basics of understanding, but nothing could prepare him for how it would affect him when he became human again.

He was an old man, something he never expected to experience, and yet there he was.

"Are you ready?" Elena asked, her hand on his arm.

"Always," he answered, his voice weak, but his smile was genuine.

She leaned in and kissed his cheek, her eyes still as bright and beautiful as the day he met her.

The walk to the Salvatore family crypt was slow, and the pain in his joints was unbearable. He hated getting old.

They entered the stone building, and Damon let go of Elena's arm, making his way over to your stone. He placed his hand on it, the smoothness soothing his calloused hand.

"Hi sis," he said, smiling down at the stone. "It's been a while, i've been so busy,"

He took a seat in the chair next to your grave, he had brought it decades ago. He was a man who liked his comfort, and he spent hours talking to you, catching you up on everything that had happened since the last time he was there.

"I have grandkids now! Can you believe it? They are the cutest, I even named a boy after you, well, the closest we could come, but, yeah," he said, a wide grin on his face.

Damon looked over at Elena, who was laying flowers at Stefan's grave. She was the only one left, and he was so grateful for her.

"I miss you and Stefan so much," Damon said softly. "But it won't be long now until I see you again,"

There was an awkward cough and Damon looked up to see a delivery boy standing in the doorway, looking uncomfortable.

"I have a delivery for Miss Y/n Salvatore," he said, walking up to him, a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"She's not exactly up for company," Damon said with a chuckle, gesturing to your stone.

"I know, this actually isn't my first time doing this," he said, a smile spreading across his face. "Actually, the guy who use to deliver along this route said that he's been delivering here once a week for his entire fourty year career,"

Damon stood up slowly, his bones protesting the movement. He held his hand out and the boy handed him the flowers.

"Thanks, kid," Damon said, sitting back down, there was a note tucked in with the flowers.

The boy gave him a little wave before disappearing.

Elena came to sit next to him, her hand on his knee, she gave him a sad smile. "What does it say?"

Damon pulled out his glasses, and read it out loud, a tear rolling down his cheek.

For a thousand years, I had never known love, until you, and for a thousand more, I will wait for you.

-Elijah

Rule one: When we are together, it will just be us, no one will know.

Rule two: No talk of business or family, don't get personal.

Rule three: When it's over, it's over.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three} {Part Four}

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡~LOVE YOU GUYS

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kaijutegu · 5 months ago

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I don't post much in vulture culture/oddities tags anymore, but I still buy the occasional reptile specimen for my teaching collection, and that means I subscribe to a few peoples' newsletters. And today The Bone Room goes on my do not buy list:

Anybody who supports Elizabeth Weiss isn't anybody I'm giving my money, time, or attention to.

In case you haven't heard of her, Elizabeth Weiss is an incredibly unethical biological anthropologist who thinks NAGPRA was a mistake and constantly whines about how she is being asked to respect Native American remains. She's a disgrace to the field and simply does not have a sense of professional ethics. Human remains are not props, and NAGPRA does not mean that bioanth research cannot be conducted. You can do science and respect the humans whose lives you study, and if you can't figure that out, then frankly you aren't clever enough to be in the field. It's not the 1900s any more.

#NAGPRA #vulture culture #natural history

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wing-ed-thing · 3 months ago

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Foul Creature (Tobirama x Reader) Chapter XI

Synopsis: The territory between the Uchiha and the Senju dwindles by the day. And in an era where social lines have been blurred, and new clan heads have been chosen, you're stuck between a scorned lover and a man who relentlessly pursues your hand in marriage. You don't have much time before you're forced to confront the sins of your past.

Word Count: 9.6k

Tags/Warnings: Warning for dark themes ahead. Fem!Uchiha!Reader. Please consult AO3 for more specific warnings.

Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)

Notes: A one month turnaround for me and this series is becoming unheard of. Probably due to the lengths of these chapters. Why do they keep growing???

Hashirama enjoyed lingering in a lovely garden, and political figures, no matter the rank, tended to flock around Hashirama. So, to accommodate Hashirama’s tendency to idle in nature and the massive posse of political figures that vied for his attention, a sizable courtyard area was built near the Senju dwellings.

When Tobirama tore through the garden and stormed inside, he appeared troubled, much more so than usual. While he usually tried to ignore Hashirama’s bids for laughs and attention, the speed and force with which he stormed through the courtyard raised Hashirama’s brow.

Tobirama was granted a brief reprieve. However, his brother's delayed presence was strictly attributed to the many political figures Hashirama had to gently dismiss before he could follow Tobirama inside.

Tobirama was already hunched over a desk, penning away at some lengthy document with his forehead in his palm. While the desk was cluttered, the mass of papers and stationery items were allotted into neat, well-maintained piles for their size. Hashirama frowned in the doorway, allowing his brow to twitch a minuscule amount before he quietly shut the door. His head dropped before it rolled back.

“What happened?” he asked.

Tobirama didn’t answer. His back flexed with more tension than needed for the simple task of writing. Hashirama let out a deep sigh.

”I did tell you that it would not end well, now did I not?”

“I was the swiftest messenger,” Tobirama snapped, slamming his quill on the table. The sound reverberated across the near-empty room. He sat straight, facing forward as he took a steady breath in. But the moment he took to calm himself did nothing for the volume of his voice. “What do I have to shrink away from regarding the Uchiha? We had all killed our fair share on the battlefield. Facing a fellow warrior with a grudge is no matter to me!”

Hashirama flinched neither at his brother’s volume nor the physicality of his outburst. His face slowly melted from its usual brightness to a concerned neutrality.

“Well, this tells me that you did not engage with a fellow warrior.” Hashirama’s gaze narrowed. He hardly let a beat pass. “What did you do, brother?”

The room fell silent. Tobirama should have known that his brother was far too clever to let him ignore what happened at the Uchiha compound. He didn’t expect that in any reality. The moment his hands found your skin, Tobirama knew there was no coming back. It would have to come out eventually, given that this was surely the end of the Uchiha-Senju compromise for which Hashirama had worked so hard.

And for what he had told you about slapping the scroll out of his hand, the incredulousness he committed was far more severe and far more reckless.

Tobirama turned, his face nothing less than severe and neutral as he approached Hashirama to kneel and bow deeply at his feet. His head hardly touched the wood flooring below for Hashirama to be filled with dread.

“I have committed a great error, for I have laid hands on a member of the Uchiha council!” Tobirama proclaimed, his forehead digging into the floor.

Hashirama took a moment of pause above him.

“And this was in self-defense?”

Another moment of pause came. Tobirama didn’t let it last for long and spoke what he knew was the truth, “No,” he said.

Tension grew in the stale air.

“For the sake of clarity,” Hashirama started. Tobirama’s heart had already begun to palpate in anticipation of the words he knew would come next. Hashirama’s voice had hardly wavered, but Tobirama knew his brother well enough to know that Hashirama was barely restraining rage. “You had laid hands on Madara’s companion.”

Your name followed, spoken in the same way one would name a jutsu. The mere word stilled the atmosphere in such a way that Hashirama didn’t need explicit confirmation.

Tobirama breathed in.

“Yes.”

Hashirama hummed, deep in thought behind his neutral eyes and deepening frown. Yes, his mind was working quickly, perhaps almost as swiftly as the rising heat of rage in his chest. Hashirama hardly wore his expressions on his face when it came to grave matters, a stark contrast to his usual jovial demeanor.

“Pick yourself up, brother.”

Tobirama obeyed, and just when he got to his feet, Hashirama’s fist flew mercilessly across Tobirama’s face. It was a strike thrown without frills, just hard knuckle against skin at a velocity unseen. The sound snapped through the room, as red stained Tobirama’s starkly pale skin. He recoiled, having been forced down to one knee from the sheer power of such a simple strike. Hashirama hardly had anything to add, watching as his brother maneuvered his own jaw, popping it back into place. Tobirama’s hand came away with a streak of blood from his ruptured nostril.

“I cannot say that was not deserved—”

”You best have a great explanation.” Hashirama fidgeted, moving to turn but jerking back toward Tobirama. Hashirama held a hand to his own face, squeezing and massaging the skin of his cheeks as he heavily pondered. He stared off into a corner of the room. “Madara loved Izuna more than anyone else, and I had just barely managed to persuade him into these negotiations—”

—“I know this, brother, the deepest apologies could never—”

“Tobirama, you do understand that you have attacked a civilian?” Hashirama asserted. Another great pause filled the space between them. There was too much to say and little time for it. “You have laid hands on a civilian much smaller than yourself, a diplomatic ally, and the very person that has the most sway over Madara and, by extension, the Uchiha as a whole.”

Even now, Hashirama's voice held great patience but left little room for escape. He spoke to understand, even as the fate of a unified Land of Fire looked as if it would crash down around him.

“I need an explanation,” Hashirama said. “If I am to face Madara— for there is no doubt that Madara has already heard word— I require your reasoning.”

He looked Tobirama in the eye, concern and complexity swimming around his dark irises. Tobirama had since picked himself off the floor.

“I am sorry…” Tobirama’s head bowed. “I cannot offer you an explanation that Madara would accept. I am certain that the truth would only make him more furious than he already is.”

“You have bigger issues than Madara if you refuse to speak,” Hashirama said with an acute frown. “Without information from you, I can only assume the worst.”

Tobirama ran a hand through his hair. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, especially out loud. But in the face of his brother, with such important things in the balance, Tobirama couldn’t hesitate.

“We were involved long ago when we were but children… Perhaps for a series of weeks… Perhaps less,” Tobirama admitted, and to his slight surprise, Hashirama wasn’t fazed. Why would he be when he had also snuck off to see an Uchiha in his youth as well? Tobirama expected no less. He squared his shoulders, clasping his hands together as if delivering a report. “Seeing her after so long… She had brought up things that had happened, and I lost my temper.” His slender eyebrows wrinkled his forehead. He gave a nod of acknowledgment. “I spoke in a foul manner. She, rightfully, retaliated… and I did the same tenfold.”

Tobirama nodded, thinking as to whether he had left anything significant out of his brief summary. Shame coated him like a blanket. It all sounded so trivial when put in such a way.

Hashirama placed his hands on his hips, casting his gaze toward the ceiling. He breathed in deeply, then out.

“Of all the women…” Hashirama sighed, letting his eyes close. “She did not sustain lasting damage, did she?”

“Of course not,” Tobirama defended, sounding almost insulted. “You think I would brutalize a council member unprovoked in the middle of the woods?” He shook his head, his fingers momentarily finding the hair just above his forehead. He raked the strands back like a comb. Tobirama’s eyes also fell shut. He took another breath in as if preparing himself for his next confession. “I pinned her by the neck.”

“By gods, Tobirama!”

“My aim was not to kill or injure.”

“I am sure she was petrified all the same! And you know as well as I that Madara would not see it that way,” Hashirama asserted. “All he will be able to think is that you attacked his companion when he was away—”

—“Please stop referring to her as this.”—

“You could have faintly touched the shoulder of her robes, and that would have been far too much aggression shown toward an Uchiha woman.” Hashirama shook his head.

Tobirama rolled his eyes.

“My regretful actions aside, I do not understand why it should matter whether she is a woman or not.”

“Because the Uchiha are of a different culture, brother. Only a handful of female Uchiha warriors have existed in their history, that being only so many you could have come across, and yet you had to choose Madara’s closest companion to pick a fight with!” He shook his head, letting it fall back into his hand again. “I must go tend to this. We can only hope that Madara remains in a headspace from which he can be talked down.”

Hashirama grabbed his haori, pulling it over his shoulders as he primed himself toward the door. Tobirama didn’t budge. He knew that the mess he made had to be mended by Hashirama. No one else could pull off such a feat.

“I am prepared to take full responsibility,” he said with certainty.

“Madara will certainly demand your head,” Hashirama countered gravely. “We can only hope that creativity finds me on my journey there.”

***

“Where have you been?” you snapped. Madara had barely made it to the compound before you were upon him. “You have been gone for hours!”

You barged out from the Uchiha compound, marching across the dirt clearing to Madara, who stood still. A massive beast was slung across his shoulder, its head handing over his back.

He scowled. You spoke to him with quite the tongue on you for as long as he could remember. He hadn’t been particularly fond of it then, and ever since he had been chosen as the head of the Uchiha, his tolerance for your attitude had dwindled immensely. Madara checked you far more often, unashamed of using his title to silence you. Still, your familiarity with each other was enough to overpower formalities more often than he would have liked.

“Hunting,” he deadpanned. He spared a momentary glance at the beast draped over his armor.

You looked at it incredulously.

“Is that a deer?” The rest of the council, who were used to your spats with Madara, completely passed the two of you by. They carried their gear, chatting amongst themselves and paying little mind to what you were on about. “You know better than to hunt deer in Nara territory!”

You placed your fists on your hips, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest after being pent up all afternoon. Of all the times for the Uchiha men to get restless, it had to have been the time you needed them most.

“Well, I will inform you now that while you and the rest of my kinsmen have disappeared for half a day, Tobirama Senju came to this place in search of you!” You huffed, too wrapped up in yourself to notice Madara’s darkened demeanor. You opened your mouth wide to continue, ready to spit venom and fire alike. “I do not even know where to start when it comes to the absolute nerve—”

“I am able to believe such things,” Madara interrupted, his intonation a tick lower than usual. The volume surprised you. He looked at you straight on with a severe air about him. “What did he want? It better have been a very important message to compensate for his coming to this place. Tobirama should know better than to show his face here.”

You sputtered, thrown off by not being able to finish your earlier thought. But with Madara’s words, you were suddenly too caught up in what he said to remember the entire rant you wanted to unleash. You blinked a few times. You had a whole tirade ready that you had carefully been scripting in your head since you dragged yourself back to the compound to await Madara’s return. Now, as things weren’t happening the way they had in your head, you found yourself thrown off.

“Only to deliver a scroll,” you stammered, trying to pick a direction. Your personal issues aside, was there a reason that Tobirama should have been hesitant to show himself at the Uchiha compound? “Did… something happen between you and Hashirama? Because Tobirama came to this place absolutely—”

“A scroll? Bah!” Madara shook his head, waving a hand. He began to march off to follow the rest of his men. “If you are asking just me, I would believe that Hashirama and I are on favorable terms,” he announced into the evening atmosphere. Madara spared a brief, singular glance back at you. “Unless Tobirama suggested otherwise… Even so, a discussion with Hashirama would be paramount before I believe a word that man speaks!”

Even for his noises of annoyance, Madara appeared almost unconcerned. And while you could see the visible tension in his form on his dismayed expression, Madara continued on.

You followed behind him. You had never been able to keep up with Madara’s long and fast strides. You were convinced he walked like that on purpose.

“Madara! Will you just let me speak?”

“You have been allowed to speak for the duration of this. Out with whatever is negging you so.”

The head of the beast he carried laid limply over his shoulder, or perhaps the better term would have been heads. It was some sort of two-headed deer with great antlers, a good portion of which dug into the back of Madara’s armor. It couldn’t have been comfortable to carry.

You breathed in with certainty.

“While you were away, Tobirama had come to this place and raised a hand to me—”

“Madara! My friend! Talking about me, are you?” Hashirama’s voice drowned you out completely.

You turned in shock as Hashirama made his way up the hill, trudging through the dirt path with a great smile and wave of his hand. From the little time you had been acquainted with him, he had always been rather loud when he grew excited. Even during negotiations, the sheer volume of his voice was enough to hear from several rooms over.

Madara turned as well with a sigh. He readjusted the deer on his shoulder.

“Will no one let me place this thing down?” He lamented to no one in particular. His voice rose when he called across the clearing. “What do you want, Hashirama?”

”No need to be so hostile, Madara!” Hashirama laughed, making short work of the distance between you. “Do I need a reason to visit?”

It was in one moment that you made eye contact. Hashirama’s gaze met yours, and in that connection, his eyes flickered from wide and jovial to wary. The upturned corner of his lip faltered, and it all happened in an undetectable fraction of a second.

He knew.

There was noise all around you. Madara continued to speak, sighing and complaining as the noises of nocturnal bugs seemed to grow to an unbearable volume. Even the gentle evening breeze seemed to hit your ears in just the right way as to be almost deafening.

Despite how authentic it might have been, you knew that Hashirama’s upbeat and charismatic demeanor was a calculated tool. For as energetic as he was, there was always a certain volume that masked the way in which Hashirama played his cards close to his chest.

And yet, for all the noise, it only took one look at Hashirama—one pointed gaze that pierced through his carefully crafted diplomatic demeanor—to understand your mutual situation instantly.

He had come to begin damage control, and you had yet to tell Madara what Tobirama had done. As long as Hashirama wasn’t here to pick a fight, the discussions were still on the table, contrary to Tobirama’s earlier threat.

— “Hashirama?”

Madara’s voice cut through your mental stare. Hashirama’s shock was visible but melted quickly into an endearingly sheepish expression.

”My apologies, my friend, you must speak up!” he laughed. Madara groaned with a roll of his eyes, once again readjusting the deer on his shoulder.

“I hardly have the time for these things!” He frowned. “What are you doing here, Hashirama? If you do not answer, we can settle your matter during daylight hours.”

“The sun still prevails!” Hashirama gestured loosely toward the setting sun, and in the golden light, you stole another pointed gaze toward each other. “But truly, I wanted to apologize for my brother.”

Madara glanced in your direction.

“Go inside.”

“You speak as if I have not participated in every diplomacy session for the last two sunsets,” you countered.

Madara hardly had the time to eye you warily. And after a long hunt, Madara had too little patience for beating around the bush. He had truthfully wanted to be rid of you and Hashirama. But as he glanced between the two of you, he knew that trying to avoid one would pick a battle with the other. Reluctantly, Madara’s eyes settled on Hashirama.

“Tobirama should have been relieved that myself and the rest of the council were not here to humor his lapse in judgment,” Madara reluctantly gruffed with a deep scowl. “We may be engaging in peace negotiations, but bear in mind that the passing of my own brother was not all that long ago.”

His words struck you, the weight of them looming overhead as your mind had yet to piece things together.

“We may be on friendly terms with the Senju as a whole, but a killer entering our estate is pushing the limits on our… courtesy. Especially with a lady present with no guardian by her side.”

Madara didn’t talk much about Izuna or the nature of his death. Aside from the night Madara begged you to accompany him to the village negotiations, Izuna’s name hadn’t come up since, no matter how much you pushed.

You had wanted to talk about him so as not to let his memory fade, but Madara had refused to speak about the matter. You dropped it, a part of you trying to be understanding while the other was far too wrapped up in the fact that the ceasefire had turned your world upside down.

“Most certainly; we are in complete agreement.” Hashirama nodded profusely. “I will ensure that he will not play courier in the future.”

And yet, when Madara spoke of Izuna’s death to Hashirama on a random summer night in the clearing just outside the Uchiha dwellings, you knew the truth. You just didn’t quite believe it. It hadn’t hit you yet.

“That would be agreeable,” Madara agreed. A beat passed. Hashirama made no motion to leave or speak. “Anything else you wish to discuss?”

Hashirama stole another glance at you.

“Yes, in fact, this is not all I wanted to speak about—”

“I was not aware that Tobirama had been the one to kill Izuna,” you said, your voice projected by pure shock. But the volume aside, the words were enough to slice through the clearing and still the powerful men that stood before you.

The entire sentence had been flat, devoid of shock, hurt, or anger. It was a statement in every sense of the word that nearly forced the air in the clearing to a thick, atmospheric standstill.

It felt odd to say out loud like none of the words you spoke were words at all. You could feel the reality of it all floating around you, like tiny particles of truth hovering over your shoulders, ready to fill your chest like crashing waves. And yet, no sensation came.

It was an objective truth devoid of sharpness, unable to penetrate the core of your soul. Reality felt numb, the shapes of things in your vision sharpening significantly as the most minute textures and details became glaring.

You thought it would have felt as if the world was crashing down… and yet all you could feel was the warmth of the little embers that had been sparked in your chest.

Hashirama’s tongue recoiled as Madara turned toward you with regretful concern.

“Is this true?” you asked.

All Madara could do was look at you before deflating his chest with a deep sigh. He didn’t answer. Hashirama stood by. It didn’t take an emotional genius to recognize that now was hardly the time to have the conversation he had come all this way to have. And yet, the repercussions of leaving you and Madara to hash out the details surrounding his beloved brother’s death were even more daunting.

“Hashirama—” It was another instance of Hashirama not being where his feet were. He blinked a few times, the motion of his surprise subtle as you and Madara stood closely before him. “Unless your matter is urgent, I must ask you to save this discussion for another date.”

Hashirama took a steady breath in, taking the nanosecond that he had to consider the facts in front of him. He saw Madara fatigued and moderately high-strung. And perhaps he could have worked with that if it wasn’t for the outlier: you.

You stood by Madara’s side, having overstayed your welcome in the conversation long enough to have swerved the topic so off-topic that it would be impossible for Hashirama to even consider bringing up the indiscretion that Tobirama had committed against you. His brother had wronged both you and Madara. Hashirama knew he either had to nip it in the bud and risk making matters worse or leave the two of you alone. In doing so, he would be trusting that, for whatever reason, you would continue to hold your tongue about your interaction with Tobirama.

“Bah, woman, is it your intention to make things difficult? My shoulder has been bearing the weight of your dinner; I will have you know!”

“It is hardly the fault of my own!... Hunting in Nara territory… What were you thinking? You knew better than this!”

Madara scoffed.

“Better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Were not these the thoughts that clouded your brain when you held such crucial information away from me, Madara?”

Right. Right.

Hashirama bobbed his head a few times and held one hand up to bid the two of you goodbye. Neither of you noticed.

***

It always started with something like this: something that didn’t bother you until you and Madara bickered more and more. And suddenly, the jabs made half lightly turned into actual problems. Or perhaps they were problems when you initially picked a fight with him, masked by pettiness until you hardly had the restraint to hold your punches.

With Hashirama long forgotten, you bickered all over the Uchiha compound. Hell, you had exchanged words over Madara breaking down the deer he brought back. The antlers— you had decided over verbal blows— would be returned to the Nara to use in their medicine as a gesture of goodwill. Any additional meat that wasn’t roasted over the fire that the other Uchiha had been tending to outside would be salted and brought to the Nara aunties to be incorporated into the next day’s lunch.

This all, of course, meant nothing to you in the face of the revelation you had uncovered during Madara’s and Hashirama’s conversation.

“I had known that this would be the outcome,” Madara had sighed following a bombardment of questions. “I bring it upon myself at this point.”

It wasn’t until Madara was finished with all of his tasks and appeared to be looking for anything else to do that you finally cornered him on the engawa.

“Why?” You had called into the night.

You gazed at the back of Madara’s large form. Lanterns burned around you, casting a gentle, warm glow onto the wood at your feet. Fireflies and other creatures of the night hovered somewhere in the darkness, the blackness of the night making your wooden engawa feel like the only place in the world. And perhaps at that moment, the Uchiha dwellings were all that existed to you.

“Was it a surrender?” you asked. You would nearly say you cried it, but no tears welled in your eyes. Your face scrunched, puzzled, as you tried to assemble the pieces. “Has this all been a convoluted way of us begging for our lives?”

Madara stood still, just like the world around you. You were sure he had something heated on his tongue, something along the lines of these things not affecting you. But it did affect you.

Helplessness was not foreign to you, and yet, for everything that happened up until now, you have never felt as utterly helpless in your life.

You kept pushing and pushing him, knowing he would explode soon enough. But perhaps that was the point; you wanted him to explode. You wanted something, any sort of information that might make you feel less helpless than you felt.

But for Madara’s infamous temper, he was resigned.

“I suppose it was a surrender in a sense,” he admitted. “For Hashirama defeated me in battle.”

He kept talking, but you expected more. You expected to be told your place and to keep your nose out of things that weren’t your concern.

It all made little sense to you. There was little logic to you in the first place. You were a simple apothecary— who shouldn’t have even had that position— becoming the most important Uchiha woman practically overnight. You shouldn’t have known a single detail. You shouldn’t have exchanged words with the Uchiha council, let alone national dignitaries.

Madara was clan head.

Madara should have been strong enough for the Uchiha.

He was smarter than this. He was more driven than this, yet the Uchiha floundered on a field that wasn’t battle. Madara should have taken care of it all just as he promised! Madara shouldn’t have put any of it on your shoulders in asking you to be with him, especially if he knew he was out of his league.

You wanted a fight.

You stared at the back of Madara’s head, watching as he began to retreat.

You took a deep breath in before you called, “And so you betray the last words of your brother?”

“Woman!” Madara roared for the first time that evening. He whipped around, the sheer tick in volume making you flinch. But even so, you faced him without fear, the ember in your chest flaring to life to form a great flame. You didn’t move from where you stood, even as Madara stepped forward. Your eyes widened in anticipation.

You were picking a lot of fights as of late.

He had a feral look in his eye that only intensified with the glow of his sharingan. The very sight of his red irises made you feel small, shrinking as you lowered your head, trying to hide your excited glee. You gritted your teeth, ready to engage in the verbal fisticuffs you graciously requested.

But to your disappointment, Madara almost seemed to deflate. His eyes closed as tension built up in his forehead. He ran a hand across his face with a deep sigh.

The nocturnal creatures of the forest continued to chirp around you. They were the only things keeping you anchored to the reality below your feet.

“You want a story, do you?” Madara muttered in a soft tone that didn’t suit him. “You want me to tell you about my duel with Hashirama?”

His finger gently found the bottom of your chin. Madara tilted your head up before his arms coiled over his chest. It was another action that didn’t suit him, yet the night continued to surround you, enveloping you in a muted blanket of protection from the outside world.

It felt like the summers of your youth. Festivities and special events happened during the day, leaving reprieve and anticipation to the night. The air in the Land of Fire was prone to mugginess to the point where it was almost stifling without the cool air that sailed through the trees. But even so, it smelled the same as it did back then. Your skin felt a bit sticky, but not to an overly uncomfortable extent. You were just warm, almost warm enough to sleep.

“I had left our home in anger— in grief. I was fully intent on Hashirama and I killing each other the moment I tracked him down. And, as honorable as he is, Hashirama allowed the duel I sought. I suppose I should have known it would only result in a loss,” Madara narrated. Another victory for Hashirama was undoubtedly a blow to his ego, but Madara told the tale levelly. The tone in and of itself carried a great respect.

“And he had simply spared you,” you assumed.

“Nay,” Madara answered. “Hashirama had all the opportunity to finish me then and there. I had practically asked him to honor me with a warrior's death, for then perhaps I could have been reunited with Izuna… but instead, he presented me with a proposal.” Madara made a vague gesture. “This. These negotiations with the hope that we might stop fighting.”

You breathed. The lanterns flickered in the dark, only providing enough light to barely illuminate Madara’s somber face.

“And you believed him,” you finally spoke. “Why?”

Something flashed across Madara’s dark irises, a certain softness to pair with his regretful resignation.

“I would not expect you to understand,” he said. The corners of his lips dipped into a slight frown.

You let him simmer, once again unsatisfied. And truly, there was nothing else to do but probe, not when the Uchiha compound was the only thing comprising your world. Or perhaps it wasn’t the compound as much as it was the engawa upon which you and Madara stood.

“Do you consider that Hashirama believes in us as strongly as you believe in him?” you asked.

Another moment passed.

“Yes.”

“And what do you think of this in the context of all of this? Do you think Hashirama would be in favor of our equality in the village?”

“I believe that Hashirama holds pure intentions.”

Hashirama, not the Senju. And certainly not the rest of the clans gathered.

Your eyes narrowed.

“And you think that will make a difference?”

The embers in the lanterns suddenly flared, glowing only slightly bigger. The glow that cast across Madara’s face brightened for only a moment, making the shadows that enveloped his right side seem darker. His black hair held a golden sheen to it.

“That is yet to be foreseen.”

***

Madara retired early that night. He decided he didn’t want to talk any further, rejecting all speak about Hashirama and Tobirama. Like before Hashirama’s visit, any further mention of Izuna was once again forbidden. But despite one thing in its singularity returning to normal, Madara, ever physical, arrogant, and stubborn, appeared far more pensive as of late.

He was quiet. It was odd seeing him so quiet. It felt wrong seeing a fighter such as Madara so limp. Despite what your teenage self would have protested, you almost missed Madara’s pompous confidence and self-righteousness. As tiring as he was, his attitude always gave him a spark: a fire that had been missing ever since his defeat at the hands of Hashirama.

You wanted to ask him, “Where is your fire?”

Perhaps it was because the context of bloodshed was the only place he knew how to fight in the first place. He might have known no other way. And yet, it was odd— painful even— to see Madara out of his element.

He seemed lost, pushing toward a goal he did not even know how to achieve. His seemingly blind loyalty to Hashirama was another mystery. While Hashirama was undoubtedly a great man, you could hardly say you knew much about him. You undoubtedly didn’t know enough to wrap your head around Madara’s unyielding trust in the man whose throat he’d held a kunai to for a lifetime. Perhaps he was right when he said you wouldn’t understand.

Perhaps none of it was Hashirama at all. A greater part of you knew that it wasn’t the defeat that plagued Madara’s mind, and that idea holed itself somewhere in the back of your thoughts.

You couldn’t sleep.

The memory of Izuna haunted you, something you thought you shoved into a neat lockbox the night Madara came to the apothecary. You hardly remembered him for his last, bitter interaction with you following the Uchiha council’s meeting, but rather the night following the failed raid on the Uchiha settlement. You remembered how he stood in your apothecary, surrounded by candlelight, marred by blood and gore despite his clean hands.

“Why is it always about what Madara wants?” you had asked him, banking on Izuna picking up the subtext you were too afraid to say out loud.

There was a brief moment, a second of thought, where you wondered if saying the quiet part out loud would have made a difference. Instead, he haunted you: a spirit of a dear childhood friend, a brother in all aspects but blood, and a potential of something and nothing that faded with the strike of Tobirama Senju’s sword.

Tobirama Senju: another man you wanted to forget. You refused to think of him at all. The mere thought of him made you cringe, yet the rage he had spurred on brought you here.

It was the one place where you thought you could feel a semblance of control over your present. You could sit in the council chambers and imagine what it would look like to have a novel idea. But now, you found yourself hiding again, pressed against a wooden beam in the dark as hushed voices deliberated inside.

The memory of the initial meeting flashed across your thoughts as you stood outside the discussion hall. You had long since extinguished your lamp, holding it near your hip and close to the ground as you flared your sharingan. Your back met the outside of the hall, unabashedly listening in on the muffled conversation within.

The walls were made of paper, as was traditional, and any structure that wasn’t made of paper was made of wood. The walls of the Uchiha meeting hall were made similarly, and you couldn’t help but wonder if your many nights of peering through those cracks were to prepare you for this very moment.

You were drawn to the hall, following only aimless instinct after your discussion with Madara.

“And you think it wise to offer the Uchiha such a central location?” You heard. You weren’t acquainted well enough with all the clan heads to properly recall who was speaking. It sounded like Hyūga if you were to take a guess. A laugh resounded from inside the meeting room.

“Do you desire their proposed allocation?”

“Certainly not.”

“Then leave it be,” the second voice said, “You knew as well as I that any intelligence that Madara holds ends at the battlefield. Best to get them out of the way now. From there, we have more room to talk policy.”

The voices drifted, and as the collection of clan leaders trickled into the hall, you swiftly fled into the forest line to lie in wait. The collection of clan leaders slowly trickled out of the conference building, chattering amongst themselves. The head of the Fuma clan, an old ally of the Uchiha, and Inuzuka, to your surprise, were among the gathered.

It was long past sunset, but that didn’t seem to affect the way they loitered outside the conference hall before slowly departing back toward their respective dwellings. You observed their hushed whispers from the canopy of a tree, sitting amongst rough wood and biting insects until the clan heads and their respective trustees left into the dark.

You waited. You waited a few moments longer to ensure they all had left before you dismounted from your hiding place. Slowly, you approached the hall and quietly slipped in the door.

The negotiation hall was still. And only when you determined that no one was left in the building did you relight the ember of your lantern. You scoured the rooms, starting with the one the three clan heads had just met in.

You weren’t surprised when you found it exactly how it had been set up. The room was spotless, with everything neatly in place, as you’d expect from high-ranking shinobi.

You wandered to the main negotiation room just down the hall, where all the clan heads would gather again the next morning. It, too, was still.

You placed your lamp down at the table, taking a seat in Madara’s chair. You gazed across the room at where Hashirama would sit the next day. A neutral painting hung on the wall above his seat.

You thought about the way Madara reluctantly consented to your use of the sharingan to record the conversation. You thought back to the charged looks exchanged between you, Madara, Hashirama, and Tobirama. How could you forget?

You took a small stack of pages from your robes, a quill from your hair, and a bottle of ink from a string around your waist. You kept an internal record of the meeting and, by extension, a written one. Papers quickly consumed your waking hours since the discussions began.

The other council members, Madara included, hardly touched papers, let alone put a quill to them. And plot to undermine the Uchiha aside, the whispering clan heads were correct. The Uchiha council were warriors through and through. The entire council had been chosen through battle, as Madara had been chosen as clan head. Scribing was not in their wheelhouse, nor was it in their interests.

It had only been a short time since negotiations began, hardly a week, let alone a handful of days. The Uchiha had yet to give a formal dissertation. Rather, Madara spoke strongly about what he was in favor of, what ideas he rejected, and almost predominantly off-cuff when it came to any ideas he had of his own. Ones that he almost always failed to share with you until it mattered.

You had penned a few of these rough notes down on the pages below your wrists. As you studied the pen strokes, you couldn’t help but consider that many of Madara’s ideas were strikingly coherent, branching into topics from economic policy to the village grid. However, they lacked structure, well-thought-out details, and were surface-level at best. It didn’t matter how good his speeches were or how well you penned your notes if they couldn’t hold up to basic probing.

The Uchiha didn’t have a proposal, especially not in the way that other clans did, but were expected to speak soon. Other clans were far better with organization, preparing lengthy dissertations and proposals that would be open for discussion and, ultimately, a vote. A haphazard way of running things, the proposed ideas were arranged by category and run through several rounds of deliberations and cuts until the most popular compromise prevailed.

You studied your handwriting, and the ink started to look less and less like words. You couldn’t make sense of it either, and for all the times your breath hitched when Madara should have done something different during the conference, you had no better ideas yourself. Rather, it took several read-throughs to wrap your head around the complex topics, hardly knowing a good idea from a bad one.

The Uchiha were a battle-minded clan, and you were a woman apothecary who was almost entirely self-taught. Then there was Madara. His struggle with bureaucratic competency aside, he might not have said it, but Madara was incredibly invested in a village of unity. You could see it when you spoke on the engawa. Madara himself aside, it was the only way forward where the Uchiha could even think of seeing the future.

You considered your leverage and the grief that plagued Madara’s heart. Finally, the unlikely last piece of the puzzle was the negotiations as a whole.

You gathered the documents and slid them into a hidden compartment of your robes for safekeeping. The warm glow of the tiny ember in your lamp illuminated your face in golden orange light before you blew the flame out. The smoke wafted up into the air, leaving the scent of burning in your nose.

***

A water fixture sat near the Senju dwellings. And at the risk of sounding dubious with your words, its structure felt very Senju in a way you couldn’t quite put your finger on. The water ran from a small pond adorned with lilies and tall grasses and down a manufactured stream lined with round river stones.

You made your way through the yard, stopping in the center to watch the stream run across the stone. Although, it appeared you weren’t quite as stealthy as you thought you were.

“I could have sworn you were Madara coming to take my head for my transgressions.”

When you turned, Tobirama was ducking through the doorway and emerging out from the darkness of the Senju dwellings and onto the engawa. You turned away from the stream, quelling the startled jump in your chest. He was, after all, who you had come to see.

Tobirama’s expression was neutral: neither pleased nor displeased with your arrival at the Senju dwellings so late at night. His surprise, however, was palpable in the air. The feeling was mutual.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word, Tobirama stepped down from the tall engawa and onto the ground below. It all happened quickly: the near effortless leap to the garden to meet you, your panicked step back, and as Tobirama began to bow, you had quickly ordered him to stop.

He had made it to one knee, seeming to freeze in place with the one word for him to halt. It was another instance where you had confused the both of you. His eyes cast down somewhere random; his forehead crinkled as he pondered his actions and wondered where he had gone wrong. Tobirama placed his other knee on the ground and gripped the pebbles below, fully intending to repent with a deep bow.

Clans and other politics were far from his mind. He was ready to place his pride aside to grovel, but you scolded him again.

“Stop.” It was hard to determine exactly what your tone was. Not quite angry, not quite frightened, your voice was far from neutral and yet far too composed to place an emotion properly. As much as your heart beat loudly in your chest, Tobirama hardly knew better. How could he in the face of your scornful gaze? “Get up.”

Tobirama made piercing eye contact from his bowed position. You stood a distance before him, fists balled and jaw tensed.

Slowly, he rose to his feet. Even when his face was nearly on the ground, Tobirama held a presence over the courtyard, and the energy he reined over hardly dwindled as he stood at his full height.

He was tall, perhaps even taller than Madara, and yet you hardly felt the domineering presence you grew used to in the Uchiha settlement. You practically expected it from a warrior as bulky and stoic as Tobirama. He seemed to have grown bitter in the years you had been apart. Hardened. Logical. And yet the dark chakra that seemed to drip from Madara in spades was not present in the Senju courtyard.

Tobirama almost made himself another fixture of the garden, one you might glaze over if your eyes were to bounce across the foliage. You weren’t great at sensing the chakra of others unless the output was explicit— you were hardly one to use jutsu on a regular basis— but if Tobirama was letting any of his energy slip, you couldn’t sense an ounce. He was calm, ready to accept whatever punishment you were there to serve him.

In fact, he reminded you of…

“Is it true that you were the one who had slain Izuna?”

“Yes.”

The answer came quicker than you thought it would. In its singularity, the word was void of a brag or a boast. It came quickly, the noise not overstayed in the air—a singular truth.

You huffed, squaring your shoulders as you swiftly marched forward. You hitched the sleeve of your robes as you did, quickly closing the gap between the two of you as you wound up for a hefty strike. You walked until you were directly in front of Tobirama, arm cocked and at the ready. But for as quickly as the ember inside of you had flared to life, it extinguished into little more than smoke.

Tobirama had closed his eyes, and you hadn’t noticed that he had actually lowered himself a bit to allow better access to strike his face. When the hit didn’t come, he opened his eyes again, ever-neutral.

You took a step back and lowered your arm, and it wasn’t until you were a few steps away that Tobirama stood tall once more. Then, he waited.

“Hashirama and Madara… they have met before,” you spoke the accusation softly.

“Yes, they were friends once.” His voice rumbled like he was narrating a story. Tobirama was straightforward, and the new information came with neither fondness nor judgment. After all, who was Tobirama to judge the way in which Madara and Hashirama met?

You took a deep breath in before letting a steady stream of air out. The motion melted some of the tension in your shoulders. It was just one new piece of knowledge you didn’t know before, yet the affirmation of your suspicions somehow made you feel slightly less alone.

“Did they meet—” You only wondered momentarily if you should say the quiet part out loud. — “Were they like us? The way we met?”

“I suppose,” Tobirama answered. “Although—” He glanced away for a moment that barely caused a pause in his words before meeting your eyes once again. —- “I hardly believe that the two of them were doing anything like… what we were doing.”

You quickly tore your gaze away.

“You have become bitter and vulgar.”

“It is simply the truth.”

The small stream continued to trickle behind you, and the sound of water pouring over water was a constant background noise to your aimless conversation. You took another deep breath.

“You have more,” Tobirama said. Aside from the few times you had witnessed his temper, you found that Tobirama tried to hold things close to his chest. This included the question behind his simple, three-letter sentence. You wondered, during the time between him talking and you answering, if it was because of his temper that he tried to keep so stoic.

“While Madara certainly seems confident that the Senju will not betray us, I would like a safety net.”

“The Senju have no intentions of betraying the Uchiha,” Tobirama put plainly and curtly. He pushed back on you a bit more forcefully this time, red irises boring into you. “Might I remind you that Hashirama took the initiative and spared the Uchiha—”

“I do not truly care for the minutia.” You didn’t know the whole story, but you weren’t about to let Tobirama know that.

“Well, you should.” The corner of his lips twitched downward slightly, but he gave little else. “If you are to engage in these negotiations, I would advise you to keep the details in mind.”

“It does not take a genius to realize that the Uchiha are perceived as a threat to be undermined during negotiations.”

“We are the wrong people to be having these discussions.” His words came out more like a sigh, despite the mounting pressure of your exchange.

Tobirama shook his head, melting a bit into a more relaxed stance as he did. He was certainly still tense, but the deflating of his shoulders only highlighted the stress that had filled them moments ago.

“Hashirama has no intention of acting in any other way than good faith. He and your clan head want this village to become a reality the most, you know,” he said.

Tobirama waited for you to respond, pursing his lips inward. He nodded a few times as if something else was on his mind. The time that passed when you didn’t respond appeared to make him restless.

“Your people will defend themselves as much as you will collaborate with others,” he continued. “It is truly not so different than any other negotiation you have done. Perhaps even similar to that of your alliances with the Fuma and the Hagoromo.”

“Most certainly,” you said, vaguely recalling the exchange of sake cups between the two allied clan heads with little other discourse. The Uchiha had, after all, been the most powerful force in the area, and an alliance saved both clans from being pushed from their territories. They had little to stand on other than a few generations of goodwill and Madara’s favor.

“I am confident the proposal that Madara has written up is a strategy that will give every scribe a run for their coin indeed,” Tobirama huffed begrudgingly.

“Most certainly.” You nodded, wondering if you had missed word about a monetary fee. You didn’t quite understand him. It must have been a Senju turn of phrase.

The stream continued to babble in the background. The night only seemed to grow darker, almost completely enveloping the lone lantern that glowed at the far end of the compound. Even so, the light was enough to make out the bare minimum of your surroundings, and your superior vision made up for the rest. Tobirama didn’t appear bothered by the lack of light. You wondered if he felt just as nostalgic meeting in the dark as you did.

“Madara does not have a plan, does he?”

“Most certainly not.” You probably shouldn’t have answered so honestly, especially in the context of the negotiations and your long, strained history with Tobirama Senju, but he was going to deduce it either way. “That is why I am here.”

Tobirama’s bottom lip tensed. You could tell he was trying to fight a disdainful scowl. He wasn’t doing a great job.

“Did my brother not already pay a visit to the Uchiha dwellings?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Did I not already try offering you my deepest apologies—” You hummed in confirmation. — “To which you had refused?”

“You can offer your apologies in a different way—you know politics and formalities. You are good with your words. Seeing you at the unity banquet was enough to know this.” You squared your shoulders, tilting your chin up. Your gaze drifted away momentarily as you fished for the documents in your robes. “You may offer your apologies by assisting the Uchiha in formulating a compelling proposal—”

“Absolutely not.”

— “That will ensure our fair share of resources and land in the unified village. And the Senju will back us on the matters we pursue.” You held out the notes you took. Tobirama barely craned his neck to glance at them before he crossed his arms over his chest. “That is how you can repent for laying your hands on me… and for striking down Izuna.”

Tobirama’s piercing gaze flickered up to yours. He apparently gave up his efforts to suppress his scowl.

“You are absolutely mad.”

“I believe that I am being fairly calm.”

He leaned forward, bending slightly at the waist. His arms were still coiled over his chest.

“You are absolutely out of your head,” Tobirama corrected, gesturing to his temple before returning to his upright position. You understood that one. Tobirama nearly waved you off then and there. “You know that what you demand is impossible, just as much as it is ethically dubious. You cannot expect this of me with any ounce of true seriousness. This is all not to mention that the thing you hold is hardly even a proposal! They, they— they are scribbles at best.”

“If your answer is no, then perhaps your clan— as well as the others— should be aware of your actions,” you snapped, pulling out the weapon that Tobirama was waiting all this time to hear. “The Uchiha are out of their league. I would rather utilize your skillset than cause waves amongst the clans, but I will do so if I must.”

“If that is what you deem appropriate, then so be it,” Tobirama spoke sharply. A pang reverberated throughout your chest. He had called your bluff. “Actions have consequences, and I am ready to atone for my own.”

“I am presenting a way for you to now.”

“I would have much preferred if you struck me if I can speak candidly,” Tobirama muttered. He shifted where he stood, shaking his head. His shoulder jerked back to adjust the way his robes sat. “I cannot play advisor for Madara. I apologize; I cannot do this for you… There are boundaries for these things.”

Tobirama spoke in the way he always did: neutrally, resigned, and lacking in true harshness despite the nature of his words. He stared at you, once again waiting for you to speak.

“Well then,” you spoke, having little clue what was actually going to come out of your mouth next. You stood a bit straighter, steeling your resolve. You placed a hand over your chest. “Play advisor to me. Review what I have written. Ensure that Hashirama supports it by daylight.”

Tobirama said nothing as he quirked an eyebrow. And slowly, his cold exterior began to crack from the brows down. He snorted, his shoulders bouncing as his head dropped into an amused swivel.

You hardly noticed how your breath hitched or when you began holding it. But when the air left your chest, it did so with a stuttering, burning huff. The hiccups between the stream of air held the remaining face you held.

And not one to be laughed at, you turned to leave.

Tobirama only spoke as you began to march away.

“Alright.”

The singular word made you freeze in your tracks. Tobirama’s head dipped again somewhere behind you, bobbing a few times as his arms uncoiled and his hands found his hips. By the time you turned around, Tobirama’s mouth had formed a tight line, barely restraining the amused smirk that tugged at his cheeks.

“Pardon?” You blinked.

“Alright,” he repeated, the semblance of a smile melting into a serious expression once more. “My debt is to you, not Madara,” he hummed with a bounce of his brows. “I will take a look at your drafts as long as they were written by you.” Tobirama nodded in affirmation, gesturing toward you to accent his counteroffer.

You breathed in, an awful pang reverberating through your chest. Overcome by a moment of pure instinct and guts, you hadn’t thought he’d take you seriously.

Wait—

“And you are aware that I know nothing of politics!” You gulped, a part of you thinking that perhaps Tobirama would revoke his consent in favor of your earlier proposition.

What were you thinking?

“Not much less than Madara from your explanation,” Tobirama muttered with another bounce of his light eyebrows.

“That is different!” you snapped. “Madara is at least a—”

The sight of Tobirama’s narrowing eyes made you falter. They moved almost independently of the rest of his face, shrinking inward in scrutiny before returning to their original size. It all happened with one subtle beat, but it was enough to throw you off your train of thought.

Seeming to sense your hesitation, Tobirama continued,

“You have put these ideas belonging to Madara to paper. Continue to do this. Probe him for details, granted he has them, and have the draft approved by Madara. I will assist you in polishing the final product.” Tobirama nodded, almost seeming to warm up the idea in real time as the corner of his mouth dipped in thought. “The Uchiha will receive what they fight for— I cannot make guarantees— but in terms of atonement, I agree to guide your strategy.”

Your strategy. He spoke as if you were some military officer.

“It is a deal.” You didn’t give yourself time to think. You couldn’t afford it, and if you changed your mind later, you were sure you could burn that bridge when you got to it. He was giving you exactly what you wanted, after all. You had little room to complain after the fact.

You offered Tobirama a nod, wanting little else than to retreat. But when you turned on your heel to disappear into the night, Tobirama called your name.

It spilled from his lips in an almost questioning tone, as if he had something to add, but the fact that he had called you at all made you stop in your tracks. The syllables sounded weird coming from him, and it occurred to you that it was the first time you heard him speak your name in years.

You turned, your heart beating heavily and steady in your chest as you met Tobirama’s eye. He cleared his throat.

“The blackmail—” His head dipped as if you were trying to hide the way his lips contorted into a slight smile before his gaze returned to yours. —“It was a nice touch.”

Your voice stalled in your throat.

“I am sure that it will make you think twice the next time you are about to behave brutishly,” you oped with a frown. It was officially too late in the night for further repartee.

“Certainly it shall.” Tobirama bowed his head, and when he looked up, you were gone.

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Notes: Part of me wanted to make everything up until now split into Act I and Act II, with this section being maybe Act II or III. Because it feels like a different story, doesn't it? And it feels like it's just starting. This is where the crux of what I wanted to write is actually coming which is crazy. Go figure... 11 chapters of set up.

A recommendation for the Madara fans; The Head, The Neck (Madara x Reader) reads like an alternate universe in which you let Madara marry you. Unfortunately, 'tis only a oneshot. Foul Creature did have a sister series that also took place in the village negotiations and featured Madara as the main love interest. However, I don't think I'll drop the link to that since I don't have plans to update it anytime soon.

I think I'm going to set a loftier goal for the next chapter. I miss Yonji and want to write a chapter of ... And the Beast before chapter 12 of this series. This one is also so long it should be enough content to hold everyone over. Let's set it at 100 likes and 50 reblogs, no restrictions. See you later.

Tag list: @gracefulbumblebee @norasincubi @rahatake @frvv

| Chapter I | Previous Chapter | Part XI (Current Chapter)|

Full chapter list: Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI Part VII Part VIII Part IX Part X

#Tobirama x reader #naruto x reader #Tobirama senju #Tobirama senju x reader #tobirama #naruto #naruto fanfic #naruto reader insert #reader insert #naruto fanfiction #Madara x reader #fic: foul creature #x reader #x you #naruto x y/n #naruto x you

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tetsuissohot · 2 months ago

Text

Lice?!

☆summary. you check their head for lice!

☆warning/tags: fem!reader, mostly crack, fluff, jkk men with lice?

☆word count: 1.3k

☆a/n: I don't know how I came up with these, but I still hope you enjoy and that this brings a smile to your face!

Nanami Kento | Gojo Satoru | Toji Fushiguro | Geto Suguro | Choso

Nanami approached you in the living room, looking uncharacteristically flustered. He adjusted his tie for the third time in two minutes, clearly uncomfortable.

"Y/N," he said, voice calm but with an underlying urgency, "I need you to check my head."

You blinked, setting down the book you were reading. "Uh, what?"

Nanami sighed, running a hand through his perfectly styled blond hair. "It’s nothing serious... well, probably nothing. But I’ve noticed I’ve been itching. A lot. I can’t afford to be distracted on the next mission, so just... check."

You suppressed a smile, biting your lip. Seeing the always-composed Nanami unsettled by something as simple as an itchy scalp was too adorable.

“Sure thing,” you said, standing up and motioning for him to sit on the couch. “Come here, let me take a look.”

Nanami sat down, stiff as a board, his back straight and eyes fixed ahead as if preparing for battle. You took a seat behind him, fingers gently parting his hair.

After a few moments, you broke the silence. “So, should I call Satoru if I find anything? Maybe he’ll bring you a lice comb—”

“No.” Nanami cut you off instantly, his voice firm. “Under no circumstances should Gojo find out about this.”

You chuckled, leaning forward to kiss his cheek. “Relax. No lice. You’re clear.”

Nanami visibly relaxed. "Thank you." He stood up, adjusting his suit once more. "But remember, we never speak of this again."

"Agreed," you said with a grin. "But if you’re ever itching to come back for a check-up, let me know."

He shot you a deadpan look. “Not funny, Y/N.”

Gojo waltzed into the room with his usual swagger, but something was off. He scratched his head casually, trying to make it seem like he wasn’t bothered, but you caught the third scratch in as many minutes.

“Babe,” he began, a playful grin tugging at his lips, “you wouldn’t mind checking my head for lice, would you?”

You looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Satoru, you literally have Infinity. What, did they evolve to pass through it?”

Gojo plopped down on the couch beside you, leaning in close. “Listen, Infinity protects against curses, not tiny, itchy creatures. They might be cleverer than we think. I can’t risk this perfect hair being infested.”

You snorted, grabbing the comb from the table. “You really think you’ve got lice?”

Gojo gave you a dramatic shrug, scratching his head again. “Well, if you loved me, you’d check and make sure. You wouldn’t want the strongest sorcerer being brought down by some tiny bugs, right?”

You rolled your eyes, but part of you found his vulnerability oddly endearing. “Fine, hold still. Let me make sure your Infinity isn’t on vacation.”

You ran the comb through his hair while he hummed, grinning all the while. “You know, I could get used to this. You, doting on me, fingers in my hair. It’s pretty romantic if you think about it.”

“Keep talking and I’ll start charging you for this,” you teased. “Also, no lice. Your perfect hair is safe for now.”

Gojo beamed and leaned back, dramatically throwing an arm over his eyes. “Ah, wonderful! I guess I’ll have to come up with a new excuse for you to pamper me next time.”

You playfully pushed his shoulder. “Get out of here, drama king.”

Toji barged into the room with his usual swagger, but the moment he started scratching the back of his head, you knew something was up.

“Toji?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

He scratched again and grunted. “Yeah, yeah. I know how this looks.”

You blinked. “Like you need some flea powder?”

Toji shot you a glare but then sighed, leaning against the wall. “Look, I’ve been itchy, okay? Maybe it’s nothing, but I need you to check my hair. Make sure I don’t have any of those... lice things.”

You had to stifle a laugh. Toji Fushiguro, the man who took down powerful sorcerers and curses, was worried about lice.

“You? Lice?” You chuckled, motioning for him to sit. “Aren’t you supposed to be too tough for something like that?”

He scowled, sitting down with a huff. “Just check. I don’t want to be distracted on a job.”

You grabbed the comb, shaking your head as you began parting his hair. “This might be the first time I’ve seen you worried about something so... small.”

Toji grumbled. “I’m not worried, I’m just... irritated.”

After a minute or so of combing through his thick, dark hair, you grinned. “No lice. You’re good. Maybe you’re just allergic to being so grumpy.”

Toji looked over his shoulder, his smirk returning. “If you’re done messing with me, maybe you can help me... de-stress.”

You flicked his ear and laughed. “Sure, but next time, try not to come in here scratching like a stray dog.”

You were chilling in the couch when Geto came in, looking suspiciously thoughtful. He sat down beside you, scratching his head absentmindedly.

"Y/N," he started, his voice soft but curious, "do you know what’s causing this? I’ve been itching for days."

You tilted your head, looking at him with amusement. “Scratching your head a lot lately, huh? Want me to check for lice?”

Geto chuckled, raising an eyebrow. “Lice? Really? That’s your diagnosis?”

You shrugged, already grabbing the comb. “Well, you’ve been scratching a lot, and lice don’t care how strong a sorcerer is.”

Geto leaned back slightly, allowing you to start combing through his long black hair. “I’ve exorcised curses and fought cursed spirits my whole life, but I never thought I’d need protection from something so... mundane.”

You laughed softly. “Well, even sorcerers can’t escape normal human problems.”

Geto closed his eyes, a smile tugging at his lips. “I suppose that’s what I have you for. Keep me grounded in the world of lice and hair care.”

You chuckled, running the comb gently through his hair. “Exactly. Someone has to make sure you don’t lose your head over a few itchy spots.”

After a few moments, you gave him a pat on the shoulder. “All clear. No lice.”

Geto smiled, his eyes soft as he glanced over at you. “Thank you, my love. I feel much more at peace now.”

You kissed his cheek. “Glad I could help. Anything else bothering you? Maybe you’re allergic to all that long hair.”

Geto grinned. “Perhaps... or maybe it’s just an excuse to have you take care of me.

Choso shuffled into the room, looking slightly unsure of himself. He scratched his head awkwardly, avoiding your gaze.

“Y/N,” he started slowly, “I... think I might have lice.”

You blinked at him, surprised by the blunt admission. “Wait, what? Why would you think that?”

He scratched again, looking down at his feet. “I’ve been itching a lot, and I heard some people say that could mean... lice. I’m not sure, but it’s starting to worry me.”

You smiled softly, walking over to him. “Hey, it’s okay. Sit down, I’ll check for you.”

Choso obediently sat down, his shoulders tense as you grabbed the comb and began parting his hair. His usually calm demeanor was replaced by visible uncertainty.

“I’m not familiar with this... lice thing,” he admitted quietly, glancing up at you. “But it doesn’t sound good.”

You chuckled softly. “It’s just tiny bugs that can live in your hair. Annoying, but not dangerous. And don’t worry, if you’ve got them, I’ll help you get rid of them.”

Choso relaxed a bit under your touch, his tense shoulders lowering. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d have no idea how to handle something like this.”

You finished checking his hair and smiled. “Good news, Choso—no lice. You’re safe.”

Choso looked up at you, visibly relieved. “Thank you. I feel much better now.”

You ruffled his hair affectionately. “Next time you’re itching, just come to me. I’ll make sure it’s nothing serious.”

He smiled softly, his eyes warm. “I’ll remember that.”

MASTERLIST

Thank you for reading until the end! I hope you enjoyed it. This piece was more of a spontaneous writing, so there may be some imperfections in the scenario. I just had these ideas and wanted to put them down quickly. xoxo

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larluce · 3 months ago

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Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

I'll be putting the tag list at the end now ❤️

LINKS TO THE OTHER PARTS OF THIS AU HERE: PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4 , PART 5 , PART 6 , PART 7 , PART 8 , PART 9 , PART 10 , PART 11 , PART 12 , PART 13 , PART 14 , PART 15 , PART 16 , PART 17 , PART 18 , PART 19 , PART 20 , PART 21 , PART 22 , PART 23 , PART 24 , PART 25 , PART 26 , PART 27 (You're here) , PART 28

Merlin: (thinking, reciting Gaius words) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful (enters the throne room and bows) Did you call for me, Sire?

Uther: (siting on his throne, pulls out the neckerchief and asks very serious) Do you recognise this.

Merlin: (thinking) Straight to the point then... (pretends to analyse the item and then says) No, I don't believe so, Sire.

Uther: Are you sure?

Merlin: Pretty sure. I've never seen it in my life.

Uther: (puts the clothing back in his pocket) This clothing is part of a serious investigation, so I wanted to make sure.

Merlin: A investigation, Sire?

Uther: Early in the morning this clothing was found deep in the woods with dry blood stains. There were some blood stains on the ground nearby too.

Merlin: Oh... Well, good luck with your investigation then, Sire. 😅 (smiles nervous, thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: And more recently the bodies of Aulfric and Sophia Tirmawr were found.

Merlin: (confused) What? 😨

Uther: They are sending the corpses to Gaius to analyse them as we speak.

Merlin: (between worried and confused, to himself) But... that's not possible. (thinking) Or is it?

Uther: And why would that not be possible? 🤨

Merlin: (thinking) Shit! (says, trying to stay calm) Because I saw them leave Camelot with Arthur, Sire. They should've been away long ago. Why would someone kill them? Are you… Are you sure it’s them, Sire? (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: (thinking) I never said they were killed (says) They could've died in the way. Who knows? Robbers, landslides, wild beasts. There are many hidden dangers on a road trip.

Merlin: Exactly! Maybe even the raiders that sacked their home?

Uther: (laughs dryly) Incredible… you dare to lie to the King right in front of his face. You don't fear the consequences at all.

Merlin: Why would I fear that, Sire? (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.

Uther: Do not insult my intelligence, I'm not Arthur. If you had told me that the garment was yours but you didn't know how it'd got there, I would've believed you. That would've confirmed what Gaius told me about you. That you are a boy without guile and malice, because that is what an honest and pure-hearted person would have said. They would've told the truth even though that would've put them under suspicion because they would trust in their own innocence. But you did the opposite, you denied that this was yours, which shows that you are not only cunning but also calculating. I do not blame you for lying, any wise person would avoid having any connection with murder case's evidence. The thing is that only a person who is aware that a murder occurred would do so, because if Sophia and her father had really left as you say then you wouldn't have seen the need to lie.

Merlin: (thinking, between nervous an impressed)I always wondered how he managed to almost erradicate the entire magic user community, the dragons and almost all the dragonlords. Now I know, he's very fucking smart! Okay, Merlin, just stick to the plan. Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful.(says) Or maybe the neckerchief really is not mine, Sire.

Uther: (enraged, he hits the throne and stands up) Stop lying to your King! Stop thinking you're so clever and disrespecting me! (pulls out the neckerchief and walks to Merlin) I know for a fact that this neckerchief is yours. It’s the only thing I knew for sure before you entered this room. And before you spout any more lies from that vile and poisonous tongue of yours, I can also prove it. (stops infront of Merlin) The first thing I did upon receiving this neckerchief was to research this fabric. This color is something only royalty uses, but there are many royal families in Albion, so each royal family has a different embroidery pattern so they can differentiate their belongings from other royals, and this fabric! (raises the cloth in a fist) was made especially for the Pendragon royal family. This is something only I or my son could wear. It goes without saying that this does not belong to me or Arthur. And before you come up with another pathetic excuse to defend yourself, I'll tell you that each batch that the fabrics are dyed with is not only expensive, but limited. Only a certain amount of purple dye is made each year so only a few yards of fabric are dyed. That's why the yards of fabric my son and I received are all recorded. (takes out log book and opens it) In the last year I received 4 meters of fabric, Arthur 2 meters, of which he used to make a tunic and... guess what he did with the leftover? A neckerchief (closes book and puts it back in his pocket)

Merlin: ...

Uther: So what do you have to say for yourself now?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful. Deny, be submissive, be respectful. (says in the calmest voice he can) I don't know what you want me to say, Sire. It seems like you already decided I'm guilty.

Uther: (drops the neckerchief and lifts his sword at Merlin, threatening) Where are Aulfric and Sophia?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful! Deny, be submissive, be respectful! (says) Didn't you just say you found the bodies, Sire?

Uther: (raises his voice) Don't play dumb with me! You knew they weren't found! Where did you hide them?!

Merlin: I didn't kill them!

Uther: One more lie and I'll cut your throat! At first I thought you were just some peasant after some coins, but your ambition was way bigger, wasn't it?

Merlin: (thinking) Deny, be submissive, be respectful! Deny, be submissive, be respectful!

Uther: And, since Lady Sophia was getting in the way of your plans, you got rid of her! An innocent, lovely lady-

Merlin: Oh, please! She was anything but innocent.

Uther: (can't believe the audacity) What?

Merlin: (thinking) Fuck! Deny, be... how was it? (says) I mean, how do you know she was innocent, Sire? You are SO suspicious of me, and yet didn't bother to corroborate Aulfric's story was true at all! "We are from Tirmawr and our home was sacked by raiders, boo", really? Anybody could enter the castle claiming they're nobels like that! But sure, lets invite these outsiders we've never seen in our lifes. What do we have to be afraid of? It's not like we are someone important like royalty and recieve assesinations attemps on a daily basis! (composes himself)... Sire.

Uther: (lets out a small laugh of triumph) So that's the excuse you gave Arthur! That they were impostors that were trying to kill him, so that he would cover for you.

Merlin: No! I'm just saying they could've been-

Uther: If Sophia really wanted to kill the Prince of Camelot she would've waited til they were alone at their honeymoon. Yet she ran away, because YOU humiliated her! And do you really want me to believe Arthur wouldn't be able to defend himself of a defenseless young lady and an old man? Arthur, a trained knight!.

Merlin: (thinking, trying very hard no to explode) Submissive and respectful. Stay submissive and repectful (says, gritting his teeth) I'm just saying first impressions aren't always the right ones and it's not wise to understimate people even if they look harmless, Your Majesty.

Uther: Oh, I'm definitely not going to understimate you. (sheaths his sword) I heard what I needed to hear. You're days here in Camelot are over. You are going to go back to your stinky little village with nothing but what you're wearing and never return!

Merlin: (shouts, alarmed) What?! You can't do that! You can't separate me from Arthur!

Uther: (shouts back) I'm the king, so yes I can! And if you dare to cross the border you'll be executed immediately. I'm never letting you near my son again!

Merlin: (his face contorts with disbelief, anguish and anger, thinking) Deny-submi-respec-FUCK IT, FUCK IT ALL! (suddenly, he laughs and laughs and laughs, saying) You are so, SO funny!

Uther: (surprised at his reaction, but says very serious) I don't recall saying anything funny.

Merlin: (Stops laughing) Sorry, let me correct myself. You are SO SCARED it's funny.

Uther: ...What?

Merlin: You say you are so certain I killed Aulfric and Sophia, but instead of just arresting and execute me for murder, you had to lock up Arthur in the dungeons for what? To make this stupid test and then threaten to do stuff you can't actually do, because you know Arthur wouldn't allow it! The truth is, Uther Pendragon, you can't do ANYTHING to me. You can't HURT me.

Uther: (slaps Merlin, furious)

Meanwhile, with Arthur in the dungeons.

Arthur: (trying to force the door open) Come on. Come on!

Sir Innprudence: (from the celd beside) It's useless, Sire. We tried.

Sir Ewan: (from the celd in the other side) No, we didn't!

Sir Innprudence: Right, we didn't, because that's wrong.

Arthur: What are you doing here?

Sir Ewan: You sent us here, Sire.

Sir Innprudence: And it's being a nightmare! I miss my family and friends. I'm starting to forget their faces! 😭

Arthur: You've just been here for a day. 😒

Sir Innprudence: But you've been here for less than an hour and you're trying to escape, sire.

Sir Ewan: (scolds) Innprudence! 😠 (to Arthur) I'm sure that's not what you were really doing, Sire.😅

Arthur: No, that's exactly what I'm doing. My father is planning to do something to Merlin, I don't know what, but if he had to imprisoned me here to do it, it mustn't be good. I have to get out, now!

Sir Innprudence: Well, I have a little spoon here, Sire. Maybe we could use it to make a hole in the wall-

Arthur: That would take years!

Sir Ewan: I managed to make a stick with a little hook to try to grab the keys, but the guards that have them are too far.

Arthur: So it's pointless.

Sir Ewan: ...yeah.

Arthur: (exasperated, to the ceiling) Can't I have a useful knight for once? Just once!

Sir Ewan: I'm sorry, Sire.

Sir Innprudence: There isn't really much we can do. The King's will is above anyone else's.

Arthur: (to himself, whispering) The King... (calls out one of the guards) Hey, you! Come here! Your future King is talking to you!

Guard: (comes) Do you need something, Sire?

Arthur: I demand to be release this instant.

Guard: That's not possible, Sire. The King-

Arthur: Your King now.

Guard: ...Excuse me, Sire?

Arthur: My father won't be King forever. And, once he passes, I'll be your King. A King who will remember this very day when he was imprisoned against his will. And guess who is going to be the first to receive my rage?

Guard: ...

Arthur: However, if you help me out now. Rage will be replaced by gratitude that will come in the form of lands, money... or even status. More than enough for you and your family.

Guard: (tempted, but scared) Sire... please. I can't disobey the King. It's treason.

Arthur: What are you talking about? You didn't disobey the King. I got a hold of you and you fighted hard, but I'm a very skilled knight, so I managed to knock you out and that's when a took your keys and escaped.

Guard: ...

Arthur: So? The keys?

Guard: (pulling out the key, still doubtful) But... if the King finds out...

Arthur: (smiles, reassuring) He won't find out. I'll make it believable. (extends his hand) The keys.

Guard: (extends the hand with the keys)

Arthur: (pulls his arm instead and hits his head with the iron bars)

Guard: (falls to the floor, unconscious)

Arthur: I told I'd make it believable. (takes the keys and opens the cell) Thank you. (leaves running)

Sir Innprudence: Wait! Sire!

Sir Ewan: You forgot about us! Sire!

Sir Innprudence: ...

Sir Ewan:...

Sir Innprudence: Hey, I think your stick might work now. He left the keys there.

Back at the throne room.

Merlin: (brings a hand to his cheek, eyes wide in shock and offended)

Uther: (with barely contained fury and hatred) Until you finally showed your real face, scum. Who do you think you are to speak to me like that? You are nothing but a serving boy!

Merlin: I'm much more than that.

Uther: (red with fury) How dare you? (shouts) You are speaking to your King!

Merlin: (shouts back) You are NOT my King! Arthur is. And he will be a better and more worthy king that you ever were.

Uther: (about to slap him again)

Merlin: (stops Uther's hand by holding his wrist midway) I don't think so.

Uther: (even more red with fury) You! Little- (brings a hand to his chest suddenly in pain)

Merlin: (all his boldness gone) Sire?

Uther: (twitches and falls to the ground)

Merlin: (in panic) Sire! (kneels and starts checking him frantic, but there is no response and thinks) Oh, Gods! OH GODS! I killed him. I killed the King! No, no, no, no, no! This wasn't supposed to happen so soon! What have I done?! Am I mad? Why did I say all those things? I think I believed he was Uther's ghost for a second. Well, he is a ghost now... NO! He can't be dead! Arthur will be devasted! He can't be dead! Please, please, please, wake up!

Arthur: (opens the door with force and enters, frantic and worried) Merlin! (stares in shock at the scene before him)

Merlin: (looks up in panic and tears of desperation and guilt run down his eyes) Arthur, I-I don't what happened-I didn't-I didn't mean to. He was...and then I...I'm so sorry!

Arthur: (walks to Merlin in silence)

Merlin: (in more panic) I swear on my mother's life I didn't think this would happen. Arthur, please, belie-

Arthur: (kneels and hugs Merlin)

Merlin: ...

Arthur: (pulls away just enough so he looks at Merlin in the eye) Are you alright? He didn't do anything to you?

Merlin: (confused) Uhm... not really.

Arthur: (cups Merlin's face with one hand and hardens his features) He hit you.

Merlin: (getting out of his stupor) It's nothing. But, Arthur, your father! (points at Uther, alarmed)

Arthur: (gives Uther a glance in silence. Then stands up, pulling Merlin with him and calls out) Guards!

Guards: (enter)

Arthur: The King fainted. Bring the Court Physician inmediatly.

Guards: (worried) Yes, Sire (leave quickly)

Merlin: (thinking, a strange feeling in his guts) How... how is that the guards seemed more worried than Arthur himself?

...

Let's remeber this happened before the events of "To kill a King" and "La Morte d'Arthur", so no, Uther didn't die. But how did Merlin get away with insulting and almost killing the King? What did Arthur do? You can make your guesses in the comments ☺️

Tagging @aceauthorcatqueen , @fallenxjas , @smileytrinity ,@lucifertookmyshoe , @an-entity-i-think , @thecornerofbelu , @griffonskies , @odinjm , @cinnabon-sweetroll-tiramisu , @thelady-mary , @bennedict , @nightninjaboy , @st8-of-grace , @star-rie , @error-username-not-available , @dogberryrowan , @jamieweasley13 , @tansyuduri , @tercais , @robynnemrys , @evadne01 , @serasvictoria02 , @hairdryerducks , @hopeaha , @curiously-lazy , @ harriettesthings , @andrealux16 , @wacko-weirdo , @greatdonutenemy , @yougottobekittenme , @anxiousosaurus , @kinkforwings , @someweirdassnamee , @impracticalantlers , @miyriu , @hobipabo , @whitemaskcd

#bbc merlin #merlin bbc #merlin #merthur #merlin prompt #merlin fanfic #merlin fic #merlin and arthur #arthur and merlin #merthur fic #merthur fanfiction #merthur fanfic #merthur prompt #Arthur and Merlin travel back in time without knowing the other is from the future too AU

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the-kr8tor · 1 month ago

Text

What's Your Favourite Scary Movie?

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 11.3k

Summary: A camping trip with your so-called friends takes a turn from harmless taunting to gore filled stabbing.

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for clothing), slasher AU, Horror elements, CW bullying, CW food mentions, TW death, TW blood and gore, CW violence. Set in the 80s, CW animal death, drug mention.

Navigation

Octobie 🎸

Music blares in your ears through your headphones as the car passes by numerous pine trees along the road. You flick your eyes over to the rearview mirror when you felt eyes on your face. Sure enough, Flash's smiling eyes stare at you through the mirror. And when you hear muffled giggling, you already know where the delighted laughter is coming from.

As you glance at the passenger seat, Miranda's amused grin greets you. Her blond hair bounces as she tries to play innocent. Even with your music murmuring their words, you know that they're talking about you. So you slyly press pause on your walkman, with their chortling they barely heard the click of the button.

“God, purple isn't doing her any favours. I can't believe we're sharing the same car as the freak.” Andy, a jock like Flash, sneers right behind you as he sits at the far end with the luggage because of his size. “That's the color right, babe?”

His girlfriend, Quinn snorts in her seat next to you. “She’s wearing navy blue, babe. And yes that sweater looks fucking ugly, it's so 1975. I think I saw my grandma wear that once.” She twists in her seat to face her boyfriend, elbow hitting your cheek, but you pretend that it didn't happen for your sanity. She doesn't even mention it. “Are you sure you didn't hit your head during the game?”

Andy puts his arms on your headrest, and again, you get hit by elbows. You're starting to hate your club advisor for putting you in the same car as the people who never even wanted to be part of the forestry club in the first place. They joined because your club was unfortunate enough to have less members and therefore was the target of the popular clique because they were ‘too busy’ to pick a required club lest they don't graduate at the end of the year. Oh how you wish you were in the same van as Thena even though she smells like swiss cheese. But alas, you drew the short end of the stick.

“Or maybe he fell on his head when he was a baby.” Emma says nonchalantly with a book in her hands. She's kind of alright to you, only because she doesn't speak or even look at you.

Miranda giggles in the passenger seat while her boyfriend Flash laughs with her.

“I'm color blind, bitch!” Andy yells, making you wince.

“Yeah, he's color blind!” His girlfriend Quinn agrees. You feel like your head is being split open by her shrill voice. You long for swift death in this car.

“That's your comeback, bruv?” Flash eggs Andy on, you worry that his attention isn't fully on the road.

“W-what? You got a better one, fucker?”

“W-w-what?!” Flash says mockingly. A round of laughter echoes around the small wagon, and you swear you heard Andy growl at the guy. You kind of feel bad for the big guy, if he wasn't such an asshole to you.

More than annoyed, you press play on your walkman as they continue to bicker. Punk music filters through your ears and for a moment you feel alright. But this time Miranda hears the click, your former childhood friend turns to look at you with a condescending smirk.

“Welcome back to the real word, Paste.”

You hate that nickname so much, you wanted to throw the walkman at her face. But you take the high ground and just ignore her like you always do. That damned nickname. She thinks she's so clever for thinking of it when you two were just nine when she caught you scooping out a dollop of paste for a birthday card you were making. She thought that you were about to eat it, hence the nickname, Paste. The birthday card was for her, too bad the trashcan ended up receiving it.

“I told you not to call me that—”

“Bitch, look out!” Andy's gruff voice is grating in your ears, his yell trumps out your music as Andy swerves the steering wheel.

“Shit!” Miranda clutches at her seat belt as you see a deer standing right in the middle of the road.

“Fuck!” Emma, holds on to the front seat just as the car goes sideways, tires skidding on the asphalt, blackened smoke coming out of the rubber.

“Mother fucker!” You brace yourself as the chorus of the music in your ears crescendos, and a tree trunk gets dangerously close to the front of the car. “No—!”

You fall into darkness.

—

You hear an animalistic groan the second you're conscious. Eyes fluttering open, you're met with Emma's flashlight flashing on your face.

“She's awake!” She yells as she roams her eyes over your form from outside the car.

“How long was I out?” You touch your throbbing forehead. It aches but thankfully you don't find blood.

“Just a few minutes, sleeping beauty.” This is the longest time she has had a conversation with you. Her blue hair glistens in the afternoon sun as she opens the door for you. “You hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head. “I'm good…I think.”

She sighs, “good, up and at ‘em.”

You take it one tiny step at a time, once your hiking boots hit the grass, you assess the damage of the car. The hood is busted from the tree curved around the metal. The engine is smoking and the lights are smashed to pieces. There's also a huge scratch on the side of it. Mrs. Williams is gonna kill the whole lot of you when she sees her car.

“Oi, Paste!” You roll your eyes at Flash's call.

“I told you not to call me that—!” The second you turn around and set your eyes on the barely alive deer in the middle of the road, you swallow thickly at the poor animal.

“Gnarly, right?” Flash grins, but when he glances at the deer his smile fades. “What are we going to do with it?”

“Should we bury it?” Quinn says whilst hidden behind her boyfriend.

“It’s still alive.” Your eyes never leave the gasping animal. Crossing the small distance, still wobbly in your feet, you tilt your head at its large wound. Even doctor Dolittle can't fix this.

“What do you suggest we do then, Paste?” Miranda side eyes you. “We can't call for help. There's no payphone in sight!” She stomps her foot like a child. “Gah! I should've joined the homemakers club instead of forestry!”

Emma nudges you, “I think I know what Y/N here is thinking.”

“You do?” You furrow your brows.

“You speak freak now, Emma?” Quinn sneers.

You ignore her. “We should end its misery.”

“Fuckin' hell, mate!” Flash gestures wildly at the deer. “It's still alive, maybe if we wait for Mrs. Williams and the others—”

“They might have already passed this place because you and princess here kept needing bathroom breaks.” You blurt out. Miranda and Flash scoff with a shake of their bottle blond heads.

“Woah!” Emma clasps your shoulder. And you flinch away from her touch.

“Paste here has some fire in her!” Quinn joins in, queasiness gone. Queasy Quinn, you should call her that.

With a clenched jaw, you bend down to retrieve your butterfly knife from your boot. Flipping it open, you roam your eyes at the bewildered group.

“Damn.” Andy whistles lowly. His girlfriend punches his bicep.

“Who's gonna do it?” You ask, the deer continues to wheeze out. Its blood now slowly inching its way over to your feet.

“Not me!” They simultaneously say with their index finger pointing at their noses.

You're camping with a bunch of children it seems. With a sigh, you kneel down next to the deer. Looking into its deep brown eyes, it's a sea that threatens to pull you under its sympathy. Your hand settles atop its blood coated fur, matted under your touch, warm and still oozing with fading life. It huffs at you, bleating like it's pleading to be spared, or be taken out of its misery. Whatever it was, you swiftly stab it in its carotid artery right on its neck, as if you've done it a million times before.

The group's disgusted yells and groans fade in your senses as its crimson flows from the wound down to your knife and hand. It's still warm, you feel like you're death itself. The poor deer stops twisting and kicking, finally falling limp in your hands.

Your blood rushes in your ears, pulse thumping like the beat of drums. Something inside you awakens from its dormant state you've forced it inside your ribcage. It flutters right out of its crystalline cocoon, beginning to fly out, trying to escape the confines of your serrated flesh. Breath running warm, you take out your knife from its body.

“Freak,” Miranda taunts under her breath, you can feel that a part of her is afraid. Does she not realize you're the one holding the bloodied knife?

“You looked like you enjoyed that one, Paste.” Her boyfriend agrees, you send them a tensed glare. They both look away from you. You can feel the fear behind their distant eyes.

“Your sweater is wasted.” Quinn raises a brow with an amused glint in her eyes. “Good, it was ugly anyway.”

You stare at your blood soaked sleeve. “I'll go get cleaned up.”

“You better, you smell like a dead rat.” Andy scoffs, arm slung over his girlfriend's shoulders.

“Go, we'll manage here.” Emma says without looking in your direction, eyes trained on the now dead deer, disgusted by its guts flowing out of its many wounds.

You walk back towards the car where your bag is. Once you reach it, you fall on your knees behind the car to avoid any more teasing from your so-called club mates. Weirdly enough, you don't feel shaken by it, nor disgusted like the rest of them. It's a weird feeling. You haven't felt this way in a long time. But this feeling, this enlightened feeling brings you a familiar comfort, bringing you back to your summer camp days.

After collecting your thoughts, you change into a turquoise windbreaker, blood all wiped clean by a wet handkerchief. Once you hide the knife back inside your boot, you return to the rest of the group with your backpack slung over your shoulder. The tin water bottle and skillet clangs against each other, signaling your return.

“Took you long enough,” Quinn says in her high pitched voice that is glass breakingly worthy. “We came up with a plan.” You didn't even know that they're all capable of thinking. “So we thought that we could wait here for the rest of the club to rescue us—”

“Bad idea.” You cut her off. Their eyes are all on you, and you almost shrunk down from their stares. “I–I think we should hike towards the campsite. We have a better chance of meeting up with them that way. We can't wait out here in the cold, especially since we don't know if they've already passed here.”

“Makes sense.” Emma agrees, still avoiding your eyes. Was that fear?

“But that's so far though!” Miranda kicks at a pebble like a petulant child.

You clench your jaw. “Then wait here, I'll hike up to the campsite.” Fixing your hold on your pack, you start walking away. “Don't blame me when you're all freezing to death.”

“Wait for me!” Emma calls after you, running towards the car to get her own pack.

“Not you too, Emma!”

“I'd rather stay with the survivalist than the cheerleaders!”

“Damnit,” Flash curses under his breath while the rest of them look at him, waiting for a plan. “I hate to say it, but she has a point. We have no idea how to even light a fire. But Paste here can.”

You walk quicker when you hear them following you. If you could sprint away, you would've. But alas, you need to conserve every bit of energy you have to trudge through the last miles towards the designated campsite.

Emma walks side by side with you, well, a few steps apart from you. She's silent for the most part except for her lingering gaze on the side of your face. The rest are already arguing behind you after five minutes of walking. Of course they're arguing about the single granola bar that Miranda packed for herself.

You deafen them out in your ears, wishing that the birds would sing louder in the trees to tamp out their voices. You'd put on your headphones but it broke in half during the crash. The air smells fresh in the forest, with the wind brushing along your cheeks like a gentle kiss. You smile gently at the peace, mind cleared of anything but the road in front of you.

Once the asphalt road transitions to a dirt road, it's now a real hike as your group sees the sign that reads, ‘jumping spider campgrounds.’

“Spider?” Quinn shrieks behind you and the peace is broken. “Please don't tell me this camp grounds is full of spiders!”

You realize that she's talking to you. “It's just the name.”

“You sure, Paste?” Flash questions you in a teasing tone. “They named it that for a reason.”

“Augh!” Quinn scampers behind her boyfriend.

You clench your hand on the strap of your backpack. “I've been here a few times and I've only seen two spiders.”

“Two is too much!” Quinn screams. At least no wild animal would come near the group with her voice ringing out through the entire forest. Unless there are wolves running about, then you'd hide behind Andy too. You're sure the wolves would like to eat him first.

With a headache blooming on the top of your head, you finally make it to the campsite after two and a half hours of walking. It's a small clearing in the middle of the woods with a few picnic tables set up and a dilapidated looking restroom sitting in the corner. Instead of Thena waving at you enthusiastically, there's no one in the campsite. A chill runs down your spine. You suppose it's the cold.

“Fuck.” You utter as you find out that the entire place sits empty without your other club mates and advisor.

Miranda and the rest push past you, shoving you to the side to look for a soul in the campsite.

“No! What the fuck!” Andy screams as he looks under a picnic table.

Emma stands in the middle of the clearing, hands gripping her blue hair. “Maybe they're running late?”

“Two hours late even though they were definitely right in front of us?” For once, Miranda says something right.

“Or maybe we're in the wrong campsite!” Quinn comes out of the bathroom with her hands shaking.

“Or they're out hiking already!” Flash crumples down to his feet, looking disheveled.

Then, all their eyes meet yours simultaneously. Their eyes shimmer under the sun, a slight blue hue falling on each of their faces.

You blink, lips slightly agape. “What?”

“What do you mean what?” Miranda walks over to you, pointing stiffly at your chest. “Where are they, hm?”

“How should I know? I was with you all the entire time. I can't communicate with them telepathically!” You immediately defend yourself.

“What the fuck should we do now?” Emma huffs, hands braced on the picnic table. Again, they all stare at you, as if you hold all the answers.

You don't know what to do either. “We should wait for them. They could just be running late. Or maybe they took a wrong turn—”

“God! I should've just joined table tennis!” Miranda exhales out, words carrying out into the woods.

“Listen.” You try to get their attention again. Which surprisingly enough, they give to you. “We should make camp and build a fire. The cold could kill us out here—”

“The cold?!” Miranda screams again, this time in your face. “You're worried about the bloody cold? We could get eaten by bears! Or fucking spiders!”

“If you could just listen for a second—!”

“I'm gonna look for a payphone.” Flash grabs Miranda, leading her further into the campsite.

“There are no payphones out here—!”

“I need to fucking piss.” Andy interrupt you.

“Don't fucking leave me out here!” His girlfriend follows closely behind.

You huff with a groan, frustrated at the situation. One moment they're listening to you, the next they're walking out into the woods.

“I'll set up the tents.” Emma says from the side. “I don't want to freeze to death.” She takes out her folded tent inside her pack. Clearing her throat, she looks at you. “Do you want me to set up yours?”

“Would you?” You ask with trepidation, what if she fills your tent with dirt and rocks?

“Yeah, sure. My dad used to take me out camping. I hated it but at least I learned some basic survival skills.”

“Like pitching up a tent?”

She chuckles nervously. “Exactly!” Coughing, she walks over to you to take your tent. “No tricks, I don't want you to freeze too.”

With slight apprehension, you give her your tent. Bag still slung over your shoulder, as much as you trust her right now, you don't trust her to give her your entire supply for surviving out here.

“I'll find some firewood and build a fire.” You say, rubbing your arms up and down for warmth.

“‘kay, watch out for jumping spiders. Or just regular spiders.” She jokes, managing to make you smile.

“I have bug spray with me, I'm sure I'll be fine.” Walking away, you head towards the left side of the forest where it's more familiar to you. Getting lost is the last thing you'll need here, especially when you're partnered up with people who wouldn't notice that you're gone.

Your feet aches and your neck throbs, despite it, you keep your head down to collect more firewood. You gather it in your arms, mindful that it doesn't poke a hole in your windbreaker.

You see a perfect branch near a pine tree, it's straight with a few bumps on the wood. It looks like something a kid would take to play as a knight. So of course you would take it.

Arm too full of branches, you bend at the waist to grab one from the forest floor. You don't anticipate all the firewood in your arms to spill over and fall on the mossy ground. It all tumbles down like a domino while you struggle to grab them even with your pack being so heavy on your back. And you're left with a single branch in your hand, sighing and silently cursing.

Left with no choice, you kneel down to collect it all again. You hear leaves crunch behind you, yet you continue to gather all the fallen firewood.

“Need help?” A voice suddenly follows the crunching sound. You don't yell or scream from the surprise appearance of the unknown voice.

You look over your shoulder, windbreaker making a swoosh sound as you move. Your eyes lock with his hazel eyes, he stands there, all six feet and five inches of him, (approximately in your mind) under the green canopy and greener moss underneath his steel toed boots, he looks right at home in the forest. But at the same time, he seems out of place with all his leather clad self, numerous patches stitched and buttons dotted along his jacket. His piercings shine as the light passes above, showing you his chiseled features. He looks like he crawled out of a catalogue, or from a punk album.

The sight of him makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up, but you can't seem to find it in yourself to walk away or look away from him. It's like you're staring at a shark's fin moving underneath the waves, parting the waters in a glorious display of a deadly dance. You know what's underneath, and you know what it entails if you stayed, but you still stand there, gazing upon his mysterious eyes that hold you in place.

He gives you a familiar feeling akin to a cold breeze brushing along your flushed skin, or perhaps a gentle wave pooling around your ankles at the beach. There's warmth and familiar coldness in his eyes, one that you're sure you've seen in yourself.

“H–hi?” You ask, smile a bit wobbly from how awestruck you are. Something passes by his eyes, something akin to fascination.

“Hello,” the stranger grins, eyes crinkling at the corners, hands still tucked inside his pockets. “Are you lost? D’you need help?”

“Not really.” You chuckle nervously. He walks towards you, footsteps barely making any sound. “Are you camping here alone? Have you seen anyone else here?”

He shakes his head, crouching down to pick up all the fallen branches. “Yes, and no one, just you, love.”

You hold a single branch to your chest, “oh, you don't need to help me.”

“I want to, I can't just stand there and let you pick all these up.” He chuckles deeply, you now notice his dimples whenever he smiles. “You ‘ere with your mates? I heard you lot from where I was.”

“Kind of.” You softly smile, finding his own contagious. Something about him makes you feel at ease, more like yourself. “Do you know a payphone nearby? We need it desperately.”

He hands you the branches in your arms, calloused palms brushing along your own. “I think there's one a few miles west ‘ere.”

Your face brightens, and his gaze softens. “That's great, can you take me there? I need to call our advisor. I'm…worried about them, and Flash the moron totaled the car.”

The handsome stranger stands up, and he lends you a helping hand which you take almost immediately. His hand feels cold yet inviting. “So you're with your classmates then? How many are you stuck ‘ere?”

“Yep— kind of, they're my club mates. There's six of us including me.”

He inhales, the corner of his lip curls into a smile. “Alright, I'll help you.”

You sigh in relief. “I'm Y/N by the way.”

He tests your name sweetly on his tongue. Reaching for your hand, he shakes it gently even with you carrying the firewood. You almost fumbled with it when you grasped his hand. “Hobie. Call me Hobie, love.”

“It's nice to meet you, Hobie.” You haven't smiled this much during the whole trip.

“C’mon, I'll show you where the phone is.”

You nod enthusiastically despite the goosebumps running up your arms. “Okay.”

Hobie smiles, a smile akin to a lion's grin. “I'll take those off you, then.” He takes your armful of branches on his own, all the while having his eyes on you. “I can't live with myself if I let you carry this all alone.”

“Oh,” you suddenly feel warm, a good kind of warm. “Can I at least take half of it?”

He chuckles while fixing his hold on the wood. “You can take one.” At first you thought he was joking, but with his raised brow and curl of his lips, you thought otherwise.

You fight a grin. “Just one?” With a nod from your acquaintance, you take a single branch from the pile in his arms. “You sure you can carry it all?”

In a display of strength, he flips the branches over to one arm, carrying it all with no problem. “See? You already took a load off of it.” You tamp down a giggle. He starts to walk away from you, when he notices that you're not following him, he looks over his shoulder casually. “You comin'?”

Looking behind you, your second thoughts about leaving them behind are squashed down by their ugly words uttered to you through the years. “Sorry, I'm coming.” You catch up with him, side by side, you follow him with a small smile.

Leaves crunch under your boots whilst you fling the branch in your hand bashfully, letting the wood brush over the tall grass. The silence permeates through the hike with him carrying the load, and guiding you while you just walk close by him. You've never been the one to be guided, it's always you who has to guide the others, keep a watchful eye so they don't get poison ivy, and you, who has to lug around the supplies. All the while you listen to them expressing their ungratefulness. You stare at his profile, smile tugging at your lips immediately when he gazes back at you wordlessly. It's nice to be taken care of once in a while.

For the first time in a long time, you start a conversation. A friendly one that you know won't end in you getting called a nasty word.

“So why camp alone?” You tentatively start, nails picking at the branch in your hand. “This part of the forest isn't exactly beginner friendly.”

“Who says ‘m a beginner?” He nudges you gently, making you look up from your feet. “My mates and I used to come ‘ere and just stay for an entire week forgettin’ our lives until we got the scent of city smoke out of our noses.” Chuckling, Hobie looks at you through glimmering eyes. “Now it's jus’ me and my motorbike.”

“What happened to them— i–if you're comfortable telling me.”

“A freak accident. There was a forest fire, I barely made it out. But they didn't.” He sighs, you open your mouth for an apology but he beats you to it. “It was a long time ago, no need to say your condolences.”

“Still, I'm sorry. It must've been hard.” You reach out to him, but you decide not to last minute lest you make your new friend uncomfortable.

Hobie leans against your palm before you fully move away, his smile gets brighter when you decide to cup his elbow gently. “Thank you, love. I come ‘ere to look at the shitty condo they built atop it and imagine that it's burnin.’ Ain't that fucked up of me, hm?”

You chuckle, already regretting the sound right after. “I— no, that's actually…uh.”

“Funny?” He completes your sentence while chortling at your flustered self.

You blink, fully laughing with him. “I was gonna say that but I didn't want to offend you!”

“Consider me not offended, love. You've got a sense of humour amidst the fucked up shit in the world, I fancy that in a bird.” The heat on your cheek is impossible to ignore, you have a feeling he knows about it too. “The funny thing is that it's not even done yet, it just stands there on their graves like some fucked up grave stone.” He sniffs, thumb rubbing along the corner of his eye. “My turn to ask a question, what kind of club are you and your mates are in?”

“Forestry. And they're not exactly my mates.” You spat out the last word with malice. You both pass by a towering pine tree and a start to a dirt trail.

“Alright— hold on…” he pauses mid step, with a careful hand atop your shoulder, he reaches for your cheek, “you have red on you, can I?”

You don't usually let anyone touch you, especially someone who's practically a stranger. But the familiar feeling grows with every moment you're with him. As if you've known him for a long time, a long lost childhood friend that you've finally found amidst the throng of worthless faces. So you let him with a nod, let him wipe away the deer's dried up blood caking your cheek. The pad of his thumb is calloused and rough, yet his touch is as gentle as a raindrop falling on your skin. You welcome the feeling wholeheartedly.

“There, all clean.” He doesn't ask why you have blood on you, “it was hidin’ your pretty face.”

“It was just a drop, and I highly doubt that.” You say bashfully.

“That you're pretty or that it hides your face?” His hand rests upon your shoulder, thumb ghosting above your heated cheek. “You’re stunnin’, I wasn't going to let that small thing mark you.”

Your heart lurches in your chest. There it is again, the familiar yet cold feeling washing over you. It's a beautiful contradiction. You're not perturbed by it in the slightest. “Thank you.” you could only manage to say those two words.

Hobie leans away, hand pulling reluctantly away from you. From the way his tender gaze falls on you, you think he feels it too. It's not love, not yet anyway. It's attraction. The kind that's magnetic, the kind that you know he'll fit right in with your missing pieces, the kind that he'd let himself fall into place right next to the spaces that he can and will gladly fill out. His soul glows behind his calm demeanor, as if the two last endangered beings have finally met their match. Feathers plucked from the same bird.

But it's an unspeakable match, one that could end in teeth marks left upon each other’s skin, leaving darkened blood boiling to the surface, caking each other’s maw with his and your own blood. So you two let it simmer, let it boil until one of you cracks under the pressure like trapped frogs in a boiling pot. So for now, you act as if you don't feel it in case you're wrong. Something you wouldn't want to be wrong with.

You bite the inside of your cheek while you continue to follow him. Each of your footsteps match the beating of your heart, and you swear that he can feel it too.

Walking out of the thicket and into a clearing, you two have made it out to a smaller campsite where a single eerie lamp post and payphone stands in the middle. Its paint is chipping from the elements, only leaving a few scraps of red and stickers vandalizing the payphone. There's a steep ledge behind the payphone, showing the top of the green canopies below, and the fading light from the sunset above.

“I'll wait for you ‘ere.” He says next to you, already walking towards a black and red motorbike parked at the edge of the clearing.

“This yours?” You ask with a smile, eyes roaming all over its shiny metal.

He pats the seat before leaning on it. “My treasure, I call her ‘Ripley’”

“From the Alien movie?” You walk closer to him, payphone forgotten.

“You know it?”

“Do I know it?” You say with a laugh, “‘Mother! I've turned the cooling unit back on. Mother!’” You copy the same tone from the movie.

“‘The ship will automatically destruct in T minus five minutes.’” Hobie replies in a mechanical robotic tone.

“‘You... Bitch!’” You and Hobie quote simultaneously, earning a hearty laugh from the both of you.

You've found yourself holding onto his arm, smiling and giggling with him. “Y’know, they've got a screening of it down at the local drive-in.” You tentatively say, eyes turned down at the pile of branches in his arms.

Hobie puffs out his chest, chin turned upwards with a smirk. “You askin' me out, lovie?”

You exhale, moving away with disappointment and a wobbly frown. “N–no, sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking.” Before you could fully walk away, he grabs your sleeve, tugging you gently back to him.

“C’mon now, love, don't walk away now.” He encourages you with a lopsided grin, eyes smiling genuinely as he gazes at you softly. “Ask me properly.” He bracelets his hand around your wrist, holding onto you gently while he runs his thumb over your quickening pulse.

“I—” you swallow thickly, and he ducks down to look into your shy eyes. With his sweet smile, you gather your courage. “Do you want to go watch Alien with me at the drive-in?” You inhale, his grin gets bigger with every word you utter. “We can have p–popcorn, or if you don't like popcorn, we can have chips and—and then maybe soda but if you don't like soda we can—”

He pulls you in, trapped right in the middle of his legs, not closing in around you, making you more comfortable in his tentative embrace. “I like popcorn. And I'll take you on a motorcycle ride right after, like how they do in the movies.”

Your skin is aflame. “Okay,” you nod enthusiastically, “a ride right after— I mean!” You fluster, “a bike ride— with me and and you— of course with me and you, it's stupid if—” you ramble on, tripping over your own words. He waits patiently without teasing you. Instead, he smiles, and nods along. “I— yeah, that sounds good.”

He tilts his head, hand brushing a fallen leaf off your shoulder. “Yeah? It's a date then.”

You sigh longingly. You still can't wrap your mind around at how you manage to pull it off. “Okay, I'll—” you reach inside your jacket, pulling out a small notepad and pen, moving quickly to scribble your name and number, afraid that he'll change his mind. “Here's my number.” You rip the page and then hand it to him.

He shrugs, smirking at you. “My hands are kind of full, love.” Technically it is, but he literally just brushed a leaf off of you a moment ago. “Put it in my front pocket for me?” Looking down at his jacket pocket, he smiles sheepishly.

“You and I both know that you can handle it on your own.” You tamp down a giggle, teeth biting down at your lip while you watch him make a face. “Fine, I'll only do it because you're being cute.” Gently, you place it inside his jacket pocket. Your fingers brush something metallic and sharp, but you ignore it. “There.”

“Finally flirtin’ back, huh?”

“Shut up and hand me a quarter, Hobie.” His guffaw echoes around the clearing as he reaches at his jean pocket to rustle for some spare change. “Sorry, too much?” You wince, thinking that it might've turned him off.

He shakes his head with amusement. “You're cheeky once you've gotten comfortable.” He hands you the coin.

“Well, people usually don't stay too long to find out.”

“Their loss, my win.”

You smile, palms clammy and legs turning into mush from his flirting. Staring at the coin in your hand, you find it having two heads on each side. “I don't think the payphone will take this.” It reminds you of the same lucky coin that your club advisor always carries around.

“Right, sorry, that's my lucky coin.” He grabs it back nonchalantly, then he rummages through his pocket for another one. Checking it once, he gives the quarter to you. “Use it wisely.”

“A lot of people seem to have their own lucky coin.” You twirl the regular quarter in between your fingers.

“You don't have one?” He creases his brows, you shake your head in reply. “‘ere you go then.” Taking the coin from his pocket again, he puts it in the middle of your palm. “For luck.”

“I can't take this, it's yours.” You try to give it back but he pushes your hand away.

“Nah, you can borrow it. Bring it back to me on our date, yeah?”

You chuckle softly, eyes gazing into his own, finding your bashful reflection in his hazel eyes. “Okay.” With a shy nod, you turn towards the payphone to dial your school's number.

—

Hobie waits for you in the sideline while he basks in the sunlight. His eyes are closed while his head is turned up into the heavens, arms cradling the sticks, letting the rays bathe him through the dappled shadows of the canopy above. He looks like an oil painting.

He cracks one eye opening, sensing your presence. “What’d they say?” Straightening up, he tilts his head.

“Uh…” You've forgotten what the school administrator told you for a second. “T–they said that the rest of the club had already called ahead to tell them that they've arrived at the last pit stop. But we were just there and when I asked the cashier at the gas station, she said that she didn't see a van stop by.” You rub at your tired eyes. “I don't know where they are.”

Hobie leaves the side of his bike to cross the small distance towards you. His eyes are full of concern, lips turned into a frown. “‘m sure they're fine, love.” He juggles the wood in one arm to grasp at your tensed hand, giving you enough space to turn away but you don't.

“I’m not worried about them, Hobie. I know they're okay. But…” you squeeze his hand, “I don't want to be left alone with those fuckers.”

He scrunches his nose. “What fuckers?”

“I— forget it, I'll just tough it out until the others get here.”

“Nah, I'll keep you company.” He pulls you gently by your hand, “c’mon, I'll beat ‘em off with a stick if I have to. I have a lot of ‘em.” He shakes the bundle of wood in his arms.

You chuckle, “you don't even know what they've done.”

“I know enough from how you talk ‘bout ‘em.” He shrugs, warm fingers squeezing you back. “They sound like a piece of work.”

“You have no idea.” With a reluctant step, you move towards the trail once again. Hand in hand with Hobie, the two of you head to the campsite where surely they've forgotten about you and your firewood. Or with your luck, the spiders got to them.

“What did they do to you?” He cuts the silence in half. “Do they hurt you?” His tone softens with a tinge of fury within it.

“Not usually.” You reply back, eyes turned away from him. He encourages you with a gentle tug, lips softly smiling at you. Inhaling, you let it all out with hope that it doesn't turn him off with your woes. “The guys just tease me about… everything else. But the girls— they once locked me in the janitor's closet for an entire day. The janitor found me hours after classes ended.” You can hear his sharp inhale next to you. “One time they…uh— threw glue and flour at me during picture day. I had to go home after that and I didn't get my picture taken for the yearbook. It's just blank, fitting, right?”

Hobie shakes his head, eyes swirling with something you can't describe. “No, it's not. They're wankers.”

“I— yeah, they are.” You feel a weight lifted off your shoulders. No one has listened to you like that in years. Before it was Miranda, before she decided that you're not worth being friends with. “I know what you're thinking, I should fight back. I tried, it only made everything worse. They only do it because they think I don't belong in their fancy school. That I'm only there because of my merit, not because of my parents' money or lack of it.” Looking up at Hobie, you see him staring back with a clenched jaw. “I'm sorry, that was….pathetic.” You grip the branch tighter until you can feel the splinters digging into your palm. “We don't get to choose the room we're stuck in. But we can choose the people we let in. Graduation's coming, and I get to kick them out soon.” You smile at him and he smiles back with soft empathetic eyes.

“Maybe sooner than you'd think. And It isn't pathetic, they're the pathetic ones.” You both reach the place where you met him as you question inside your mind what he meant by his first sentence. He stops walking, hand carefully pulling you to a stop. “I have a confession to make. ‘m not ‘ere to grieve.”

You furrow your brows, stopping mid step. “What?”

“I know them, the rich fuckers that torments you.”

“So you know me too?” You let go of his hand, heart cracking.

“No, not you, just ‘em.” He glances behind you where you can hear Quinn's laughter. “Just— I'll tell you after, yeah? For now, I want to tell you that everythin' I told you was real. I do want that date, love. I only ever want to see you.”

“For real?” You reach for him, palm placed on his chest. Hobie drops the sticks unceremoniously, the sound of wood clattering down on the soil.

He then holds your hand in place, fingers curling around it. “Real. I need you to know me fully. Let me in the room y'know.” With a sigh of relief, you lean closer as he mirrors your movements, lips pursing, breath fanning over your lips.

“Paste!” Miranda suddenly yells from behind you. Whirling around, your smile falters. “Shit, there you are! Who the fuck are you talking to, you freak?”

“I—” you turn back around to face Hobie but he's nowhere to be found. Your breath gets stuck in your throat. “He was right there.”

She clicks her tongue at you, “stop tripping and get back to camp! The sun's setting.”

She doesn't help you with the firewood as she leaves you alone in the middle of the forest. You look around in hopes of finding Hobie, but you don't see nor hear him anywhere. Sighing, hope dashed, and chest aching with longing, you walk slowly back to camp.

—

After three hours of setting up camp with barely any help from the others, the tents are fully pitched behind you, and you finally get to sit down and rest near the campfire you built with the same wood that Hobie was carrying. For someone whom you just met, he seems to occupy your mind ever since he left. He told you he'd stay for you, but why would he leave the moment Miranda appeared?

The fire engulfs your frozen heart, you watch as the embers crackle, eyes unblinking at the bonfire. Your hands cradle a can of peaches, you haven't taken a bite of it ever since you opened it, your mind keeps wandering back to Hobie, wondering if he was even real.

“Oi, paste!” Andy calls for you, when you don't acknowledge him, he throws a tin can at you that lands right on your thigh. “Jesus, she's out of it.”

“Did you find some mushrooms out there, pasty?” Quinn's mocking tone makes you glance at them without moving your head. You can see her flinch slightly from your glare.

“Man, if you actually did find some mushrooms, can I have a bite?” Emma asks, back leaning on a log while she nurses a flask of vodka. You can smell it from where you're sitting.

“I didn't find any.” You mutter, eyes flickering down at the fire, vision swirling at the dancing flames.

“Too bad, remember when we found some last time?” Flash chuckles, arm snaked over Miranda's shoulders, who stare at him dumbstruck.

“What the fuck, Flash?!” She slaps his bicep in a resounding smack. “I told you that we can't talk about it!”

“Relax, M, it's been two whole years! Besides, our parents made sure that it stays buried. Literally.” That piqued your interest. Subtly, you listen in. Flash guffaws, fist bumping Andy on his way to snatch the flask away from Emma. He takes a generous sip while Andy cheers him on. “Fuck, that's good.”

“Those mushrooms fucked us up real fucking bad, Flash. It wasn't some bad trip.” Miranda chastises, she turns towards Emma and the others, sneering at each of them. “Did you all not remember what happened?”

“Of course we do, Miranda.” Quinn scoffs, flinging Andy's arm away from her middle. “I can still hear the screams!”

You blink, being practically invisible has its perks. Your hands grip the can, ears straining to hear more of the hushed conversation.

“Screams?” Andy shakes his big head, “try the smell, their burning skins were stuck in my nose for weeks.”

Miranda rubs her face, “you lot have no ounce of empathy do you?”

“Please,” Emma adds, glaring at each of them before stopping by Miranda. “You were the one who insisted we stayed at the campsite instead of our usual place. Now there's a patch of burnt forest where your father's— mind you, my father's, Quinn's mother, Andy's parents and Flash's grandfather, contributed to hide the crime where the condo now stands.”

Your eyes widens, hand slithering its way inside your pocket only to find the two headed coin. So it's real, Hobie is real. So it wasn't a freak accident, and this is what He meant by knowing them.

They killed his friends.

Miranda seethes in place, hands clenched into fists. “I'm not the one who decided to light up in the middle of summer where the dry leaves were! And now we're stuck here, forced to take forestry because a judge said so!”

“Oh fuck you, Miranda.” Quinn stands up, stomping her bedazzled boot on the ground. “If it weren't for my mum then we'd all be in fucking jail! Getting stuck with the freak was the lesser demon!”

“It's ‘lesser evil,’ actually.” You finally add, eyes glancing at each of their angry faces. “And man, how many people did you all kill, hm?”

“It was an accident.” Emma blinks at you, “fuck, great, she knows.”

Andy huffs like a mad bull seeing red flapping in front of him. “You gonna keep quiet about it, paste, or do I have to make you?”

Their stares bore into you, you now realize the amount of danger that you're in. Individually, you can take one down, but with them all after you, you won't survive the morning.

So you dig deep, you free the moth from the pits of your soul, letting it loose. “Oh, I'm going to keep quiet about it. Who would believe me anyway?” You scoop out a peach from the untouched can, bringing it to your mouth, you let the fruit slide down your throat. “Besides, I know something you don't. Something important that could lead to dangerous consequences if you didn't know.”

“What is it?” Emma looks you up and down, brows knitted together in uneasiness.

You tilt your head, grinning but your eyes don't convey the same expression. “Only if you promise not to hurt me.”

They all look at eachother, silently agreeing. “Fine,” Flash starts, “what is it?”

You lean back on the tree trunk, “you forgot to say please.”

They scoff, “please.” Emma says it first, then one by one, they say it with reluctance.

Miranda is the only one who hasn't said a word, but with a steely gaze from her boyfriend, she relents. “Please.” She says through gritted teeth.

You smile. “Mrs. Williams and the others aren't coming.”

“What?!” They shout.

“Yeah, I called the school but turns out they don't know where they are either. They're technically missing.” You pause, watching their expression sour further. “I told them where we are but since we're fairly alright they're focusing on trying to find them instead. So we're stuck here— wait, no, I'm stuck here with a bunch of murderers.” That seems to break the camel's back.

“You fucking freak!” Miranda jumps over the bonfire, lunging towards you with her fist connecting with your cheek. “Say that again!”

You laugh, spitting out blood as she wraps her hands around your throat. The others watch while Emma is the only one that's trying to stop her from choking you out with her hands, desperately failing to wrench her away from you.

“A–all this time,” you wheeze out, “you keep calling me the freakazoid, the fucking weirdo when you and your fucked up little friends are the ones who have actually kill—!” With a yell, she closes her fists around your throat, cutting off your air while you claw at her hands. “Fucking b–bitch!” You manage to let out.

“Miranda, no!” Emma tries to yank her away from you.

“That's enough!” Flash finally tries to do something but Miranda elbows his nose, blood quickly pouring out a second later. “Shit!”

Quinn and Andy slowly back away until they're well into the forest, nowhere to be seen.

“Fucking die!” Miranda squeezes harder as black spots filter your vision, she bangs your head harshly against the log behind you, warm crimson trickling out immediately after impact. “You've always been a thorn on my side! Always so fucking perfect, always the better one!”

You grin despite the blood coating your mouth. “I–I won't be surprised if it w–wasn't an accident. I get it, your mom and dad never loved you enough. Is that it, Miranda?” You choke, using your remaining energy to get the last word out, nails digging into her wrists.

Suddenly, piercing screams echo above your gasps. Flash manages to yank Miranda's grasp around your throat, leaving you breathless and gasping on the cold soil. The three of them look where the sound came from with trepidation rising in their veins.

Holding onto your neck, the skin tender and raw, head swirling, you watch on with wide eyes as Quinn comes out of the thicket covered in blood. Her former pristine white coat is drenched, face splashed with the same ruby hue, trainers leaving a trail of thickened crimson. She holds onto her bleeding arm, lips wobbling as tears leave a streak of clean skin amidst the spray of blood. Her head is oozing more of the ichor as she staggers her way out of the dark.

“H–help.”

“Fucking hell.” Emma holds out her arms for her, face contorted into deep fear. “W–what happened? Where's Andy?”

“He's dead!” Quinn cries, feet shuffling slowly towards Emma. Meanwhile, Flash and Miranda watch on with horror, clutching onto one another. “He doesn't have a head anymore. How will he play rugby now?” Just as when Quinn lets out the last word, the arm she has been holding up falls on the ground, making a squelching sound as it meets the grass below. Emma backs away, hands upon her mouth, shocked and terrified. “Oh, my arm fell.” Quinn chuckles through tears only to then tumble down on the gore filled soil right next to her arm.

“What the fuck?!” Emma shrieks.

“No!” Miranda hides behind Flash, who is also trying to hide behind his girlfriend, they struggle to hide behind one another.

You stare at the tainted dirt where Quinn lays face first. She still gurgles in place, body twitching all the while her arm sits a few ways from her. Your blood rushes in your ears, mouth turning dry, chest heaving to let air in. You have no idea what's happening, but there's one thing on your mind.

Run.

With leaves crunching underfoot, out comes a tall figure dressed in black mechanic overalls. His face is obscured by a macabre theater mask that depicts sadness. In his hand is a bloodied machete, and in the other is Andy's head swinging as he moves. He flicks the weapon free of blood, spraying the tall grass below with oozing iron.

You don't wait for the screams to run ahead. With your neck still aching, head pounding, you run for your life.

The hunting begins.

—

You run into the dark nowhere, panting, vision dancing as you push yourself to your limit. If not for your injuries, you'd have a better time navigating the forest from your acquired skills. You've gained some distance between you and the others, so with an apprehensive peek behind a tree, you sit down on the cold soil, back sliding on the trunk, windbreaker scraping against its rough surface.

With a hand on your chest, you try to even out your shallow breathing. “Fuck.” You mutter, tongue brushing along your dry lips.

Reaching behind you, you feel for your wound. Wincing, you bring your hand back towards you, finding blood coating your fingers. Your survival instincts kicks in, perhaps your years as a volunteer summer camp counselor has its perks. An incident with a bear trap involving a fellow counselor was an accident, it wasn't your fault that they blindly stepped into it. Too bad it forced your camp to close permanently.

Zipping your windbreaker slowly so as to not make any noise, you slowly rip the bottom half of your shirt. Once off, you tie it around your head while biting down on the inside of your cheek to tamp down your pained groans. With a tug, you tighten it fully to help stop the blood flow.

You take a breather, that motorcycle ride with Hobie sounds great right about now— Hobie! Your eyes fly open to the thought of him, he can get you out of here on his bike. If not then you can call for help on the payphone. So you find courage deep in you, with a shaky exhale, you stand up, walking back to the same direction where you ran from. You could only hope that he's alright.

Armed with your butterfly knife, you're careful of where you step on. You avoid dry leaves and sticks, opting to walk on the softer soil instead to lessen the sound you make lest you draw a target right on your back.

After a few minutes of trudging along the dark, you make it back to the campsite. The smell of corpses filters through your nose, its smell is just beginning to rot in the moist air as maggots and crows have managed to find their meal.

“Damn it.” You cover your nose with your sleeve, creeping your way towards your pack. You pass by a very much dead Andy, whose head is left out for the worms to get into. His expression is frozen in fear, mouth agape, and eyes wide in surprise. “That colour suits you, Andy.” You scoff, remembering how he tormented you during class by almost burning your hair with his lighter. You watch as maggots eat their way into his eyeball, eyes unable to look away for a moment.

Getting inside your tent, you give one last look at Quinn laying on the ground, unmoving now and skin turning into chalk white. Red still pools around her while the quiet of the night permeates through the chill autumn air.

Pushing the tent open, you enter to grab your backpack on the ground. Finally, hope blossoms in your chest, but the sound of a twig snapping near you freezes you on the spot. You slowly grab your knife next to your leg, all the while barely making any sudden movements. Your eyes flicker on your left, a shadow forms behind the yellow tent, slowly making its way towards you.

You follow its movements, hand gripping the knife until it leaves indents on your skin.

A bead of sweat slides down your temple as the shadow makes its way to the front of your tent.

Breath stuck in your throat, you raise the knife above your head, ready to strike.

A shadow of a hand reaches towards the tent entrance, and you ready yourself.

The tent opens and already you're lunging at them with your knife raised and hand clutching at their front.

“Jesus, it's me!” Flash yells from under you, hands gripping at your windbreaker, eyes wide and blown out as blood flows from a cut on his cheek. “Lower your damn knife, paste.”

“Your girlfriend tried to kill me, why should I?”

“Because I'm not her, duh?!” He shakes his head, hands raised next to him in surrender. “Listen, let's set our differences aside for a second, okay? I don't know a damn thing about surviving out here but I do know that we've got a bigger chance of staying alive if we stay together.”

You clench your jaw, weighing your options. If push comes to shove, you can use him as your shield since he's bigger built than you.

“...fine. But you listen to me, and do what you're told or I'll leave you here.” You push yourself off him, the knife never leaving your grasp.

Flash nods, standing up and brushing himself off. “Do you have a plan? Because you sound like you have a plan.”

“I do.” You say whilst going back inside the tent to grab your backpack. Once you emerge, you find Flash standing above Andy's decapitated head. “C’mon.” Beckoning him, you open your flashlight. He still stands there, staring at his friend's head. “Flash, do you want me to leave you here?”

He sighs, eyes trained on the rotting head. “He was my best friend. I should've told him that I slept with Quinn.”

You snort, “trust me, buddy, he knows.”

“What?” He turns to you.

“Come on before he gets back.”

Flash takes one last look at Quinn's body and Andy's head before jogging to catch up to you. “So how did you know?”

“Shut up, I don't want to talk to you.” You ignore him while walking the same path you and Hobie took.

“Jeez, you're no fun.” He says while making a disgusted face at Andy's dead body that you stepped over nonchalantly.

You whirl around, flashlight aimed at his face as he scrunches up his nose. “This isn't supposed to be fun, Flash. Say one more word and I'll leave you out here, because if he hasn't gotten to Miranda and Emma yet, you'll be the next one he targets.” He nods furiously, frown evident on his face. “Good.”

After a few good minutes, you find the same purple flower you saw while walking with Hobie. “So how do you know that I'm next—?”

“Because if it was me, I'll kill the ones who can fight me off first.”

“And you know this because?” He asks you suspiciously, eyes narrowed at you.

“Just nature. And lots of horror movies.” He continues to stare at you with the same face. “I'm not the killer, you moron. I was with you when he attacked, remember?”

“Yeah, but in those killer movies there's always more than one killer.” He leans closer to you, eyes staring daggers. “You one of them, paste?”

You pause, craning your neck to stare at him back with venomous eyes. “You imbecile.” You mock before walking again. He stands there for a moment, unblinking at where you stood. He follows after your light is starting to fade from his line of sight.

“So…you're not one of them?”

“There's the phone.” You roam your eyes around the clearing all the while ignoring the man next to you. The pay phone still stands completely unharmed, and the lamp post flickers in the night, bulb whirring above the sound of owls. Your heart aches when you don't find a sign of Hobie being there or his bike. You like to imagine that he's far away from the chaos right about now, at least he'd be safe.

Crossing the distance, you pick up the phone, finding it still in good condition as you hear the dial tone. You rummage through your pockets for a quarter, but to no avail. And then you check around the payphone and the coin flap to check for any forgotten coins. You don't find a single one. “Fuck, do you have a quarter?”

“Shit.” Flash pats his jean pockets and varsity jacket pockets. Again, finding empty handed. “Wait—” he takes off his baseball hat to take out a crisp bill. “Here, it's my emergency money.”

You stare at the bill wordlessly while pointing at the coin slot. He shakes his head, gawping at you. You gesture at the slot then at his bill in hand until he gets it.

Realization flickers in his dim witted eyes. “Oh.”

“Oh.” You mock his tone. “We can't make a call without one.”

“What now?”

“I say we just follow the road and hope that a car comes by.” You point at the dark dirt road ahead of you. “Better get walking—”

An ear piercing scream startles Flash, while your head swivels down at the direction of the sound.

“Shit, that's Miranda!” Flash yells, grabbing your hand in his iron grip, and gunning down the slope to get to the source. “I'm coming, baby! I'm so sorry I slept with Quinn, Darlene, and the rest of your cheer team!” His voice rings in your ears while you're trapped in his hold, you try to pull away and get back to solid ground as he continues to drag you away to the dark abyss but he's too strong for you.

“Flash! Let me go!” You pull and tug with all your might but you're left trying to catch up with his speed while your feet drag behind. “Fuck!” A branch hits you right on your face, getting a mouthful of leaves while you almost lose your balance as you skid down the slope.

“Baby—! Oh mother of fuck!” He freezes, hand falling from your wrist, staring at the unfinished building looming overhead amidst the tall trees and overgrown grass. “Shit, it's this place.”

You glance around the space, finding abandoned heavy machinery, concrete, and trailers littered around the skeleton of a would be condo.

“Flash!” Miranda appears from behind a pillar, limping her way towards you and Flash. “He got Emma!” She embraces him while Flash's attention is glued on the grey building with its protruding metal that creaks in the wind and moss covered concrete. “I definitely tried to save her but she tripped and now she's dead with her body chopped in half!”

You glance at her, finding her tears utterly fake. “Or you tripped her.”

She leans away from flash's chest, eyes narrowed to slits and lips frowning. “You're still alive?”

“No thanks to you.” You smile bitterly at her. Before she gets a word in, you're already walking away towards the tall building, eyes scanning its skeletal structure. You notice the ground is darker from where you stand. “This is where it happened.” You turn towards the couple, “this is where they died.”

“Listen, it wasn't completely our fault.” Miranda stalks closer towards you and you quickly ready your knife in your hand. “We were just playing around, we didn't mean to.”

“You're grown ass adults, Miranda. Did none of you listen to Smokey?”

“No, we were too busy having friends, paste.” She mocks, even in danger she finds it in herself to torment you. “That is not our problem right now, we need to go—!”

A sudden bright spotlight appears in front, you squint your eyes, managing to see the masked figure behind the wheel of a motorbike. Oh. He revs his engine, taunting Flash and Miranda.

“Oh fuck, he's back!” Flash yelps, surprisingly enough, he shields Miranda behind him, arms raised to his sides. “Touch my girlfriend and you die!” You raise a brow at his sudden heroic action.

“Yeah, you tell him, baby!” Miranda coaxes him while you step away and watch the scene unfold.

The masked killer revs his engine again, this time, he rides towards you at lightning speed. Smoke billows out from behind him, blanketing the whole area with fog.

The couple screams, bracing for impact while you step back with your eyes only looking at the killer.

Instead of plowing them down with his bike, he skids on the ground sideways, stopping a few ways ahead of the three of you. Once the sound dies down to a murmur of the engine, Flash and Miranda open their eyes to find the killer tossing his machete at their feet.

“Are you surrendering?” Flash turns to you. “Is he surrendering?” You could only shrug.

The figure points at the blade, and then gets off his bike, letting it run in the background and using its light to illuminate the place. Wordlessly, he stomps over to the front of the bike, his figure obscuring the light a bit.

You can't see his eyes from behind the mask as he gestures towards the glade once again. “I think he's trying to tell you to pick it up and fight him.”

“What?” They both look at you with surprise, they simultaneously turn towards the figure, only to find him eerily nodding in approval.

Flash points at himself, and the man nods slowly. “Fuck.”

“Pick it up, babe, show him how it's done!” Miranda cheers him on, pushing him towards the machete. “End his miserable life so we can get back to our lives.” She spits out.

With a gulp, Flash bends down to grab the blade with reluctance. Miranda moves closer to your side, hand grasping your arm. You let her while Flash assumes the position in front of the figure.

“Come at me!” Flash yells, lunging for him.

With a quick side step, the figure dodges with barely any movement. Flash follows ahead with his attack, raising the weapon over his head to slice but his miserable attack is only met with air. All the while, the stranger has his hands hidden in his pockets, upper half barely making a move as he keeps dodging Flash's desperate slashes.

“Stop moving!” Flash frustratingly yells while sweat flows from his forehead.

“You're not fair!” Miranda adds, yelping when Flash gets close to cutting the figure's hand off, but of course he dodges at the last minute. “Fuck! Come on, baby!”

Flash moves to stab instead, “you fucker—!”

With quick movement that you could barely decipher, Flash suddenly has a knife in his nape. Blood ebbs from his neck as he stands in place, gurgling and choking on his own blood.

Miranda's piercing scream echoes around the clearing as birds caw in the distance. “Oh god!”

The figure takes his knife back with an ugly squelch of muscle and blood. Crimson spraying all over his mask as he holds the knife in his gloved hand. He tilts his head, the sharp end of the knife pointed directly at you, to then slowly go down from your neck to your hand that's gripping your own knife.

Miranda shakes you, “he wants to fight you, Y/N!”

“Hm, I don't think so.” You mutter under your breath while gazing at him. “Why should I?” You glance at her horrified face. “You saw what happened to Flash, I can't fight him.”

“P–please.” She says in between sobs, “do this for us.” You roll your eyes and she shakes your arm. “I never wanted to hurt you, paste.” She pleads, the nickname earning a scoff from you.

“You once slashed my tires just because I was paired with your ex for a project.” You say calmly, façade now fully broken, moth freely flying over you. “I almost crashed into a tree, Miranda.”

The figure steps closer, knife now at his side, waiting for your next move.

“T–that was just a joke! We were just—!” Her words are suddenly cut off by your knife stabbing at her jugular. She gasps as blood sprays at your smiling face, her body falling, hand stuck around your knife, you finally turn towards the masked man.

“And here I thought you'd leave me alone with them.”

He peels off his mask, revealing Hobie's awestruck expression. Blinking, chuckles slowly escape his pierced lips. “Holy shit, love. You're brilliant.”

You shrug, smile never leaving your lips. “You should've said something, I would've helped.” You say, reaching for your knife back, flicking all the blood away before tucking it inside your boot. “

“I thought…” he crosses the distance, hand reaching for your own, he loops his pinky around your own, gently tugging you into his bloodied form. “... never mind that now.” you can hear sirens echo from somewhere. “You still up for that ride?”

“I thought you'd never ask.”

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