#scrapped art hell yea | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

phoenixblack89 · 3 years

Text

Blank Canvas

Travis is definitely one of my favourite characters the gorgeously talented Mr. Reedus has portrayed.

TAGS: @fandomsaremykryponite @autocon23 @lilythemadqueen @darylsgirl @writingdeadangel

WARNING: Just pure filthy smut

The incessant beeping of your alarm clock woke you as you tried in vain to stay under the covers of your bed. Your head throbbed in pain, a lecture about hangovers and the dangers of drinking by your mother echoing in your memory.

It was all Derek's fault.

You would have been quite happy to have the loft to yourself last night while your three roommates went drinking but no. He insisted that you come along to make sure Travis didn't have another 'discussion with gravity' as he liked to call them. Needless to say all of you ended up slightly more than drunk, hell Travis was literally dragged into his room out cold last night.

The only thing making you feel better was the fact he too would be horridly hungover as you at the lecture.

"Y/N? You awake?"

"Just..." You croakily replied, throwing your pillow over your shoulder.

The door creaked loudly as Travis opened it and slowly, holding his head, made his way to you and climbed under the covers.

"Can we skip today?"

"Travis sweetums, you know we can't." You groan, turning and putting your head on his chest lightly. The crush you harbored on the quieter, shyer roommate was nothing secret. Both Jones and Derek knew, Travis seemed oblivious to it however. If he knew he wouldn't do his usual hangover routine which involved him climbing into your bed to snuggle and complain about his head until the afternoon. As it was you weren't complaining. You loved feeling the heat through your body from the innocent act by him.

"Fuck it. Let's skip. We can always catch up. We'll just say we ate dodgy food again. Blame Derek's cooking." You laughed and wrapped an arm around his waist and sighed.

"Shhh my head hurts. Let's go back to sleep" He wrapped his arms around you and closed his eyes.

/*/

The slam of the door jolted you awake. Fucking noisy bastards you thought, glancing at the clock and groaning. Travis rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly. Derek kicked the door open and bounced on the bed, crushing you and Travis back into the mattress.

"See you two finally fucked!" He laughed.

You and Travis both turned bright red and you shoved Derek hard to get out from under him. You stood and pointed at the door.

"Get out!"

"Hey I'm joking! Nice shorts by the way." He laughed, leaning on one elbow to look you over lustifully. You huffed and slammed the door as you entered the bathroom.

Derek was such an ass. If he didn't mind you being late on the rent occasionally you would of moved out but you knew you'd never find somewhere as awesome as the loft. Especially when it came to your art supplies. The space for your canvases was your priority. Hours and weeks and months were spent on your art and they needed special storage to ensure they didn't get ruined. Derek, thankfully, had the perfect conditions for this. Oil, acrylic, watercolour, whatever your classical and fine arts class called for you had on hand within reach. The last place you lived meant you had to rent out a storage unit and numerous pieces of art had been lost because of the shit climate and vermin. You shuddered as you showered, remembering Travis helping you clear the storage unit to move in and discovering one of your favourite pieces had been converted into a comfortable two up two down by a collection of rats. That hadn't been a pleasant sight.

Wrapping a towel around you, you exited the bathroom to a thankfully empty bedroom. The laughs of your roommates reached your ears and you smiled lightly, dressing quickly in your usual baggy clothes before throwing up your hair and sitting at your desk. You sent an email to your professor for the weeks assignment and leaned back, your head ending upside down as you looked at the large blank canvas behind you. You'd bought the thing on a complete whim. You didn't know what to do with it now you had it. And honestly, you'd forgotten you'd even bought it in the first place until the delivery men hauled it into your living room. Maybe you should just give it to Travis. He'd know what to do with it.

"Hey you."

"Hello Miss Jones. What can I do for you today?"

You knew what she was going to say as soon as she closed the door. When you gonna tell him how you feel... Blah. Blah. Blah.

"Before you say it. No. Things are good the way they are. I ain't gonna rock the boat."

"Y/N"

"Nope... Not a chance Jonesy. Ain't telling my cute, sweet, sexy as fuck, roommate I share a vast majority of art classes with I like him. Not happening."

"You should. He's a sweetie."

"I know. That's why I can't. I ain't his type anyway. He prefers thin blonds."

"Oh hunny, you have no idea what he likes." Jones smiled and patted your shoulder lightly. "Maybe you should ask for his help on that huge monster of a canvas." She smirked as she left.

Frowning, you bit your lip and considered her suggestion. Jones smirked as she passed Travis and winked back at you.

Shit. Had he heard?

"You... Erm... Need help with the... Assignment?" He stuttered, his head ducked lowly as you blushed.

"Er yea... Later... I... I... I need to look it over some more.."

He nodded and smirked as he tapped against your doorframe before spinning on his heel and leaving. As soon as you were sure he was out of sight and earshot yoh banged your head forward on the desk with a groan.

"Fuck my life."

/:/

"Lift! Careful! Careful" You huffed as you directed Travis and Derek, who were lifting the canvas into Travis's room for the project that you'd come up with. You laughed as Derek bashed his arm against the door.

"Remind me to not let you get another one this big!" Travis huffed, setting the monster down against his wall and flexing his thick fingers.

"Its not that bad! It's gonna look awesome!" You laughed quietly, tying your Y/H/C into a high ponytail and smiling as Derek left grumbling. "Come on Travis. Let's get this baby started."

"What exactly are we doing again?"

You shook your head and tugged the canvas into a more pleasant angle, last thing you wanted or needed was to injure yourself by overstretching yourself. Travis glanced over his shoulder as he picked up his paintbrush, twirling it between his fingers with a cigarette hanging from his sinful mouth. Your eyes gazed over his wide shoulders and down his back. The black vest clung to the muscles in his back and tucked into the overalls he was wearing, the sleeves tied tight around his narrow hips. His boots banged against the wood floor loudly as he tapped his foot expectantly.

"Y/N?"

"Huh?!" You startled out of your thoughts of how he'd feel under your hands as your nails dragged scarlet lines down that delicious looking back. "Oh erm... Well I was thinking maybe... Erm... A sex scene but not straight up porn. Like two lovers in an embrace kinda thing out in nature... Does that make sense?"

"Hmm... So... Summit like this?" He asked, quickly sketching a rough plan of two lovers on a scrap of paper. The lines were sharp with his haste, the angles a bit off but it was perfect. The woman's head thrown back as the man's lips kissed her neck, the hands gripping onto the males broad shoulders, her leg thrown over his hip.

You smiled widely and began sketching it on to the canvas roughly. Travis smiled, flicked his cigarette and joined you. Each of you taking one of the figures to draw. Travis's eyes lingering on your rapidly shifting hands. He loved watching you loose yourself to your creativity. It was as beautiful as the sun rise to him. The look of pure joy and concentration on your face, highlighted your beauty. The dimples in the corner of your mouth as you placed your pencil between your teeth drove him wild. He couldn't help but wonder what they'd look like as you sucked his cock. He ducked his head to the side as he felt his cock getting harder at the mere thought.

/:/

You backed away from the canvas and tilted your head to the side. Something was off with the sketch and it was bugging you no end. You just couldn't put your finger on what it was. Was it the angle? The pose? Was it something small and seemingly insignificant? Was it because you'd taken the male figure where Travis the female?

"Something is off about it... I just can't see what it is though..." Travis agreed, another cigarette dangling from his fingertips.

"Yea... I see it but I don't. Ya know. Maybe we should... Nah... That's stupid." You blushed and ran your hands over your face. Your eyes were a tad itchy and tired from the low light in the room plus the smoke. Travis chewed his lip and walked to you slowly.

"What?"

"Well... Maybe we should try the pose out. See if its because we didn't have a proper reference for it." Your eyes stayed on the floor, running over the numerous splatters of multicoloured paint that had been dipping onto it. Travis felt a lump in his throat as he shifted his weight nervously. He nodded his head upwards and slowly stalked towards you, licking his lip nervously. You shifted closer and with a glance at the canvas lifted your leg to his hip, pushing yourself closer to him. His fingers hesitated for a moment before wrapping around your thigh tightly. His lips slightly red from being chewed dropped to your neck before pulling away sharply.

"Trav?"

"Hold up. Camera. Can't hold pose and look at it at the same time."

He rushed and grabbed his camera, setting it up on a tripod and grabbed the clicker to be able to take the photo. He smiled as he reached for you and you flushed, feeling the heat from his crotch against your core as he lifted your leg back into place across his hip. His mouth once more just brushing your neck as you ran your hand through his short dark tresses. The camera flashed suddenly and you backed away as Travis quickly hooked the memory card into his computer and gave a laugh at the blurry image on the screen.

"Still looks wrong. Maybe we should lose the overalls?" He suggested quietly, swallowing audibly as the image became more focused. You nodded and blushed, slipping the boots off your feet and shrugging the dark paint splattered overalls off your hips to pool on the floor beside his bed. Your throat went dry as his gaze ran along your legs, over your plain black panties and up your stomach to the thin white cotton vest you had on. Your nipples were clearly visible through the fabric, a dusty rose colour and hard from the tingle of arousal running rampant through you.

Travis's eyes darken as he removed his own clothes down to his boxers before returning to your side once more. You shuddered as his fingertips ran up your leg to grip you up around his hip once more. His eyes drilled into yours as he lowered his head to your neck. Your eyes closed, feeling his breath ghosting over your pulse point. You felt his cock harden against your core as your nails lightly scrapped his scalp and sucked in a gasp. His lips brushed against your neck as the camera flashed. His hand tightened in the back of your neck as he trailed kisses up your neck before pulling back to look into your eyes. You bit your lip and nudged your nose against his lightly.

"Travis..."

"You... God... Y/N I like you. I've thought about you and me so much. I wanna..."

"Shut up and kiss me idiot."

You smiled at the smirk gracing his face as he did as he was told, pushing his hips into yours tighter. He grabbed your other leg and pulled you up into his arms, walking forward to his bed before dipping down onto his knees. His lips felt heavenly after so long of a wait. You nipped his lip lightly and pushed your tongue into his mouth as he gasped.

He growled and thrust against you as his hands ripped your vest from your chest and licked at your nipple. You grabbed his hair and tugged him back to your mouth as you pushed his boxers down his hips and felt the heavy, thick weight of his raging hard cock.

His lips left a trial along your neck, sucking and nipping gently as he ground his hips against yours slowly. A thrill of desire flared in your core, making your clit twitch against the cotton covering them. His fingers lightly tapped along the edge of your panties before gripping them tightly and dragging them harshly down your hips. Your hand ran up and down his length as he leaned his forehead against yours, his breaths coming out as soft groans.

"Fuck... I ain't gonna last if ya keep that up!" He moaned, feeling his orgasm rapidly approaching. With a slight growl, he grabbed your hand and pulled it off himself, slamming it down above your head and panted against your neck. "Fuck..."

"Travis... Please..." You moaned, wiggling under his weight. He smirked against your collarbone as he began kissing down your chest. He shifted his hips and aligned himself with your dripping core. In one swift thrust he buried himself inside your aching pussy as you gave a very loud moaning shriek. Your nails raked down his back as he set a hard, fast pace. His fingers digging harshly into your hips, sure to leave bruises for days.

You gave a loud moan as you felt your core tingling and fluttering around his hard cock, your pleasure sky rocketing towards the orgasmic bliss it craved.

Your release crashed over you as his fingers dug crescents into your hips as his thrusts became harder and rougher. His head leaned back as he enjoyed the sensation of your walls spasming around him, your mouth held open in a silent scream as pleasure rushed through your entire nervous system.

You pulled him towards you and crashed your lips against his as his hips began loosing their rhythm, his own release rapidly approaching. He gave a groan and pulled out, gripping himself tightly and splashing your stomach with his cum. He fell down beside you panting then chuckled.

"Fuck..."

"Yea." You replied with a breath laugh, your hand pushing your sweat soaked hair off your face and grimacing slightly at the stickiness coating you. "We should probably clean up.

"Sorry."

"Don't be. It was worth it."

"Yea... Definitely. We should of done that ages ago." He said smiling, leaning up onto one elbow to look into your blissed out face, his other hand using his shirt to clean his mess from your skin. You pushed your hand through his hair and drew his lips to yours before pulling away and biting your lip with a smirk.

"Maybe we should get some more inspiration for that canvas huh?" You said flirty, wiggling an eyebrow up and down. He glanced behind him towards the canvas before laughing and diving on top of you again attacking your neck with his teeth. You gave a loud laugh.

The canvas certainly wouldn't be blank for much longer that was for sure.

#normanreedus #PhoenixBWrites #norman reedus fanfiction #Travis Gossip #travis x reader #Gossip smut #smut fanfiction

83 notes · View notes

everyhowlmarksthedead · 4 years

Text

NO ; MADS

HAPPY LOWMAN X READER

@arved asked: So... Would you write a story where you are Bishops younger sister and you ve met Happy, and starts having feelings for him... Your brother won't like it...

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

Thanks to my lovely beta reader @starrynite7114 💘

Author comments: I hope you all enjoy. Gifs credits to: @mayans-mc

Tag list: @starrynite7114 @chibsytelford @dazzledamazon @mara-mpou @sammskellington @gemini0410 💥 (if you wanna be tagged, send me a message!)

You leave your car parked at the Romero and Brothers entry, looking for Chucky to tell you where Bishop's bike is. Your brother texted you last night to ask you if you could have a look at it because it started to make a noisy sound somewhere in the front wheel. Some of the guys in the crew know about mechanics, but he only trusts your hands to touch his baby, so you had to drive from Mexico. The kind man with strange hands, whom you love so much, tells you that Bishop is not there but his bike is parked next to the clubhouse. Nodding, you go downstairs off of the office, to walk through the small alley on your way to find what paranoia your brother has this time.

You run the heavy metallic door with Mayans symbols, raising an eyebrow when you see some motorbikes you don't recognize at first, but you don't give it more importance than that it has. Taking out of the pocket of your shorts the copy of the key, you walk towards the green bike with the intention of ride it to the car scrapping, when you hear a hoarse voice calling for your attention.

“To the floor! Hands up!”

Five men are pointing at you with loaded guns, following the indications of an older one without hair and covered in tattoos. He throws the toothpick, that it was in his lips, walking closer. You stop the engine without any sudden movement, and your hands on your nape. You're breathing fast, leaving the motorbike at your back.

“Call Bishop”. He says. And you don't know what disturbs you more, if the lack of gesticulation on his face or the calm tone voice.

“I'm...”

“Shut the fuck up, bitch”.

Rude.

You were going to tremendously enjoy it when your charter comes back and finds you kneeling on the ground. They try to contact your brother, but seems like he's driving, 'cause there's no answer. Even so, it takes you only two minutes to hear the motorbikes coming. Taza is the first one who sees you, braking abruptly and throwing his helmet to the floor.

“The hell you' doin' man?” He shouts, till all the Mayans appears.

“Put your fuckin' guns down!” Bishop runs out of the dark van, to help you.

“She was stealing...” The unknown man tries to say, confused and lost in the situation.

“She's my fuckin' sister!” The Mayans president is pissed off, while Taza holds your hands to put you up.

“You ok, chiquita?” He asks looking you from top to bottom.

“Not sure if I'm more scared than horny, or more horny than scared”. You answer wrinkling the bridge of the nose, your crew laughs shaking their heads.

“You hurt your knees”. Bishop sounds worried, repairing on the small burns on your legs. The concrete and gravel floor was hot, but you didn't notice it 'cause you were busy trying not to die by a gunshot.

“Bish, it's ok. I would have shot without asking”. You placed your palm on his shoulder, before Tranq lifts you up in his strong arms. “It's always an adventure to come see you”.

“I'm sorre', we didn't know”.

“Yea', did you ask her?”

“Let's take care of the Mayans' warrior”. Your savior chuckles, walking upstairs to the clubhouse.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Chibs screamed, his gaze upon the skies when he heard news of his men’s actions upon his arrival. You two know each other since your brother became president of the charter, always being a gentleman and treating you as one of his own family. But you said one hundred times that everything was fine, rolling your eyes while you were hearing him cursing in scottish. The man who pointed at you first introduced himself as Happy, and you couldn't help laughing at his name.

At least, he was fucking hot and worth it.

┅┅┅┅┅┅

Night has fallen in Santo Padre and the latin music has flooded the clubhouse and its yards. The delicious smell of Felipe's meat is in the air, mixing with the laughs and shouts of the charters having a party between brothers. And there you are, lying inside the ring with your forearms behind your head looking at the stars and a beer next to your body. Turning your head to the main group of men, you check that the Son's is staring at you like ten minutes ago. You chuckle shaking your chin, putting back your gaze to the sky.

MEANWHILE

“So, wha's she doin' here'?” Chibs asks your brother, who is drinking his beer.

“I think something is happening to my bike, and she's the only one allowed to touch it”.

“Half Mayan and mechanic... Is she single?” The vice of the Sons of Anarchy asks without any shame.

“Yes, she is. But I don't want a motorist from any charter to be her man, 'you hear me?” The Mayans president is forceful, leaning forward on his seat.

“I'm too old for the club, I'm leaving it, Chibs. It was a pleasure”. Happy is the one who talks this time, and you can hear him, of course.

You can see how the man is getting up of his seat, taking off the vest to give it to the SoA president while everybody laughs except Bishop. He walks to the makeshift bar, next to the barbecue, to obtain two beers. Now, you have to hide the fact that you weren't looking at him. The older man gets inside the ring, standing up in front of you. Raising your gaze, you lift an eyebrow.

“Can 'invite you to a beer?”

“I already have one”.

Without expecting, he kicks it away from you, but you don't move a single inch rolling your eyes.

“Wasn’t pointing a gun at me enough? I think ya've already covered your aggressiveness quota for the day”.

“And I think that love was born between us when I called ya' bitch”.

“Is that what you tell to every girl?” You ask sitting on your forearms and crossing your legs, one over the other.

“I'm not a man of words”.

“You don't have to insure it, flaco”. You sigh for a second, raising a hand to take the beer he's offering you without a gesture on his face.

“So, you're Bishop young sister, uh?” He says, having a seat in front of you. After almost one minute in completely silence, he talks again taking you by surprise, even if it wasn't uncomfortable. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. I found him when I was fifteen. My parents abandoned him, before I was born”. He nods because of your words, looking thoughtful. You have a sip of your drink, waiting for him to say anything. But, that doesn't happens. “You have a lot of tattoos. Which one is your favorite?”

It's a cliche to ask about something like that, but you can't take your eyes off of them, because all that you can see around his arms and neck are traces drawing stories on him. You tattoo on your free time, so you're kinda passionate and he has truly pieces of art on his skin. Happy lifts up the grey shirt, showing you many more, before pointing the big and curled cobra on his chest and abdomen. You run your fingers over it, enraptured and your lips almost open so slowly that you can feel the way his abdomen contracts under your touch.

“Man... It's fuckin' amazing. I love the green path, but it is somewhat worn. I think I could fix it”. You say, trying to not sound too rude.

“Fix it?”

“Yea'! Addin' more color”.

“No, I mean. You tattoo?”

“I did most of the Mayans tattoos”. You nod then, with a proud gesture on your face, as he does after you. “I got my stuff in the car, if you want”.

“Sure, I would like to see what are you capable of”. He says calm, getting up off the ring and offering you his free hand, pushing you up on your way for a new adventure.

With a confidence that you don't know where it come from, he surrounds your shoulder with his arm, walking closer to you, but in complete silence. You can see your brother staring at you with his pursed lips against the beer he's holding. You pass them by, and if looks could kill, Happy would already be dead. Taking the key out of your pocket, you unlock your car to open the trunk.

“I got it”. He says going ahead, taking the heavy case full of different stickers on it.

Walking towards the clubhouse to get in, you stop your barefoot in the middle of it, looking for the best place.

Finally, you point the sofa on a corner, with a plug near of it, where you can put your machine.

“Shirt off”. You say, hearing how he chuckles almost in silence, obeying the order.

Now you're able to see many more tattoos around his back and arms. Good god, he can point a gun at you again, whenever he wants. Swallowing and clearing your throat, you prepare to mount the whole show. Your hands are cleaned with alcohol before covering them with the latex gloves, placing the ink cangs on the table by your side. The buzz of the needle floods the club, noticing that Happy doesn't feel anything when you start with the color over his lower abdomen.

You're focused in tattooing and cleaning the leftlover ink that bothers your view, even when you have a good point of light overhead. His skin is more tense than yours, being older and more tattooed, and that surprises you. The Son is getting you nervous, with his gaze on you, but not on the ink, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What?”

“It's the first time a woman tattoos me”. Happy says, after some seconds looking like he's trying to find the correct words.

“'Cause you're a male chauvinist?” The needle stop, staring at him for a moment.

“'Cause I never found a woman who did it”. The smile he gives you makes you tremble slightly.

You continue with your task, stopping some times to check that the ink is uniform in every inch, till it's finished. You take a case cream tube, taking off one of your gloves, pulling it with your teeth, to put some of it on the reddened skin. Happy shakes a little, making you laugh hoping it's not because of the pain he was containing to look ‘more like a man’ and don't get embarrassed.

“Shit! It's cold!” He growls.

“Genius...” You break into loud laughter, while he snorts.

You caress his skin spreading the cream over the retouched tattoo, so slowly that you see how much he's enjoying it with a soft smile on his lips, before covering it, so that the excess ink doesn't stain the shirt when he got dressed again.

“Do you like it?” You ask with curiosity, getting up to admire your art.

“'Course, but it seems like you wanna do anotha’”.

“Seems like”. Cross-armed, you purse your lips.

“A tattoo for a kiss”. Yes, you were expecting it, making you squint at him.

Taking off the other glove and almost laying on the table, you reach your bag next to the case, looking for a cigar to light between your lips. You've seen him smoking before, so you do the same with him. Another way to keep his mouth occupied. Curling your legs on the table and surrounding them with your arms, you tilt your neck gently. He has a lot of happy faces tattooed by the cobra side. At first you think it's some kind of bad joke, until you realize it.

“You were nomad. That explain the shitty face and the holy silence”. You say having a smoke, with your gaze now on his. “A face, a life”.

The Son has an arm behind his head settled on the sofa, and you start to notice that maybe he's not good with words. But you like to read. So you do. Every gesture, for minimal that this could be on his face. His eyes vibrating, trying to keep yours. The way he has to swallow the smoke of the cigar. The skin of his throat going from up to down in a fast move. He's not ill-at-ease, but seems like he would like to hide that part of his life.

They are recent. Your fingers run over them, outlining each stroke. Those tattoos couldn’t have been more than six or eight years. The black ink was first, and looks like he added the yellow one somewhat after that. But when you're about to travel the last one, right before an old demon, he grabs your wrist. His fingers closing tight around it, loosening the grip some seconds after in a ephemeral caress that dries your mouth.

“Whatever I want?” You ask in a whisper referring to the tattoo, watching how he leaves his cigar in the ashtray next to yours.

Happy nods. Taking his right hand to place it on your, the noisy needle is back. In the ring finger, without needing a pre-design, nor anything of the session before that one, you tattoo a semicolon. Maybe bigger than you thought, but at least he's gonna see it all the time. After, you put some cream on and cover it with plastic film, you admire it one last time. So he does.

Time to pay your debt.

He puts a hand around your wrist it to urge you to lie on top of him. His legs between yours and his free hand tangled in your hair. His gaze could say more than thousands words and your eyes lost in it. Your nose brushing in a soft touch, till your lips meet his in a mild kiss with some kind of desperation. And before a last look, he tilt up his head to catch them again. Your chest laying on his, with no distance between both, breathing fast. Your tongues fighting, wetting the other, taking some air by your nose while his arms surround your hips and your hands travel to Happy's neck.

Maybe, the fact that most disturbs you is that he hasn't any intentions of fucking you, at least, not tonight. And you know it by the way he has to turn your body, lying by his side on the sofa. But the kiss doesn't stop, till he decides to attack your neck. You bite your inner lip, pressing a hand on his head to pull him closer, while his teeth drags on your skin before licking and suck it. He's making his own tattoo, even if it's gonna disappear in some days. And you can't help a gasp that escapes from deep in your throat.

Somebody knocks on the door.

“Happy, we should go”. His prospect's voice sounds behind it.

The man snort against your skin, pulling himself away some inches to admire his own piece of art, before bite your lips back.

“Happy?”

“I'm old but not deaf!” He shouts, turning to the door for a second.

“Sounds like Cali is calling”. You chuckles, getting comfy between his arms to enjoy the last seconds together.

“Next time, it will be permanent”. He replies referring to the hickey on your neck.

Leaving you alone in the sofa, he gets up to dress his shirt and take his stuff to keep it in a pocket. Happy leans toward you, placing one hand on the headrest, to kiss you one last time with some dearly that overwhelms you. Then, he leaves the club, with his eyes on the tattooed finger.

It takes you a minute to get up, being somewhat recovered, walking towards the wood railing outside to watch how he's wearing the Sons of Anarchy vest. Your brother comes next to you, adopting the same position but without his gaze on you.

“Did you fuck him?”

“I tattooed him”. You answers with a smooth smile on your lips.

“I don't know which one is worst”. Bishop sighs shaking his head, before turning at you. “He was a nomad”.

“So do I”.

“Es diferente, (Y/N)”. (It's different).

“Yea', él lo hizo por dinero. Yo lo hago por placer”. (Yea', he made it for money. I do for pleasure).

“¿Cómo lo sabes?” (How do you know it?)

“Porque sus tatuajes están rellenos de amarillo”. ('Cause he got the yellow on his smileys).

Bishop bow his head with a heavily snort drowning in his mouth, before licking his inner lip. “I can't lose you”.

“You will not. Maybe he was the reason I was looking for, to settle”.

“A man that pointed you with a loaded gun and called you ‘bitch’”?

“A man you can trust in. Don't you?”

You got it. You've caught him.

Your eyes flies to Happy, turning around to look at you with his shitty face, before getting inside the van that his prospect drives.

#sons of anarchy x reader #sons of anarchy imagine #sons of anarchy #happy lowman x reader #happy lowman imagine #happy lowman

294 notes · View notes

the-peachpit · 3 years

Text

Sons Of A Crow

DSMP AU: Wilbur, Tommyinnit, Technoblade are siblings with an absent Father

Warning: Major Character Death

Summary: Philza left to defend L'manburg, Technoblade left to bring him home, Wilbur stayed and watched Tommy grow on his own. Too young to watch over himself and suddenly watching the struggles of others something broke inside Wilbur. his family reunion wasn't what he wanted, but maybe- what they all needed.

In this story L'manburg was a city that always existed and was ready to erupt without the help of Wilbur or Tommy.

Also consider following me on Twitter for more insights on stories! @Thepeachpit_

Orange leaves danced through the sky when Wilbur said goodbye to his father watching his back become a silhouette against the sun. It was fall, a crisp chill in the air when Tommy ran from the top of the stairs his little yellow wings puffed behind him as he missed a step tumbling down. Wilbur turned his face fell watching Tommy scramble to stand ignoring the blood on his knee and hands. Wilbur wrapped a scarf around Tommy’s neck as he screamed for his dad to come back in shorts and a t-shirt. Wilbur could see his own breath as he held Tommy down from trying to fly telling him it was alright.

“Why is he leaving!” Tommy sobbed, “I told him I’d learn how to fly! I’d learn to fly to keep him here! I can do it!”

Wilbur hugged his brother closer whispering into his wheat-colored hair, “Please, Tommy it’s not your fault.”

“It’s everyone else’s,” A voice growled.

Sun beamed through the high windows of the wooden home, but Techno stood in the shadow that day. Sulking, tricking himself into thinking Wilbur couldn’t see his tears. Wilbur would never say a word about the way Techno’s mouth twitched and his shoulders shook. Being the oldest Wilbur knew Techno would carry too much on his shoulders, but he was no father figure. He was no unfeeling weapon, as much as he pretended. Their father had rescued Techno from an auction, and Techno repaid that kindness by being his shadow. Learning everything their father had to offer. A piglin with the dream to be equal to men. Wilbur couldn’t imagine what Techno thought watching their father spread his wings without him.

The day dragged on as Wilbur sat with Tommy on the couch drilling it into the young boy’s skull it wasn’t his fault their father left- he had to. Their father’s situation was delicate. He wasn’t just a crow hybrid but a godly being of sorts, though he never advertised it. Their father had taken Wilbur and Techno to his shrine when they were a little older than Tommy. People worshiped him when they were in need. He looked after those who needed protecting. He wasn’t born an immortal god but was given the right after giving so much of himself to the world that the universe had to reward him. An immortal life with the curse of mortal children with the universe herself. Now people expected him to fight in the war of L’manburg a nation that had been teetering on the edge of revolution for years. Philza would be the hammer ending it all. Wilbur shifted his white wings when Techno came in the whites of his eyes red, his cheeks puffy. Wilbur wouldn’t utter a word.

Taking on the role of a caretaker wasn’t unusual to Wilbur having done it before even when their father was home. Before Tommy was born. Growing up with a piglin brother who still had basic lessons to learn in over world customs was fun but came with challenges. Especially when Techno started learning the art of the blade. Wilbur was tasked with keeping his brother from scrapping with every kid who laid eyes on him with a sneer.

Tommy had finally fallen asleep to something on TV and Wilbur had noticed Techno slip out hours ago. Walking out onto the back porch Wilbur watched his half piglin brother whack at dummies with an axe. His blows were messy- unusual for the calm and collected fighting state his brother usually took on. With tight moves and precision.

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur sat himself on the stairs.

“Not really,” Techno huffed.

Wilbur leaned back on his palms, “You can’t keep it in forever, better to get it out now right?” he looked up at the sky, it had gotten cloudy.

“Bet I can,” Techno landed another blow.

Wilbur sighed, “Come on.”

Techno spun around his long pink ponytail lifting from his shoulders, “What the fuck do you want me to say Wil? Philza just left us here with no warning, who knows how god damn long he’ll be gone. L’manburg’s been fighting itself for years now. Suddenly he has to do crowd control.”

“If you keep swearing like that Tommy is going to get a sailors mouth,” Wilbur smirked.

Techno rolled his eyes, “You remember what he was like after the last war he was called to don’t you? Swearing is the least of Tommy’s worries.”

How could Wilbur forget, the man who came back was not their father. He was cold, distant, quick with a fist. Techno scrapped with their father a lot after he came home, sometimes protecting Wilbur, sometimes Tommy who was too young to remember the in-house violence. Too young to know to keep away from his own dad. Wilbur never blamed Philza he had seen a travesty; he’d taken lives and there’s no coming back from that casually. To return to a family after finding blood on your hands couldn’t be easy. The thought of that happening to Technoblade haunted Wilbur, to see his brother’s eyes look empty and dazed. He hopped Philza would never let Techno join him, as much as Wilbur knew that would tear Technoblade apart.

“Maybe this time will be different,” Wilbur sighed watching the clouds roll in.

Within the first week Tommy’s golden feathers were scattered around the house. Wilbur found a few in the bathroom at first thinking nothing of it. Then more popped up in the kitchen, living room, and a whole pile on the front porch. Wilbur had always respected his brother’s privacy, but out of pure panic he burst into Tommy’s room without knocking watching as Tommy pulled a handful of feathers from his wings. Wide blue eyes filled to the brim with tears starred at Wil-pleading. Scooping Tommy into his arms Wilbur tore down the stairs yelling for Techno.

It was noon on a chilly fall day a storm was rolling in the thunder rumbling deeply as it shook the old house. Wilbur was clutching Tommy’s hands as the boy sniffled at each tug of the bandage Techno wrapped around the bald spots. Pouring oil to heal and hopefully deter Tommy from plucking anymore.

“He’s stressed out,” Wilbur sighed finally feeling like he could breathe.

“Really,” Techno said sarcastically.

Wilbur ran his hand through his brown wavy hair-it was getting long- “I’m serious what are we going to do?”

Techno shrugged, “Our best I guess?”

Wilbur was already doing his best.

After plucking his feathers and being banned from flying on Dr, Techno’s orders Wilbur made sure to never let Tommy leave his sight in fear of his depression getting worse. If the wings were the worst of it Wilbur was sure he could deal, but things could always get worse. The curse of the Crow god hung heavy on the odd family. Weeks passed with the weather oddly warmer for the middle of fall. The trio was outside regularly soaking up the sun or hiking into town casually speaking with others. Techno hated the small talk, but Wilbur insisted it was for Tommy’s sake, keep him socialized. He reminded Techno how important it was to socialize him and was met with a swift whack to the back of the head. Ignoring every bit of war talk they could. It finally felt like it was all stabilizing- like they could hold out until Philza came back.

“You know we just got some new candy in I thought you’d like to try,” A girl smiled coming out from the back of the grocery store.

“Hell yea!” Tommy pumped his fist in the air.

“You’re spoiling him Niki,” Wilbur shook his head putting his groceries on the counter.

“I got some new books too,” Niki put three books on the counter, “Free of charge of course, “She winked.”

A month ago, Wilbur had resented Niki’s kindness as if they couldn’t care if themselves without their father. He hated thinking she was right. With time he realized that wasn’t it at all. Niki was genuinely kind, enjoying the company of the brothers. She wasn’t full of sympathy, but compassion. Giving where she could, but never overly so.

“What, nothing for me?” Technoblade put on a show of pouting.

“Sorry,” Niki shrugged, “My boss still thinks weapons in a general store is a bad idea.”

Techno shook his head, “He’s missing a whole customer base.”

“Maybe I can-“ Niki was cut off as a crowd gathered around the TV in the corner of the store.

Coming from the back the store’s owner turned up the volume on the news broadcast. It was a warm fall when the footage of fires ablaze in homes that viewers were assured had been abandoned was shown to the public. People whispered and gasped, but no one saw him-except Wilbur. A shadow in the corner of the screen wings close to his body, his stance tight, sword sheathed at his side-the Crow in all of his glory. Was that his handy work? He wouldn’t. L’manburg was in flames. Something silently snapped in Wilbur that day, watching his father do nothing as a city burned to the ground. Seeing that scene alone may have started the spiral but knowing Philza watched over the pyres of family’s- Wilbur grabbed the groceries rushing out of the store.

He didn’t speak to his brothers the whole walk home. It had gotten chillier.

Winter dropped two snowstorms back-to-back, during the second Wilbur picked up smoking to keep himself warm. The clouds that escaped from his lips as he sat under a hazy sky while Tommy played in the snow were thick. He watched the smoke curl and join the sky. It started with a smoke outside int eh morning and night. His hands with nothing more to do just kept lighting until he found himself at a pack a day. There was a numb comfort as he lit a second cigarette while Tommy rolled snow into a ball. His mind felt distracted, distant floating away with the smoke. His chest felt lighter, like the weight he’d been carrying found its peace-it never lasted long enough.

“Come on Tommy,” Wilbur put out his cigarette butt in the snow, “It’s cold out here,” He stretched out his wings, “Techno has a nice fire going inside.”

Rolling his eyes Tommy groaned, “Fiiiine,” he pouted his golden wings puffed behind him.

He’d healed perfectly and Wilbur had taken Tommy out for flying lessons a few times over the fall, but winter was hard for flying. The weather changed fast and the cold hurt inexperienced wings. Wilbur had been so happy there was no permanent damage he cried to himself in his room, not unusual, but this was different. He was so happy.

“Wilbur,” Tommy rolled on the floor by the fire, “Can you make hot chocolate?”

“Sure thing,” Wilbur smiled heading into the kitchen.

Techno stomped in trying to get the snow off his boots. Wood stacked under his arm.

“Well, we won’t freeze to death.” Wilbur joked pulling out a small pot.

“You’re welcome,” Technoblade stuck his tongue out.

A knock on the door stopped Wilbur’s quip dead in his throat. A knock at the door. Their door in the middle of nowhere. They weren’t expecting anyone. Would he have knocked after all this time? Wilbur shared a glance with Technoblade who was holding his breath.

The sound of the door creaking open sent Wilbur to the front entrance.

“Tommy, dude you can’t just open the door for anyone,” Wilbur scolded him.

“Oh, come on Wilbur,” Tommy rolled his eyes.

Standing in the doorway was a familiar face in a light blue hoodie. The man would have almost disappeared amongst the snowy landscape if not for his tan complexation.

“Hey Skeppy, what brings you out here?” Wilbur asked the ice mage.

“Mail believe it or not,” Skeppy held out a disheveled letter, “Niki said you guys don’t go to the store during bad weather and asked me to deliver it.”

“Thanks,” Wilbur nodded, “Would you like to come in and warm up?”

Skeppy shook his head, “This weather is my natural element I am as comfortable as can be,” He assured him, “Plus Bad is expecting me back.”

Wilbur chuckled, “Have fun in the nether, don’t melt.”

“Ha-ha,” Skeppy rolled his eyes waving goodbye.

Closing the door Wilbur looked at the letter in his shaking hands. It was tattered and must have had a long journey to his cold fingers. Walking back into the kitchen where Tommy and techno stood Wil looked between his brothers unsure what to say. Opening his mouth, he wished he had a cigarette to give him an excuse to stay silent. There was no other choice as he slowly slipped a finger unto the fold of the yellowed envelope ripping it open. Pulling out the letter Wilbur gasped.

“Who is it from,” An urgency in techno’s voice.

“Dad,” Wilbur whispered his dark eyes scanned the letter again, “He says he’s coming home soon.”

“Let me see,” Techno ripped the letter from Wilbur’s grasp, “Holy fuck,” he breathed out.

“Dads coming home!’ Tommy threw his hands up in the air running around the house.

Spirits were high as the sun shone over glittering snow.']

The letter hadn’t stated when their father would be back, just soon. The days rolled like molasse with everyone especially Tommy, checking the windows to catch a glimpse of their father landing. The days and nights were all becoming bitterly cold, and the thought of delayed travel started to creep into Wilbur’s mind. To clear it when cigarettes weren’t enough, he snuck out at the dead of night through his window. The air was brisk, it shook him to his bones. Extending his wings with a powerful downward thrust Wilbur took to the starry skies. The wind hurt his wings-burned them with frost, but Wilbur had never felt so alive as his lungs froze inside. He was reminded of living as he soared against the inky night. He remembered his first winter flight with Philza. He fell towards the ground unable to deal with the brutal temperatures. His father had been there to catch him- support him- swearing to Wil he’d only have to fly in the winter if he were every in trouble. He wondered if he was in trouble now.

Technoblade was off, it had snowed again in the middle of the winter season. Wilbur would catch Techno staring out the window at nothing for far too long. Putting his hand on Techno’s shoulder would jolt him back to reality. His brother’s long pink hair that was usually tied so neatly in buns, or ponytails was in a knotted braid that hadn’t been maintained in days. He looked pale. Wilbur was worried about illness.

“Hey Techno,” Wilbur stood form the floor, “You mind playing this round with Tommy? My knees are kind of sore.”

Techno shrugged sitting across from Tommy who shuffled a deck of cards.

Wilbur at on the sofa behind Techno taking in the site of his older brother. Techno had purple marks under his eyes, they looked slightly puffy as well. He missed his turn and Tommy had to keep pulling techno from his fog. Slowly Wilbur reached out picking up the long braid and pulled the hair tie free. He brushed through his brothers matted hair surprised Techno was being a willing participant.

“I’ve always been jealous you had the patience for all of this hair,” Wilbur started braiding noting it was messier than anything techno had done.

“I’m going to grow my hair as long as techno,” Tommy proudly declared, “My braid will be ten times better.”

“You know I bet Techno could braid your hair now,” Wilbur suggested getting no response from his distant brother, “Techno,” Wilbur prompted.

“Oh-yea,” Techno shook his head, “Tommy come here.”

With quick fingers Techno braided Tommy’s short blonde hair before moving to Wilbur’s brown wavy mess. They were bonded the brothers of misfortune. Techno was getting worse, forgetting things, spacing out for hours, losing blocks of time. Wilbur kept asking him if he was okay but, Techno kept deflecting. Wilbur knew it was better not to push when it came to his brother. Techno would sort it out on his own, maybe it was a weird Piglin thing. Tommy stated asking again when their father was returning home as the snow melted and spring was on the way. Wilbur had no answer and it added onto the pile of anger he had been harboring. Seeing news cast after news cast about the war. How L’manburg was falling, how they didn’t just end it. He kept catching glimpses of their father at horrible sights, but nobody else seemed to catch him. Wilbur had given up months ago on the man he knew.

Cutting vegetables for dinner Techno put his knife on the counter leaning forward heavily panting.

“Hey you,” Wilbur started before Techno slumped to the ground.

“Techno!” Wilbur fell to his knees to comfort his brother only to be slapped away.

“Don’t touch me,” Techno growled.

“You need to rest something’s not-“

Slapping Wilbur’s hovering hand away Techno’s piercing green eyes shot through Wilbur, “I said fuck off, don’t touch me,” he growled. Standing on shaky legs Techno stumbled away and up the stairs leaving Wilbur to worry about his piglin brother. Techno locked himself away for three days, Wilbur left meals outside his door.

“Tommy!” A voice roared from down the hall, “I told you a hundred times to stay out!”

A scream sent Wilbur charging up the stairs, “What happened,” his voice died in his throat.

Cowering in the corner was Tommy his arms in front of his face to protect himself while Techno brandished a blade in front of him. Charging into the room Wilbur pushed Techno and his brother swung the weapon at him instead. His eyes red and angry his features more piglin than man.

“He’s just a kid what the hell is your problem?” Wilbur yelled.

“I’ve told him a hundred times to not touch my weapons and he was in here playing with my crossbow,” Techno growled.

“Is it broken? What is your deal, you don’t threaten him!”

“He doesn’t even deserve to be our brother, Philza raised us to be strong, and Tommy’s always been pathetic,” Techno spat.

“You’re a monster!” Tommy stood stomping his foot before taking off.

Slowly Techno lowered his weapon blinking frantically as his red eyes faded to the familiar green.

“Wil,” Techno swayed before collapsing to the floor.

Wilbur wasn’t sure which mess to pick up first. Deciding his brother on the floor would be priority. Getting leverage under his arms Wilbur hoisted Techno onto his bed glad the man passed out in his own room. Putting his hand on Techno’s forehead he felt the sheen of sweat on his hot skin. Biting his lip Wilbur took off to tend to Tommy. As he ran down the stairs, he pictured a flurry of gold feathers littering the halls. Of irreversible damage. Wilbur felt like his lungs were collapsing in on him as he checked every room to no avail. There was a chill in the air from an open window in the kitchen, Tommy had left. Wilbur felt himself gag when he realized. Tommy had taken off into the winter sky on the verge of darkness alone. Fuck and Wil knew he hadn’t taken time to put on any warmer clothes besides his thin long sleeve shirt. He had to go out and find him quickly throwing on his brown trench coat, scarf, and knit hat before running out and taking off to the sky.

“Tommy!’ Wilbur screamed until his voice was hoarse scanning the sky and land.

It had been two hours since he started his search, and his heart was pounding in his ears from a mixture of cold and panic. The sun had set behind the mountains leaving only a faint blue glow to the sky Wilbur knew would fade in time. Then Tommy would be out there alone overnight with no way for Wilbur to spot him. Tommy wouldn’t make it.

“Tommy!” Wilbur screamed.

“Wil,” A small broken voice made its way over the rushing wind.

Through tear frozen eyes Wilbur spotted him a small dark red speck in the white winter night. Immediately landing hard enough to stumble like he did when he was a child Wilbur scrambled to the lump on the ground. He couldn’t tell who was shaking more, himself or Tommy. In the darkness it was impossible to get a read on what was wrong, but the young boys breathing was shallow, and Wil begged for him to tell him what was wrong as he wrapped Tommy in his coat. A feeble effort to warm him. Holding his brother tight Wilbur prayed something he’d never been a fan of even being the child of a man akin to a deity. He prayed to his father to guide them safely through the night.

“Wilbur,” Tommy croaked, “I miss dad.”

“Me too,” Wilbur whispered holding his brother closer.

Miracles could bless those in dire need as the wind died down and the sounds of horse hooves crunching on the snow echoed through the trees. Wilbur’s ears perked at the sound of his name.

“We’re here!” Wilbur shouted with every breath he had left in his shivering body.

A horse sent by a prayer appeared before them with a familiar pink haired figure riding on top. He pulled off his red cape as he dismounted wrapping it around the shaking shoulders of the man who was trying so hard to have all the answers and hold it together.

“Let me see him,” Techno’s voice a faraway whisper with hands outstretched.

Wilbur hesitated knowing those hands caused destruction and started the argument that lead down this path. However, he was weak using all of his stamina while flying and holding Tommy tightly to his chest trying desperately to protect him from the elements. Slowly Wilbur handed over the shivering boy. Techno looked over Tommy nodding to himself Wilbur knew he was using his superior night vision to check Tommy over.

Standing on unstable legs Wilbur hoisted himself on the horse holding the red cloak around himself tightly apologizing in his own mind to his brother quietly endured the bite of the frost. Letting his dark eyes slowly close Wilbur continued his prayers to his father-pleads to come home.

Waking slowly with a pounding headache Wilbur propped himself on his elbows. He was in his bed int eh same clothes he’d worn last night. Looking down he saw red splotches on his shirt feeling his skin crawl. He wished it was his. Rolling out of bed he hissed at the pain in his knees, that landing had done more damage than he thought. Leaning against the wall for support he limped his way out into the hallway where a savory aroma hit his nose. Soup- a familiar soup- a dish his father had made a hundred times when one of them had been injured or sick. The stairs creaked causing Wilbur to hold his breath.

“Oh, good you’re up.”

Wilbur’s face fell, “Your hair.”

Techno stood in the hallway with a tray carrying two bowls of soup. His long hair had been hacked away into a short messy style. His long braid discarded.

“I’m leaving Wil,” Tehcno’s voice was cold, “I need to find Philza.”

Wilbur shook his head feel his braid, “We don’t need him we’re doing fine without-“

“I need him!” Techno shouted, “You don’t get it! I’m a danger to you two without Philza here! He keeps the voices away; they demand blood, and it doesn’t matter whose. Wilbur if I did anything permeant to you or god- fucking Tommy almost died last night!”

“That wasn’t your fault.”

“Don’t try to spare me, you sugar coat everything thinking it’ll all work out, but it’s not working Wil! So, I’m going to drag dad back here by the scruff of his wings.”

A creak of the floorboards.

“A branch went through Tommy’s leg, its broken. I set it the best I could.”

“Techno please, we can beat this without him.” Wilbur felt his throat tighten.

“I’ll be back before summer.” Techno set the tray on a small table in the hall.

Without another word Techno walked down the stairs with Wilbur at his heels begging the man not to leave. Not for him but for Tommy, he would beat himself up, he wouldn’t survive if Techno just up and left. He’s a child who doesn’t deserve anymore disappointment. Nothing could deter the determined look of the piglin as he secured a travel bag to his horse and double checked the saddle. With a stern glance Techno left his axe shinning in the sun on his back.

Wilbur went inside a numbness overcame him as he pulled his heavy legs up the stairs grabbed a bowl of soup went into Tommy’s room. The boy laid eyes closed leg elevated the wrapped. Bloody scraps of cloth laid all around the room. Setting the bowl on the nightstand Wilbur felt his world crush him falling to his knees and sobbing his chest heaving. He apologized over and over to no one who could hear him. He apologized for being weak, unable to protect anyone, for letting things slip through his fingers. When Wilbur felt his heart snap months ago watching the fires he ignored it, took up smoking, and retreating into himself hiding what he thought he knew of his father from his brothers. If L’manburg was supposed to fall Wilbur wanted to push-someone had to push. It was the only way to bring everything back.

It was the first day of spring when Tommy finally awoke disoriented and Wilbur cried again holding his brother close to his chest. A warm wind rustled the grass that was returning when Wilbur had to come clean about Technoblades absence. He watched Tommy’s curious blue eyes become cold and steely. He wasn’t inconsolable, but as the earth thawed Tommy became icy. Going into town wasn’t as fun without Tommy chatting to everyone instead, he stood by Wilbur avoiding eye contact. Wilbur made a point to take Tommy out more hoping he would just spring back even on his crutches. After a while Tommy started saying he was too tired to hobble to town on his busted leg.

“That leg will heal in time Tommy, before you know it, you’ll be bouncing around again,” Wilbur encouraged.

Tommy pouted silently.

“I’m at my wits end Niki,” Wilbur leaned on the counter, “I can’t bring him back from this.”

The sweltering summer weather was on the way Wilbur had gone to buy ice cream realizing it was just another feeble attempt at fixing something impossible. “He’s been through a lot; the cast just came off didn’t it?” Niki pointed out, “All spring he’s been trapped, maybe take him for a flight! He’s always so happy to come back from those and tell me what he saw,” She giggled.

Wilbur shot up, “You’re a genius!”

A crash stopped Wilbur and unknowingly changed the ever-evolving family of unfortunate crows. A boy stood there wide brown eyes shooting between the knocked over display and Niki and Wilbur. His breathing was heavy.

“Sorry,” he stuttered out.

“It’s okay Tubbo,” Niki quickly assured him, “Accidents happen.”

Wilbur crouched down next to the boy spotting two stubby ram horns poking through his thick brown hair, his bangs were practically covering his eyes. He had long floppy ears and black nails. A hybrid.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Wilbur observed.

Tubbo said nothing staring back with big doe eyes.

“You just move in mate?”

Tubbo shrugged.

Niki gave a sad smile to Wilbur, “His situation is a lot like yours, except it’s just him.”

Wilbur’s body jerked like electricity had shot up his spine. A situation like his huh, an absent father fending for himself. All alone though he was just a kid couldn’t be older than Tommy, that was cruelty. Without hesitation Wilbur offered the kid a place to say welcoming Tubbo into the misfit pack. How he wished he’d met that kid sooner. At first Tommy was apprehensive until Tubbo burned himself on the stove. He wouldn’t let Wilbur go anywhere near him to help cowering like an animal in the corner. When Tommy approached though slowly Tubbo offered his hand. From that day forward the boys were inseparable as Tommy showed Tubbo things the ram boy had never seen and swore to protect him. Wilbur smoked a cigarette on the porch watching the boys climb trees in the backyard. Sometimes when he blinked, he saw himself and Techno climbing those trees. When did Techno go from the scared unsure halfling to a warrior? All Wilbur did was blink.

Running an errand in town the boys were chasing each other as usual when Tommy’s golden wings sprung out, somehow Tubbo had yet to see them.

“Wow!” Tubbo beamed, “Can you fly with those?”

Tommy shrugged, “Kind of.”

“Tommy,” Wilbur raised a brow, “You’re a splendid flyer.”

Tommy gave his wings a flap shrugging again.

It hit Wilbur; Tommy hadn’t flown since that night in the snow. Hadn’t even attempted all summer to stretch his wings.

“Why don’t you guys buy some candy form Niki,” Wilbur handed the two boys money watching them run off.

Wilbur went to a different store to buy his cigarettes. It smelled of cheap smoke and alcohol lined the shelves. It also played the news Niki had stopped showing because she thought it was bad for Tommy to see. Wilbur didn’t totally disagree, but he couldn’t play it at home either. The store was dim and none of the faces looked friendly, besides the slick man who worked at the counter. Tall with a close buzzcut, he wore glasses with two different colored lenses. Wilbur had spoken to Jackmanifold a few times, never in depth, but he knew they shared the same view of L’manburg-it had to end. The conversation had started that summer if you could call it innocently. Now it was becoming real tangible plans with a syndicate closer to the city.

“They’re starting to move the dynamite,” Jackmanifold slid a pack of cigarettes across the counter, “It’s a slow process, but when it’s done the war will end.”

Wilbur scowled; it was for the best. It was a complicated plan and included p6eople sneaking around to plant large undetectable stacks of dynamite around the city. The hardest part would be building the kill switch mechanism from what he understood. To set off he explosives untraceable.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag Wilbur walked towards the exit, “Keep me updated Jack.”

“You got it boss,” Jackmanifold saluted.

Exiting the store Wilbur’s shoulders sagged.

“Wilbur!”

Two boys ran towards Wilbur showing off their spoils from the general store smiles bright and unafraid, unaware of the world crumbling around them. Wilbur returned their bright smiles he was doing this for them.

Summer was hot and the only cooling relief came in the form of a small inflatable pool Wilbur pulled from the basement. The boys got a kick out of splashing each other and Tommy had gotten more comfortable letting his golden feathers flap around like he used to. Wilbur had taken up journaling writing down every insignificant detail of days that dragged on through noon until lunch when suddenly the cool nights went much too fast. He wrote down the day he took the duo fishing, how Tommy never wanted to go again seeing fish struggling was too much for the young boy. How Tubbo tried to show Tommy it wasn’t that bad and trying to eat a raw fish. He wrote about taking Tommy back to the sky the poor boy was practically shaking at the thought.

“Tommy avians weren’t meant to spend so much time tethered to the ground,” Wilbur had said one day.

Tommy shook his head, “Wilbur I can’t last time it was.” He stuttered.

“Last time it was cold and dark,” Wilber gripped Tommy’s shoulder reassuringly, “Today’s perfect.”

Tommy shook his head, “Look Wilbur.”

“I’d like to see it,” Tubbo chirped, “I’ve never seen you fly! Could you take me?”

Tommy looked at Wilbur.

Wilbur nodded, “When he’s older he can.”

The thought of taking Tubbo into the sky was all it took for Tommy to follow Wilbur back into the open air. It really was a perfect day; Wilbur wrote in his journal about how there was no clouds in sight that day. He wrote about Tubbo wanting to get into music after seeing a traveling band in town. Wilbur spent the end of the summer teaching the boys guitar. Tommy snuck into Technoblades old armory in the shed and started to take blades seriously. Wilbur was hesitant but figured Tommy should know how to defend himself. Sending him to learn with Jackmanifold who was sworn from talking about L’manburg. Wilbur wrote about watching the boys grow for two years they turned into brave young men, and for a moment he was proud. They’d had ups and downs but the young men who stood in front of him now were admirable. Wilbur wrote letters his father would never see, and apologies Technoblade deserved.

Fall was right around the corner and Wilbur had given his trench coat to Tommy last winter. He was in town looking for warm clothes for himself as well as Tubbo. The boys were milling about the isles on their own while Wilbur hummed to himself going over his coat choices. When the crowd around the TV caught his eye Wilbur already knew it would be L’manburg coverage. Noticing Tommy and Tubbo at the back of the store Wilbur slowly made his way through the crowd. His heart shattered and his breathing became ragged at the sight of the news coverage, hey were speaking of a beast of pure rage that had knocked down a whole wall in a single blow. Wilbur knew who they meant deep down in his aching bones he knew-but it couldn’t be he went there to bring their father back not join in the bloodshed. They must have been talking about Technoblade as they mentioned his blood red cape and crown on his head- a prince of destruction.

Wilbur ran, he left the boys as he sprinted down the street to the sketchy store on the corner where he bought the cigarettes that started to make him cough. “You have to blow it!” Wilbur slammed his fists on the counter.

“Wil, we can’t,” Jackmanifold tried to calm him, “There’s only a fail-safe button if you were to press that you’d die.”

Wilbur laughed, “It’s almost been three years Jack! What is taking so long!”

Jackmanifold raised his unusually even tone, “It’s not exactly easy sneaking tons of explosives into a maintain and rigging them outside of a war zone!”

“Tell me where,” Wilbur ran his fingers through his hair.

“Mate,” Jackmanifold looked pale.

“Tell me Jack or I swear I’ll burn this place to the ground!” Wilbur grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt his wings spreading far enough to break bottles as they fell off shelves. Jackmanifold spilled the beans and Wilbur spiraled that night packing all of his belongings hastily into a suitcase. Hurrying down the stairs in the dark only to be stopped by a man at the door with blonde hair and arms crossed.

“Where you going Wil?” Tommy asked.

“Tommy, I have to,” Wilbur trailed off.

“Have to what huh?”

Wilbur winced, when was the last time Tommy had raised his voice in true anger.

“Fucking leave? Like Techno? Like dad?” Tommy raised an eyebrow, “Want to leave me here alone.”

“You’re not alone,” Wilbur was trembling, “You have Tubbo.”

“You’re my brother! You’re all I have left of my family Wilbur!” Tommy slammed his fist into the door, “Tell me why you’re leaving! Tell me why Technoblade really left! Tell me if you knew dad was leaving and why nobody gave me any goddamn warning! Why am I the last one to know anything in this family? I. am. A. part. Of. This. Wilbur! Stop treating me like I’ll break if you talk about them! It’s been three years and I haven’t heard you mention them once, just slowly break!”

“What’s going on?”

Wilbur turned he felt lightheaded as he saw Tubbo those same wide brown eyes shining in worry like the first day he saw him.

Tommy was laughing, “Welcome to this shitty family Tubbo! We’re fighting because your brother thinks your nothing!”

Wilbur felt his stomach twist at Tommy’s laugh-he was becoming more like Wilbur- Tommy was better than that. Wilbur thought he had been sly all these years, but Tommy was wise and knew he was falling apart.

“That’s not true Tommy,” Wilbur reached into his pocket pulling out a leather-bound journal holding it out to his brother, “If you don’t believe me then read this, but not yet. I’m going to L’manburg, and you might as well come with me. I hear there’s a safe zone outside of the city. You can read that and all of the books in the desk in my room after this trip. Okay?”

Tommy snatched the book looking at it, “Why would you go there,” he scowled.

“Techno went to get Philza back, but something went wrong. Now I’m going to end this story and get them both home.”

“Fine,” Tommy nodded, “Let’s pack our bags Tubbo.”

Renting a cart all Wilbur could think about was the outburst Tommy had, years of resentment had built inside of him Wilbur had never seen coming. Years of pain and confusion as his family fell apart around him. He was feeding off of Wilburs poor energy it seemed as well. Tommy was better than Wilbur-he had a bright future ahead of him. When they stopped for the night on the first day of their trip Wilbur snuck the leather journal from out of Tommy’s backpack. He wrote an apology letter, for the past present and future. He deserved at least that much.

When they got to the encampment Wilbur felt electricity spike through his body. He jumped from the cart running past confused by standers before his fist collided with a familiar face.

“I deserved that,” A gruff voice spoke.

“You deserve more than that,” Wilbur growled his fist still at the ready.

A tall figure with a muscular build stood before him, an axe at his hip, pink hair growing out to his shoulders. A blood red cape fluttered around his ankles and it looked like he’d broken a tusk.

“You’re right,” Techno nodded.

“Technoblade!” Tommy shouted running through the path Wilbur had carved out of the crowd.

Colliding with the tall man there was very little give as Tommy threw his arms around his chest. Techno looked at Wilbur in a pause his arms in the air palms out. Wilbur sighed giving a nod.

Technoblades face was soft as he smiled bending down to hug Tommy, “You’ve gotten so big.”

Wilbur wondered what it was like for Techno, the last time he saw Tommy he was critically injured, a busted leg, hypothermia now he had a full wingspan. Tubbo slowly came to stand next to Wilbur silently watching Tommy hug another hybrid.

“Who’s that?” Techno asked spotting the ram boy.

“My mate Tubbo,” Tommy moved to the boy slinging an arm around his shoulders, “basically part of the family.”

Tubbo gave a small wave.

“He basically saved Tommy after you left,” Wilbur narrowed his eyes.

“Wilbur,” Techno started.

Wilbur walked away without another word into the crowd back to the cart. He pulled it out of the commotion of the tents and stalls to an open part of field. He tied it to a tree and found a large boulder to sit on watching the crowd mill about. Looking at the sky he saw it, the mountain he would be climbing that night. After the sun went down Tommy would get the life he deserved.

As the time wound down Wilbur made sure to spend the day with his brothers even softening up around Technoblade. They ate good food and met better people caught up in a tragedy Tommy slowly realized he didn’t know much about asking Techno question after question to Wilbur’s dismay.

“How sheltered did you keep him?” Techno half joked.

“I just wanted him to be happy,” Wilbur looked at his reflection in his beer, night had fallen he had to leave, “If something happened to me,” he swallowed thickly, “Would you look after both of them?”

“Of course, I would but nothing is going to happen to you out here, it’s safe,” Techno assured him.

“Come home Techno,” Wilbur asked. His answer would change everything. He was the last string holding him together.

“I can’t until this is done,” Techno shoot his head a new braid done by Tommy swished around, “These people need me to keep them safe right now.”

It snapped.

“Right,” Wilbur nodded pulling his knit cap over his ears, “Have you seen Philza out here?”

“A few times, he was trying to be positive, but,” Techno took a drink, “He’s losing himself Wil, it’s bad. If this doesn’t end soon, he won’t be Philza much longer. I’ll get word out you’re here though; he’d rush to see you.”

The thought made Wilbur smirk, he had so much time to rush to see him, it was too late now.

Wilbur squeezed Techno’s shoulder as he said he was going to bed. He hugged Tubbo and hugged Tommy for far too long. He heart was aching; he thought this operation would be easy and as he hugged his youngest brother who had been through the ringer, he second guessed himself. He had to remind himself this was bigger than Tommy, this would stop a whole war. He had come this far-it was for more than just himself.

Lighting a cigarette on his torch Wilbur started to climb the mountain, it was steep, and rocks slid and tumbled with every step he took. How people could be stealthily on this trail he’d never know. He was sure the whole city could hear him scheming. He had his white wings out to help him balance and for comfort-if he fell, he would catch himself. He cursed his white feathers if they were black like his fathers he could have flown up.

Getting to the crest of the mountain the mouth of a cave greeted him. He entered with no hesitation his heart pounding in his chest as he noticed the writing on the walls. The anthem of L’manburg. In the center of the writing was a button-the button that would end it all.

“I knew I’d catch one of you eventually if I waited long enough.”

The voice behind Wilbur turned his veins to ice.

“Turn around slowly,” They demanded, “And come with me. I have a few questions.”

Slowly Wilbur turned to a shocked face holding a shaky sword.

“Wil,” Philza whispered into the dark, “What are you doing?”

“Philza,” Wilbur’s voice cracked.

“Why are you here?” Philza dropped his sword his long blonde hair braided to the side.

Wilbur wondered if Techno had done it. He smiled feeling his mouth wobble, “I want to bring you home.”

“Wilbur I promise to come home as soon as-“

“I’m ending this tonight!” Wilbur shouted, “It’s been three years Philza! Do you know what any of went through? Did Techno tell you how he ran away when Tommy almost died?”

“What?” Philza’s green eyes were wide, ‘I didn’t-“

“What do you still know about us!” Wilbur backed towards the wall, “We’ve grown and changed, and you haven’t been there! I can’t believe you even recognized me!”

“Of course, I recognize you! You’re my son!” Philza shouted.

Wilbur smirked, “I used to proudly tell people I was the mortal son of the crow. Now I say I have a dad somewhere. Except I’ve known exactly where you were all this time. I saw you on TV when no one else seemed to be able to! Causing atrocities. You even brainwashed Technoblade into it because he’d follow you anywhere.”

“Buddy I’ve been,” Philza hesitated.

“So, help me if you say doing your job, I’ll slit my own throat,” Wilbur spat.

Philza stood straighter, “I’ve been helping people, I’ve been a relief effort I’ve only raised my sword to defend.”

Wilbur hung his head, “I wish I believed you,” He looked at Philza with blurry vision tears welling up, “Do better for Tommy.”

Wilbur hit the button.

“NO!” Philza screamed rushing forward as the earth shook and rumbled.

Wilbur closed his eyes waiting for the crushing pain he deserved of mountain debris. Nothing came as the sounds of explosions rang through the night and sparks brighter than the stars lit up the night before the fires. Opening his eyes, he saw black wings extended over him protecting him from harm. Heavy breathing was the only sound as Wilbur looked into his father’s soft eyes and saw fear, panic, and anything but disappointment. Wilbur felt tears fall down his cheeks, but they weren’t his own. Looking to where the small mouth of the cave used to be he saw a gaping hole with crowds of people gathering to see the monster dwelling inside.

Tommy, Techno, and Tubbo stood out, their mouths a gape as they saw Wilbur pinned by their father in a tragic twist of fate. Slowly Philza stood turning to see the same crowd.

“You brought them here,” Philza looked panicked.

Wilbur clutched his own chest, “Philza you have to kill me.”

“What?” Philza whipped back around.

Wilbur stood kicking Philza sword towards him, “You have to kill me. They’ll arrest me.”

“Wil,” Philza shook his head, “We’ll work this out, I’ll talk with them.”

“Your reputation will be ruined.”

“I don’t care about me reputation! I won’t have to keep doing this if I lose it!” Philza stepped closer his hands out like he wanted to comfort Wilbur, but they were shaking.

“Philza they’ll torture me, you know they will.” Wilbur spoke like a dead man.

“I won’t do it in front of them!” Philza screamed, “You’re my son! I won’t kill you in front of your brothers! My children!”

“They’re so much stronger then you know now,” Wilbur picked up the sword from the ground slowly walking towards Philza. He put the hilt in Philzas open palms closing his fingers into fists holding his own clammy hands around Philzas warm ones, “Dad.”

Wilbur whispered his final word as Philza stepped forward and Wilbur hugged his father for the first time in a very long time. He cried silently while his father sobbed onto his shoulder his black wings encircling them as if to make it more private, to spare his brothers from knowing. As Wilbur succumbed to the pain he smiled, they knew, he bet Techno knew all along he came to L’manburg to die. It hurt more then he thought it would, physically or emotionally he couldn’t tell though. The pain in his abdomen was fire, but hearing Philza wail, and Tommy’s voice ringing in his ear Wilbur closed his eyes feeling cold, and warm against his father and his feathers.

“Wilbur, my strongest son,” Philza whispered.

They were the last words Wilbur heard. ------- Traveling in silence a day later Tommy was flipping through the journal Wilbur had given him, it was all of Wilbur’s personal thoughts. Tommy felt like a fool saying Wil hadn’t cared about him. He’d documented everything, several times he talked about how brave, and strong Tommy had gotten two summers ago. Their first winter flight together- how impressed Wilbur was. Tommy was a fool, he wrapped Wilbur’s old coat tighter around his shoulders trying not to cry where everyone could hear. If this was just one journal he wondered how many were in Wilbur’s desk, what they all said. At the end of this one Wilbur mentioned getting the family back together. He looked up at Philza driving the cart- he held Tommy so tight last night. It reminded him of the forest when he broke his leg. Idly flipping through Tommy noticed writing he had missed on the front cover earlier.

Dear Tommy,

You were served a rotten hand in this life, with a father who disappeared and brothers who were broken. Techno and I tried our best I promise you that, but we weren’t equipped to bring you up still being kids ourselves. We were scared- I was scared- of letting you down. I’ve written a journal full of apologies to Tehcnoblade, and I was a fool to think after Tubbo showed up you weren’t owed anything. You are owed a dozen apologies from three people, but I hope I am sufficient. If you’re reading this at all there’s a good chance I didn’t come home okay, or I didn’t come home at all, and I’m sorrier than you could ever know. This life wasn’t for me Tommy, I am in pain and I don’t know how else to stop it. You dulled this pain for so long I almost forgot I was suffering. I never realized how it was affecting you, and you were right, you’ve bene in the dark for a long time, because no one wanted ot hurt you- instead we did the opposite. Don’t be mad at Philza – our father never wanted to be a figure head, he wanted to be a man who made his family proud, and you should be proud of him. He would do anything for us, he just hasn’t had a lot of choices when it’s come to fate. If he could leave it behind, I know he would just to spend every day listening to you catch him up on what he missed. Be gentle with Technoblade, under his tough exterior out brother is soft and scared of what you think of him. When he left it was with good intentions to bring our father back. He gets caught up in his own head and becomes a danger to himself more than others. If you see him start to clam up don’t let him- bother him every day. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he wants to talk about it, he wants to feel something. Protect Tubbo when this is all over. Our family will be fractured and hurt, Tubbo has only ever had a broken family, he’ll hurt watching the pain work its way through your hearts differently. He’ll fell like an outsider with no right to mourn, but I believe Tubbo became just as much of a brother to me. I know he saved you from yourself, you might need to save him in return. Just remember not to be too strong, let yourself feel. We as a family hid our emotions for too long. Lastly, I have a large request I may not even know comes true, but don’t be mad at me. If I could have, I would have done this differently, but there was no more time. I needed to be free, you needed to be free. Tommy you’ve grown into a brilliant, gentle, curious soul who puts others before himself. Who is afraid to put himself first, listen to yourself more, trust yourself more. You are important and deserve to take care of you. I would have loved to see you continue to grow as you come into your own, but it wasn’t meant to be. Remember avians weren’t meant to be on the ground too long. Find me amongst the clouds on your next trip to the sky. Your brother forever, Wilbur.

Tommy hiccupped grabbing the ends of Wilbur’s jacket tight as he dropped the book, curled into a ball and sobbed, not for himself, but his brother whose hurt he never got to understand.

#dsmp #dsmp fanfic #dsmp fic #writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #major character death #dream smp #c!techno #c!wilbur #c!philza

7 notes · View notes

eagesoldartblog · 4 years

Text

Heyooo I guess im posting fics to tumblr again- I hope you enjoy!!! Warning: detailed impalement, massive injuries, I mean MASSIVE, graphic descriptions of violence and near death experinces

Vivi’s Scar

“Hey Vivi,” She perks up, twisting her head away from her beach bag full of towels to Arthur, who was ... staring at her. He palms the back of his neck awkwardly, before pointing at her stomach, “so... sorry if this is weird but... what’s with the tattoo?”

“Tattoo?” Vivi says, raising an eyebrow, before she looks at her arms curiously, taking note of the small decals she dedicated to her two friends, “Which?”

“The one one your .. chest.”

“Huh?” Bewildered, Vivi looks down, before it hits her, “Ohh... I see what you mean.”

“Yea! I figured I - you know what, uh... what’s with it?” Arthur asks, brushing his hair back lamely and shifting on his feet as he comes closer to get a better look.

Vivi snickers, “it’s not a tattoo. It’s a scar.”

“... What?” Arthur lightly touches his own shoulder, which was scarred to hell and back itself, before looking at hers again.

“Yeah!” Vivi stretches her torso, and traces her finger down it, “don’t get me wrong, I get why you think that!”

It’s a large scar full of texture, appearing like a fat slithering snake was making a large S. The edges appeared white while the rest of the body became discolored, edging on gray. It starts around her belly button and then curves up her right breast. It was more than obvious now that she wore a bikini since it revealed the full extent of it. The thought made her grin a little bit. “I got it when I was a kid. Don’t remember how though, if I’m honest.”

“How do you not remember getting a scar?”

She shrugs, “My mom told me that I went missing one day, and when I came back, I had this wacky scar and some broken limbs. Fun stuff!” She laughs lightly, as if it wasn’t a big deal, before she returns to double checking the bag for the sunscreen.

Arthur appears around her shoulder, craning his neck to look at it. Vivi smirks, and grabs his wrist.

“Wanna touch it?”

“Ah-! I- huh?”

“I mean you keep staring at it! And I’ll tell you what, it does feel kinda weird.”

Arthur jerks his hand away and sputters, blushing lightly, “No-nonono, that’s- uh... it just looks like- I don’t know, a carving? Kinda like when you burn designs into wood.”

”Pyrography?” Lewis offers, peaking into the room with a cooler.

Arthur snaps his fingers and nods, “Yes! That. It looks... like that?”

Vivi snickers again, “well thank you for calling me a piece of art~”

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself.”

“How can I not?” Vivi bites her lip to avoid laughing more than she wanted to, “I know how much you two look at me~”

”Just as much as you look in the mirror?”

“Okay, fuck you, Lewis.”

The three laugh amongst themselves, Mystery couldn’t help but smile himself. Only for that smile to fade as he averts his gaze.

If only she knew.

The trees towered above her head, and the sweet earthy grass beckoned her in. Never willing to miss a chance on adventure, Vivi sprints through the canopy, with her trusty ‘sword’ in hand. It’s wooden bark has long since stripped away, but the stick was as sturdy as can be.

And to prove it, Vivi spots a spindly tree with a burl sticking out, and she wallops its side. The hefty crack vibrating through her arm and sending thrills down her back. How could it not?

Vivi was a strong, powerful warrior, taking after a legacy of even more powerful warriors. A long list of samurai, rōnin, onna-musha, and yokai hunters. At the very highest, one of the most well known and revered, Mushi Yukino.

Vivi’s heart flutters, her stomach twists, as she imagines the woman, surrounded by hundreds of monsters and serpents, in between her and the legendary kitsune who she dominated and harnessed. So strong and powerful, the kitsune had no choice but to submit. They had to join the yukino family and protect her descendants!

Vivi giggles, abandoning the beaten tree and leaping through another bush.

I’m going to be the next! Vivi laughs full heartedly, hooking her sword around a tree branch and swinging her feet as she lands. Taking off in a new direction.

As far away as possible from home. Okkasan and Otousan would be furious if they knew she went out this far. Vivi didn’t particularly care. It was her break from her studies, and her otousan let her have some time to play after a lengthy English lesson.

But why would she just play in the court, when she could train in her natural element?

A few mountains peak through the trees, and Vivi’s eyes crinkle as the scent of the caves and stones called to her. Only for her to dig her heel into the ground.

The mountain stands before her, tall and unyielding... She can’t climb! Not yet... Vivi gulps apprehensively, stomach souring as her hands become clammy around her sword. Baba told her time and time again to be wary in the forests.

Pay respect, and it will respect you. But by all means, don’t go on your own.

Vivi shudders lightly, eyebrows furrowing.

She’ll never become like the greatest monster Hunter of her family if she never learns to climb!

So...! She’ll just have to get over it!

Steeling herself, Vivi turns her head up and stares at the tree beside her.

It’s towering over her, with many branches sticking out from it. Surrounding the tree, was a few considerably smaller ones, with lush greens that nearly made it impossible to see through.

Perfect! She grins, and sets off through the bushes that also surround the tree. One bush was filled with many shiny scarlet berries.

Vivi paid it no mind. She’s seen weirder.

Not far off, a white rabbit watches. The fur along its back prickling, ears straight and alert, and the urge to thump and scream intense. It leaps after her.

Balancing her sword against the bark, Vivi stares at the tree and bites her lip. Beads of sweat were already beginning to trace her forehead, even if it was near freezing. There were a few bumps and ridges that jut out. Looking stable. Then again... it could easily drop her if she puts too much trust in it...

Oh well! Vivi sucks in her breath and grasps one of the ridges. Much to her delight, it’s easy to hold onto, and she hurriedly grabs the next.

It scratches her palms and fingers. They're going to be really mad at her when they see her sore palms. Vivi puffs, shooing the thought away as she hooks her foot along the bark and pushes herself up.

“I-I knew it! This isn’t so hard...!” Vivi hisses through her teeth, biceps trembling as she hangs there and traces her foot for a previous bump to stand on. Then again, and again, and Vivi could see the trees surrounding this one from a brand new angle the higher she got.

The rabbit runs faster. Squeaking now. Thumping their hind legs on the ground and jumping against the trees to leap faster and get to her quicker. Vivi doesn’t notice.

Vivi climbs another few steps, dragging her front against the harsh bark. It scraps against her harshly. Even if her sweater blocked her skin, pins and needles and a red rash undoubtedly began to form. Vivi shifts uncomfortably, eyebrows furrowing together.

Is it a poison tree? Is that a thing? Vivi gulps, the sweat along her forehead dampening her hair and her hands became slick with that same anxiety.

The higher and higher she got, the more the tree felt like it swayed. Vivi took a deep breath, and the tree seemed to breath with her, expanding outward until she was nearly hugging it. The hairs on the back of her neck began to stand. A gust of wind pushing past her. Vivi dared a look - and saw that she was now high in the air, above the other surrounding trees and bushes. A sense of terror grew in her stomach as her thoughts filled with the image and sensation of falling-!

“It’s fine... it’s fine...” she hums to herself, forcing her smile to stay put as she reaches for another ridge- one that’s curved and slanted in an odd way that she couldn’t describe at first.

Just keep climbing. Just keep climbing…

She felt... small. Her limbs start to ache. The air around her seemed to thicken and no matter how much she gasped, the air refused to fill her lungs. None was getting in.

Was something watching her?

”VIVI!”

Otousan? Gasping, Vivi’s entire body seizes up. Her grip on the tree began to wane, but Vivi twists her head around to peer at the ground. The… really far ground...

No one was there.. Maybe it was just her imagination...?

Ragged, Vivi slows her breathing, and looks back to her hands and the tree.

Only for the curved ridge she was preparing to latch onto pops open.

Vivi’s heart stops.

An eye. A deep hole like-eye with something red glowing behind the ridges- the eyelids.

Then several more eyes open. All the other bumps above her opening to reveal angry, intense eyes.

Vivi didn’t make a sound.

But that didn’t matter. A creaking, cracking whine fills her ears, all the branches moving like arms. She dares a look as something seems to move in front of her stomach.

The bark expands- bubbles- in front of her body. A branch shoots out.

Stabbing through her feeble skin. Stabbing past her spine and tearing through her torso like a toothpick. It keeps growing. Despite being impaled, it keeps growing. Sending Vivi out to dangle by her ribs around the wooden arm. Her eyes sting, feeling escaping her as she watches it all in shock.

The tree holds her at the branch's length. She could only stare in horror as the new branch’s base splinters and creaks. Cracking.

And it snaps off.

A scream fills the air as she and the branch fall.

It’s her own.

The trees spike past her like streamers and fireworks, and as Vivi suddenly slammed against something, they explode in an eruption of different light. All behind her own eyelids. Where tears stung and her body sat numbly.

Numb. For maybe a second. Before she tried to breathe and her lungs constricted around the branch lodged through her. The narrow, bloodsoaked tip had snapped on impact. Her body sagged down on the broken pieces. Shooting pins and needles in every muscle that wasn’t already screaming.

A slickness soaked her belly. Her arms. Vivi couldn’t move. Stuck with the large branch stabbed into her like a knife.

Her throat strains. Rips. She was still screaming. Even as her mouth filled with copper and blood.

Her vision goes dark. She didn’t stop crying.

The rabbit races over, a growl ripping from it’s too small body as a new form rips out of its fur. Large fluffy paws become vicious claws, and a pointed mouth of teeth snap threateningly as eight tails thrash out.

“You bastard!” Mystery barks, glaring at the tree mimic with fury burning in every part of him.

It’s many eyes blink as it unroots it’s many decoy trees, becoming sharp appendages. The scarlet berry bush shifting to his underbelly.

“What?” It hisses, “Angry because I caught your prey? You should know better than to claim what you haven’t properly snatched. This territory is free for all of us to hun-“

Mystery growls, a scream building in his throat. The mimic’s leaves recoil. Before it has the chance to flare out fully and unleash its storm of pine needles, -Mystery pounces.

Lunging past the barrage of needles, Mystery dives directly into the berry bush with jagged teeth. Digging his teeth in despite the horrified resound of screeching from the mimic. Mystery clamps his jaw on the one part that mattered most.

It’s heart.

Lurching back, mystery tears the heart from its roots. The mimic’s life force began to drain instantly into the soil, enriching it with blood. But Mystery doesn’t stop there. He clenches his teeth shut, and the fruity heart bursts down his throat, coating it in a sickly spicy flavor.

The mimic falls quiet, eyes shutting, and with nothing left to keep it up, the tree whines and creaks.

Crashing down, unrooting the earth where the roots sat.

Spitting, Mystery sends one final curse, before quiet sobbing takes hold of his heart.

Horrified, Mystery holds his breath and rushes to Vivi’s side.

The branch that impaled her was beginning to shrink and curl, but the gaping wound was immeasurable.

Guilt and pain overwhelms his mind. Several apologies drown his mind.

“No! Vivi my dear, can you hear me? Please if you can, hold on as long as possible.” He begs, scanning her small, frail body one more time.

The effects of her lineage were already taking effect. Ice particles flaking off her uncovered skin, and frost attempting to stop the flow of steaming blood. Vivi’s eyes were wide open, blackened and becoming blue. The last line of preserving herself, if she knew it or not.

Mystery grits his teeth, and a flicker of a memory fills his mind.

His only daughter.. It worked for her... Yes. Yes, perhaps this may work!

He swallows back the sickly bile, and Mystery twists his head around, teeth catching on one of his eight tails.

And just like the mimic’s heart- Mystery rips the tail from its socket. Despite the pain that already threatened to crumple him, he drapes it against Vivi’s chest.

Dropping his head low, he presses his muzzle to her head, and whispers.

”My dear, Vivi. I swore an oath to do everything I can to protect you. I know we are forbidden to meet, but I care for you like everyone that came previous. I will ensure your safety. That is a promise.”

Her irises begin to glow, deep icy pits shining with golden light.

”Allow me to grant you a second chance, abilities beyond your own. To heal, to hide, and to live. Allow me this, and I promise I’ll ensure you won’t need any more.”

He kisses her head. And her body glows.

Katsumi sweeps through the house within minutes, annoyance bubbling in her chest as she clenches her hand. In her grasp and tightly held against her chest, was her granddaughter’s scarf. In the process of being lengthened for her upcoming eleventh birthday.

And just like she feared. Vivi was nowhere to be found. Eyes and nose scrunching with a hate filled grimace, she marches back to the main entrance.

“Can’t believe this,” she croaks, imagining her son’s face when she undoubtedly wallops him. “Letting her run outside on her own...! Why do I bother helping him when he throws it so far to the wayside..!”

Her son and his wife, Clara, were out of the house and were searching.

Are they not aware of how she is? Always running amok and getting into trouble with the neighbors and disturbing the guardians and kami who linger.

She nearly growls as the sound of Clara’s wind chimes. The noise breaks her concentration and worsens her growing headache.

Where on earth was Yatamo? Have they really not found her yet-

There’s a knock at the door. Katsumi freezes, her eyes widening as spiritual energy flows into the home. A familiar one too.

You...

Gripping her staff, Katsumi moves quick and steady, and if she willed it, frost would fill the windows to show that he wasn’t welcome.

But the chance that he has Vivi... she can’t risk it.

Swallowing, Katsumi grabs the doorknob and opens it.

Her glare immediately gives way to horror.

An elderly man in a kimono and haori stood before her. With thin arms and even thinner cheeks. Despite the frail appearance, he cradled Vivi close to his chest, with nothing but sorrow in his face.

His tail peaks out from between his feet, and he bows solemnly.

“I apologize for this meeting, Katsumi.”

“What have you done to her?” Katsumi lunges forward and unhooks Vivi from his grasp. Vivi’s entire body was coated in blood, her skin cold and cracking. “What did you do to her-?” Katsumi demands again, tears welling in her eyes as she glares accusingly at him. The kitsune frowns, and stands straight.

“I swore an oath to protect my descendants-“

“She isn’t your descendant!” She says, stomping her foot against the ground and mustering all the hate she could. “I told you to leave, and never bother my family ever again. Now my mago is- why would you hurt her?”

“I didn’t. A mimic in the forests did, next to the mountains of Yamo-no-kami.” Katsumi‘s lips twitch, and she turns away from Mystery, instead examining Vivi’s body. Her torn clothing and her shallow breathing.

“You did something to her.”

“I had to, Katsumi, the mimic tore through her with the intent to kill. It was either this, or her life.”

Katsumi‘s shoulders begin to tremble, bitter tears slipping down her cheeks and onto Vivi’s neck.

“Leave... leave at once!”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to come to this.”

”Out!”

“As you wish.”

The wind chimes trill, and the man’s footsteps lightly tap the porch until he vanished from sight.

The chill from the wind seeped in, but Katsumi didn’t tear her eyes away from Vivi as she rushed to the infirmary. The one place she hoped she would never have to utilize. Never this soon.

“Vivi.. why did you let this happen...!” Katsumi asks, but it was more to herself than to Vivi, who slept unconcerned for the sob rising in her grandmother's throat.

Her body... hurts. It hurts a lot. She could hardly feel it, but what she could feel ached.

Vivi’s eyes were shut tightly, and every breath made her shudder. Only for her body to ache more and more.

There's murmuring around her, it’s... somewhat familiar... Okaasan and Otousan...

Maybe she just had a bad dream? Or.. something...

“Vivi, darling?” Okaasan says.

Crap. They caught her... swallowing thickly, Vivi cracks an eye open. It’s easier than she expects, because the only light is a flickering candle that’s.. somewhere around her. Okaasan and otousan are there, whispering to one another. Immediately to her left, baba is lightly stroking her hair.

“How are you feeling Vivi?” Otousan leans close, cupping her cheek. Breath hitching, Vivi recoils from the pain.

“Oh- I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

There’s a moment of silence, Vivi feels herself drifting in and out, laying her head back on the considerably more comfortable pillow than the... the ground.

“Vivi,” Grandma says, voice raspier than usual, “we need you to stay awake. Your Ojisan is coming to visit.”

“...Oji Fumi?”

“Yes.”

“...why?”

The adults pause and share a silent glance, before looking down at her sadly. “You got hurt today, and your arm, leg, and ribs are broken. He’s going to come and patch you up.”

“O...okay...”

It hurts.. a lot. But maybe Fumihito will bring her some candy...?

That would be nice.. the gummies are always nice...

The months have become chillier lately. Mystery sits on a tree branch, taking the form of a small bird, and he stares at the house quietly.

Since he brought Vivi home, almost none of the family members have left the house. Some have come and gone, many whom Mystery recognized, but Vivi hadn’t stepped outside once besides for a visit to a shrine. Where she hobbled around in crutches with her arm bound in bandages.

Mystery remembered wincing, but he knew she was bound to be hurt regardless. It’s fortunate that it was just a few broken bones... It was fortunate that they kept her inside to heal. Who knew what sort of thing she could have done had she had the freedom to leave...

Yip!

Perking up, Mystery hops in place. Tempted to fly and scan the area for any dastardly foxes who may come about...

No. That wouldn’t be the case. Mystery made sure that no creature dared to harass his family... perhaps he’s just imagining things-?

There’s two more yips, and then a howl.

His feathers ruffle as he launches himself into flight. Gliding toward the home urgently as the fox noises continued.

How is it possible- where is it coming from? Surely Katsumi wouldn’t allow a fox into the home, even if she was begged for it! So then-

Mystery lands on the roof, and quickly, he hops to the edge where the court yard was.

It was fairly sized, with a tree standing tall and filled with bird feeders and chimes. Decorations...

“-Yeah, I went to the Inari shrine for a blessing!”

Mystery would have gasped if he could, his eyes honing in on what was before him. Part of him wanted to pray it wasn’t real.

“...Is that really what you think? You’re weird!”

It was Vivi.

She was sitting in a chair, her crutches stacked awkwardly beside her, and her leg wrapped in a cast.

No.. that wasn’t supposed to happen!

Her hands were blackened, the nails sharp.

She had fox ears, and a large puffy tail that was a brilliant white color, much like his own...

And before her, a small spirit that resembles a cat sat. The two making small talk.

She never spoke to spirits before... what is the meaning of this? Mystery hops anxiously, coming closer. The tail- the ears, they had to be fake. Yes. Stage make up put on her so that way she can play even while stuck inside-

Her ear twitches on its own. Mystery’s heart stops. Vivi twists her head and their eyes meet.

For a second she looks surprised, only for a smile to come across her now fox-like face.

Mystery turned and flew away as quickly as he could, just as she started to wave to him.

What has he done?

#mystery skulls animated #Vivi yukino #mystery the dog #vivis family #mystery skulls headcannons #Eage fanfic #eage fic #violence tw #blood tw #near death experience #the horrifying fear ofur computer doing something while u try to format hh

15 notes · View notes

wilhelmjfink · 5 years

Text

Daryl Dixon Drabble #5 Pt 1

Buckle up, fuckers. You can thank @crossbowking for this one.

ETA: this has become a 2 parter b/c my app didn’t save the rest of it :,)))) igkms

—

Thank God Daryl taught you how to track. Thank fucking God. Because you never would have thought about paying any attention to the fucking direction the grass had been trampled on towards, or the fact that some trash cans had been knocked over very recently — the only tell being the way they lacked the layer of dust everything else around them held. It was the small things, the attention to detail; and you were in such a spiraling panic, you were honestly surprised you remembered anything he’d ever taught you at all.

Your boots splashed in a fresh puddle and instantly your eyes shot downward — another hidden clue you never would have considered before you met him, all those lifetimes ago. Just barely visible was a separate footprint from yours, two, actually, that painted the otherwise dry asphalt beneath you, fresh enough that your heart sped up at the discovery. They both led the same direction, the same time, the same sense of urgency and haste behind them it seemed, as they continued forward in an obvious stumbling-sprint until they faded away outside of an old derelict gas station. You spun on your heels and headed straight for the garage.

The first thing you noticed was that the heavy metal door was ajar, just over a foot off of the ground, fresh blood smeared across the concrete beneath the opening. Somebody or something was inside, but the barefooted, rotten and decaying bottom-half of a corpse that protruded from the opposite side had you halting in your tracks: was that the source of the blood? No — the body was obviously that of a walker, the pant legs tattered and torn and stained with blacks and browns and greens, the exposed skin of its feet a grotesque shade of grey, maggots and worms slithering around the heel, and you swallowed the bile that rose up in your throat. No way their blood was that fresh.

So you rounded the corner and peered quietly through the sagging chain link fence, barbed wire snagging the flyaway hairs not contained in your messy ponytail, and your heart dropped at the sight that greeted you.

Walkers, some alive, some dead, no less than a dozen of them. Some wandered in aimless circles around the old scrap yard, but most of them were pressed unceremoniously against the boarded up window, jaws snapping hungrily, impatiently, in such a way that proved your suspicions that somebody was definitely inside of that gas station.

And if Daryl’s lessons had done you any good at all, you were positive it was him that had led you there.

You didn’t think you’d stopped shaking since you left Hilltop hours ago. In fact, you knew for a fact that you hadn’t been coherent or in any state of mind when you ran through the gates, furious and terrified and nauseas along another whirlwind of emotions that you couldn’t pinpoint after being told that Daryl left by himself to track down Alpha and try to right all the latest wrongs that psychopath had rained down upon your friends and family. Someone had been yelling at you to stop, the same way you surely would’ve been yelling at Daryl had he not snuck out one night right underneath your fucking nose. Nobody followed you out, though. And you didn’t particularly care.

Sure, you were just as worried about Connie and Magna as everyone else. But you knew Daryl better than them — better than anybody did. And you knew the way his brain worked, how it always carried the weight of his loved ones problems, how he accepted the blame even when it had nothing to do with anything he did or could have done. He was so self-destructive, thought himself so unworthy if he couldn’t keep you or your family safe. He would, quite literally, go to the ends of the earth for those he cared about... whether or not it killed him. And if your crippling apprehension told you anything, it was that this particular instance would be no different, and considering the scene you’d just been walked into...

Clammy, trembling hands latched onto the rusty handle of the garage door before you thought better of trying to haul it open and instead laid down flat to army crawl beneath the gap, trying your best to ignore the pool of blood at your right and the corpse at your left. Everything seemed so loud, so hard to ignore, and you were so hyper aware of any and every detail that led you to believe that the worst-case-scenario was indeed the one you were about to be faced with.

It was dark inside the garage, the only light source being rays of dull, dreary outside-world that broke through the rotted wooden boards that would’ve sealed the place up tight four or five years ago. A blanket of dust should’ve covered the steel barstool that was toppled over in front of the man door, but it was much cleaner than anything else surrounding it, and droplets of blood painted a trail over top of it and into the store, beckoning for you to follow them.

You swallowed hard. We’re you even prepared to see what sights may present themselves on the other side of the gas station? The thought had you hesitating, had your breath hitching in your throat and your heart ceasing to beat entirely. But the fear that was threatening to suffocate you was the same impetus that had you raising your combat rifle to your shoulder, poised and ready to fire, as you crept slowly across the threshold with anxiety so deep and heavy in your bones that you weren’t positive you wouldn’t pass out before you found what you were looking for... whatever that was.

The store was a mess, clearly a recent endeavor, with expired foods and liquids covering the floor amongst shattered glass and splinters of wood and blood. So much fucking blood. Footprints that had stormed through it, handprints that slid down the wall, splattering the grimy lockers and old magazine clippings like some sort of abstract art exhibit compiled of your deepest fears. You were almost too scared to explore further — but the smallest sliver of hope that you’d learned to believe in had you pressing forward, Daryl’s reassuring voice in your ears among the obnoxious ringing that told you that, oh yeah, you might actually fucking pass out.

Thank fucking God Daryl had taught you how to track.

If you’d maybe stumbled upon a deer you’d been following, laying motionless against the display counter with a hunting knife lodged into the meat of its thigh, you might have been proud of yourself. You might have even turned to Daryl and smiled in spite of yourself, sticking your tongue out. ‘I told you I could do it,’ you’d tell him happily as you knelt down and began to skin and prepare it to come back home with you, and he would fight a proud smile of his own, rolling his eyes, ‘Yea, only ‘cause I taught ya how to.’

But any obscure, minuscule thought of potential pride and success was shattered and gone in milliseconds. Hell, it was hardly even a fleeting thought, and you actually found yourself momentarily disappointed in your actions as you let your rifle carelessly slip from your fingers and clash against the ground loudly. Instantly forgotten. In fact, the tip of your boot even kicked it aside for emphasis of your stupidity as you strode forward to the crumpled being laying still and silent against the disheveled wooden counter, head lulled to the side, bloody knife handle protruding from his leg.

His name stuck in your throat painfully as you collapsed to the ground by his side, hands hovering uselessly overtop of him with the desire to try and help but lacking any knowledge on how to do so. He was bloody, beaten, pale — so fucking pale, so still and please God please please please he was cold. Cold, but the shallow rise and fall of his chest seemed to breathe more life into you than it was him, literally and figuratively.

The tears that sprung to your eyes actually hurt, blurring your vision, which seemed to be the only working sense you had as everything else seemed to freeze inside you and around you, leaving you absolutely fucking useless.

You shook your head. “Daryl,” you gasped, the breath it took to say his name unintentionally allowing a sob to escape simultaneously. “Daryl?”

He didn’t stir. We’re you not loud enough? “Daryl!” Maybe he just couldn’t hear you. You reached out and gripped his shoulders, fingers intertwining into the fabric of his canvas vest, clutching like a lifeline that would cement your debilitating fears if you let go and let him fall away from you. “Daryl! Fuck — wake up!”

If you’d ever been a religious person, that moment would’ve been the exact time you dedicated your life and afterlife to whatever higher being you believed in when, holy shit, he let out a pathetic whimper that both broke your heart in two and kicked your adrenaline into overdrive but also allowed it all escape you in the form of your own racking sob.

“Oh, my God — fuck, fuck, fuck, Daryl, please — wh — what did you do?” You fought the urge to grip the handle of the knife that was stuck into his thigh and yank it out furiously. “What the fuck did you do?”

You at least had the sense to untie the bandana from around your neck, clumsily and hastily, and secure it tightly around his thigh above the wound, praying to anything that would listen that maybe it would help.

His head lulled softly toward you with another soft whine and fell limply, and you threw your hands to your own face and frantically brushed your hair from your face and wiped your eyes and scratched at your scalp, pulling your hair, and you were panicking, absolutely reeling, if Daryl was here he’d be lecturing you so bad, but he’s not here because he’s laying in front of you almost fucking dead, no he’s not dead, he’s breathing, barely, how do I fix him? How do I help? Do I take the knife out? No, no you can’t fucking do that, you dumbass, what if it hit an artery? He’ll bleed out before you can even... oh, God, his head’s bleeding, gotta stop the bleeding, gotta stop the bleeding...

What the fuck were you supposed to do? You had some bandages in your bag, some sutures and needles, some alcohol... you tore blindly through it, retrieving the liquid and wraps and dropping them stupidly on your lap like you’ve never had to clean and dress a wound before in your entire life.

Once again you had to furiously wipe the tears from your eyes as they skewed your vision, smearing fresh blood his fucking blood, it’s everywhere, please please please no no no across your cheeks and it burnt your skin, taunting you, ticking loudly like an alarm clock that was about to run out right before your eyes.

He’s gonna die. He’s gonna fucking die and you were too late.

—

Also hey this is loosely based off of last nights episode that I didn’t want bc I can’t emotionally handle watching Daryl get hurt bc I’m a mess so sorry if it made no sense or was wrong!! Xoxoxo

Stay tuned for part 2 that I have to rewrite...........

#the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfic #daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfic #twd daryl #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon drabble #the walking dead drabble #daryl dixon x reader

71 notes · View notes

tvntae · 5 years

Text

heartbreak hotel 6

pairing: reader x ceo!jeon jungkook

plot: was sleeping with your boss really such a great idea?

genre: smut (eventual), angst, fluff

warnings: none

You look over at Jungkook, who looks solely at the road ahead of him. Either he's wholly concentrated, or he's got a lot on his mind because he hasn't said much the entire ride. It's not that you don't mind that, though. You'd been staring at him on and off for the past 5 minutes. Silently wishing you could run your fingers through his thick pink mess of hair. With the few times, yourself and Jungkook had been alone together; it had been something that you had never gotten to do. You ponder for a while how it would feel, to grab hold of his silky hair and tug just a little at a time. The cute noises he'd make would have your head spinning; you wouldn't even know what to do with yourself.

Regardless of the dirty thoughts racing in your mind, Jungkook is mulling over quite a few things at the moment. It is made evident by the way that he's been biting his lip into oblivion and how his grip is bit-by-bit getting tighter around the steering wheel. You want to ask him to spill his guts, but you are also not the type to pry into others psyche. Besides, it seems like any time you do try to take that extra step to get Jungkook to open up to you he gets hella defensive. You don't need that negativity right now, at least not while he's driving. So, you leave it at that, if he wants to talk, then he will, but you won't push the truth out of him. He's an adult with his own problems, you're not his therapist or his wife, so there isn't a need for you to try and break that 4th wall.

"It's beautiful out here, isn't it?" Jungkook breaks you out of your retrieve, and for a second you question if he's speaking to you or not.

Nonetheless, you hum your agreement, and you see the faintest of smiles playing on his lips. "I'm not from here, you know." He tells you, and of course, you had already known that. You had previously done some pretty good research on your boss. Any private detective would have been impressed with the lengths you went through to learn more about Jungkook's life. "I wasn't aware of that Mr.Jeon. Where are you from?" You only lie to keep up with the conversation, hoping that maybe this would be the time that Jungkook reveals more about himself to you than any news article and office gossip had.

Jungkook visibly slumps when you don't use his first name, but he shakes off the disappointment. You can see it sort of peeves him, but it's his own damn fault that you aren't as comfortable around him anymore. He audibly clears his throat and answers "Busan." You can hear the nostalgia in his voice. Perhaps, he longs to be back home. Maybe if he were back there, he'd be just any regular ole 20-something, scrapping for cash and eating ramen damn near every night for dinner. Perhaps he'd be more akin to you. That way he'd feel much more relatable and not so untouchable. You are one-hundred percent sure you'd never in a million years have a chance with a guy like Jungkook, whether he'd be a millionaire businessman extraordinaire or college student Jungkook. But at least maybe you'd have room for some kind of friendship.

"Really? Busan, huh? You don't sound like a Busan native." You laugh, and Jungkook smiles at that. "I've adapted, I guess. Just like you in a way. You're pretty good at Korean even though you aren't from here." You two remain quiet for a moment, only letting the soft hum of the radio speak for you.

He was right, though, Seoul is beautiful. The air is so much different than back home, and honestly, you don't mind it. Being here is truly like something beyond your imagination. "Why did you leave?" You suddenly ask him.

"Wanted to be an idol when I was a kid. Trained for years, up until I was 15, but the company I was in didn't have enough budget funds to make the debut happen." You were left speechless. That small piece of information was something that has never been mentioned before. For the brief time, you'd known him, Jungkook for sure does not seem the 'idol' type. You're otherwise stunned, and the bitterness in Jungkook's voice also leaves your heart feeling heavy. A kid, moving to a foreign place, most likely without his parent only for his dreams to be ruined due to false promises. That angered you. You couldn't fathom what small Jungkook might have gone through back then. "It's all in the past now, over it." He assures you, but the look of sorrow in his doe-like eyes tells you that that's something that will take many more moons for Jungkook to be over ultimately. Slowly but surely you're starting to piece together the enigma that is Jeon Jungkook.

One of the many things you can say about Jeon Jungkook though is that he is undoubtedly a man of expensive taste. The apartment, no more like a tower that he lives in, is sky-high. It touches the highest of clouds, and it shines like the stars resting beside the most upper floor. It's a gated community, so only the richest of the rich reside here, and it makes you feel oh so out of place. Jungkook doesn't say much about your astonishment as he parks his luxury car in his private parking spot. You get giddy thinking about what the inside of this place must look like though, Jungkook only rolls his eyes at that, but secretly he's enjoying your reaction. "Come on, or you'll get lost, this place is pretty big," Jungkook exclaimed. You jokingly scoff, "Yea, getting lost in a place like this doesn't sound too bad." That is until security catches up with you and notices that you don't belong here.

The halls inside of the building are pristine white. The light casting from the chandelier reflecting the tiled floor and walls almost cause the narrow hallway to the elevators to be too blinding. A little forewarning from Jungkook would have been friendly, but you guess after a while of living here you'd get used to such a thing. The elevator ride up is silent, but you do see the button Jungkook pressed before stepping away. Floor 10. Room 312.

Once the elevator comes to a stop, Jungkook motions for you to follow him, he unlocks his door with his secret passcode, and you hear a beep on entry.

As you step foot into Jungkook's home, he leads you down steps, the first thing you are met with is the very same pristine white covering the floor and walls like downstairs in the lobby area. The ceiling is lined with antique gold chandeliers; they brighten the living space significantly. The kitchen is small in comparison to the larger area that is the living room, but that doesn't stop it from being the most gorgeous area you've ever seen thus far. Open windows line the farther wall, giving a breathtaking view of Seoul.

Everything here is so primitive that is makes you wonder if whether or not Jungkook even uses the downstairs portion of his apartment. He's entirely a minimalist, besides the very high in value art that paints his walls, he doesn't seem to have much furniture down here. He directs you sit to take a seat on the couch facing towards the television. "You hungry?" He asks you as he makes way towards his fridge. "I could eat." He's back alongside you within seconds and plops down, handing you one of the cartons of banana milk he grabbed for you and himself.

"I don't think this counts as food, Mr.Jeon." You tease him, and he shakes his head to that. "I was planning on ordering something for us, fret not."

"So it says here we need baking soda and anti-dandruff shampoo. I guess we just mix it? Or we could use equal parts of vinegar and water?"

"Do you even know what you're doing?" Jungkook looks at you incredulously, a flash of panic crosses his face. "No, I actually don't, but you don't have a choice but to trust me." You purse your lips. You've never had to do this before. The last time you dyed your hair was high school, and you had never fucked up so bad that it turned an undesired color. Jungkook mumbles something incoherent under his breath, but you chose to ignore him for now, opting to just get this process over with.

After a little more research, you deduct which ingredients would be best to use for not only stripping Jungkook's hair of the vibrant rose gold color but also to keep his hair safe from any permanent damage and breakage. Section-by-section you divide his hair into parts and add the mixture you created to remove his dye. It's only about an hour and a half process to get it all removed and add his desired color, but you're glad that in the end, everything worked out for not just you but obviously for Jungkook too.

You wait patiently for Jungkook in his upstairs living area. It was pretty identical to the one he led you to a few hours ago, expect the furniture was different, obviously. And it wasn't as big of an open area, it was more secluded and off in its own section of the apartment. The room was about the size of a master bedroom, give or take a few square feet. This room wasn't as minimalist as the other though; it seems as though it is used more frequently. The slippers set next to the end of the chair that your sitting on gives away that much. They seem to be about your size, and if you were in the right state of mind right now, you'd be able to piece two and two together.

Those slippers unmistakably belong to Jungkook fiance, and this is undoubtedly a room she uses often. If you were smart, you'd gather your shit and leave, hailing the next cab out of here, but you aren't, your feet stay rooted to the ground, and your stomach continues to turn with uneasiness. You twiddle your thumbs out of anxiousness. How could you just up and forget that this is the home of Jeon Jungkook and his fiance? And what sucks more is that you don't even remember that unfortunate woman's name. For God's sake, what the hell is wrong with you? And not just you are to blame but Jungkook as well, he persistently puts you in situations like this and your dumb ass still bends over backwards for him.

"You good?" Jungkook asks worriedly, and the deep baritone of his voice makes you flinch. Your fists are balled up by now, and you try, you really do, to loosen the tension within your body but the more you think about everything, the more pissed off you get.

Also, the confused look Jungkook wears does nothing more than help you reach peak pissocity. Your teeth clench and your body trembles, but you're still able to answer him. No, is what you reply and he slightly jumps back at that. You determine you can't take it anymore; you won't be that stupid bitch that let's just anymore walk all over her. Not not today. You grab your purse, stand up and walk, no strut, because you're a bad bitch, not a weak bitch, right past Jungkook. You might not know this place like Jungkook does, but goddamit you will try as you might to find an exit.

You feel Jungkook hot on your heels, as you head towards the front door for your shoes. You don't stop, though, it only gives you more initiative to walk faster.

You hike your skirt up a little higher once your fist is within reach of the doorknob but before you even get a chance to grab hold of it Jungkook is pulling you back. Your body stops on impact with his very hard, still very wet chest. "Where the fuck are you going?" You feel the growl in Jungkook's chest, it makes you wince, and for a second you question if you trying to escape was an excellent idea, to begin with. Maybe not, but you just wanted to show him how fed up you were — fed up with his ever-changing personality. One second he's doting on you and the very next he treats you like he doesn't know you at all. You're willing to put the sex stuff all in the past if that's what he wants. But you can't deal with his ways of trying to put it all behind him. You are not the type of person to just sweep everything under the rug and deal with it once it resurfaces.

No, you have to talk things out. And, if you're going to continue to work for Jeon Jungkook than he won't have a choice but to talk about it.

"Why did you bring me here, Jungkook?" The question, at least to you, is simple enough. But to someone like Jungkook, who always seems to have ulterior motivates it's probably one of the hardest questions he's had to answer this week. See, dealing with money, numbers and almost one-hundred employees is something as close as a cake-walk to him. Dealing with feelings, now that's a totally different ball-park.

A flash of diverse emotions crosses Jungkook's face. He's so overwhelmed in thought that you try pulling away from him, seeing as he isn't paying much attention. But, he is, his grip is so tight on your wrist that it's damn near painful. You don't make a noise though; you need to hear from Jungkook's own mouth why he brought you here.

It's quiet for a moment, so quiet that you're sure Jungkook can hear the steady beating of your heartbeat against your rig cage.

You open your mouth to speak but before you can get anything out Jungkook cuts you off.

"I..I like spending time with you. I enjoy being around you, you're always so nervous around me and I, you, so... yeah. That's why." He trails off towards the end.

Your head seems like it might actually explode right now. The longer Jungkook's sentence went on, the more it felt like a ploy to get into your pants. But Jungkook hasn't really made any advances towards you, other than that kiss.

Though, that's a discussion for another day. Maybe, just maybe Jungkook is telling the truth, and if so one side of you can't help but to feel content. On the other hand, though, the other side, the more moral side of yourself, feels nothing short of guilt.

"You can't stay stuff like that, you're married," you groan, "it isn't right." Jungkook's grip is still firm around your wrist, he left little to no wiggle room, and having to be this close to him leaves your body feeling hot. And not in a good way.

"I'm not married." He grits. It only continues to anger you more. How could he just lie so quickly to you? Yeah, maybe he isn't married, yet but sooner or later he will be. He's spoken for, and you know that if his significant other were to stumble on into this scene of Jungkook embracing you, then she would not be too pleased with what she sees. Hell, if you were her, you'd ask question later beat ass first. Married or not, though, another woman lives here. This is her home. Their home. That quilty feeling washes all over you once again.

"Jungkook, you may not be married now, but you will be, and it's inappropriate for me to be here. So I want to go home, so let me go."

"No." You roll your eyes; being around him is always like some childish game of cat and mouse. You would be the cat if that much weren't made clear. You are forever chasing his ass no matter what obstacle he's set for you in your path. Dangerous or not, you are always right behind him, tail tucked under your legs. "Just stay and let me explain, and if you still want to go home afterward, I'll be more than pleased to take you. Just please... stay."

Arranged marriage. Jungkook had explained to you how the marriage of he and his fiance came about. His father, a significant man in the business world, and his fiance's father somewhat of a mogul were lifelong friends. Still, are to this day. The two had promised the hands of their firstborn children, to authenticate their bond further. Although Jungkook has an older brother, he rejected their father's dispositions and moved away to the states. Leaving Jungkook to take his place. Jungkook explained that even though they don't talk much, he knows his older brother is happy. He's married and has already started a family.

You can't say the same for Jungkook, he seems bitter, and under the right circumstance, you're able to see why. It must be challenging to be as successful a person as Jungkook, to have worked so hard to get to where they are and still have some type of moral pull on their lives. That pull being his parent. Damned if you do and damned if you don't. No matter what decision Jungkook makes, someone won't be satisfied at the end of it all. You had asked if Jungkook and his fiance loved each other. Without hesitation, he answered no.

You felt a little bit of hope, but why? Why, when you know that no matter what Jungkook will choose the fate his father designed for him. What will happen to you once everything is settled? You refuse to be the other woman; you can't live like that and Jungkook should have more of a heart to let any woman he claims to like to live like that. You shake your head at the thought because of course, Jungkook would allow you to live in such pain, he's a selfish bastard. Then again, so are you, even after everything, you want to stay.

You need to stay for him.

139 notes · View notes