#mcyt wilbur
Text
as above, so below
╰┈➤ a grumpy grim reaper falls in love with an optimistic angel.
one sided hatred to lovers; grim reaper!wilbur x angel!reader
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - here it is, my magnum opus. even tho its not done! i had to split this fic in half, so unfortunately there will have to be a part two :( very sorry. but on a lighter note, HUGE HUGEEE thank you to @harbingerofheartbreak. as per usual, she helped me visualized the entire thing and even made some of the plots and ideas that i used. in fact, the original fic was supposed to be a grim reaper x human, but it was florence who thought of the grim reaper x angel prompt and i could not thank her enough. furthermore, she helped keep this fic going and constantly pushed me beyond my limits to do so. the fic was started july 21st and it was supposed to be shelved after a couple weeks, but she made me keep going. she is the best forever and ever go read ynaf. additionally, another big thanks to @starsyoubreaklikesugardust for being another little beta reader for this fic. she always has the greatest ideas known to man and i wanted to run everything by her bcuz it was like having van gogh rate my painting. i had to share this with her earlier than i thought cuz she was threatening me but we dont have to talk about that smile. both of these people helped me so much, and i will forever be in debt to them.
all in all, please please enjoy and give this your love pretty please <3
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - talk of death, religious aspects, and swearing
she had a lot of questions about wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "on a scale of one to ten, how much does being a murderer really affect your mood?"
all of these questions would go unanswered. including "what's your favorite band?" no matter what, she just could not crack the code of wilbur soot.
to say he was intricate would be an understatement, and her ongoing curiosity would surely be the death of her.
unless he had something to do about it.
-
he stomped away from her on the rooftop as she followed after him.
"i told you to leave me alone," wilbur grunted, trying to speed walk past her with his long scythe trailing behind him. "is that so difficult to understand?"
"i just- i just wanna talk-" she panted, trying to catch up to him. her white dress flowed beneath her, but wilbur tried not to think about it too much.
"no." he made a sharp turn to fully face her, making her nearly bump into him.
her frown was illuminated by her golden halo, making her hair look almost cloud-like. her eyes glimmered like the entire sun was like a clown nose on her face, despite them arguing in the cold of night.
she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. her halo also lit his face up, and she saw the permanent frown and scrunched up eyebrows under his dark hood.
"why not, wilbur?"
he looked at her like she asked if the moon was real.
"you ruined my job. again." he punctuated his sentence with her name, saying it like he was curling at the nasty taste of it.
he always hated her. there was no mistaking it. he hated the way she giggled and danced around just because she could. he hated the way she spoke, always sounding so bright and happy and fucking naive. he hated her big white wings and her shiny halo.
"there you go talking about your job! like its all that matters to you," she yelled over the continuous honking cars beneath them. "do you even care about anything else in life?"
they weren't even supposed to interact, her being an angel and him being the prince of death. but he was always out doing his grim reaper duties, and she couldn't help but stop him.
he just wanted to follow orders from mumza- the queen of death. every single day that he existed, he had to take the lives of those who were ready. it ate him alive, but it was his only purpose.
"i can't care about everything else in life if i have to care about everything else in death," he grumbled under his breath, making her go silent. he liked her silence, loved it even, because that meant she couldn't criticize him for everything he did.
he would tell her about how angry the job made him. that if he could just switch spots with his brother, the stork, he would be the happiest being in hell. that he hated being the grim reaper almost as much as she hated him.
but if there was anything he really hated, it was opening up to people. and vice versa.
the last time he remotely opened up to someone, it was his mother, and he barely remembered the conversation. it was all the way back when he was welcome to smile. all he could recall was it being something about love, whatever it meant.
"will you please leave me alone now?" he sighed, rubbing his hand in his eye. he watched her eyes go from their usual large state to becoming droopy. she silently nodded her head.
"sorry. goodbye, mr. grim reaper," and the title tore him to shreds. it angered him, over everything else, that all he would be to her was an evil being.
yet, he watched as she jumped from the rooftop, fluttering her wings until she flew away. as she looked back over at him, he couldn't place the odd feeling left in his stomach. if it was guilt or hatred, he would never know.
he would continue to travel, picking up the souls on his way. she always thought he was lucky for being able to travel wherever he wanted. she always wanted to befriend the humans- in fact, she wanted to befriend everyone, but she found it impossible when she was constantly being held back.
he arrived back to hell's palace, a bag in one hand, and his scythe in the other. his head drooped down, avoiding any unnecessary eye contact with the other demons.
that hope would be short lived, however, as a demon took his shoulder as he walked.
"wilbur!" he spoke cheerfully, as if he wasn't living among lava pools and ash.
"quackity," wilbur responded in the same, monotone voice. it made the demon groan.
"quackity-" he mocked, changing his shape to an exact replica of wilbur's. mimic demons, they were called, and they were able to take form of any other being, even adorning their voice. it came in handy for most demon's entertainment, but it certainly didn't faze wilbur.
he stared into the mimic of his face, hating what stared back at him.
"oh come on. that usually works on people," quackity frowned as he twisted himself back to his natural state. he began poking wilbur with his blackened hands. "just give me a little giggle, wilbur."
"no." he'd said the word so much that it rolled perfectly off his tongue. "and for fucks sake, please put on a shirt."
quackity laughed loudly. "we're in hell, wilbur! its hot as- well, hell down here. don't tell me you haven't thought about walking around shirtless either." he paused, putting his hands on wilbur's dark outfit, "or.. hoodless.."
wilbur glared with an unamused look on his face, shrugging quackity's touch off of him and trying to continue walking along his path. walking away from conversations never worked to end them, yet he still tried it.
it would be the second example today that his tactic never worked, because quackity continued to walk along with him into the palace.
"what's the catch today?" he said it like it was a cheer. "did you get the big numbers? beat your high score yet?"
he would say he could feel his blood boil, but the flames in hell already did that.
"no. i don't keep track," he explained simply, pouring his bag's content into the soul sorter. it went to the fates to decide whether the soul was good or bad. simply enough, the good souls would be transported to heaven and the bad ones would stay. sometimes he imagined them debating over a soul's purity. the sound of screams every time he opened the bag would never become easier to stomach.
"bummer," quackity hummed. "why don't you try to make the job a little fun?"
"because i don't want to, okay?" he raised his voice. this time, quackity caught the memo and stayed quiet, except for a "shit, okay." under his breath.
wilbur walked along the palace's stairs, leaving quackity alone in the lobby without another word. this time, walking away from the situation made it stop. the third time really was the charm.
he set his hood down to his shoulders with a sigh, being able to fully see the gold and red palace for what it was. all of the vibrant and bright colors that quite literally clashed with the flames. it was scary and huge, but it was home to him. it was all he'd really known.
he went up to his room, laying on his bed with a groan. sometimes he wished his bed was quite literally made out of feathers, because his back always ached. tommy always said it was because of his "fucking posture", but wilbur knew he had no room to talk. just the thought of him jumping into a big pile of fluffy feathers made his bones ease a little more.
he would spend the night rolling around in his not-feather bed, having issues with his sleep. it was such a frequent problem for him that it was barely even a problem. just how he existed.
and, meanwhile, she would spend her "night" (in quotations. it never got dark in heaven.) staring up at the sun, wondering what sort of buttons she could've possibly pushed with wilbur to make him hate her. it was a recurring thought, but it kept her up too frequently.
the worst part about waking up was simply that. waking up. wilbur would roll out of bed, fluff up his hair a little bit, put on the same clothes, and be going. he went through the same routine every day and he hated it. but at the same time, if anyone disrupted his routine, he'd be angered.
"wilbur!"
and his routine was ruined.
"morning, tommy," he muttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes with a yawn. he couldn't be bothered to be angry this early, and definitely not to tommy. "aren't you supposed to be in heaven right now?"
"i'm on break," tommy said in a matter-of-fact tone. he stretched his arms and his wings with a groan, leaving some stray yellowed feathers behind. "delivering babies to peoples' doors is quite the workout."
wilbur barely registered his words, staring idly past tommy. his eyes wandered more on a decoration on a table behind him. he didn't even notice that tommy had continued speaking until he put his hands on his hips and sighed.
"yeah. both mum and dad really like me!" tommy spoke, ruffling his hands through his hair until he realized his goggles were in the way. the mention of phil darkened his mood.
"mum told you to stop calling him 'dad'," wilbur spoke monotone and simple, as usual.
and as usual, tommy groaned at wilbur's monotone voice and simple words, slouching down. "she also told you to stop being so fucking gloomy."
wilbur felt the need to do a lot of things; one- hit tommy with his scythe, two- tell tommy what a privileged asshole he sounded like, and three- do both at the same time. but wilbur had an okay-ish perception of tommy, growing up alongside the boy took a lot. but as annoying as the boy was, he was wilbur's company. even if he would rather swallow his scythe than to admit it aloud.
instead of acting on his mental list of intrusive thoughts, wilbur only sighed. he didn't bother to pick the conversation back up, his eyes wandering to the decoration again. had they always had that there? it looks off-centered.
"well," tommy noticed wilbur's spacing and patted his shoulder as he walked towards the stairs. "good luck today."
wilbur stared blankly through the fringe of sweaty hair on his forehead. inside, he was trying to form whatever a smile was. "thank you, tommy."
he watched as tommy jumped down the stairway, yellow tufts of hair flying with him. he heard a shout from down below, "and don't forget to fix your posture!"
wilbur scoffed in response, sounding more uninterested than he intended to, but ultimately pulling his shoulders back. a new day! a new window of opportunity! is what wilbur would think, if he wasn't wilbur.
he grabbed the railing of the stairway, his pale thin hand contrasting with the gold. he stared at his feet the entire time stepping down. he'd already forgotten about "fixing his posture".
he made his way down the lobby, not getting a chance to speak to his mother due to the abundance of demons lined up, trying to tell her that she was making a mistake. it was typical, but it still left bags under her eyes. wilbur only gave her a timid wave as a greeting before exiting through the palace's doors.
he dragged his tacky shoes through the red dirt beneath him, watching as tiny rocks rolled along his feet before stopping. he almost ran head first into the elevator due to how long he kept his gaze down, but luckily he saved himself from the mental embarrassment.
he stepped inside, proving his identity to the machine far more times than he needed to. mimic demons would always try to steal his finger print to use the elevator and get themselves back onto earth, but it was never successful. he had a keycard, just in case the identity proving didn't work. tommy had the same.
as the doors parted and he made a careful step out, he did his daily greeting to the guard (his daily greeting being a casual glare and a furrow of his eyebrows) and used his scythe to poke himself out.
from the surface, it would simply look like a boulder being turned over. but as wilbur stepped onto the grass, he took a moment to breathe. the air on earth was far better than the smoke in hell. he would spend a great deal of time taking a couple deep breaths, appreciating the silence, oh the lovely sound of absolutely nothing-
"wilbur! there you are!"
he almost screamed. instead, he only turned to the source of the way-too-cheerful voice, saying her name in utter disbelief. "what are you doing here?"
he didn't speak as if he were asking a question. he wasn't actually interested in why she was here in the grass with her elegant white dress and her annoyingly wide smile, using her wings to shield herself from the sun, even if they were translucent.
"i was waiting for you!" she squeaked, getting up from her spot in the grass and practically skipping up towards him. she had what looked to be a gardener's nightmare in her hands. "this is for you!"
before he could say another word, she pushed his hood off of his head. she had to use her wings to reach the top of his hair, but she was still able to run her hand through his brown waves. and as she giggled, she placed her makeshift flower crown on his head.
she pushed herself away- still hovering on her wings, and took a long, meaningful look at him. "you look great!"
"i feel disgusting," he said with anger, taking the weeds out of his hair and stuffing them sloppily into his bag. "why did you do that."
she looked at him with a frown, but still tried to make herself sound happy. her halo flickered softly. "it.. it was supposed to be a gift for you."
"yeah? well i hated it," he squinted his gaze down at her, and she could feel herself shrinking the more and more he looked.
she stayed quiet, the halo above her head still flicked on and off. she looked at him with nothing but a frown, lowering herself so that her feet hit the ground.
what she failed to notice was that he unfurrowed his brows ever so slightly upon seeing her upset.
"let me just get going, okay?" he spoke, trying to make his voice a little bit softer but still keeping the agonizing punch in there.
she spoke quieter now. "i have one more thing for you."
wilbur flinched, fully expecting a glitter bomb to come out of her pocket. but to his surprise, it wasn't.
she pulled out a pack of gummy worms, handing it to him with a pitiful smile on her face. he took it, examining it slowly.
"why is it open?" he took another look at it and realized it was almost half empty.
"umm.. i got a little hungry waiting for you," she mumbled, playing with the hem of her dress. "you were taking a little bit long."
"and speaking of which, i've been talking to you for a little bit too long," he retorted, crumpling up the bag of gummy worms in his palm. the sides of the bagging were practically fighting with the cage he made out of his fingers.
he began to walk in the opposite direction, debating in his mind exactly how long it would take to make his way out of the field and to the nearest trash can. she quickly followed behind him, almost tripping on herself in the process.
"hey- i didn't expect a hello from you, but a thank you would at least be nice!" she yelled as he speed-walked away with his grumpy walk and stone shoulders. "i'm talking to you!"
"and i'm not," he grumbled, fiddling to put his hood back onto his head as a way of closing himself off.
"just-" she flapped her wings, trying to be alongside him. "just have some gummy worms, please?"
he glared, slightly squinting from the piercing light of her halo. "maybe later."
"right now."
as much as he didn't want to, he stopped dead in his tracks. his stare was hurtful and his hand clenched onto his scythe. that was the most demanding he'd ever heard of her.
there was a voice in his head telling him to leave, to just let her have the last word and be gone. but he felt like he couldn't move.
"excuse me?" he only said, scrunching his eyebrows up.
"i want you to have them right now," she enunciated her words, crossing her arms and trying to copy his expression. she was fighting her usual bright smile under her pursed lips. "in front of me."
he blinked, almost starstruck. "why?"
she seemed nearly surprised at his one word question, her stern voice softening slightly. "you look like you haven't been taking care of yourself," as she spoke through a pout, he could feel his face warming up, like tiny little punching bags beneath his skin. "i wanna make sure you're eating."
he hated the feeling of his cheeks going warm. he slept in hell, obviously he knew what warmth was. but for some reason it felt even weirder when it was behind his skin. he cleared his throat with a cough.
"this? you think this is healthy?" he held up the crumpled, half-empty bag, speaking with his forceful actions.
she went quiet again, only speaking loud enough for him to hear. "i couldn't afford anything else at the gas station."
the feeling of warmth in his cheeks soon boiled over into anger. "you couldn't afford anything else?" he repeated in disbelief, "you are quite literally an angel! you're invisible to the human eye! it is so easy for you to steal."
"but i don't wanna be a bad person!" she copied his raised voice, standing on her tiptoes as almost a challenge. "i leave money in the cash register for the man. you know, he's really struggling. he could use the money. his name is robert, i think-"
"i don't care!" wilbur screamed, cutting her off completely. she flinched at his voice, feeling overwhelmed tears start to prickle from her eyes. she hid behind her wings, afraid that he might do something drastic.
he felt his shoulders shrink at her reaction, but ultimately grumbled and opened the pack of gummy worms. he hesitated, holding out the candy in front of him.
she opened her eyes from her flinch, and saw him sniffing the gummy worm. a smile spread across her face. "you just.. take a bite out of it."
"i know," he muttered. he was already mad enough that he had to eat it, he didn't want to be instructed on how.
"oh.. okay. i mean- i just kinda assumed that you didn't know because i don't think there are gummy worms in hell. they'd get all sticky and stuff. at least, that's what i've heard. are there really no gummy worms in hell?"
he looked at her with no amusement on his face. she looked right back at him, however, wanting an answer to her long winded question that was somehow said in a singular breath.
"no… no there aren't," he spoke slowly, raising an eyebrow at her. "are there gummy worms in heaven?"
why was he making conversation with her? he should be out collecting souls right now, not talking about stupid little gummy worms with this stupid little angel. he mentally slapped himself in the face, cringing with a shake of his head.
"no, there aren't," she batted her eyelashes like she was trying to think for a moment. "but phil sometimes gives me money for gummy worms. i share it with the others!"
he was barely registering her words, his mind still clouded with the mental boxing match he was having with himself. he was being stupid. not even the mention of phil was able to knock him from his thoughts.
"hey," she waved her hand in his face, acting as the referee and stopping his boxing match. he was almost at a knockout. "you've been making that face for a while. do you not like gummy worms?"
wilbur didn't know how to really respond to the question, having never even tried gummy worms before. he looked back at her. she had her full attention on him, waiting for another answer that he would hopefully not blunder.
"it's.. it's fine."
he definitely blundered.
he ignored it, not ready for a round two fight, and put the gummy worm in his mouth.
she leaned forward. "how is it?"
it was about the best damn thing he's ever had.
"it's.. okay, i guess."
"great!" she jumped- fucking jumped. "im sure you have to be on your way for your very important job-"
he completely forgot about his being the grim reaper, straightening up suddenly with widened eyes and tightening his grip on his scythe. he cursed under his breath, running towards the direction of the city.
"hey, i didn't finish!" she called out, catching up to him once more with flaps of her wings.
"i can't talk. you've already made me late enough," his hood almost fell off in the wind with how quickly he was running. "fuck, mum's gonna be pissed."
she would, in fact, not be pissed. she was always far too busy to even greet wilbur or tommy, and they hadn't done any sort of domestic activity in what felt like an eternity. he tried to convince himself that he didn't care, that she was just busy with being the queen of death, but it was extremely lonely.
there wasn't any time for them to really speak. they were both always busy and family meals were long forgotten. in fact, wilbur had never eaten in front of another person before. the most he'd done was eat some boring, rotten food while sitting on his floor with tommy- and even then, he was only picking at it idly with his fork.
he found comfort in eating alone. there was no one there to judge him or to argue. it was just him, his thoughts, and the literal grayed out food they had in hell. but there was something always so reminiscent about having food with another person, even if it was just something like dessert.
"oh," she sighed, moving her wings idly. she watched as he ran away without another look. her arms swung at her sides in an almost confused fashion. "okay. um- hope you like your gummy worms! bye wilbur!"
at least she didn't call him mr. grim reaper again.
he didn't care, anyway, just trying to get to work on the job he obviously hated. but when he stopped to catch his breath, he couldn't help but stare at the pack of gummy worms in his sweaty palms, the colorful designs contrasting his dull looking hand.
he looked around. it looked like there were no cheerful angels in sight, so he figured himself to be safe. he popped another gummy worm into his mouth, scrunching his nose at the taste of something so impossibly sweet. it was a pleasant change from the tasteless foods in hell, and the addictive sweetness coated his tongue for a while.
he stuffed the rest of the pack into his bag, appreciating how empty it was without the souls inside it- a temporary feeling.
wilbur already felt like he'd wasted enough time, and got to work. bringing people to death's door wasn't exactly the easiest job.
he started with a car crash, wincing at the amount of shattered glass and blood everywhere. he fell sick to his stomach with a nasty feeling bubbling up in his throat. all those years dealing with death and it still never got easier to see the causes.
he held his scythe up slowly, shutting his eyes in a flinch. he thought of a thousand things all at once, trying to focus on one. they have to die. i have to put them out of their misery. they're dying because they have to, not because i chose to.
he took a breath, feeling like needles were going up his nose and into his lungs, and swung the weapon down.
it sunk through the person's body without struggle, opening up a passageway for him. he removed his scythe carefully, as if it would hurt them.
he sat on his knees next to the car. although his body was phantom-like against the gravel, he could still feel the roughness under him.
he held a cold hand to the person's back, trying to ignore how it looked to see the life drain from under their eyelids and filter out onto his palm. as soon as he could no longer feel a nauseating pull on his hand, he lifted it gently. he watched as the soul threaded directly off the person, catching onto his fingertips.
he didn't bother to take a closer look at it. the last thing he wanted was to remind himself that these people were actually human. he only took it in his palms, mushing it until it turned into a small circular shape. he put it in his bag, not caring to look at what else was in it.
wilbur would continue to follow through with that sequence throughout the day, as he usually did. scythe, hand, soul, bag. when he was growing up, mumza told him that he would be used to it in no time. but as "no time" passed, he still felt like throwing up after each day.
he made his way down the elevator, his shoulders stinging with the weight of his bag. the souls were practically weightless, but gathering so many into his bag made it sag down. he held his scythe with two hands, his arms being too sore to function properly on their own.
tommy was waiting for him at the steps of the palace, ignoring everyone lined up at the doors. his elbow was on his knee, and his face was being held up in his palm. he had been playing with a stone, trying to break it with his fingertips.
"wilbur," he automatically sprung up upon seeing his brother. he used to go in for hugs, however stopped shortly after wilbur started discussing how much he hated them. "mum wants to see you. says its important."
wilbur took time to react to his words, feeling like his bones weren't his. he only hummed an, "oh. okay," as he made his way up the steps, his feet barely dragging behind him.
"wait-" tommy called out, making wilbur almost freeze on cue. "i was.. i was wondering if you wanted to hang out by the fountain.. of wishes. the one up there. like- like we used to..?"
wilbur's breath stalled, stopping in his lungs. he'd barely even remembered it, but was holding back a smile at the memory.
that smile became easy to suppress as it slowly disappeared. he remembered all of it.
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil," was all wilbur muttered. he finally took a breath, his chest rising and falling with a sigh. "sorry."
"its not like that anymore!" tommy tried, throwing his hands up in the air in an almost child-like fashion. "they've changed, phil especially! i talked to him the other day, and-"
"mum doesn't want us talking to phil, tommy," he enunciated it slower this time. watching tommy's shoulders shrink, a sinking grayness fell over his face like a cloud was above him.
"yeah. okay," tommy sighed with a shake of his head. he played with the calloused skin on his fingers. "you're right."
wilbur stood there for a great deal of time. as much as it physically pained him, he felt a trapped sensation in his chest.
"tommy?" he spoke softly, barely enough for the both of them to hear. "you're a good kid."
he left before tommy could respond, expecting the boy to make some stupid remark about how soft he was turning. tommy didn't react that way, however. he stood alone on the steps, taking breaths watching as wilbur walked away.
wilbur made his way past the screaming, impatient people. he was always hateful towards loud noises as they made his skin crawl. he thought maybe that was the reason he hated the angel's voice so much.
there he went again thinking of that stupid angel. if he'd given her any more room in his mind, she'd have to pay the rent.
shaking his head from stupid thoughts, he called his mother's name, gaining her attention.
"wilbur," she spoke softly, her voice too tired from all the demons and ghosts she spoke to. her black hair hung over her face messily, but it was covered by a large lacy hat. "how are you?"
wilbur knew she wasn't actually curious about how he was feeling. it was just a filler for the missing years of his childhood.
"i'm doing well," a lie, "tommy said you wanted to talk to me?"
he saw his mother's face light up, as if she'd just remembered something blatantly obvious. wilbur could imagine her thoughts- "oh, thats my son, i forgot."
she fished for something on a table near her large throne. it looked more shiny than any angel's halo. damn it, why was he thinking about her again?
"here," she handed an envelope to him with her large hand. he hesitated in taking it. "the messenger said it was for you. you don't usually get mail, so i figured it was important."
wilbur stared at the wax seal, the intricate pattern almost painful to stare at for too long. "are you sure this is for me? im not-"
"im so sorry, wilbur," her eyebrows disappeared into the shape of her hat as she put a hand to her black gown. "i have to get going talking to these people," she motioned to the line in front of her. "i also have a super busy day. i have to-"
"its fine, mum," he cut her off just as she did to him. he couldn't feel any remorse for his lack of formality. "you're.. doing great."
he spared himself from the long speech his mother always gave about how busy she was. it was always a drag to hear. tommy said it was her way of indirectly apologizing for not giving him family meals- but wilbur always thought that if he was right, she would directly say it.
in all honesty, however, he missed being able to sit next to someone and eat something.
the black lipstick on her face formed into a smile. "thank you, wilbur," she sighed, her body already facing the demon she was talking to last. "and tell me what the letter is!"
"i will," another lie. he was really great at them because she could barely ever hear them.
as he was going to the soul sorter, he turned the letter over in his hand, squinting at the written address. it read, "hell's palace (if it's real! i've never been there but i've heard about it!) for wilbur!" with a bunch of hearts and smiley faces. wilbur felt himself go sick to the stomach, nearly tripping on himself.
it was probably that stupid angel trying to give him a pity letter that he didn't want. he scowled at the thought as he emptied his bag into the soul sorter.
that dumb little angel, who did she think she was? did she genuinely think that wilbur would soften up to her because of a little letter with hearts all over it?
but as wilbur was coming up with more mean adjectives, items had been rejected from the soul sorter, and fell out.
it was her flower crown and gummy worms.
wilbur felt his angered expression slowly fade away like sand in an hourglass. he stared at the objects on the ground by his feet.
he was reminded of her soft smile as she put the flower crown on his head, her gentle touches to his hair like he was delicate. or how she forced him to eat fucking gummy worms because of his health.
he could feel the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking out from the corners of his lips. no, what was he doing? that angel was always so judgemental of him. from the moment they first met, she was always criticizing his job and she was always being rude to him.
but, she still cared about him.
wilbur didn't know how to react to that thought. his stomach felt like it was clawing its way out of him, and that weird, warm feeling came back to his face. he hated it.
he bent over, picking up the flowers and gummy worms. he held them in his hands and under his robe, just in case someone saw him holding them.
he quickly went up the stairs, cutting the corner to his room so that no one saw him. he set the flowers, gummy worms, and letter on his desk, his hands propping him up. he stared, yet again, at the objects until he realized- he hadn't even opened her letter yet.
he took a sharp inhale, his fist pressed so hard against the table that he didn't even register the fact that his hands were shaking. he leaned back, taking the envelope with him.
sure enough, it was from her.
"dear wilbur!
hi! i hope this delivered to the right address. i thought mail would be easier in the afterlife, but it really isn't. i hope you're okay!! i hope you didn't hate the gummy worms too much and that you are taking care of yourself! get plenty of sleep please.
i was writing to ask if you wanted to meet me for ice cream! i asked phil, and he said that ice cream would melt in hell too, so i wanted to have some with you. i can show you all the good flavors and everything.
it would be tomorrow, i've listed the time and address below. i hope to see you there!
ps. you better come with a full eight hours of sleep!"
he read over the letter at least a thousand times, his eyes glazing all over the hearts and smiley faces that she used to punctuate each sentence. he felt like he was going to throw up his ugly, beating heart. he didn't know if he should write back or even show up.
it would be his first time properly eating in front of someone in a while, and the thought made him nervous, almost.
as if to taunt him, tommy burst into the room, the sudden loud noise making wilbur scream. he hid the letter on his desk behind him.
"woah," tommy put his hand up to almost shush wilbur, as if he were some wild tiger. "calm down, man."
"sorry-" wilbur straightened himself up, coughing out of awkwardness. he felt his skin melting off of him, and he wanted something to make the tense air easier. "tommy, can you cover for me tomorrow?"
oh god. was he really that desperate to start a conversation?
tommy's eyebrows disappeared into his golden tufts of hair, a confused look grazing his face. "you want me to what?"
"cover.. for me?" he couldn't even believe the words he was saying. "i have a.. thing tomorrow-" no he didn't. he wasn't gonna go. "and.. i need someone to do my job."
"what thing? its not like you have a.." tommy's words trailed off as he stared at his brother in terror. "do you?"
"do i have a what..?" wilbur spoke with confusion as tommy gawked at him. he stage whispered, as if someone were watching.
"do you have a date?"
wilbur's chest bloomed with an awful sensation, his heartbeat picking up and pounding against his ribs. "what? no, i-" he felt like his mouth was stuffed with tar and feathers. "no, of course not, tommy."
"okay! okay," the boy held his gloved hands up in defense, backing away from a powder keg in the form of his brother. "but, whatever it is, how do i cover for you?"
wilbur dropped his tensed shoulders. "you always talk about how easy my job seems, right?"
"what?" tommy screeched, his gold wings flinching with him. "but- but you're the prince of death and i'm the prince of life! how am i supposed to do that?"
wilbur felt his stomach churn at the comparison. he hated the way people would always say "the prince of death" like it would curse the next seven generations of life. his eyebrows furrowed like caterpillars above his eyes.
"then at least pretend that i'm working," he muttered. "it's gonna be easy. i'm sure mum won't even notice."
tommy's lips shifted as he bit the inside of his cheek. he knew wilbur was right. mumza barely said hi to him too.
"okay," tommy sighed as his shoulders fell in defeat. he pointed a finger at wilbur, "but you owe me big time!"
wilbur nodded in response, shooing tommy away with a flick of his hand. tommy listened (although not shutting the door properly), and left his brother alone in his room. the letter was still hidden behind him.
he sighed, feeling his lungs shrink intensely. he had no clue what to do or how to pull it off.
wilbur went to sleep earlier that night, trying to fulfill her promise to get eight hours of sleep. when he woke up, he could feel his bones almost moving on their own. it felt odd to not have the burden of being the soul taking grim reaper.
he looked at himself in the mirror. he looked nothing short of depressing.
he walked over to his closet, sighing as he was face to face with the same rotten black robes he wore. people always trashed on tommy for owning the same white, red sleeved shirt, but wilbur wasn't any better with his duplicates.
he groaned, his head falling in a near defeat. though, he could see a small glint of yellow. hesitating, he picked it up, taking off his cloak to put it on.
it was a really old sweater that phil got him many years ago. back before everything went down the gutter. he ran his thumb down the frayed material. by some miracle, it still fit him.
he looked at himself in his mirror, scowling when he saw who stared back. he looked nothing like how he usually did, and that slight bit of color changed him. the yellow fabric, even when old, still popped out more than his pale skin did.
still, something felt like it was missing. his glasses, maybe? he set the frames on his scrunched face, pushing it up his nose with the back of his hand. that didn't seem to work.
he looked over at his desk, his bottom lip plumped out as he thought. he gave a long stare to the flower crown, feeling his chest tighten and warm with a disgusting feeling. he picked up the flower crown- more delicately than he'd like to admit, and placed it on his tufts of brown as he stared at his reflection.
his mouth hung open. he looked completely different now. there were so many colors and shapes for him to process. and were the dark spots under his eyes really that prominent?
although, even with the wave of confusion, it felt almost comforting. he tried his best at a smile, but shook his head. too far.
wilbur shuffled through the underworld quickly, trying his best not to be seen- and especially not by quackity.
"tommy," quackity stage whispered, gaining the boy's attention. "what the hell's he doing?"
tommy took his place beside quackity, looking to where he was pointing. he scowled. "dude, i kid you not, he's got a fucking date."
quackity scoffed a laugh before looking at tommy. his face was still scrunched in disapproval, his wings idle behind him. quackity’s expression dropped. “wait- you’re serious? he’s actually got a date?”
“that’s what i’m thinking!” tommy’s voice screeched suddenly. he looked and sounded like a bird. “i’ve never seen him wearing something so.. colorful. and look at his fucking posture!”
they watched in amusement as wilbur jammed his finger on the elevator button, trying to get the doors open as he looked around frantically. he hadn’t even noticed, but his shoulders were in fact more pushed back.
he stared at his reflection in front of him, bringing a hand into his hair to even it out. flowers were still scattered around in his hair and it was as if he were producing a trail of petals behind him. he let out a groan as the doors finally parted, and he stepped in.
“who is it with?” quackity asked, holding his chin. his other hand was dug into his pocket. a small, rectangular figure lining the fabric. “do you know?”
tommy turned to quackity with a serious look on his face, as if he were speaking about a universe killing secret rather than who wilbur was eating ice cream with. “you didn’t hear it from me,” he emphasized his words, “but i keep overhearing this angel talking to phil about wilbur. its weird- especially when you think about how phil and wilbur think about each other.”
tommy grimaced at his own words. he could tell how much it cut the mood. it was practically taboo to say wilbur and phil’s name in the same sentence- let alone even mention phil in the underworld. even with tommy trying to get them to forgive each other, the thought of them ever eating at the same dinner table was unfathomable.
quackity interrupted the tension filled silence by asking the angel’s name. tommy gave it without a second thought, but eventually had to repeat it for quackity to properly hear. they were stood outside the pit of lost souls, a place that the forgotten demons would go. they served no purpose in hell as long as they were somehow remembered by someone on earth. it was always a loud area, having literal burning souls inside.
“huh..” quackity hummed, repeating the angel’s name again. “you think they’ll become a thing?”
“no, definitely not,” tommy huffed, laughing as if quackity was telling a knock-knock joke. “he’s too grumpy to actually function around another being.”
“i say give the guy some slack! he deserves at least a chance," quackity protested. "twenty bucks."
"you're betting on his love life?" tommy asked, but quackity stood still with a smirk on his face with his hand out. "fine. deal."
as they shook on their bet, tommy grumbled, his wings tensing up with him. a plan was forming itself in quackity’s mind, his hand patting the lining of his shorts.
“he’s probably up there making out with her right now.”
wilbur, in fact, was not. he was standing on the distant sidewalk, watching her from afar. she sat on the concrete with her legs crossed, looking like her mind was in another galaxy. wilbur on the other hand, stood with his clammy hands at his sides. his palms never sweat as badly as this, and it was making him unsettled. he tried his best to wipe his hands off on his sleeve, but it only made them damp and warm. he sucked in a breath, ignoring it and walking up towards her.
when he caught her eye, her never-ending smile only widened. she stood up to properly face him, looking at him from the top of his flower-ridden hair down to his shoes. “wilbur?”
“hi.. hi-” his voice cracked, and he tried to cover it up with a fake cough. now his throat wasn’t working. “um, i didn’t know.. i wasn’t sure if.. i-”
“you look really nice!” she interrupted, saving him the embarrassment. he let out a mix of a smile and a relieved sigh, muttering his thanks. “and it looks like you actually slept.”
“i did,” he mumbled, adjusting the collar of his bunchy sweater. suddenly, he could feel every texture touching his body. “eight hours.. just like you asked..”
“it wasn’t so difficult, was it?” she giggled, and the noise stabbed wilbur a thousand times in the stomach.
“actually, it was,” he bit the inside of his cheek, rocking back and forth on his heels with nervousness. “my bed is a literal stone. i wish it were made out of feathers.”
“maybe your dream will come true some time! come on, let’s make a wish,” she tilted her head, closing her eyes and putting her palms together. “i wish wilbur’s bed was made out of feathers!”
“..is that gonna work?” he tilted his head in her direction.
“hm.. i don’t know. but i always like to try it,” she hummed with satisfaction, putting her hands back at her sides. “can i tell you a secret? i’ve always wanted to visit the fountain of wishes.”
the name rung a bell all the way in the back of wilbur’s mind. he remembered his father telling him stories every night about the fountain of wishes. he scowled at the thought of hin. phil would tell wilbur that his only wish was to meet a beautiful woman, but look where that got him.
“what would you wish for?” he asked, trying to shift the gears of his mind.
“i don’t know,” she said, contently, leaning forward to grab his hand. “maybe i’ll think of something later.”
wilbur flinched, something she didn’t see because she was dragging him into the store. he wondered if she could feel how damp and warm his palms were, but it looked like she didn’t mind. for some reason, their hands seemed to magically fit together like puzzle pieces.
his mind was churning again, thinking about the unknown feeling running through him. he felt suddenly aware of everything around him, and it was awful. yet, she kept giggling and smiling like it was just another day. he envied her power of optimism, even if it was the same thing he disliked about her.
uncomfortably, his mind felt as if he was put in a room of a thousand people, contributing and understanding each one of their conversations. as overwhelming as it was, it was how his brain regularly worked. how he somehow managed to get even an ounce of sleep every night, he'll never know.
his thoughts were unraveling before he could roll them back up, feeling tired of aimlessly following the long film of this and that and-
"do you have a favorite flavor?"
it all snapped away.
"uh- um, well, um-"
how was she able to do that?
"oh, right," she giggled. somehow, in the thousand person room that took place in his mind, her small laugh was the only thing bouncing off his skull. "you've never had ice cream before."
unable to process the sudden quiet of his mind, he simply shook his head. "n-no, i haven't."
"try this!" she held out a scoop of her favorite flavor and wilbur stared at it like it was a cure to the common cold.
shakily, he took it. even if it only existed as a transparent-phantom thing, he was surprised that it didn't slip out of his sweaty hands.
"do.. do i bite-"
"just give it a small lick. i know it'll be cold, but it'll taste good," her words felt like a small promise to him, the most comforting thing he'd heard in a while. yet, it was like talking about the weather to her.
god, what was the feeling? he couldn't exactly pinpoint it at all.
he followed her directions, scrunching his brows in a slight concern as he stuck his tongue out. she was right, it was cold. terribly cold. he thought his tongue would get stuck to it like in the old christmas movies tommy forced him to watch.
and yet, it tasted terribly good. it was such an unfamiliar feeling on his tongue, but it somehow had a certain kick that he enjoyed.
he smacked his lips a couple times, and nodded slightly, mumbling his words. "y-yeah, i like that one."
"great!" she spoke, going over to grab the ice cream scooper. the real thing stood still on the table, but the translucent version was in her hands as she scooped up some of the flavor. as long as she put it back in the right place, nothing would be messed up too badly.
as she finished up scooping her cone, she sighed dramatically. "oh gods, i forgot to get cash."
"you don't need to give him cash, angel, he won't even notice."
his tongue went numb- not from the ice cream, but from the small nickname he'd given her.
it was a small gesture, and he could probably play it off, but it stirred his intestines until he felt like throwing them up. he'd never willingly give someone a nickname. ever.
and the worst part? she noticed.
"did you call me angel?" she stopped her fit of panic over invisible cash to look at him, the corner of her mouth lifting in an asymmetrical smile.
"well- yeah, because you're.. you're an angel," wilbur stumbled, unable to pull something out of thin air. he's lied many times. to his mom, to tommy, to quackity. but for some reason lying to her didn't feel right on his tongue. "a-and you.. have a halo.. and stuff.."
she noticed how he fiddled with his fingers, and decided to spare him of the embarrassment by switching the topic to her day. she seemed passionate with talking about every small thing she'd done, and wilbur admired her attitude.
wilbur prided himself in his writing. his pen and paper were like a magical escape from his burdens. he had a specific way with words that would always get him praised by his parents when he was younger. but despite that, he was completely lost on a word to describe his feelings.
she dragged him back outside without a care in the world, looking around like she owned the place. she pointed to a bench, talking about how it was her favorite bench (to which wilbur began to wonder how one could have a favorite bench), and began guiding them towards it.
in the midst of her excitement, however, she made a wrong step on the curb and yelped. wilbur noticed this quickly, bringing a quick hand to her waist to catch her.
"woah, are you alright-?" he brought her back up carefully, checking to make sure that her and her ice cream were still intact. he checked both off in his mind.
"yeah- yeah i'm fine-" she muttered, and it was the first time he'd ever seen a glint of gloominess on her face. "sorry- that was embarrassing-"
"no need to be embarrassed," wilbur's tone was calm. not a monotone calm, but an assuring calm. one that was stranger to her too.
his hand remained still on her waist, his fingers trembling in such small beats. “wilbur?” her gaze slowly met his, and she could see a small droplet of worry beneath the pools of his irises. “can i tell you something?”
he nodded slowly, eyebrows furrowing in such a concerned manner that it almost cut his forehead in half. with his hand still on her waist, he guided her carefully to the bench.
she looked at the pavement, her words coming out in a string of small mumbles that made him feel like they were the only two beings ever. just him, an angel, and a bench. “i don’t.. i don’t usually tell people this,” she fiddled with the hem of her dress, her wings draping over the back of the bench. “but.. the- the way i-i d..”
wilbur stared at the angel- the carefree, optimistic, happy angel; while she broke down bit by bit. he felt like he was almost breaking the law, that he wasn’t allowed to see such a sight. but most importantly, he felt like he needed to help.
he was always gentle, there was no denying it. he spent a lot of time as a child examining bugs (which he called “friends”) and making sure they were okay. and the urge to care for anything in need grew with him, even as everything else changed.
he noticed that his hand was still on her hip, and he drew her closer to his body. the small gesture made her startled, but she quickly grew accustomed to his touch. she felt safe, and wilbur knew that.
she took a deep breath, and spoke. “we were playing a game of hide-and-seek,” she whispered, “i-i was always clumsy, everyone made fun of me.. nobody..”
her words trailed off again, and wilbur felt his heart aching. “nobody..?”
“nobody really.. liked.. me,” she huffed, her face turning away from him. he could tell that she didn’t speak about this much. “everyone hated me, actually. like you do..”
his heart was wrapped in thorns.
it was the clearest thing she’d said. like she had so much time to think about it and deduct it. he wanted to say something, wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shake her and scream at her. but he didn’t. he couldn’t- he felt paralyzed.
“i guess i tripped and fell or something, a-and i-” a bile swelled her throat. “it hurt. a lot. i was- i was screaming and crying for help b-but everyone ignored me. except for..”
her head lifted as she looked at him. it was the type of look in which he could study each pigment on her face, and he’d be able to use the rosiness of her cheeks to paint a breathtaking portrait.
“except for you.”
she smiled. and even through tears, her expression lit up the earth.
“me?” he whispered softly.
immediately, she nodded. she was so close to his face that she could see a tiny cut to the right of his adam’s apple. she suppressed a giggle as she thought about him struggling to shave, making all sorts of faces into his mirror.
“i was so scared and alone.. and then you came along with your big scythe and your scary hood. and you plunged your scythe into me chest- gods, i was so scared,” she giggled briefly at the thought, but her expression was genuine. “but you gave me peace.”
she leaned closer, wanting to wrap her arms around him and die a second time like that. but she knew he’d hate it.
“it was all i wanted in that moment.”
his eyes were droopy, staring from her left eye, to her right, and down at her parted lips. she was nothing short of beautiful. looking at her for that long felt like a mere privilege, forcing him to be speechless.. he squeezed her hip tighter just to hold her.
“i.. i wanted to thank you..” she whispered, so quiet that her vocal chords barely buzzed.
in his peripheral vision, he noticed how her eyelids fluttered softly. his sight blurred as she leaned in closer, and-
“but you always hated me.”
she leaned back in the seat, and wilbur’s disappointment split him in two. she was right there- right fucking there, but she was so out of reach. the only barrier? his own loathing. the irony of hating his hatred felt like a stab wound to his thorn-crowned heart.
and the worst part; she was unphased.
wilbur gulped as a stack of words piled themselves in his throat. that nasty, overwhelming feeling running through him again. “angel, i-”
“so, what’s your favorite color?” she asked in a light tone, licking at her ice cream.
a wave of dismay washed over his face. he couldn’t think. “t-teal?”
“really? i wouldn’t have guessed that,” she swung her legs beneath the bench, clearly unbothered by wilbur’s confusion. “you don’t really dress like a teal-lover. do you think the moon is real?"
what?
"no, bad question. hmm. what’s your favorite band?”
his heart fell into the pit of his stomach, thorns poking at his sides creating a terrible sting on his abdomen. he opened his mouth to speak- maybe cry and release his feelings; but nothing came up. not even an answer to her stupid question. it was nauseating.
she began talking about the sort of music she liked, but none of it struck his brain. he felt sick. he wanted to scream and sob and punch something. but he sat still like he was posing for a renaissance painting.
“hey, that reminds me,” she stood up abruptly, pointing her finger upwards, despite going unnoticed by wilbur. “i gotta get cash for the ice cream man! i’ll be right back.”
he didn’t even realize she spoke, even when she was repeating his name and trying to get his attention.
why was he disappointed at the lost opportunity? why did he want to curl up in a ball and tug his hair out? what was that stupid feeling that was haunting him all afternoon? it was tearing him apart limb by limb. what was the word, what was-
oh.
oh.
it was love. he loved her. it was as simple as a four letter word.
the last time he told someone he loved them, he was begging his father not to leave. as he watched the man- the god- his father walk away, he realized that the word meant nothing. it only brought him pain; and if he didn't love, he didn't have to feel that agony.
his stomach turned, breathing becoming alarmingly shallow. too many memories flushed his mind, and his throat tightened.
"hello? wilbur?"
"don't come back." he stood up suddenly, ice cream falling to the ground next to him.
"what?" she flinched, staring up at him with terror on her face that he didn't even read. he was so blinded by his anger. the light of her halo flickered.
"i said, don't come back." it was almost a subconscious thing, how he lifted his hand into his hair and threw the flower crown onto the sidewalk. right next to his ice cream.
his throat burned harshly. all of his muscles tensed up in such a way that definitely wasn't healthy. he could barely even hear his own words through the pounding in his ears, and he most importantly couldn't hear her heart ripping in two.
"wilbur-"
"stop. stop this. stop following me everywhere, stop- stop acting like you care-" his hands balled up into fists at his sides, "stop everything! i never want to see you again!"
and that was all that was needed for her to turn around and fly off, and that was all that he needed for him to realize what a complete moron he was.
his walk home was nothing short of shameful. and this time he walked through hell with messy flower petals in his hair and a stupid yellow sweater and dumb tears in his eyes.
he didn't realize that quackity, a man who was about to lose twenty dollars, was watching him from afar. he cursed under his breath, biting his bottom lip until his hand brushed against his pocket.
tommy's keycard.
-
he looked at himself in the reflection of a lava pool, making all sorts of scrunchy and over dramatic faces. he experimented with the way the hood fell over his hair and how it made his furrowed eyebrows look.
he made his way to the elevator, admiring how the scythe looked when he tossed it around in his hands. and when it asked for a confirmation of identity, he pulled out the keycard, swiping it before anyone could see.
he'd continue to try to do tricks with the scythe until he got to the top, waving a hand to the guard until he realized he had to stay in character. his lips suddenly pursed and his eyes became hooded.
to his delight, an angel was there waiting for him.
"wilbur-" she stood up suddenly, her hands shaking at her sides. the light in her tear filled eyes was nearly gone, the glow of her halo barely there. "i wanted to a-apologize-"
"come with me," he spoke, as monotone as he could. his hand reached out towards her, and she hesitantly took it.
with uncertainty written all over her face, she spoke nervously. "where.. where are we going-?"
"i want to make up for what.. happened.. last night.." he muttered, dragging her underground.
she held her flickering halo carefully as they zoomed to the elevator, watching him jam the buttons with his finger. she'd never seen someone so eager.
as soon as the doors parted, he forced her inside with such an anticipation she couldn't pinpoint. it made her feel uneasy, how weird he had been acting.
"wilbur?" her voice came out as more of a squeak, taking his other hand in hers. she looked right at him with swelled eyelids. "this.. this isn't a trick, is it?"
his eyes widened, eyebrows unknotting a crease on his forehead. "what?" he practically laughed, "why- why would it be a trick?"
"i don't know.. you just seem.." her voice wavered, eye contact faltering. "nevermind, it's stupid."
"look at me, love," the nickname was.. new. "i don't want to hurt you. i'm gonna make everything up, okay?"
she hummed an agreement, eyes fluttering to make contact with his. his face was soft, just like the other night. but something seemed missing.
"i wanna show you everything about my home," the excitement in his voice was almost raw. "i live in a palace, did you know that?"
"i didn't," she smiled, a forced one. "are you gonna show me around?"
at that, the elevator's doors opened, and she was hit with a sudden wave of heat that nearly made her fall over.
and he almost didn't catch her.
tears started to swell up her eyes as she clung onto his arm, nails digging into broken fabric. soft yelps came out of her mouth.
"love, are you alright?" he spoke worriedly, and the amount of emotion in his voice made her even more lightheaded.
"i-i am-" she whispered, getting back onto her feet. "its just- y'know- what.. what i told you last night..?"
he nodded his head, a soft "oh" coming out of his mouth. but it didn't seem like an ounce of actual empathy lied behind his eyes. a tint of red glazed it instead. she felt odd.
did he not remember? or did he choose not to?
when she was able to walk properly, he led her around. if it wasn't for the burning pit in her stomach, she'd be extremely excited. but she had a feeling that something deeper was lying under the lava pools.
"this is the palace," he sighed, gesturing to the building. "isn't it cool?"
"it is.." she muttered. this awe, she could not fake. the large, intricate structures of gold and red and the occasional fire bounced off her glassy eyes. "can we go inside? maybe you can show me your room-"
"i.." he stiffened up suddenly. "i don't think that's a good idea."
"oh.." she muttered, trying to read his firm facial expression. but she couldn't.
a thick silence fell upon them. the only noticeable thing was how her halo flicked on and off with inconsistent beats.
"hey, i have to.. do something.. how about you stay here until i'm finished, okay? maybe you can talk to my mom or.. or talk to the hellhounds," his voice was unconvincing, but she still nodded, even as disappointed as she was.
and she watched him walk away, turning the corner away from her. she couldn't help the overwhelming feeling of disgust rummaging through her. the constant stares of demons around her didn't make anything better.
her feelings were mixed. maybe he's having a good day or- or maybe he's really considering peace between them.
but what if it really was a trick?
her soft facial expressions fell into her lap, weighing her options. she always sought to find the good in people, always trying and trying to think positive. but even after she revealed everything- everything she couldn't admit out loud, he turned her away. and there was no right explanation for that, no matter how beautiful his palace was.
she straightened up, fists clenched at her sides. she wasn't going to take it. after going through so much of his hatred for so long, she didn't like him practically making fun of her death. she hated it.
she was going to look for him and tell him all of her raw feelings.
as he rounded the corner, his back hit the wall and his knees failed. his breathing was labored as he ran a blackened hand through his changing hair. he could feel the skin literally crawl off of him, and he was delighted to have his normal look back.
quackity sighed against the wall, catching up to his quickened breath. "now all he has to do is find her. and they're forced to make up. and i win my twenty bucks," he muttered under his lips. "god, quackity, you genius."
his laughs felt amazing to churn out. pretending to be wilbur was exhausting him to the core, but it was worth each and every penny of the twenty dollars he'd be receiving soon.
but, through all of his buzzing victory, he didn't notice an angry little angel looking for a certain grim reaper. he didn't notice her stomping around with her fists clenched at her sides.
and he definitely didn't notice her tripping and falling into the pit of lost souls.
-
wilbur's day went on horribly.
he didn't get any sleep. not that this was any different from usual; but this time his night was spent tossing and turning in his stone bed trying to think of how he was going to talk to her.
his bones ached when he got up, and no amount of stretches could heal the knot in his neck.
work was even worse. especially considering the fact that everytime he heard some sort of high pitched noise, he'd think it was a little angel fluttering her wings at him, and then he'd be able say the speech he had written up in his mind.
he was regretting his word choice of "i never want to see you again" on top of his regret for the rest of his blown out word vomit.
but as he walked from the elevator to his palace, he couldn't help but hear a sort of cry for help. and it sounded oddly similar to the angel's.
"wilbur? w-wilbur.. i know- i know you hate me but this- this hurts -"
was it?
"its not fffunny anymore- i know you got your kick out of tricking- me- but this is- ow!"
it couldn't be.
"i won't bother you again! i promise! just please- let- let me out of here- help me.. please..? it's- it's -"
he'd been hearing her voice in his head all day in somewhat intervals. but this felt more real, more raw.
he stumbled on his feet. he knew where it was coming from. he heard noises of desperate cries from it everyday, but the thought that this might be real? it scared him to his core.
worry rushed over him quicker than second thought, and he rushed over to the pit of lost souls in a panic. hoarse, raspy screams of "angel!" flew out of his throat as he scrambled to climb the volcano-like structure.
-
she still had a lot of questions for wilbur.
not the type of, "what's your favorite color?" or "what's your favorite band?" questions. more like, "wilbur? hello? please help- this hurts- are you still there?"
and she was starting to lose hope in the fact that those questions might be answered.
one things for sure; her curiosity will be the death of her.
unless he's got the courage to do something about it.
11.4k || 8.12.23 || masterlist here!
taglist (dm or send an ask to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @starsyoubreaklikesugardust @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @merakiaes @aimi-chann @axthrial @lololol00 @deadphantomsociety @hometown-smile @qweengigi @kisstheskin
thank you so much for your read, i appreciate all of the support <33 a part two is indeed coming soon!! stay tuned
#gr!wilbur#wilbur#wilbur soot#wilbur x reader#wilbur x y/n#wilbur x you#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x you#dream smp#dsmp#dsmp wilbur#wilbur dsmp#dsmp wilbur soot#wilbur soot dsmp#dsmp x you#dsmp x reader#dsmp x y/n#mcyt wilbur#mcyt wilbur soot#wilbur mcyt#wilbur soot mcyt#mcyt x reader#mcyt x you#mcyt x y/n#minecraft youtubers#mcyt fanfiction#dream smp fanfiction#dsmp fanfic#wilbur soot fanfiction
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it‘s him.
#my art#dsmp#dsmp fanart#dream smp fanart#dsmp art#dream smp#wilbur soot#dream smp art#wilbur soot fanart#mcyt wilbur#wibur soot art#wilbur fanart#lovejoy#wilbur stream#animal crosing new leaf#animal crossing wild world#animal crossing new horizons#acnl#acww#acnh#animal crossing
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Fluffy
In which- You have an obsession with Wilbur's fluffy hair
A/n: I wasn't meant to be on my phone when I wrote this but y'know. I also found a book I had with a few of these headcanons written in. I know this is short and I'm sorry
Headcanon info: FLUFFY, wilbur being pouty, fluffy hair (bc why not),
Pronouns: None (You/Yours)
Masterlist:
If you were ever scared or worried to ask if you could touch his hair, he would grab your hand softly and run your hand through his hair
After a shower, he would come out with wet hair and all you could do was stare at it. So one night, he came out with a towel, his hair freshly wet, and let you dry it for him
Would definitely get into haircare or styling his hair to accentuate his curls so when you played with his hair, it bounced
If you ever fell asleep with your hand or hands in his hair and he had to readjust himself, he'd love the little pout on your lips when your hands lost contact with his hair
Would definitely let you brush it, wash it, style it, annoy him with your habits
And a follow up to this, you would get all excited and bouncy if his hair poofed up when you brushed it (my fellow curly haired people, pls relate)
You would subconsciously tug at his hair sometimes when you're distracted and you need stimulation in your hand, and you always get confused when little grunts leave him, always asking if he's alright, and he never mentions your tugs
He would do anything to have your hands in his hair
Sitting down? His head is in your lap
Trying to fall asleep? He's against your torso
Cooking dinner? Good luck doing that one-handed
If he was ever at band rehearsal, on tour, or away for a little bit, he knew you would immediately want your hand in his hair, so he would always drop everything to let you have that experience
"Hey, Sweetheart!" He exclaims as he walks through the door after band rehearsal.
"Hello. How did it go?" You said, only wanting to run your hands through his hair.
As soon as he had his jacket off, the keys placed down, his guitar against the wall and his shoes off, you were already on the couch with him with your fingers threading through his locks.
His little hums of satisfaction when you play with his hair always warm your heart knowing that it feels good for him
He would either talk to you about his day in great detail or hum a song to comfort you if needed.
He began humming 'Since I Saw Vienna' knowing it made you sleepy, and because it was 2 am and he wanted to sleep.
"Darling, I'm going to fall asleep if you continue".
"But I want sleep" He pouted.
"Okay fine"
And you both fell asleep cuddled close together.
You love playing with his hair so much that you made a playlist for when it's late at night and you're running your hand through his hair.
He was just so soft when he found out this fact from Tommy, because the boy is a snitch ;)
And he'd definitely fall asleep and enjoy the feeling of your hands tangled in the bush of his hair.
#Wilbur Soot#wilbur soot#Wilbur#wilbur#Wilbur Soot Headcanons#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#dream smp#tommyinnit#dsmp wilbur#mcyt wilbur#wilbuh#wilbur imagine#wilbur imagines#wilbur mcyt#wilbur soot brainrot
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it must be love. ᥫ᭡
ᥫ᭡ - niki sets you and wilbur on a classic dinner date.
note - inspired by 'must be love' - laufey!!! frwiends to lovers ahhahs! dividers by @cafekitsune !!
warnings - use of a nickname (beautiful), a kiss at the end!!
| use of you/yours, y/n used as well ! |
time moved so, so much slower than usual when you were with wilbur. it was weird, you thought.
you couldn't be in love with him, were you?
"come on," niki sighed. "it's so obvious by the way you look at him, y/n. the look you make while staring at him is like he's a treasure chest you've been going through so many adventures for."
you scoffed, not believing niki yet. "niki, I don't like him. he's just a really close friend of mine."
the girl in front of you smirked while putting on her makeup, "sure, we'll see."
you raised your eyebrow at that but shrugged it off.
niki suggested you needed someone to be there with you. you declined but she insisted on getting you a date, so you gave in and agreed only for her to stop asking.
you arrived at the restaurant, feeling anxious as you paid your uber.
as you cluelessly walked in, your eyes widened slightly as you saw wilbur sitting at a table, clearly waiting for someone. but you didn't know, that someone would be you.
you saw him glance up at you, eyes lighting up as he put his phone in his pocket and waved for you to come over.
"niki said you'd be my date." wilbur said with a soft smile, and you swore you could see a faint blush on his pale skin.
"she- she didn't tell me you were my date, she just told me to find out for myself." you felt your cheeks heat up lightly as he snickered softly.
"it's okay, you're here. there's no going back now, beautiful." he murmurs the nickname, eyeing your features like he doesn't see a single flaw in you.
"I-huhm, what?" you blurted out, flustered at the nickname he'd called you.
"nothing." he replies quickly, looking away with a slight blush on his cheeks. the way it immediately felt uncomfortably awkward was embarrassing both you and wilbur.
he cleared his throat, a timid expression on his face. "so, uhm. what do you want to order?"
"the.. roast pork and potatoes..?" you asked awkwardly, looking at the menu for an excuse not to make eye contact with the brown-haired, attractive (you'd admit,) man across from you.
he nods, letting out a small hum as he calls the waiter.
"could she get a roast pork with potatoes? I'll get the same." he spoke softly, watching as the waiter wrote it down and busily walked to other waiting customers.
as you both waited, the silence was louder than the busy restaurant with flowing customers and fast-paced waiters skillfully writing down the orders of the people arriving.
"so.." wilbur awkwardly started, trying to start a conversation so you both wouldn't be as awkward anymore.
you stayed silent, anxiously fidgeting with your fingers as you couldn't think of any topic you could talk about.
".. do you know why niki set us both up on this date?" he asked, looking at you with genuine curiosity.
"um, she told I needed someone so she insisted she'd get me a date. didn't know it'd be you though." you answered shyly, looking everywhere but his eyes.
"really? does she think you're in lo-" wilbur responded before getting cut off by a waiter serving us our food and immediately getting back to work.
"thank you-" you both said at the same time before laughing softly, easing the tension between the two of you.
"so.." you both started again, giggling quietly.
"this is so weird." you chuckled.
"well, great minds think alike, don't they?" he replied, eyeing both your foods that were starting to get cold.
you hummed in response, leaning your cheek in the palm of your hand as your elbow stayed on the table, looking at the food you both hadn't eaten as well.
"I think we should eat." he muttered, looking at you before grabbing the utensils given by the waiter and slowly eating the food.
you followed his actions, taking bite after bite.
you both ate in silence, well, not really. many people were chattering in other tables, some couples, family, friends.
both of you finished eating, and wilbur spoke once again, "would you like me to walk you back home, or..?"
"no, it's okay I'll just get an ub-" he interrupted you, "it's okay, I don't mind walking you back home."
you hesitated before sighing. "fine,"
you saw his cheeks faintly flush, eyes lighting up as he stood up from the wooden, polished chairs. he took out his wallet, and before you could protest, he immediately placed the paper bill down.
you sighed, extremely grateful at this kind gesture of wilbur's. you watched him place his wallet in his pocket, looking back down at the floor.
though, your cheeks heated up again as he took your hand, leading you out from the chattering customers and busy workers, to the calm streets and cold breeze of the night.
this time though, the silence wasn't so uncomfortable. it was nice, listening to each other's breathing and the vehicles passing by.
as you both reached your house, he let go of your hand.
you slowly waved, walking to your house before feeling wilbur's hand pull yours again.
"wait." he spoke quietly.
you looked back at him with confused eyes before they widened as you felt his lips on yours.
he brought a hand up to your cheek, gently caressing the soft skin with his rough, calloused fingers.
he softly pulled back, looking down with a blush on his face that was illuminated by the streetlight near you both.
"I love you." he whispered.
#i didnt know i could do this#wilbur soot x reader#wilbursoot#wilbur mcyt#wilbur x reader#wilbur x you#wilbur soot#wilbur#qsmp wilbur#mcyt x y/n#mcyt x you#mcyt x reader#mcyt#mcyt wilbur#mcyt wilbur soot#dsmp x y/n#dsmp x you#dsmp x reader#dsmp
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types of kisses ft. Wilbur Soot
author notes: types of kisses that I imagine Will giving you :)
Types of Kisses ft. Wilbur Soot
FOREHEAD KISSES MOST DEF
Cheek kisses make him blushhh
Pecks on the lips are his favorite
when he’s feeling silly he’ll give you Butterfly kisses
kisses your hand
when you’re feeling insecure, he’ll kiss his favorite body parts on you
will kiss you in pictures all the time
kisses you on stream
late night kisses are the best
especially with cuddles
#dream smp#dsmp#fanfic#wilbur soot#oneshot#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x reader smut#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur x y/n#wilbur x you#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fluff#qsmp wilbur#dsmp wilbur#mcyt wilbur
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5 times wilbur helped you + 1 time you helped him
pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader
TWs: hypochondria + drinking alcohol + sickenss + death mentioned
note: this was so cute to write ee i love a good 5 things + 1! this fic is very cutesy too, a good strangers to neighbors to friends to best friends to lovers moment!
taglist! @l0veb0mb1ng
word count: 6.2k
one
The record store managed to be both small and incredibly overwhelming. It was a cozy place, with gorgeous dark blue walls, soft lighting, and big windows. You’d decided to stop here on your way home from work given that you’d been living in Brighton for nearly four months now and have barely gone anywhere but work and your apartment. It was about time you’d looked at expanding your music taste, so a record store was the perfect place to try and find something new.
At least, you’d hoped it was. You’d been browsing the place for a good fifteen minutes, just completely mindless as you searched for anything that could pique your interest. A few customers had come and gone, and you could tell the shopkeeper was getting a bit annoyed by your presence. There was one other person in there with you, but the sun was starting to set, so you could imagine that the shopkeeper wanted to start closing. You looked around again, eyes scanning the title cards.
The Front Bottoms. You’d only heard a few of their songs, so maybe it would be good to give them a listen, and at least this way, you could get back home before the sun finished setting. You went to grab the last record, deciding it would be better than going home with nothing. As you reached for it, your hand quickly came into contact with another person’s, and you pulled your hand back quickly.
“Oh, sorry!” You heard, turning to look up at the only other person in there. He was tall, soft brown curls peeking out from a beige beanie that matched his sweater. He was really cute as well, a soft flush covering your cheeks as you looked up at his smile that honestly took your breath away.
You spent a moment remembering how to respond like a normal person before you spoke up, “Oh, no, that’s my bad!” You smiled softly, “You can have it, if you’d like, I’ve never really listened to them much.”
“Are you sure?” He gave you a soft smile that honestly made your heart melt a bit.
You nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure, go ahead!”
He grabbed the record, holding it for a moment before looking back at you, “If you’ve never really listened, can I ask why you were going for it? I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”
“Oh,” you looked away, red dusting your cheeks, “I’ve been trying to expand my music taste a bit, so I figured I’d just come to a record store to find something that might catch my eye.”
He thought for a moment, walking away while talking, “Well, if you’re looking for suggestions,” he sorted through a few slots before walking over with a record, holding it out for you, “this band is one of my favourites, they have a really unique style and their lyrics are fantastic.”
You took the record, looking down at it. The front cover showed a pair of knees with blood going down one leg and a bed behind the legs. An interesting cover, to say the least. You turned to the back cover, which was more simple, detailing the tracklist with the band’s name up top.
“Los Campesinos!? I’ve never heard of them.”
He lit up like a kid in a candy store just from you saying their name, “Yeah, I mean, they’re not as big as they used to be, but they’re really good.”
You looked down at the record in your hand once again, before looking back up to the excited but nervous grin on his face and nodding. “Alright, yeah. Thank you.”
He perked up even more, stuttering out his next words, “Cool, yeah, alright.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he moved to go check out.
“I hope you enjoy it, really, it’s one of my absolute favorite records,” he gave you a gentle smile as he finished getting rung up by the shopkeeper. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, but before he could, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, cursing softly.
“I’ve got to run,” he sighed, smiling at you once more as he headed towards the door, “it was nice talking to you.”
You tried to ignore the fact that your mood faltered a bit at the knowledge that he would have to leave, even if you’d only been speaking for about five-odd minutes. “It was nice talking to you too. Thanks for the recommendation!” You smiled, giving him a slight wave as he walked out the door, before purchasing the record. With a frown, you realized that you never caught his name.
two
It was raining. It was cold, and it was raining. It was cold, raining, and your arms hurt. You had walked half a mile back to your apartment in the freezing rain with a box of your things because your boss decided that your last work wasn’t “suitable for the brands image” whatever that meant and fired you. You’d cried about it on the first half of the walk, stressed over having to potentially find a new job. But now you were just tired, the rain was seeping through your coat to your skin, and you could feel the cold in your bones which was entirely unpleasant when carrying a shitty cardboard box filled with the contents of your entire office.
You managed to get into the building, thankfully your downstairs neighbor was kind enough to hold the door open for you when she’d seen you struggling to open the door. That wasn’t the hard part, though, no, the hard part was somehow trying to fish your keys from your pocket without dropping the box of things and then proceeding to unlock your door.
You pushed the box between your door and chest, trying to use the tension in order to get the keys out of your pocket.
You quickly got distracted by the sound of a door behind you opening. You didn’t really know much about your neighbor across the hall. You’d never actually met him, since it appeared you and him had opposing schedules for the most part. You were always out by eight A.M. to walk to work, and you usually only returned around 6 P.M.. From what you could gather, he usually left sometime around noon and only returned later in the night, though sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d hear him get back as late as 2 A.M..
Because of the distraction, you ended up dropping the keys right onto the ground. You tried to carefully manuveur your way into picking up the keys, but instead, you were met with the sound of crashing as the wet cardboard gave way and fell to the floor, scattering your belongings across the hallway.
You sighed, crouching down to start picking things up when you heard a voice from across the hall.
“Oh, here, let me,” your neighbor spoke, leaning down to grab a photo that had fallen in front of his door.
You looked up, shock flooding you for a moment as you finally got a look at your neighbor.
“You’re that guy,” you smiled, and his head whipped up alarmingly fast, “from the record store.”
He relaxed when you finished your sentence, a soft smile coming onto his face as he held out the photo, “Yeah, uh, hi. You live across the hall?”
You nodded as you took the photo, and he chuckled, “Well, that guess the world is funny like that.” He helped you clean up the things, placing them inside the box for you.
“You really don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, no, I insist, trust me,” he gave you a warm smile, and you suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore.
“Thank you,” you spoke timidly
It didn’t take long before all of your things were recollected, and you carefully stood, unlocking your apartment door. You went to lean down to pick up the box, but your neighbor had already picked it up.
“I could bring it inside, if you want. It’s a bit heavy. Not- not that you can’t carry it, I- I just mean-” His nervous stuttering brought a laugh out of you, and he paused, face flushed as he looked up at you.
“It’s alright, I knew what you meant. That would be really nice, thank you,” you opened the door, holding it open for him as he carried the box in.
“You can just place it anywhere on the counter,” you spoke, and he nodded, placing it on the countertop before processing the contents of the box.
He clearly knew what that box meant, but he didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was because of your red-rimmed eyes, or the fact that it was quite obvious that you weren’t having a good day, but he asked another question instead.
“How did you like the album?”
You shrugged off your wet coat, hanging it up before turning to him, a soft smile on your face, “It was a bit odd, but I really liked it.”
He lit up, “Really? Which one was your favorite?”
You thought for a moment, “I’d have to say A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State.”
If he lit up just from you saying you liked the album, he was set ablaze with happiness as you spoke, “God, that song is fantastic! It’s my favorite as well.”
You grinned, and after a moment, it occurred to you that you still didn’t know his name.
“Alright, so, things I know about you: you really like The Front Bottoms and Los Campesinos!, and your favorite song from Romance is Boring is A Heat Rash. Things I don’t know: your name,” you chuckled.
A blush returned to his cheeks, and he looked down sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back up at you, “My name’s Wilbur.”
You smiled, “Wilbur. It’s nice to know you and meet you, in that order. My name’s Y/N.”
“Pleasure to meet you as well,” he gave you a bright smile, before humming softly, “Do you want some hot cocoa?”
You laughed, tilting your head a bit, “What?”
“Well, I was gonna run by the shops to get some, so I was wondering, if you wanted, I could bring you some. I’d imagine it would be nice after getting caught in the rain.”
You looked up at him, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face, “Yeah, uh, thank you, Wilbur. That sounds lovely.”
three
Sometimes you think the universe had it out for you. It had only been about a month and a half since you’d gotten fired, and while you were able to start doing freelance work, that didn’t mean that things were looking up for you. Not at all. Because sometimes, when the stars aligned, they didn’t align positively.
You got the text an hour ago. Your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — Jared, sent some short message detailing just why he couldn’t stand you anymore. How your “love” had died out and lost its spark and honestly you couldn’t care. He hadn’t done anything in months, you were the only one trying anymore. You’d just hoped maybe he would eventually try.
Regardless, you found comfort in the night sky. The roof was supposed to be off limits, but you discovered pretty quickly upon moving in that they never actually locked the door. Still, you didn’t make it a habit to come up here, just in case. But on nights like this, where you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or distraught, the quiet night sky always helped you feel somewhat consoled. You put on a nice pair of headphones and listened to some quiet music, allowing the song to drown out the sounds of the city.
You closed your eyes for a few minutes, taking a deep breath.
When you went to look up at the stars again, you were instead met with the concerned look of Wilbur from above you. You startled, sitting up and pulling your headphones off.
“Wilbur! Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me.”
You hadn’t seen Wilbur much since that day outside your door. He did eventually bring you the hot cocoa, and you had a nice chat but not much else after that. You saw him in passing sometimes, now that you weren’t working a 9-to-5 and could leave your apartment whenever you dictated, but you would only share a few words.
“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, a soft blush on his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to, I thought you’d heard me saying your name. Didn’t realise the headphones were soundproof.”
You sat up, getting a better look at him. He had a pair of nice black pants on, as well as a large grey jumper. He also had a guitar across his back. You knew he played, you could hear soft strumming sometimes at night, but it was different to actually see him with it. He was also holding a half-empty bottle, and while you couldn’t see the label, you could tell it was probably vodka.
“It’s alright,” you laughed lightly, “what are you doing out here anyways?”
“I could ask you the same,” he smiled, pulling the guitar off his back, “I come up here to play sometimes when my apartment feels too confining. You?”
You sighed, “I like staring at the stars when my head feels overwhelming. Makes it easier.”
He nodded, considering something for a moment, “Do you mind if I’m here as well? I won’t bother you, if you don’t want.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. Might be nice to have some company, actually.”
You gave him a soft smile, and he returned the gesture, sitting across from you. He pulled his guitar across his lap, starting to pluck out some gentle notes. You looked up at the sky while he played, and it felt nicer than when you had been alone.
The only thing that brought you out of the peaceful energy was Wilbur pausing his playing to open the bottle and take a drink. You watched him curiously.
“Do you want some?” He asked, holding out the bottle, “It’s just vodka.”
Any other night, you would’ve said no. Any other night, you couldn’t justify it. Tonight? Tonight, you could.
You nodded and took the bottle, taking a swig. You cringed a bit from the taste, setting the bottle back down between you both. Wilbur’s company was nice. He played delicate melodies, and for the longest time, neither of you spoke.
The alcohol softened you, made you lose a bit of your filter. You were curious about Wilbur, and a conversation sounded comforting.
“You… said you come up here when your apartment gets too confining. What did you mean by that?” You drew your knees up to your chest as you asked him, giving him a curious look.
His hands paused for a moment as you asked, but he continued to play softly as he went on to speak.
“I’m not used to staying in one place for long. I haven’t lived here incredibly long, but sometimes I have to fight that urge to just pack up and go. Being in my apartment makes that feeling, that urge stronger. Being up here makes it feel easier, because I’m not stuck in some room. I’m just up here with the sky.”
You nodded as he explained, humming softly in lieu of a response. He took your questioning as an opportunity himself.
“You come up here when you’re overwhelmed. What’s on your mind?”
A sigh escaped you before you spoke softly, “A lot. I’ve lived here nearly six months, and it’s been… weird. Moved here for a job that fired me. Haven’t made an actual friend yet. My now ex-boyfriend gave up on our relationship. Lots of little things stacking into a pile that is currently tipping over.”
He continued playing as he listened and for a while you wondered if he was going to respond at all. Eventually he did, but it wasn’t the response you’d expected.
“You have me.”
“What?”
“I just- You said you haven’t made an actual friend yet,” he shrugged softly, “I’d say you have. Me.”
It took a moment — and you could see the nerves rising in him as you processed his words — but a grin split across your face.
“Thanks, Wilbur.”
He chuckled, and you could just barely spot the pink tint on his cheeks. “You make good company,” he reached for the bottle again, taking another sip as he spoke.
“So do you.” You drank a bit more as well, and the two of you fell back into comfortable silence.
You both stayed out there until the bottle was empty, chatting lightly every now and then, but mostly just staying quiet while Wilbur played soft tunes. When you went back downstairs to your respective apartments, Wilbur kept an arm wrapped around you to keep you from drunkenly stumbling your way down the stairs. It wasn’t stressful or anything, both of you muffling laughter to try and prevent any complaints. He walked you to your door, staying with you to make sure you got inside your apartment.
Once you had the door open, you walked in, but turned and leaned against the doorway to talk with him for a moment.
He smiled softly at you, speaking in hushed tones, “Have a good night, Y/N.”
You smiled back up at him, “You too, Wilbur.”
He turned and walked across the hall to his apartment, getting his door open. Before he could close the door behind him, you called out softly.
“Hey, Wilbur?”
He turned, looking back at you curiously.
“Thank you.”
His smile widened, eyes bright.
“Don’t worry about it. And if you ever need company again, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”
You nodded, before walking into your apartment, and heading to bed feeling relieved and light despite everything that should’ve made you feel otherwise.
four
If there was any way to describe you, it was stubborn. Hence why, despite the severe cold and fever you had, you were still working. You were working from home on some graphic design for a law firm, so it wasn’t particularly hard, but the fever was definitely impacting your ability to actually understand the task you were supposed to be working on.
Despite most of your work being done from home, you still made it a habit to leave your apartment at least twice a week to stop you from going completely stir-crazy. You followed a routine. Once a week you’d go out to get groceries and a coffee, and the second day was up to you to figure out what to do. Wilbur made that easier. Your rooftop trips became a common habit, usually going up there once a week, sometimes with snacks or drinks, to just talk. In a matter of about two months, he quickly became your best friend, and even though it was getting cold outside, you’d always gladly jump at the opportunity to head up with him and just exist. It was also nice to have him living across the hall; it made living in a new city easier to have your closest friend mere steps away.
It also made it easy for him to notice your routine. More importantly, it made it easier for him to notice when your routine was off. Like this week, when you decided to forgo going out for groceries, deciding that you’d just deal with what you had since you weren’t feeling well enough to actually leave your apartment. That was the first time he noticed something was wrong.
The second time was when he texted you, asking if you wanted to go up to the roof that night. You replied, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what the reply said.
‘ m niur sure im nto feelkibt to o good’
Your phone buzzed with his reply, a series of question marks that you couldn’t honestly gather the strength to reply to. You tried, for sure, but your message was less legible than the first, so you didn’t bother sending it. Because of how close you two had gotten, you’d also swapped emergency keys. Primarily because one night you dropped your key on the way in and had to take temporary residence on his couch while you waited for your apartment’s office to open, so you could get a replacement made.
When he got that text, it worried him even more. When you didn’t respond to his follow-up, it made him worry enough to go knock on your door. You didn’t even hear the knock, head foggy from a mixture of sickness and attempts to focus. That brought an entire other wave of concern to Wilbur, and he felt panic begin to bubble up in his chest.
He pulled out your spare key, opening the door quickly and eyes scanning the room.
“Y/N?” He called out, seeing you sitting on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared helplessly at your laptop screen.
You looked up, eyes taking a moment to focus. “Wilbur?” Your voice sounded weak, and your nose was clearly stuffed, “What are you doing here?”
He relaxed when his eyes met yours, walking over to you.
“I got worried. Your text was… less than readable. Plus, you didn’t answer when I knocked.” He looked over at your computer, “What are you doing?”
You groaned, tipping your head back. “Trying to work.”
“While sick?”
“I’m not that sick. Just a cold.”
He raised an eyebrow, walking closer and placing a hand on your forehead. “You definitely do not just have a cold. When’s your deadline?”
“Next week,” you sighed, “But I want to figure it out sooner.”
“And how’s that working for you?” He chuckled a bit, “If your text is anything to go off, I strongly doubt you’re doing your best work right now.”
You huffed softly, closing your eyes for a moment, “Maybe I’ll take a break-“
“Nope! You’re done for today,” he hummed, happily picking up your laptop and moving it to the side table.
“Will,” you whined out. Before you could even try to argue, you started coughing into your arm, gasping a bit for breath.
He cringed a bit, but he gladly fought his own hypochondriatic thoughts to make sure you were alright.
“Have you taken any medicine?” He hummed, walking over to your pantry and opening it. You’d be more baffled by his behaviour if it weren’t for the fact that raiding each other’s pantry was usually the first thing either of you did when you came over anyways.
“Not since this morning.”
He nodded, grabbing something from the pantry. From your spot on the couch, you couldn’t see what he was grabbing, but he didn’t even give you a chance to look before walking over.
“Go take a warm shower and put on comfy clothes, okay? You can take the medicine after. Sounds good?”
As stubborn as you were, it honestly sounded fucking fantastic. Maybe the sickness made you weaker, but you sighed, slowly standing. He reached his hands out, just in case you wobbled or fell.
“Do you need help getting there?” He asked. Normally, someone asking that would make you want to kick them out and crawl into a hole to die, but with Wilbur, you sensed no malice or judgement in his tone, only genuine care and concern. Regardless, you shook your head, stabilising yourself enough to walk to your room.
Your shower was quick, but the warm water did wonders. Your muscles felt immediately better, and your headache finally weakened just enough to make it feel relieving. Plus, you put on a big hoodie and some long pajama pants which helped you feel much more relaxed than the stiff clothing you’d been wearing before. You walked back out into your living room, seeing Wilbur standing at your stove.
“Will? What are you doing?” You chuckled, walking over.
He smiled, “I made soup. Go sit, it’s almost done.”
“Did you make any for yourself?”
He faltered a bit, “Uh, no, I didn’t, why?”
You frowned, “Make yourself some too, please. I feel bad.”
“Will it mean you letting me take care of you?”
You nodded, and he sighed softly, a fond smile on his face. “Alright. Do you want to eat at the same time as me, or would you prefer now?”
“Same time as you.”
“I should’ve guessed that,” he chuckled, “Okay. Just relax, put something on the TV. I’ll bring you the food and medicine once it’s done.”
You nodded, footsteps padding across the floor as you returned to the couch, this time curling up on your side, against the edge of the couch. You turned on some light music, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to actually watch anything you could turn on. You closed your eyes, trying to relax as you fought off coughs and nausea waves.
You could hear Wilbur humming in the kitchen, and you smiled lightly. As stubborn as you were, it felt nice to have someone taking care of you. Especially since it was someone you trusted as much as Wilbur. You let yourself start to drift off as waves of exhaustion rolled over you.
You woke up from Wilbur gently shaking your shoulder.
“I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to eat,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to startle you awake.
“Mm’kay,” you groaned out a bit, slowly sitting up.
He helped you sit up, smiling and holding up the bowl. “Do you want to hold it or sit at the counter?”
You reached for the bowl, “If I move, I’ll probably cry,” you joked. He passed the bowl to you, and he sat down next to you with his own bowl.
You started eating slowly, thankful that the soup wasn’t too hot.
“This is really good,” you smiled softly at him, “thank you, Wilbur.”
He smiled, “you really don’t have to thank me. I want to take care of you.”
You flushed lightly, looking down at your bowl and continuing to eat quietly.
“Do you want me to put on a movie or something?” He asked softly.
You nodded, and he took the remote, putting on some random movie. It wasn’t long before you finished your soup, relieved at the feeling of having food in your stomach. Once he finished, he stood, taking both your bowl and his own to the kitchen. He walked back over with the medicine, holding it out for you.
You took the medicine easily, groaning at the taste. Wilbur was quick to hand you a glass of water before returning to the kitchen and cleaning up. When he got back, he sat next to you, placing a hand to your forehead.
“Your temperature feels better now.” He noted, letting his hand fall.
You gently shifted, your head now leaning against his shoulder, “I still feel like shit.”
He chuckled, and an arm wrapped around you, causing you to lean into his warmth further, “The medicine should kick in soon. You should’ve told me sooner, and you shouldn’t have been working. It only makes it harder for your body to heal.”
You groaned, “I thought I was fine. I never get sick like this.”
He hummed, gently rubbing your back and God, if it didn’t feel amazing, “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. You need rest.”
You sighed and nodded, “I know.”
“Just relax, alright?” he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re better.”
Your heart warmed at the thought. You nodded before shifting and laying your head on his lap. “Is this okay?”
He nodded, a hand coming to gently thread through your hair, “Of course. You can sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be here.”
You smiled, eyes closing slowly. “Thank you, Wilbur,” you spoke softly, exhausting creeping into your bones and clear in your voice.
“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be okay.”
You fell asleep quickly, a soft smile on your face.
five
Things were starting to look up. Your freelance work was bringing in good money, and even better, you had a date tonight. However, it had been a long while since you’d gone on a date. So, you frankly had no clue what to wear.
You took a quick shower, putting on a robe and blowdrying your hair. Once you were at least semi-presentable, you walked across the hall, knocking on Wilbur’s door.
He opened the door quickly, a smile on his face, “Hey, what’s going on?” He chuckled softly.
You just smiled, “I have no clue what to wear. Can you help me pick?”
He nodded, grabbing his keys and locking his door before following you to your apartment.
“Just, sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”
He sat down, smiling softly. Wilbur always looked good, and he happened to be cursed with either amazing or horrible fashion sense. Today was one of his amazing fashion sense days, a pair of nice jeans and a simple black button-up, plus a sweater over the top and the black Docs he always wore. He would definitely be able to help you choose.
You walked into your closet, grabbing two options and walking back out to him, “Which one?”
He looked over the two options, thinking, “The black one. It’s a lot more date-night vibe, plus you’ve said that top makes you feel more confident.”
You grinned, nodding quickly before going back to your room to change. You spent a bit more time getting ready, making sure your accessories were nice, fixing up your hair and your face a bit before taking a deep breath. You checked the time, only ten minutes until your date.
You walked back out, looking at him with a soft smile, “So? What do you think?”
He looked up from his phone, and a grin slowly spread across his face, “You look amazing. Seriously, you look absolutely fantastic.”
A flush spread across your cheeks, looking down a bit shyly, “Thank you, Wilbur. For your help, as well.”
He nodded, standing, “Of course. You know I’m always here if you need help,” he looked back down at his phone before he looked up at you, “So, you ready to go?” He grinned, holding his hand out towards you.
“I’m ready,” you smiled, taking his hand, “Where are we going, by the way?”
He chuckled, walking with you out the door, “It’s a surprise. It won’t be a long walk, though, don’t worry.” He smiled, and the two of you were off for your date.
+1
Freelance work sometimes meant traveling. You hated being away from Wilbur, since you guys spent nearly every day seeing each other. However, there was a job a short flight away that was paying really well, so you took it and had spent four days on this trip. You were supposed to be there for a week, but you’d finished a lot faster than anticipated, so you were able to head home early.
There was another reason you wanted to head home early too. Wilbur hadn’t responded to you in the past three days, aside from occasionally liking the messages you sent and sending the occasional heart. This wasn’t something new, there were days when Wilbur didn’t have the energy to leave his bed, let alone send a proper response. What worried you was that this was the first time you weren’t physically there to help him through it. So when you got the approval to head home early, you jumped at the opportunity and immediately booked your plane home.
You stopped at your apartment first, dropping off your bags and changing into one of Wilbur’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants before walking over to his apartment. You unlocked his door, a normal thing for the two of you now, walking in slowly. There were takeout boxes cluttering the kitchen, along with empty and half-filled cups littered throughout the apartment. You walked over to his room.
The lights were off, but you could see the light from his phone on his bed. He was asleep, his phone left open on some random post he’d been scrolling on. You locked his phone and put it on the charger, leaning over and gently kissing his forehead. He didn’t react other than shifting a bit in his sleep. You looked over him quietly. There were bags under his eyes, so he clearly hadn’t been sleeping much, and you could tell from the pile of laundry that he hadn’t done much to take care of himself. You let him rest, returning to the living room to start cleaning up.
You spent an hour throwing things away and taking out the trash, and after, you washed the dirty dishes and dried them, putting them all back in the specific place he’d always put them. You wiped down some of the surfaces as well, knowing how he got sometimes about germs. You went to his room next, picking up all the clothes from the floor and taking them to the washing machine. You organized his desk as well, moving cluttered papers and notes of song lyrics and stacking them into a nice pile. You had your back turned to him as you dusted his room a bit, and you heard his voice.
“Darling?” He spoke softly, voice a bit raw from lack of use.
You turned, walking over to him and smiling, “Hi, Will.” You leaned down, gently kissing him.
He kissed you back lovingly, reaching a hand up to gently cup your cheek. When you’d pulled away, his thumb gently stroked over your cheek.
“What are you doing back already?”
You smiled softly, lightly brushing back some of his messy hair, “Finished the project early. Plus, I missed you.”
He cracked a gentle smile, arms slowly coming and wrapping around you. You let him pull you into the bed, wrapping your arms around him as well.
“I missed you too,” you murmured against your shoulder.
You held him tightly, the both of you lying there quietly for a while.
“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking at him with concern.
He looked ashamed for a moment, head falling a bit, “Not great.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He nodded after a while, taking a deep breath, “Just one of those times, I guess. I- I don’t really know what triggered it, I think my heartbeat was just a bit too fast the other night, and I was just so sure that this was it for me. And I just got so scared that I couldn’t do anything. It just ended up getting worse, and even if I don’t think I’m dying anymore, it just triggered a lot of bad thoughts, I guess. After a day, even standing felt exhausting. I felt paralyzed.” He sighed, and you gently kissed his forehead.
“Well, you’re not dead. You’re right here with me. You’re okay,” you spoke softly, staring at him lovingly. It wasn’t often that his hypochondria overtook him so much, but you knew how hard it was when it did, even if you didn’t fully understand it.
He nodded. “I know, I am. It just all got a bit overwhelming.”
“That’s okay. It happens to all of us sometimes. You don’t have to feel bad for it, alright?”
He nodded, hugging you tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered out.
You kissed the top of his head, “You don’t have to thank me, okay? I’m here for you, throughout everything.”
He squeezed you tighter for a second before relaxing, just holding you gently as he nodded.
“How long have you been back?” He asked softly.
“A few hours,” you shrugged.
He frowned, “I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up.”
You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. Plus, I made good use of my time.”
He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”
You smiled, gently playing with his hair, “I just cleaned up a bit. I wanted you to rest, and I wanted you to wake up to a clean place. I know that mess stresses you out, and I didn’t want it to add to the bad feelings.”
He looked up at you, and he looked around the room after, processing the lack of clothes on the floor and trash. When he looked back at you, he had tears in his eyes, “thank you,” he whispered, biting his lip and holding you close again, “you’re the fucking best.”
You smiled fondly, “Don’t worry about it, really. I want to take care of you the same way you take care of me.”
He sniffled a bit, and you pulled him forward while he cried into your shoulder for a moment.
You let him cry as much as he needed to, rubbing his back. When he’d stopped crying, you pulled away, looking down at him. “When’s the last time you showered?” You asked softly, no judgement to be found anywhere in your tone.
He thought for a moment, “Three days ago, I think. I don’t remember, if I’m being honest.”
You nodded, smiling softly, “Well, I just got off a plane, so I’m pretty gross myself. Let’s shower, and then we can change your sheets? And I can make us some dinner?”
He nodded as well, sitting up slowly, “Okay.”
You sat up with him, holding his hand the entire time, “Rooftop dinner tonight?”
He smiled, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing it gently, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”
#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot#mcyt x reader#dsmp x reader#mar writes#wilbur x reader#mcyt x you#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fanfiction#mcytumblr#mcyt wilbur
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— EMPTY APARTMENTS
summary : wilbur gets to your apartment and finds you and all your belongings gone. you didn’t even say goodbye.
genre : angst -> fluff (“angst” might be a strong word)
warnings : sleep depravation (it’s bed time, wil. you have school in the morning), swearing, wilbur almost has a panic attack
pairing : cc!wilbur soot x reader
pronouns : none (you/yours)
featuring : cc!wilbur soot, lovejoy (mentioned)
word count : 987
note : i'm not the proudest of this, but here you go anyway.
Wilbur hadn’t slept in days.
It had been a lot, all at once, and he was struggling. He had just got back from America and Dave was already discussing another tour after their next single. He loved travelling and performing; it was what he was meant to be doing. Hearing people scream his silly little lyrics back at him while practically high on adrenaline was a feeling Wilbur wouldn’t be able to replicate with a million streams (as much as he loved them).
He’d been overwhelmingly anxious in a way that couldn’t be halted by breathing techniques, but he would try his best. Part of it was flying, which he knew shouldn’t have been an active issue given that the song wasn’t even finished yet. What they had been performing was about 90% complete, and another thing giving him grief was wondering whether people would like it. It was different from his first two EPs, and Wilbur knew even the most loyal of fan bases could hate songs.
That, combined with his hair being everywhere, wasn’t even the cause of the gnawing feeling in his abdomen. That one was simple, and he knew it couldn’t be solved. He missed you.
The tour had been short and he didn’t remember most of it, but he remembered hardly being able to sleep without the feeling of you on top of his left arm. It was worse when he was in the US, and he couldn’t even call you before bed. Of course, he was back now, and he’d been smothering you in affection to the point where you’d had to beg him to let you go and film.
He had been at the studio all day working on the rest of the EP; Wilbur had grown frustrated with just working on that one song when it clearly wasn’t sounding right. It was almost there, but it consumed his every waking moment and he needed a break. Whether it was the song itself, or the music video, or the concept art. The whole thing was just hurting his head, and the feeling was getting worse.
His eyes were heavy in the taxi ride home, and he’d fought the urge to fall asleep. He was heading for your flat; it was closer. He had a certain paranoia since he’d gotten more known about people knowing where he lived, so he always gave them a random address near where he lived but far enough away that it eased his anxieties. Trudging down the street, drops of rainwater in his hair, he pulled up your texts.
I’ll see you tonight, love, he’d sent early that morning. Yours or mine?
Ha, you had replied.
He pulled out his keyring, finding the key to your place that he’d held onto since forever. It stuck in the lock, like it always did and he closed his eyes as he turned the knob, dropping the keys into the bowl with a clatter and turning on the lights.
The flat was empty. There was still furniture, but all your stuff was gone. His keys lay there lamely on the floor, he was so exhausted he hadn’t even realised you’d taken the end table. Your shelves were bare, the counters were empty; hell even your streaming setup was gone.
You’d left, and you hadn’t even told him.
Was it something he had done? How long had you been planning this? It wouldn’t have been hard to orchestrate, you’d spent most of your nights at his place recently. Where had you gone? Maybe he could find you. At the very least get some closure.
He called you. Three times. His phone fell from his hand and he lent back against the door. You were the only thing that wasn’t causing him immense amounts of stress, and you were gone. There had been signs, surely. He hadn’t seen any, but there had to have been some.
Did he forget an anniversary? No, none that he could think of. Fuck. What had he done?
He couldn’t stay there, in your empty flat. It was too small, too full and too empty and he stumbled out, through the hallway, down the stairs and onto the street. It was late, the streets were nearly empty but it was too loud. The street lights flickered and Wilbur kicked a lampost.
It didn’t move. How annoying.
It took him nearly an hour to get home, somewhat because he continued to try and kick inanimate objects (mostly because he realised he forgot his phone and had to go back). This time, when he put his keys on the end table they fell resolutely onto the end table.
He flicked the light switch. They turned off.
Why were they already on? Whatever, he probably left them on accidentally. He shed his coat, throwing it over the back of the couch and face-planting onto it. The cushion groans underneath him.
“You ‘right?” Your hand found its way into his hair and his breath was strong against your neck. “Will? Everything okay?”
“You weren’t there,” His voice broke. “I went to your apartment and all your stuff was gone.” His arms were wrapped around you so hard his knuckles were turning white. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m so sorry.” You could feel tears leaking onto your collarbone and you clutched him back.
“Are you alright? Have you still not been sleeping?” Your eyes, warm with concern, met him. “Will, love?”
“I’m sorry.” He kept repeating.
“We’re okay. I promise. I’m moving in here, remember?” your voice was soft, and he couldn’t stop crying.
“Fuck.” His eyes were clamped shut. “I’m sorry, I’m an idiot.”
“You need a break,” you corrected gently. “You’re overworking yourself, Wilbur.”
It took him a while to calm down, and soon he was nodding in your embrace. “Need you.” That night, Wilbur slept better than he had in months and in the morning you were still there.
#mcyt#wilbur soot#wilbuh ♡#mcyt wilbur#wilbur soot fluff#dsmp wilbur#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot fanfiction#wishing i could write my name on it
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call me what you like
#illustration#digital art#my artwork#my art#wilbur soot#wilbur#mcyt wilbur#wilbur fanart#wilbur soot fanart#lovejoy#lovejoy fanart#wilburfromlvjy#c!wilbur#lovejoy cmwyl#cmwyl
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i had an unnamed cottagecore-y magic AU that was primarily crimeboys but also had SBI in it too and i never managed to do anything proper with it which makes me so sad. here's some silly concept sketches and stuff anyway, please ask me about this au i love it so much
little comic under the cut
#crimeboys#tommyinnit#wilbur soot#tommyinnit fanart#wilbur soot fanart#mcyt wilbur#mcyt fanart#mcyt tommyinnit#tommyinnit mcyt#tommyinnit fluff#idk how else to tag this really#lliwless art#lliwless AUs#unnamed magic au#genuinely please ask me about this /nf i just love this au so much LOL
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Daily Wilbur #1065
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qWilbur
I've been rewatching heartstopper when it hit me
#qsmp#qsmp fanart#mcyt#mcyt art#mcyt fanart#qsmp art#wilbur soot#wilbur soot fanart#wilbur fanart#tntduo#tnt duo#tnt duo fanart#tntduo fanart#qsmp meme#digital art#digital aritst#wilbur#wilbur mcyt#mcyt wilbur
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helloo ^.^ it's @/crph_beloved from twt
im trying to understand how to use this thing.. anyways i draw wilbur as some of you probably know. i need to find my moots :")
also yea i refuse to change my pfp what will you do
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the real question here is do u think squids n octos would or wouldnt have a (mammalian) sighing reflex .?
#tiddy pang back at it again#mammalian sighing reflex#wilbur music#wilbur soot#wilbur soot mcyt#wilbur soot fanart#wilbur soot art#wilbur mcyt#mcyt wilbur#wilbur fanart#wilbur art#mcyt fanart#mcyt art#splatoon#i guess . smile
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don't be so scared! ❆
❆ - ice skating date, but wilbur has no idea how to ice skate.
note - I have no idea how to ice skate but oh well, vvvery short, dividers by @saradika-graphics !
warnings - swearing, (almost) falling down, petnames
taglist ! - @phxntomsdusk
| use of you/yours ! |
ever since you were a kid, you always had a thing for ice skating. years later, you finally got to convince wilbur that you both should go ice skating as a date.
as you told wilbur to rent ice skates for the both of you, you walked to the side of the rink, watching all the people skate with smiles on their faces.
there were children practicing by holding the side of the rink to keep their balance, couples skating together.
you tensed a bit but immediately relaxed as you felt an arm snake around your waist.
"ready to go, darling?" wilbur asked, pressing his chin on the top of your your head and pressing a kiss on it as well.
"mhm." you nodded, turning around and moving your gaze to wilbur as he hands you your skates.
as you both slipped them on, you held wilbur's hand and slowly lead wilbur to the rink.
he seemed nervous, taking small steps before using his other hand to grip the side of the rink so he wouldn't loose his balance.
"don't be so scared," you spoke softly, gripping his hand a bit more tighter as you saw him struggling.
"you sure you're gonna be fine?" you asked him, watching him carefully and letting go of his hand.
"I think so?" he chuckled before loosing balance, "oh- shit!" he yelps. you caught his hand and struggled a bit as you pulled him up, placing his hands on your waist.
"just hold me, I'll lead you." you sighed, a glint of worry on your face, but a smile showing up nonetheless as he sighs after you do.
#wilbursoot#wilbur soot#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur mcyt#wilbur x you#wilbur#wilbur dream smp#wilbur dsmp#mcyt x y/n#mcyt wilbur#mcyt x reader#mcyt#wilbur soot fluff#mcyt wilbur soot
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three drunk nights.
wilbur soot x gn! reader
TWs: lots of drinking and alcohol, alcohol is used as a coping mechanism (dont do this), slightly suggestive content, vomiting, jokes about vomiting, lots of pining, drunk kisses n drunk confessions
word count: 8.8k (specifically 8888 words)
note: MAR IS FINALLY POSTING WHO CHEERREEDDDDDD
this fic was a tiny idea that i discussed a bit with a friend and then it just absolutely spiraled into this. this is also probably the most suggestive thing i will ever write (it's not that suggestive, i am just anxious so i actually had to ask someone if one of the lines was too suggestive so-) anyway. hope you enjoy! big thank you to everyone who chatted with me about this fic and helped me brainrot over this concept so i could actually stay motivated
taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @corequeen / @zooone / @melunnek / @shubblelive
When you moved to Brighton, you knew you would have to find a roommate. Rent was expensive, and your salary wouldn’t be nearly enough to live alone. You didn’t expect your roommate to end up being Wilbur Soot. You didn’t know who he was when you met him, he just seemed like a kind guy looking for a new roommate. You were a bit wary at first, when you’d only communicated over texts after seeing ads in a coffee shop, but after meeting him, you felt okay to move in. He was a genuinely nice guy, and not only did he make you feel safe, the two of you ended up getting pretty close quite quickly. It helped that he was funny and kind and had the most gorgeous eyes you’d ever seen.
You couldn’t deny just how attractive you found your roommate. Even when you first met him, you thought he was quite fit, but you made an agreement with yourself that you wouldn’t catch feelings. You needed a place to live more than another ruined relationship under your belt.
Your heart didn’t quite agree. Within the first three weeks of living together, you’d become entranced by him, a crush that took over your body and soul. Every time you looked at him, it brought a grin across your face, and every time he looked at you, it had a wine flush rising to your cheeks.
Regardless, you wouldn’t act on it. As overwhelming as it was, you couldn’t risk it. Wilbur is always home, so it makes it kind of hard to escape him, but at least when he’d stream, you could have time alone without having to worry about acting like a fool.
Today was like that. When you got home from work, you could faintly hear the sound of Wilbur talking and yelling in his room, and you smiled at the sound. You changed out of your uniform foremost, grabbing some headphones as you walked into the kitchen. You used the headphones to play music, not wanting to risk disturbing Wilbur. Instead, you started making some dinner. Just something simple and easy, and you made a portion for Wilbur too. Even if he’d already eaten, you could at least save it for lunch tomorrow. You finally had a day off, and you were so incredibly excited to do nothing except lay in bed for hours. The cooking was calming too, allowing you to unwind from a stressful day. And speaking of unwinding from a stressful day, you grabbed a wine glass and poured yourself a quick glass, humming along to the song playing in your headphones. You drank and cooked at the same time, until your pasta was done, and you started preparing yourself a plate. You prepared a plate for Wilbur as well, setting it in the microwave to stay warm. You grabbed your glass of wine first, and as you went to reach for your plate, you yelped and jumped as you felt a hand on your shoulder, splashing wine across your shirt.
You pulled your headphones off, turning quickly to see Wilbur, chuckling softly.
“Sorry, I called out, didn’t realise you didn’t hear me over the headphones.” He smiled softly, then frowned when he saw your shirt, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you jump.”
You shook your head softly, “It’s alright. Didn’t realise you were done already,” you hummed, grabbing a napkin even though you knew your shirt would need a lot more than just that. “I made you some pasta too. It’s in the microwave, I didn’t want it to get cold.”
He smiled fondly, humming, “Thanks.” He reached for his plate, and you walked to your room to change quickly. “Did work go well?” He called out as he sat down on the couch.
“Eh, it was fine,” you called back to him. “How was your stream?” You asked, walking back into the room to pour yourself another glass of wine before eating.
“It went well. Just did some Geoguessr.”
You nodded, sitting next to him on the couch as you began eating. You grabbed the remote, tossing it to him.
He chuckled and took it, putting on some random YouTube videos for you to watch while you ate. Most of the meal was silent, occasional quips in between videos being the most spoken until you finished your food. You washed your plate quickly, knowing you’d be annoyed if you left it for tomorrow. Wilbur did the same after, humming as he looked around the cupboards.
“You’re off tomorrow right?”
You nodded, “Yeah, why?”
“You want a drink?” He hummed, grabbing a bottle of vodka from the cupboard. You thought about it. It’d been a while since you drank anything, and it’s not like you had any obligations tomorrow anyway, so…
“Sure,” you hummed, “Just use a mixer. You are not getting me to drink anything straight ever again.”
He rolled his eyes, “That was one time.”
“One time that resulted in me throwing up in a parking lot,” you remind him.
He chuckles, starting to pour the drinks, “And now you have a very fun night out story to tell people.”
You chuckled, rolling your eyes, “Yes, and I’d like to keep the number of those stories at one.”
He hummed a bit, shrugging as he handed you a drink, “We’ll see. Cheers.” You tapped your glass against his, taking a quick sip.
“Wow, for once? It actually tastes drinkable.”
He snorted and rolled his eyes, “I know what I’m doing.” He grinned, and you followed him over to the couch, sitting down next to him.
As the drinks flowed, so did words and stories from both your lips as you sat next to each other, the TV having been forgotten in respect to the far more interesting view in front of you. Wilbur’s cheeks were dusted in pink from the alcohol, and you were almost certain that yours matched. Though it wasn’t just the alcohol in your case.
“Have you ever really been in love?” He’d asked a few minutes ago, and it brought on a whole conversation about past love.
It’s not like your case was tragic. It just wasn’t exactly the most loving either.
“Honestly? My ex was the most boring person you’d ever meet. Even now, it’s been almost two years since he and I were together, right?” You chuckled softly, “I couldn’t tell you a single thing about his personality. He wasn’t even interested in anything. And it’s not like he was mean or anything, the relationship was fine, but he barely even kissed me. Like if it’s been about two years since before we broke up, it’s probably been like two and a half since I’ve last been kissed.” You laughed, finding amusement in it, as morbid as that seemed.
“Really?” He asked, “Even when me and my ex broke up, we’d still at least been kissing by that point. Granted, that was only a few months ago, but still.”
“I’m serious, it was,” you hummed, “it was something to say the least. Truthfully, I question if maybe I’m just a shit kisser or something. Sometimes I wonder if I’d even remember how to kiss someone at this point.”
He tilted his head a bit, “Hm, I doubt you’d be a bad kisser. Have you ever- like- practised with someone? So they can tell you?”
You snorted, almost choking on your drink, “God, no, I, never,” your cheeks flamed as you shook your head. “Never was really close enough to anyone to do that, I guess.”
He was silent for a quick moment, “Would you?”
The bright blush on your cheeks didn’t falter as you spoke, “I’m not sure, uhm, it depends on who it is and-”
“Me.” He hummed, a grin on his face. “If you wanted to practise, and I offered, would you?”
This was incredibly dangerous territory for your brain. The logical part of you probably would’ve ended the conversation, switching topics onto something you felt that you could discuss safely without your heart trying to overtake it. But honestly, before you could even consider the consequences, the alcohol had knocked down the filter in your brain, leading to your easy response of, “Yeah.”
That brought a slight blush to Wilbur’s cheeks, and god, you didn’t even have the words to describe how gorgeous he looked right now with his tousled hair, loose striped shirt giving you a peek at his collarbone, and the alluring pink that covered his cheeks. He set his drink down, though the glass was empty anyway, and he shifted a bit closer to you.
“Do you want to practise? I can give you a thorough review.” Despite his big words, his blushing was just as bad as yours.
You should say no. This is probably a bad idea. It’s a terrible fucking idea. It’s a bad idea.
“Yeah.”
Wilbur didn’t hesitate, his hand wrapping around your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. It was soft for about half a second. Then it was passionate, your arms wrapping around his neck and gasping into the kiss. One hand moved down to your lower back, holding you close as the kiss deepened. After a moment, he pulls away, panting.
“You’re definitely not a bad kisser.”
He doesn’t even give you a chance to respond, pulling you in for another heavy kiss, warmth radiating through you. You knew nothing would escalate past this, but you didn’t even want it to. The way he kissed you had you reeling, gasping into his mouth as he held you close. You ran a hand up, tugging at the ends of his hair and making him groan against your lips. The sound was melodic, and you wanted nothing more than to hear it again. God, you knew it was wrong. You were so fucking in love with this man, and you were both drunk, and he was just doing this as a bit of a favor. But fuck, you were going to allow yourself to indulge this once. This was probably going to be the only time you ever got to kiss him, and you knew tomorrow the both of you would pretend this never happened.
Your prediction was correct. The next day, when you finally rose from bed with a brain-splitting headache, Wilbur was standing in the kitchen. Neither of you brought up the kiss and things went on, business as usual. You didn’t regret the kiss, per se. However, it definitely made your heart heavier whenever you saw Wilbur. The kiss was something you’d never recover from, but you had to try.
You devised a plan. Maybe you just needed to meet someone new. Someone to get your mind off Wilbur. And what better place to find a person who will most definitely be a mistake than a pub. While you were planning to go alone, Wilbur had seen you getting ready and asked where you were going. You could’ve lied. Call you weak, but when he looked at you with those soft eyes and gentle grin, you just couldn’t.
“The pub,” you answered simply, “Do I look alright?”
He took a moment to look over your outfit and nodded, “Yeah, looks good. I’ll get dressed, and I could join too? If- if you want, I mean-” he stuttered a bit, not wanting to impose.
You should’ve said no. But you were just so weak to him, “Yeah, sure. That’s fine. You can invite whoever too.”
He nodded, “I’ll see if Toms and his girlfriend want to join, yeah?”
You nodded again, humming softly. He walked to his room, presumably to change, and you fucking prayed that Tommy and Molly would be joining. You didn’t think you’d be able to go an entire evening of drinking alone with Wilbur without making some sort of mistake. You pulled on a coat, grabbing a sip of water before you left, trying to prevent another morning of groaning in pain and shut curtains. Wilbur walked back out from his room, and you mentally cursed yourself for just how good he looked. His black button up that he left just slightly unbuttoned at the top had your mind reeling, and you quickly shifted your eyes away. Tonight was not the night for thoughts like those; you were trying to get over him.
“Tommy said they’ll meet us there, sound good?” He asked as he grabbed his wallet.
Thank god. “Yeah, that’s fine.”
He held the door open for you to walk out, and you paused to let him lock the door to your flat.
“Any reason you wanted to go out tonight?”
“Not really,” you hummed, walking side by side with him. “Just felt the urge to get out of the house, I guess.”
He nodded, “Oh, yeah, I suppose neither of us really get out that much.”
“You get out less than I do. I’m shocked you even go into the sun anymore, you vampire.”
He laughed, head tilting back with a grin, “I’m not that pale. And I don’t bite, I just look like I do.”
The bump on your lip last week begged to differ.
“You do look like you would. What’s the opposite of an ankle biter? Because you’re too tall for that. Maybe a scalp biter.”
He snorted, “Careful, tease me too much and maybe I’ll stoop to that level.”
God. You knew it was meant as an innocent joke, but fuck, you were too sober for this.
You gave a half-hearted chuckle, “Right, mmhm. Not my fault you’re just that tall.”
He rolled his eyes, placing his arm onto your head, “You’re just mad you need help grabbing things off the top shelves.”
“Listen, they just shouldn’t make things unreasonably tall. You are an outlier here.” You moved your head from under his arm, huffing.
“Mmhm, console yourself however you please.”
The walk felt pretty short between all of your shared joking, and you had to continuously remind yourself that you were trying to get over him, not fall further in love. When you two arrived, you were thankful that Tommy and Molly were already there, at least allowing you to have some semblance of a mental break from his stupid, gorgeous face and mind. You shared a quick hello, sitting across from Molly, and taking a moment to look around and scope out the place. You were focused on trying to see if there was anyone that interested you when Wilbur nudged your arm.
“I’m going to grab a drink, you want anything?”
You hummed, nodding, “Rum and coke. A double.”
He raised an eyebrow, then chuckled, “Alright. Sure.”
He walked to the bar, and you let out a soft sigh. You felt bad being so relieved that he walked away, but there was a certain level of stress associated with being around him and hiding your feelings. You met knowing eyes from Molly, and you huffed, looking away.
“Soo, how’ve you been?” She asked, and you could sense the undertones there.
“Fine. Hoping to find someone tonight. You know how it is.”
Molly nodded, understanding flashing in her eyes. Tommy was none-the-wiser to the secret conversation you and Molly had, speaking up, “Oh, yes, I definitely know how it is. Ah, young love, young love. Sometimes, you know, young love is right under our noses.” He poked at his nose, pushing it up to accentuate his point.
You nodded slowly, “Right. Well. It’s been long enough, I think. About time to get back out there.”
Tommy seemed hesitant to this, “I doubt people here will be the best pick.”
“Probably not, but it’s pretty good practise, right? Flirting with strangers?”
“Sure. I mean, I flirted with so many women to be ready to flirt with Molly.”
You snorted, “Sure, Tommy. How many women did you flirt with, then?”
“Tommy?” Wilbur spoke up, having returned with your drink and his own, “None. Tommy doesn’t know how to flirt.”
Tommy gasped, “I do know how to flirt! You don’t! I have given you so many tips, Wilbur, and which one of us is in a relationship? Not you!”
Wilbur was laughing, rolling his eyes in response to Tommy’s annoyed griping, “Sure, Tommy. And how many times have you tried to get Phil and Kristin to divorce?”
Tommy went to respond, but he was stumped by Wilbur nonetheless.
Drinks and stories had been shared, you and Wilbur both feeling the familiar warmth of drunkness coming over you. It’d been almost two hours, and you still hadn’t even spoken to a single new person. You knew you’d lose your chance soon, and thankfully, you had a convenient way to slip away from the table.
“I’m going to use the bathroom and grab another drink, any of you want one?”
Molly and Tommy turned you down, but Wilbur was quick to ask for another drink with a grin that made your knees weak. You nodded, heading straight for the bar. You didn’t actually need to use the bathroom; you simply wanted an excuse to be gone for a bit longer.
You walked to the bar, standing there alone for a moment, both to get used to the drunken perspective and to scope out any prospective flirts. It didn’t take long.
The man next to you was tall (not as tall as Wilbur), with slightly wavy brown hair (not as soft looking as Wilbur’s), and hazel eyes (not as gorgeous and deep as Wilbur’s). The important part about him was the look he gave you; not quite undressing you with his eyes, but not innocent either. A haunting middle ground for you to discover what would likely become a mistake.
“Well, hey there,” he grinned, turning his body towards you, “You look like you could use a drink.”
You ignored the fact that you knew you looked and felt plastered already, letting a giggle pass from your lips, “And so what if I do?”
He smirked, turning to the bartender and ordering for you. A vodka cranberry. The drink seemed to reflect the man as well; basic and not the best choice, but at least a consistent one. You could always trust a man to be consistent in his ways, at least.
He handed the drink to you, and you took it with a smile, taking a sip, “Well, why thank you.” You chuckled, causing a laugh to bubble slightly from him.
“So, what’s a pretty person like you doing alone in a bar like this?”
You weren’t alone, and you were the exact reason men like this went to a pub like this. You held your tongue, “Looking for something new, I suppose.”
“Oh? A lost soul, then,” he grinned, taking a sip from his pint, “I can respect that. I think all of us are lost in some way.”
Jesus fucking Christ. “Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I think the society we live in makes us feel lost. Always searching for something new. You know, I read this article-“ you tuned the rest of his sentence out, watching his lips move and nodding in key occasionally.
“That’s really interesting,” you hummed after he finished, “So, what are you doing here then?”
He chuckled, and you could feel a weird response coming on, “Anything. Seeing where the wind takes me. Finding some action, maybe, if that’s what’s decided for me tonight.”
You wanted to rip your hair out. “And if that is what the universe has decided for you?”
He smirked, and it did nothing for you, unlike the butterflies in your chest when Wilbur did the same. He brought a hand to your hip, “Well, guess it’s just my lucky day, then. If the universe presents me with an opportunity, who am I to turn it down?”
“You big on fate then?”
“Sure,” he nodded, “I find that fate is one of the most interesting things in life. The way it brings people into our lives. It’s fascinating.”
You drank about half of your drink before responding. “Yeah, it is. It defines things in your life before you even have a chance to know them.” You didn’t even believe that. You hated the idea that your life could be predetermined and decided by some other force and leave you no opportunity to change anything.
“God, yeah, it’s amazing,” he spoke, his hand wrapping a bit closer to you, “I’m not sure anyone’s told you, but you’re really smart. Smart and pretty.”
Wilbur had told you that. Probably a million times now, calling you a genius simply for being able to reset your wifi router. But you didn’t want to think about Wilbur now.
You allowed the alcoholic flush on your cheeks to be mistaken for a blush, smiling with faux-shyness, “Wow, thank you.”
“Yeah, you know, a lot of guys don’t see the beauty of a beautiful mind, but I think it’s the best quality, to not be an airhead like most people here are.”
You wanted to slam your head against the wall. Instead, someone slammed into you from behind, pushing you forward into the guy’s arms. Your hand came up to rest on his arm, craning your head up to look at him, resisting the urge to glare at the person behind you. At least from this angle, you could pretend the man you were speaking to was cuter than he actually was.
He chuckled, holding you up against him, sighing, “God, some people really are dicks.” One hand came to your chin, and you hummed.
“Yeah, at least you’re not.” You smiled softly. You had to at least act like you weren’t in love with someone else for this to hopefully work. You let your hand raise further up to his shoulder, eventually resting in the cusp between his shoulder and neck. You leaned in a bit closer, ready to spur some flirtatious line about how his lips taste when you were being yanked away.
You stumbled, only gaining footing when you were pulled outside, coming face-to-face with a pissed Wilbur.
“Will? What the fuck is your problem?”
“Oh, my problem?” Wilbur chuckled bitterly. His words were slurred slightly, not unlike yours. He pinched his eyebrows together, scoffing softly, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
You gave him an incredulous look, arms crossing, “I was talking to someone, Wilbur, is that a fucking problem?”
“Oh, sure, you can call it talking all you want. You were throwing yourself at him.”
Your jaw dropped. “You’re fucking kidding me, right? You’re- you’re pissed because I was flirting with someone?”
“That wasn’t flirting, you were about to fucking make out with him! You don’t know him, I’m trying to look out for you!”
“Wilbur, you’re acting like I was begging him to fuck me or some shit, I was just flirting! He seemed like a nice guy, God forbid I try to actually find a relationship for once!” You felt insane having to defend flirting with a stranger to a man you not only loved, but just a few weeks ago spent hours making out on your couch. You tried not to think on it much.
“You cannot possibly think that was safe! You have no clue if he’s actually a nice guy!”
“Oh, I have no clue if he was a nice guy?”
“Yeah, you, he could’ve been a total prick, and you were basically crawling into his lap, begging him to kiss you!”
“For fuck’s sake, Wilbur, don’t act all high and fucking mighty about this, need I remind you, you’re the only who made out with me!”
“Yeah, and I’m not the one going off and throwing myself across the lap of the first person to buy me a drink!”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” You scoffed. You were aware of people staring at the two of you. You were outside and weren’t exactly quiet, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. “If that’s what you think about me, I may as well just go back in there and make out with him right there! At least then I’ll be matching whatever fucking description of me you have in your mind.”
“You know what? Fine! Knock yourself out! Serves me right for trying to keep my best friend safe, just don’t come crawling back to me when he breaks your heart or leaves you drunk and stranded!”
You groaned in annoyance, watching as he walked away, leaving you in front of the bar.
“Fuck you, dickhead!” You yelled after him, and he didn’t respond, just kept walking.
You panted, yelling out in frustration into the cool night. You kicked the brick of the wall, whimpering in pain afterwards. You turned and sat on the ground, leaning your back against the wall as you just breathed.
You focused on breathing until you could focus on the lights around you, signs illuminated by fluorescent street lamps. You willed away the tears that blurred the words. The argument was sobering, to say the least, every aspect of a hangover hitting you all at once now that you sat against the cool brick. Fuck. You felt miserable, both from the sobering feeling and the fact that your best friend and roommate currently seemed to fucking hate you. And the worst part is you didn’t even get why! Like, yes, you were being reckless, you can attest to that, but you’ve been reckless before. He’s been reckless with you. With your heart. You can’t blame him for that; he had no way of knowing how horribly in love with him you were.
The worst part was that it didn’t even work. Flirting with a stranger only brought you greater reminders of how in love with Wilbur you were. Fighting with Wilbur only made you worry that you’d never get over him. You should hate him right now. He said horrible fucking things; he was a prick, an asshole, a dickhead. There weren’t enough swears to properly convey just how mean he’d been. In the morning, you’d give him more sympathy for being drunk and not having enough of a filter to process what he was saying. But in this moment, you gave him no sympathy, and you still felt like you would tear your heart out and hand it to him if he asked.
Everything sucked. You were cold, shaking from anger, exhausted, and just downright fucking sad. Usually when you were upset like this, you’d just go to Wilbur for some cheering up, but you’d be damned before you faced him again tonight. Which left you two options. Either staying out until Wilbur was hopefully asleep or asking Tommy if you could crash at his. Knowing Wilbur, he wouldn’t be asleep until three or four at the most.
You didn’t want to go back inside. Didn’t want to face the stranger you’d flirted with, have to entertain another conversation that would lead nowhere. You would just wait. You’d sit here and close your eyes and just wait until Tommy and Molly came out.
“-y? Y/N?” You felt yourself being shaken slightly, eyes opening blearily.
Tommy was crouched in front of you, one hand on your arm.
“Oh, shit,” you groaned, rubbing your eyes softly. It was still dark, and you could still see the same couple Wilbur passed at the end of the corner when he’d left, so it couldn’t have been much later. “Must’ve drifted off, I guess.”
Tommy frowned, looking around. “Have you just been alone out here? Where’d Wilbur go?”
“We got into a fight,” you sighed, running a hand down your face, “Uh, would it be possible to crash on your couch tonight? I’d rather not face Wilbur again tonight.”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s fine,” he frowns softly, “Do you want to head there now, or do you need us to sit with you for a moment?”
You shake your head and sigh, “I’d rather head there now.” You stood up slowly, Molly coming to help you up as well.
“Was it a bad fight then? He said he was just going to check on you,” she asked softly, Tommy starting to lead the way back to his apartment.
“It was… rough. Think he hates me,” you admitted in a soft voice, and she frowned, rubbing your back gently.
“I’m sure he doesn’t. Wilbur’s just a little bitch,” Tommy sighed, and you could hear a mixture of disappointment and fondness in his voice.
You didn’t respond, and the topic dropped.
When you woke up in the morning, it was with the groan of a headache and a sore back. Tommy’s couch wasn’t uncomfortable per se, but it was bad enough to have you holding your back as you slowly sat up. The sunlight streaming in through the blinds made you wish that you had sunglasses, or some form of lightswitch to just shut the sun off. You grabbed your phone, sighing as you unlocked it. There were probably a hundred texts just from Wilbur, along with a few missed calls from the morning. As you scrolled and started reading the texts, another call came through. You huffed, setting your phone down and letting the call ring out.
“It’s been doing that all morning,” Molly hummed, emerging from the kitchen. She set a mug in front of you, and you took it thankfully.
“And here I was hoping to forget last night,” you chuckled bitterly.
She sighed, “He won’t let that happen. He feels like shit. He was on call with Tom for like an hour. Probably just got off, if anything.”
“Did he tell him I was here?”
“No,” she chuckled, “I wouldn’t let him. Figured you’d be too hungover to actually be able to handle that.”
“Thank you,” you sighed, running a hand through your hair, “You wouldn’t happen to have painkillers, do you?”
She nodded, standing and coming back with a small bottle in her hand. You took it from her gratefully, taking two and setting the bottle back on the table.
Tommy walked out, smiling a bit, “Well, I finally got Wilbur to calm down a bit. He knows your safe, but he’ll probably keep texting you until he heads to his office.”
You nodded, opening your phone and turning on Do Not Disturb, “Do you know when he’ll get to the office?”
Tommy shook his head, “Not sure. He won’t stream until later for sure, if he does, but I know he had editing to deal with and some band stuff.”
“Isn’t that stuff he could do from home?”
“Possibly? Can’t say for sure.”
You nodded, sighing softly. You wanted to go home, take a shower and eat the pint of ice cream you had in the back of the freezer. “Is there anyway you can get him out of the apartment so I can sneak back in?”
Tommy frowned, “That bad?”
“I just don’t think I can do it today. I can talk to him tomorrow, but today is too much.”
Tommy nodded, “I can text him, see if he wants to get coffee or something?”
“Please, if you can.”
Tommy grabbed his phone, calling Wilbur.
“Hey, Will, any updates?” He asked, giving an overexaggerated wink to you and Molly. Molly stifled a laugh, and you gave a bit of a smile. You couldn’t quite make out what Wilbur was saying, but Tommy was responding a moment later.
“Well, I’m sure they’ll respond soon. They’re probably still asleep, mate. You might need a distraction.”
A chuckle, and a nervous glance towards you and Molly.
“Yeah, no, I just mean like, we could grab coffee or something. A little pick me up since you’re all upset.”
Tommy listened closely for a moment then seemed to relax, giving you a thumbs up. You relaxed and stood, letting him finish the conversation while you went to splash some water on your face. God, you looked fucking rough. You ran your hands through your hair to try and fix it up a bit, though there wasn’t much of a success there. You used cool water to try and lessen the bloat of your cheeks, sighing when you didn’t have much of progress there either.
You sighed, walking back out of the bathroom. Tommy was stood up, pulling his shoes on.
“Molly and I are going to head there, and we’ll text you whenever he’s there. My spare is under the mat, so just lock the door and put the key back once you’re done, alright?”
You nodded, “Thanks again, Tommy.”
He nodded, “it’s no problem. Try and talk to him when you can, alright? He’s genuinely upset over whatever happened.”
“I will.”
You did not end up talking to Wilbur. Not that day nor the day after. Every time you thought about it, you just felt sick to your stomach. You snuck in the apartment with Tommy’s help, using the time he was out of the apartment to grab some food to keep in your room, and then you just used your room like a shelter. You heard Wilbur come back. You knew that he knew you got home: your shoes were left by the door and your keys hung up on the rack. But he didn’t try to say anything.
Until the day after. He was usually asleep when you left for work, and you assumed the same was true that day. After you came back from work, you snuck past his room, moving quickly to your own in case he heard. An hour after, you heard him knocking on your door, quietly asking if you were there.
You didn’t answer.
The next two days were a complete repeat. Sneaking out, avoiding him when you got back, ignoring him when he tried to talk. You don’t even know why you were so against talking to him. You wanted to fix it; you couldn’t stand living like this, and you wanted your best friend back. It hurt, though, because every time you thought about him, you thought about the fight. He was a bit drunk, and he always was a bit loose-lipped when drunk, but you couldn’t wrap your mind around why. Why he said those things, why he cared so much about some harmless flirting. You know he didn’t actually think you were someone who slept around or something, but it hurt nonetheless. You were banging your head against a wall trying to understand why he said those things, and it had you grasping at straws, questioning if you two were as close as you thought. You honestly just didn’t know what to think.
You needed to get out of the apartment. You felt a knot in your throat at the idea of going there. So you didn’t.
After work, you just went to the pub. It was the same one from that night, but you just sat at the bar and drank a bit, trying to get your mind off… everything. Your head was swirling with thoughts about the fight, about how much you love Wilbur, about how much you thought he hated you. You didn’t keep track of how much you were drinking. You didn’t feel it at first either. Not until you could barely keep your head up, words slurred as you closed your tab. You stood up, stumbling over your own feet and falling directly into a familiar friend.
“Y/N?” Tommy asked, holding your arms to steady you.
You smiled, blinking a bit as your eyes focused on him, “‘ey, Toms, w’as up?”
His face was full of concern. You found it funny, giggling to yourself as he spoke, “Are you alright?”
You gave him a thumbs up, giggling out, “Mmhm, I’m fuckin’ fantastic.”
“You are fucked, mate, where’s Wilbur?”
You pouted a bit, “He’s at home, like a loser. Di’n’t wanna be invitin’ him for our first conversation since- yeah.”
Tommy’s eyes widened a bit, and he sighed, ruffling a hand through his hair, “Alright, stay here. I’m gonna tell my mates something, and then I’ll be right back, okay? Have you drank water?”
You shook your head, and he nodded again, walking up to the bar where you’d just been and ordering a water.
“Wait for the water for me, and I’ll be right back, okay?”
You nodded, and he walked away quickly. You turned back towards the bar, waiting patiently, oh so patiently, for the water Tommy had ordered. You could understand why he seemed concerned, but it didn’t really cut through the haze in your mind. You were fine. You couldn’t see straight or stand straight, but you were fine. Everything was so, so perfectly fine. The bartender gave you the water, and you took it, holding it carefully for Tommy. He’s such a nice person, he deserved nice things. When he came back, he took your arm, guiding you outside.
“Here, take a seat,” he helped you sit down against the wall, pulling his phone out.
“I got your water,” you hummed, holding up the glass.
He chuckled softly, “it’s for you, drink it. I need to make a call.”
You nodded, taking a sip. He stayed stood up as he made a call, words hushed just enough so you couldn’t hear them. Not that you were really able to focus on it much anyway. Your head felt light, but your body felt heavy. Everytime you touched your skin, it felt like it wasn’t your own hands touching you, every nerve felt separated from yourself. Most of all, you were tired. You wanted to sleep. Your head hung forward, and you let your eyes slip closed for a few minutes, just to rest them.
You weren’t allowed to for long. Tommy gently shook your arm. It felt like a sick parallel of just a few nights ago.
“Hey, don’t fall asleep on me, alright? I’ll get you home soon.”
You groaned softly but nodded nonetheless.
He sighed, crouching in front of you, “make sure you drink that water alright? Not too fast though.”
You gave him a thumbs up, this one weaker than before. You took another sip of the water, rubbing your face a bit.
“Did you tell anyone that you were even coming here?”
“Nope,” you hummed, popping the ‘p’. “Too- too sad.”
“Too sad?” He frowned, “Is this because the whole Wilbur thing?”
You nodded, and you couldn’t fight the slight tears brimming your eyes, “I just… I don’t get why. I-” you choked on a weak sob, head falling forward again as you quietly admitted, “I love him. So, so much, Tommy.”
You could hear Tommy let out a hiss of air, almost a gasp, gently placing a hand on your shoulder, “I really think you need to talk to him. It won’t be an excuse, but I think you’ll understand it.”
“I want to, I-I’m just scared.”
“What are you scared of?”
“I’m scared that forgiving him means accepting how in love with him I am, because I know it’s hopeless. I’m scared of forgiving him and signing away my heart to someone who- who just won’t love me back,” you felt less coherent than you spoke, the drunkenness letting out slurred words you’d never let pass your lips otherwise.
Tommy frowned, pulling you into a hug as you sniffled.
“I just-” you sobbed quietly, “I feel so stupid.”
“You’re not stupid,” Tommy spoke, rubbing your back gently, “It is scary to love someone, but it’s not a bad thing. I really think you should just talk to him, I think-”
“Tommy?”
Your heart dropped in your chest slightly upon hearing Wilbur’s voice. Tommy let go of you, standing back up to head over to Wilbur. You took the time to wipe the small tears on your face, brushing off your temporary bout of sadness. Tommy spoke to Wilbur for a moment, and you fought the urge to hang your head again. Quite poorly you fought that urge, letting your head lull slightly, the exhaustion coming in full force. You heard feet shuffling, and you could see Wilbur’s usual Docs in front of you. He crouched down, one hand gently coming onto your cheek.
“Hey, darling,” he spoke in a hushed tone, similar to how one would speak to a wounded animal, “are you feeling alright?”
You hated that you leaned into his touch, even in you didn’t have much control over your body right now. “‘M fine,” you hummed out.
He frowned, clearly not believing that, “Let’s get you home, alright?”
As much as you wanted to fight going back to the apartment with him, nothing seemed better right now than lying in your bed rather than on the cold ground. You nodded, and he carefully helped you up. You immediately stumbled, but he was quick to hold you against his side.
“I got you, it’s alright,” he hummed, pulling you into his side. He gave Tommy a bit of a wave, humming out a thank you to him, before he started walking you both home.
The ground was swaying – or were you swaying – underneath you, and you groaned softly, leaning into his side.
“I know, I know,” he hummed softly, “if you need me to carry you, just let me know, okay?”
You snorted. “I’m fine, Wilbur,” you spoke with a slur, dragging out the word ‘fine’.
It made him giggle a bit, and honestly, fuck him for letting out such a beautiful sound, “I know you are. You’re just a bit silly right now, hm?”
“I’m always silly, actually, you’re just a lil bitch.”
He laughed, holding you closer, “I know I am, trust me. I very much am a ‘lil bitch’.”
You hummed, nodding, “Glad you know it.” You couldn’t stop the words that came out next, “you’re my lil bitch.”
If you’d been looking at his face, you probably would’ve caught the slight flush that covered his cheeks.
“Yeah,” he hummed, “I am.”
You gave an affirmative nod, leaning your head on his shoulder slightly as you looked up at the world.
“Wilbur.”
“Yes?”
“The lights are moving.”
He snorted softly, “What do you mean, darling?”
“The streetlights are moving.”
He hummed, nodding and stopping walking. “Did that fix it?”
You glared at the streetlamps, trying to determine if they were pretending to be still, “A little, but I think they’re lying about it.”
He started walking again, chuckling, “Oh, they are?”
“Yeah,” you hummed, “Government conspiracy, innit?”
He laughed, nodding thoughtfully, “Yeah, must be. Don’t look at them too much, alright?”
“Why? Scared they’ll start running after us?”
“No,” he laughed, “Just don’t need you throwing up on the street.”
“I’ll throw up wherever I please, actually.”
“Oh, do you need to?” He asked, concerned suddenly.
“No,” you huffed, “I have a gut of steel.”
“We both know that’s not true,” He noted, relieved once again.
“How dare you, actually, that is so rude. I’m going to throw up on your shoes as protest.”
“I’d very much prefer you didn’t.”
“Mm. Don’t care. You’ve shamed me,” you giggled, “The shoes will pay for it.”
He chuckled, “I sincerely apologize, darling. Will that save the shoes?”
“Hmmm,” you pretended to think. “Well, darling,” you mocked, “that will save them, but only for now. They’re on thin ice.”
He grinned, walking up to the front of your apartment building and pulling out his keys, “You ready to walk up the stairs?”
You groaned, “Why did we get an apartment on the third floor? This is a curse.”
“You got this. I can always carry you.”
“I can do it, the stairs are just evil.”
“They are evil, but you can conquer them,” he smiled, holding you tighter as he helped you manuver the stairs.
“This sucks,” you groaned, trying to focus on your steps and nearly failing each time.
“We’re about half way, love. You still feeling alright? Wanna stop for a moment?”
“If I stop,” you paused, “I will not continue.”
He chuckled, “Alright, good to know.”
You both continued walking up, slower than usual to make up for the fact that you could barely see straight. He helped you every step of the way, taking his time to make sure you’d be alright, which you were thankful for given the amount of times you were tripping over your feet. You finally made it up to the door, fighting the urge to just lean against it as Wilbur unlocked the door. All the movement was making you feel a bit off and even more tired before. Wilbur guided you to through the door to your room.
He carefully sat you down on your bed, “Stay here, I’ll grab some water, alright?”
You nodded, eagerly sitting on your bed. You relaxed on the bed, pulling your phone and wallet out of your pocket and setting them on your nightstand. Wilbur walked back in, setting the glass of water and a pack of painkillers on your nightstand. He grabbed the wastebin, setting it next to the bed.
“Feeling any better?” He asked softly.
You nodded, but you paused, actually taking a moment to focus on how you actual felt. Your throat felt slightly closed, and your mouth was salivating. And your stomach felt rough. Oh fuck. You leaned over, spilling the contents of your stomach into the waistbin. Wilbur rushed over to clear your hair out of your face, gently rubbing your back as you threw up. You panted softly, gripping the edge of the bed. You cursed softly, wiping at your mouth.
Wilbur stood, bringing you the water. You drank it thankfully while he walked out for a moment.
He came back in with a big hoodie and a pair of shorts, and you looked down and noticed the vomit on your shirt and pants. You felt exhausted. You groaned softly, slowly getting up and taking the clothes thankfully, walking to the bathroom to change quickly. You only noticed it was his clothing after you already got dressed, and you did not feel like changing again either. You shuffled out, walking back to the bed. Wilbur was sat, waiting for you. You sat next to him, lying down with your head next to his lap. You wanted to rest your head on his lap, craving the comfort he brings you, but you felt wary to do so. Regardless, he brought a hand down, gently playing with your hair.
“I know we should talk about this more in the morning, but…” he sighed softly, “I really am sorry for what I said the other night. I just- I wasn’t thinking, and I was just drunk and upset. These are all just… excuses, but I… I really am sorry.”
“I know,” you murmured softly, “I knew it was just you being drunk, but… I just didn’t understand why and I was scared you hated me.” You spoke quietly, moving your head onto his thigh, solely so you could hide your face against his chest.
He shifted to move your head fully into his lap. “I could never hate you. I-I have a reason, but it doesn’t excuse what I did or said.”
“What’s the reason?”
He frowned, biting his lip and going silent for a moment, “I… can it wait until morning? I think I may only be able to say it once.”
You felt the pit in your stomach drop, but you nodded nonetheless, burying your face further into his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he continued, “that I brought you to this. Hiding and getting drunk and just… recklessness, I guess. I was really scared when Tommy called me.”
“I’s not your fault,” you sighed softly, “I just didn’t know what to do, I chose to do this. I could’ve just talked to you.”
“You could’ve, sure, but I was… a dick. I don’t blame you for being scared to talk to me. I said horrible stuff. I have no control over who you talk to or decide to flirt with, and it was entitled of me to even act like I do.”
You sighed, yawning quietly. You wrapped your arms around his torso gently, relaxing into him. You could feel the exhaustion taking over, eyelids heavy.
You spoke quietly, “I was only flirting,” you mumbled, “to try and get over you.”
He tensed, but you didn’t hear his next words, sleep taking you like you ached to take Wilbur’s hand.
In the morning, you were overwhelmed with a feeling of dread, created by a mixture of the hangover and the remembering. Shockingly, you weren’t alone. You thought once your words had processed to Wilbur, he’d have left you. Instead, you were pressed against his chest, cuddled into him. You could tell he was awake – could feel his hand gently carding through your hair – but for a moment, you just wanted to pretend. After whatever conversation was coming up, you didn’t know if you’d ever get to be wrapped up in his arms like this again. Not to mention, opening your eyes meant an imminent headache due to the daylight. So for a few minutes, you just tried to gain some comfort from this and ignore the growing dread.
But you couldn’t pretend forever.
“Darling?” Wilbur whispered, “Are you awake?”
You sighed, groaning lightly as you nodded, “yeah.”
“How are you feeling?”
You whined softly, chuckling a bit, “Like shit.”
He chuckled softly, “I have water and painkillers, you want them?”
You nodded, and he shifted up, grabbing them from the nightstand without pushing you out of his arms. You still had to eventually, sitting up to take the painkiller and drink some of the water. You opened your eyes, and you were thankful to find that the room wasn’t as bright as you had thought it would be. You saw Wilbur watching you with concern, one hand gently rubbing your back. You set the water down, sighing softly after.
He bit his lip before speaking, “Do you… want to talk now or when the painkiller has kicked in?”
The question you were dreading. Better to just rip the bandaid off. “Now.”
He nodded, shifting and gently taking your hand.
“Last night, you said… you were flirting to try and get over me. What did you mean by that?”
You gulped softly, closing your eyes to brace yourself for the potential rejection, “Wilbur, I… I’ve liked you for months now. And I thought I’d get over it, but it just- it just got stronger. I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, and I understand if you want me to move out or something. But I wanted to at least try to flirt and see if I could get over you, and it just didn’t work. So, that’s- that’s why. I wanted to get over the crush I have on you.”
He didn’t respond for a while, and you kept your eyes closed, taking a shaky breath while you waited for him to respond.
“What if… I didn’t want you to get over it?”
Your eyes flew open, looking up at him quickly. He had a shy expression, a faint blush on his cheeks. “What do you mean by that?”
He sighed, squeezing your hand a bit tighter, “I got mad at you flirting because I was jealous. I’ve liked you for a really long time, but I didn’t want to say anything because I was scared to lose our friendship and my roommate. I asked to kiss you that night while we were drunk because I figured it’d be my only chance to ever get to kiss you. But if you’re telling me that isn’t true? Darling, I’d do anything just to feel your lips on mine again, let alone to get the chance to date you and make you happy.”
Oh. Oh.
You moved a hand up, gently cupping his cheek. He leaned into you, and you leaned forward, pulling him in for a gentle kiss. He let out a quiet gasp, kissing you back lovingly, his other hand coming to wrap around your back. The kiss was short lived, but only so he could pull away to speak, foreheads still pressed together.
“Darling, can I,” he paused, taking a quick breath, “Will you do me the honor of being mine?”
You chuckled softly, nodding, “It’d be the greatest gift I could ask for.”
He grinned, pulling you in for another kiss, this one stronger and… just.
You didn’t have the words to really describe it. It felt warm. Like daylight resting on your skin on a spring day. The warmth that felt like home. Like pulling clothes out the dryer and just holding them close for a moment. The warmth that came from laughter and telling stories in the middle of a summer night. It was golden.
When he pulled away, you two stayed close, panting lightly for a moment. When you finally separated fully, his arms were coming to wrap around you once more, hugging you tightly.
“And here I was thinking that I’d lose you when I confessed.”
You hummed softly, “I thought the same.”
He smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, “Well you didn’t. And I didn’t lose you. Don’t worry, either, I’ll be taking you on a proper date once you’re feeling better. For now… cereal date?”
“Hm,” you thought, “Can it be a cereal date in bed?”
He chuckled, “Absolutely it can be, my love.”
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