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modelbus · 4 months

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Kaz Brekker ladies and gents!! I just HAD to write more of him, sorry to my mcyt fans… and this is a hefty one at 4K words

There is violence, alcohol, death (murder…), and suggestiveness in this! Be warned!

Part one

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x Gn!Reader

It’s All An Act

You don't talk about it. Neither of you acknowledge that anything is different. Kaz sends you out on jobs, and you come back with blood-stained hands. It's nothing out of the normal, but something about it just feels different.

It doesn't help that you’re resolutely avoiding him the best you can. If you don’t have a buffer there—Jesper, Wylan, or Inej—then you simply won't be talking to him. Not while the memory of his hand on your hip is still present.

"Now that was a good job!" Jesper cheers, slinging an arm around your shoulders. You laugh, leaning into him easily.

"I only had to save your ass once." You joke, grinning.

"What's a job without some ass-saving?" His gaze flits around the Crow Club, undoubtably looking for Kaz and Wylan. The two were arriving last, having to do whatever they were doing. You were in no position to question Kaz's secret plans.

"True." You relent.

"You should drink! Come on, celebrate with me." Jesper knocks on the bar, and a cup of liquid is sent your guys’ way within seconds. Amber-colored, pretty in theory, but you know it's a bad idea. You know what happened the last time you thought it'd be a good idea to drink.

"Jes—"

"A little celebration. Nothing crazy." He winks, offering her the glass.

Your shoulders slump, and you’re about to take it just to indulge him, but a hand snatches it before you can. Gloved in black leather, Kaz raises it with raised eyebrows.

"Boss!" Jesper exclaims. "Join us, we were just celebrating our victory!"

"You don't drink." Kaz says lowly to you, eyes raking over you. You frown, knowing exactly what you’re both thinking of.

His hand on your hip, leaning in too close to you. Quiet words, things you still puzzled over in your head to this day.

"First time for everything." You answer, stubborn. "Or, second time."

"That's the spirit!" Jesper cheers. "Knock it back."

"No." Kaz tells you, firmly. Then, without a second thought, tosses his head back and drains the drink. He drops it back on the counter and strides off, up towards his office.

"Buzzkill." Jesper sighs.

"Who is? Kaz?" Wylan asks, appearing out of nowhere. There's gunpowder smudges on his face, too-wide eyes peering at them.

"When isn't he?" You respond with a question, rolling your eyes.

"Everything go fine on the job?" Jesper questions. "He doesn't normally drink like that."

"Yeah." Wylan nods. "Explosions went perfect. I mean, one was a bit bigger than expected, but he said that was good!"

"He means it." Jesper quickly says, consoling. "Right?" He asks with a sideways glance to you.

"Right." You nod.

"Wy, you've got gunpowder on your face." Jesper laughs, reaching out to rub it off his cheek. It smears, becoming worse. Wylan bats his hand away, flushing red.

"You're making it worse!"

"I'm trying to get rid of it!"

You laugh quietly. "I'll go grab a towel."

You stand up, letting Wylan take your seat, and head towards the stairs. There's a closet up there, near Kaz's office, where you can surely find something to wipe the gunpowder off. Hazard of being an explosions expert, you suppose.

Opening the closest, you scan it for towels or wash cloths or anything. There's a dark grey one, so you grab it and shuts the closest. The hairs on the back of your neck rise, and you spins toward Kaz's now-open office door. He leans casually against his doorframe, both hands enclosed over the cane in front of him.

"Going to ask before you ravage my supplies?" He asks you.

"You pay me, Brekker." You deadpan, crossing your arms. Just barely, you inch backwards.

These brief moments of being alone with him have been filled with more fighting than usual. It's no doubt a result of how standoffish you’ve been to each other recently, and you hate it. You miss cracking jokes with Jesper, watching Kaz as you do to see if he'll give in and smile or not. He never does, but it's nice to pretend sometimes.

"You're not hurt." Not really a question from him, but he never really deals in questions.

"No, it's for Wylan. He has gunpowder all over his face. A bit suspicious should the stadwatch come in here."

Kaz nods, which is as much permission as you’ll get for taking the hand towel. "Return it after, Assassin."

"I'll send Wylan."

"I'm not asking for Wylan."

One day, he'll kill you. Because what does that mean? Are you meant to take that as something positive or something bad? His facial expression gives nothing away, schooled in the same neutral one as always.

"I'll still send him."

His gaze hardens at your clear refusal, but he doesn't push it. Just stays silent as you turn away, headed back down to the crow club.

"Assassin." He calls after you just when you’re an awkward distance away. Screw him. "Get your tolerance up."

"My tolerance?" You ask, momentarily confused.

"Alcohol." He clarifies. “It’s a weakness.”

You scowl at him, openly glaring. If that didn't sting you didn't know what would. This one, though, you don’t want to fight against. It was too close to the line you were trying to avoid.

"Fine."

Not many things are easy in life. That's just a fact of it, as clear as the grass is green and the sky is blue. Although the sky is more grey than blue in Ketterdam.

What is easy, though, is the slicing of your knife across someone's throat. Less resistance than most people expect from the flesh and blood under the metal, giving way with just a bit of pressure.

Kaz glances over his shoulder at you and the dead body at her feet, startling. It's not very noticeable, per se, but you can still tell. From the slightest widening of his eyes to the downward twitch of his lips, you know.

He had no idea someone was behind him. And that was exactly why you were put on the duty of following him tonight.

For a second he looks at you, then just keeps walking. You huff out a laugh.

"No thanks?" You ask him, crouching to rifle through the now-dead man's pockets.

"You're doing your job." He snaps.

"I'd still appreciate a simple 'thank you.'" You pull out his wallet, flipping it open. "Dime Lions."

"Great." Sarcasm. It makes you smile.

"He's dead now, so no worries."

You snap his wallet shut and tuck it back into his pocket before jogging to catch up with Kaz. There wasn't much of value in it, but you take the Kruge that's in there. Enough to paint it as a petty robbery, although Pekka Rollins will know better. The stadwatch, on the other hand, won't. Which is exactly the point.

"Why are you walking with me?" Kaz asks, stiff and pointed.

"You didn't know he was behind you." Concern, hidden well, is tucked behind your words. Kaz isn't a dumbass. He knows to watch behind him, to pay attention.

So why wasn't he?

"I had it under control."

"Brekker, if I wasn't here—"

"I pay you to be here. I had it under control."

Warning. You’re pissing him off, but you aren’t going to stop. Your lack of self preservation is just like that sometimes.

"You could've died due to your brooding."

His eyebrow quirks up. "Brooding?"

"Thinking about whatever it is you're thinking about." You amend. "Revenge, or murdering babies, or whatever Kaz Brekker thinks about."

He turns his head towards you, most likely to scan your expression. You scan his first. There's the faintest hint of amusement in his eyes, making the fight drain out of you. You wonder what he finds in your expression.

"I prefer not to murder babies." Kaz finally answers, never breaking his stride. You light up, because that's a joke.

"So revenge it is." You joke back, practically glowing.

"No."

"Then what, Brekker?"

He stops, turning towards you. "Why are you still walking with me, Assassin? Your job is on the roofs at a distance."

You draw back, deflating slightly. You don’t let it show though, knowing better than to show weakness.

"Right." You turn away, vanishing down an alley to use the fire escape to get back up to the roofs.

Kaz keeps walking.

"Chin up. Watch my entire body, not just my feet." You instruct, darting in to lightly tap your opponent on the shoulder. Wylan sighs, jumping backwards far too late.

"This is hopeless." He claims dejectedly.

"Not hopeless. Just... difficult."

You step back too, giving him a second to catch his breath. When Kaz told you to teach Wylan how to fight, you hadn't thought it'd go this bad. But here you are, in the basement of the Crow's headquarters. You’re desperately trying to get him to spar with you at least a little. Honestly, you’d be happy if he hit you even once.

"Come on, you've got this. Into the square then out. Anticipate my moves."

Wylan lunges, stuttering forward, and you side-step with minimal effort. You’re slower than usual, more obvious. But at least he's trying, even if he's failing at it.

"How?" He moans miserably, looking down at his wrapped hands. Your hands are similarly wrapped, white gauze protecting her knuckles. Not that you’re hitting Wylan at all; you’ve been tapping him whenever she gets into range.

"Everyone has tells. Even you." You dip your head towards him. "Think of Kaz. He slides his hand down further on his cane for a better grip before he swings it. That's a tell. Or Jesper, who angles his feet into shooting position before pulling his gun."

"How do you even notice this stuff?"

"Perks of being a fighter." You shrug, lightly circling around him.

"I'm not a fighter." He points out.

"And we're trying to make you one."

Faintly, you can hear the noise of Kaz's cane approaching from somewhere. Doing rounds, maybe. You tun him out, focusing more on Wylan instead.

"So what's your tell?" Wylan asks you, making your laugh.

"If I knew, I wouldn't have one. You'll have to figure it out yourself."

He groans again, stepping back from you. You grin, shaking your head. "Come on, you've got this."

"I'm not made for fighting. I don't know how to look for a tell!”

You laugh. "I have immeasurable faith in you, Wy."

"Well I don't!" He throws his hands in the air, and you take the chance to knock him off balance. Before he can fall, though, you catch his wrist to keep him upright.

"Careful." You teas, ignoring his mumbles of curses.

"I'm starting to wonder why Inej couldn't have taught me." He grumbles. "Who cares if she's busy? What even is a tell?!"

"Angling shoulders before making a move." Kaz says, making both Wylan and you turn. "Because of a slighter frame, seeking the added power."

Not an insult, not from him. It's just a fact, a true statement. You choose stealth, speed, and agility over muscles and strength. To you, it's better. Because he's right; in a brute force battle, you’ll lose every single time.

You could write this off as him needing to know your weakness. That's just how Kaz was: he documented every weakness of every person, just in case. But something tells you this isn't that. It's something more, something you’re too scared to dig into.

And of course your tell is one she can't even fix, because he's right. You need that power more than you need to disguise your tell.

"Thanks, Kaz." Wylan says brightly. "Maybe you'd be a better teacher."

You roll your eyes, grinning. "I don't see Brekker on the mat."

"Lucky him." Wylan huffs under his breath, making you laugh.

"I’m the one who ordered these lessons." Kaz informs Wylan, although they all already knew this. "So learn."

He shifts backwards, leaning against the wall. Watching.

Great. Now you feel like you’re being judged at how bad of a teacher you are. In your defense, you were taught to fight. Not how to teach others how to fight. There's no way to explain the dance, the intuition that'll take over when your life is in danger.

"Who taught you?" Wylan asks, and you freeze.

Not because you don’t have an answer, but because it's one you can't give. At least, not with Kaz in the room. He told you to keep your secrets, that he didn't want them. Well, this was one secret you sure as hell were keeping.

"Not a particularly kind teacher." You say, hoping that's good enough.

Late at night, freshly woken from a haunting memory, you can remember your training. Getting beaten within an inch of your life every single day. Learning how to fight become a necessity to survive, to avoid injury.

You won't be teaching Wylan that way. You couldn't stand the idea of hurting him like that. Of hurting anyone like that. Bringing pain to the helpless wasn't your style; and Kaz knew that. Which was exactly why they didn't have you do torturing in the Crows.

Wylan, wisely, keeps his mouth shut and raises his fists. You nudge his feet apart into a more proper stance, biting back a laugh when he nearly topples over.

"Saints, I can't wait until Jesper gets here."

The first thing Kaz says to you when you haul yourself up the Crow Club stairs and into his office isn't particularly nice. His back to you, standing over his desk. From the angle you have, leaning heavily against the doorway, you can see various papers spread out on it.

"You're late, Assassin." He says blandly over his shoulder. "By an hour."

"I know." You snap, because saints if there's one thing you don’t want it's to be chewed out by Kaz right now.

"Then why—" he turns, halting his own words as he takes you in.

You must be a sight for sore eyes to make him stop like that. Shoulder braced to against the doorway so she can lean on it, you stare back at him. Your arm, bleeding from a knife wound, is wrapped protectively around your ribs. Bruised, at least, but maybe fractured or broken.

You take Kaz in the same way he's currently taking you in. His hair is disheveled, out of his usual, which has your interest immediately. Between that and his eyes—darker than usual—you can tell he's in a bad mood. Worrying. Bad news for you, most likely.

"You're hurt." He states the obvious, eyes trailing down to where you’re dripping blood onto his floor.

"No shit, Kaz." Your voice is laced with pain; no use trying to hide what he already knows.

"Fight?"

"I won."

"Who?"

You set her jaw and resolutely refuses to answer. To admit that an ex-employer of yours (the one ex-employer before Kaz, actually) had sent someone to kill you? It painted you as having baggage. And in the barrel, that wasn't a good thing.

You did win, though. That much is the truth. Even though her opponent was about ten times the size of you and surprised you in you own home. That was a fear tactic, and damn if it wasn't working. Maybe you’d ask if you could stay with Wylan and Jesper until you found somewhere new to live.

"You wouldn't happen to have bandages, would you?" You ask instead of answering. You know he does.

He sighs. "In the bathroom."

Neither of them move. In theory, getting them sounded great to you. But in practice, you know it'd kill your ribs.

"Where?" Kaz asks finally, and you know he's not asking where it happened.

"Arm. Ribs."

He frowns even more than he already is, and you look away. You were hired because you’re meant to be good. Meant to be above this injury stuff.

You look back at him when you hear him moving closer. He offers his cane to you. Anywhere else, it'd be courtesy. Simple politeness. Anyone else, it'd be no big deal. But you’re here, and it's him.

"Just take it." He says lowly, before you can make any comment.

So you do, hand wrapping around the metal crow head you’ve seen him grip a thousand times. It's warmer than you would've expected, warmed from body heat despite the gloves he's always wearing.

Kaz turns, heading to his bathroom without another word. His limp is pronounced, but he doesn't falter. You tighten your grip on his cane and follow him, ignoring the stabs of pain shooting through your ribs.

Bruised, fractured, or broken. Saints, you hope it’s the first one.

He goes to the bathroom closest, hand on the door to take the weight off his bad leg, reaching out to grabs a roll of bandages. You offer his cane back when he turns around, having the counter to lean on instead.

Kaz takes it silently, inclining his head towards the counter without any words. Your gaze flickers between him and the counter, biting your cheek.

Sitting on the counter would take the pressure off your ribs, yes. But at the same time, getting onto the counter was a problem in itself. If your ribs were broken badly, you could jar one irreversibly.

"It's like you can't do anything." Kaz snaps, anger and violence written into his tone.

You have your own quick remark fast on your tongue, easy to spit out at him. You never get the chance.

Kaz grabs your waist—gloves, he has his gloves on, and the three goddamn layers—and lifts you onto the counter. Your breath is gone for two reasons within the second. One: it fucking hurt. Two: when did he get the ability to do that? You aren’t heavy, and Kaz isn't weak, but fuck.

He drops the bandages on the counter next to you and walks out of the bathroom.

For a second, you’re too stunned to do anything. Then survival instincts kick in, and you grab the bandages with your good arm to stop the bleeding on your left one. The cut wasn't deep, a superficial wound really, but it was a lucky knife slash. Serrated blades were truly the worst thing to go around Ketterdam. Every damn fool was using them these days. Zero skill and all luck.

Ears carefully attuned to Kaz's cane and uneven footsteps, you’re just tucking the end of the bandage in when he walks back in. You don’t look up at him, although you’re about equal height right now due to your position.

It's a familiar position. Sitting on the countertop, Kaz in front of you. You close your eyes for a second, trying to clear out that mental image.

When you open your eyes again, he's stepped between your legs.

Saints. Just like the stupid party.

"Hold your shirt up."

Your mind goes blank. "What?"

"You need someone to check if your ribs are fractured or not." His expression shifts, just slightly. Annoyed, maybe? "Hold your shirt up."

Swallowing your pride, or dignity, or self-restraint, you tug your shirt up. Just enough to make him able to see your ribs, no higher. You assume he'll look at them, seeing as observing is what he does best. You assume wrong.

Carefully, he lays his gloved hands over your rib cage and feels over your ribs. One layer. One fucking layer.

Your head tilts back, hitting the wall, mouth parting. Because this hurts, a double edged knife in the heart. Between your ribs and arm, you’ve been through enough. But now he's touching you, one layer stopping it from being skin-to-skin contact.

The coolness of his leather gloves slides over your ribs as he gently presses in, trying to feel if anything is amiss. You have to bite your tongue to stop from crying out in pain, but it's not enough to disguise your gasp.

"Breathe in." He orders. "Deeply."

You do so, slow and steady, closing your eyes against the pain. Without prompting you breathe out, which is considerably easier than breathing in. His thumb presses down, and yoj reflexively grab his wrist when it sends white-hot agony through you.

Kaz raises his eyebrows.

"Sorry." You breathe out.

One layer.

You drop your hand from his wrist.

"Talk." A command from your boss, or whatever he is to you right now.

You wracks her brain, only coming up with one thing. "Seven. I was seven—"

"Not a secret." He grinds out. "Something mundane."

It was a secret, but one you were offering willingly. Swallowing back pointless hurt (hadn't you gotten hurt at the same thing at that party?) you switch topics.

"I like dogs. The- ow- the smaller ones. Or the soft ones. They're cute, even as strays."

Kaz presses down, harder than before, just on a certain spot on your ribs. The 8th one on the right side. You gasp, hand closing around his wrist again.

"Fractured." He says cooly, not pulling away.

Not pulling away.

"Hairline?" You ask hopefully.

Kaz, thank the saints, nods. He drops his hand but doesn't step back. In response, you drop your shirt back down.

You've been in this position before. Granted, you were drunk and not injured the last time, but your mind is drawing parallels.

"Who was it?" Kaz asks again, and you’re finally able to place the look in his eyes.

Murderous.

If you hadn't killed the man herself, you’d be afraid for his safety. Maybe him dying to you was a blessing compared to whatever death he would've suffered at Kaz's hands.

"Who was it?" He repeats.

"Don't worry about it. I took care of it. I can handle myself just fine, Brekker."

He doesn't rise to the bait. "I know you can. And I still need a name." Pause. "Names?"

"I can handle my own fucking problems."

Kaz's gaze pointedly doesn't waiver. "What problems? I'm not above getting you drunk again. You seemed plenty happy to spill your secrets then."

Low blow. "Technically you didn't get me drunk. I got myself drunk."

"Technicalities. You're staying here tonight."

"Kaz!"

"Someone's after you, and you won't tell me who. You're an asset the Crow Club needs, and I protect my assets. Clear?"

He's Kerch. Ketterdam for most of his life, at the very least. You aren’t quite the same, having grown up in Ravka first then moved here. But you’re smart enough to know that Kerch use terms of endearment interchangeably with material goods.

And you know Kaz well enough to know that him calling you an asset isn't something small.

"Fine." You breathe, hoping he'll know that you accepting isn't something small either.

It's how the barrel works; in trades. It's how you two work.

"I'll find out who eventually." Kaz threatens—no, promises. "Wylan has the merch council after him. Inej the menagerie. Jesper the entirety of Ketterdam's gambling rings. I don't care who's after you."

"You will."

Kaz reaches up, wrapping his fingers delicately around your chin. You’ve seen these same hands strangle a man before, yet they're nothing but soft here.

And he pulls your face to his, kissing you.

"Do not tell me what I will and won't care about."

Just as quickly as the kiss happens, it's over. Kaz takes a few steps back, until his back hits the wall. If you hadn't known him, you would've assumed it took no effort for him to do that. But you can see his hands flexing on his cane, and knows about his touch aversion.

No layers.

It takes you too many silent moments to place the look in his eyes. One that's unfamiliar to you, and unfamiliar to him. Vulnerability.

Not synonymous with weakness, because Kaz Brekker isn't weak. Even on his knees, he could be never be weak to you.

"Pekka Rollins." You breathe, offering your own vulnerability.

You know you won't get another kiss out of it, no matter how badly you want it. But you offer it anyways.

His eyes sharpen.

Your shared enemy.

"Better the enemy you know." He murmurs. "He sent someone after you."

"Repeatedly."

Kaz nods. "Then," he says slowly, meticulously, "we take him down."

He reaches a hand out, palm up, offering to help you off the counter. You take it, skin sliding against the leather, wincing as you slide off.

"Take it easy. You're no use if your ribs become broken."

Well. If you squint, it's kind of sweet.

You stay up together, maps of Ketterdam spread out among various other papers in front of him. You in a chair next to his desk, him standing ominously over it.

And when you start to fall asleep, ignoring the pain in your ribs, he does you the favor of not waking you up. Instead, he switches to his own seat, silently working on saints-knows-what.

The next time your eyes open, there's a blanket over you and a missing Kaz.

Affection from Kaz comes in the form of subtly, the things that have been there all along. The minor details you ignored, too doubtful you’d read it wrong.

Him leaning over you while reviewing a plan, for instance. Rather than wedge himself between you and Jesper—you’d both move for him, of course—he leans over you to tap a certain number. The barest of brushes, his arm against your shoulder, then nothing.

Or, more obvious, him offering out his cane to you to help you stand. It's just slightly alleviating on your ribs, which you do have wrapped carefully to prevent them from becoming worse. They're nearly healed, actually, the last of the bruises vanishing.

But he still offers out his cane, and you still take it. Every time.

#kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows kaz #crooked kingdom #kind of #grishaverse #kaz brekker x you #soc kaz #kaz brekker #six of crows #modelbus #soc #the crows

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starstarmoon-not-anon · 11 days

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Heyyyy bbg ;D (/p)

@modelbus HEYYYYY LOOKIE I DID A THING!

the pfp and background will probably be changed, BUT HEY ITS A THING, I DID A THING, LOOK AT THE THING!! COOL THING.

now all thats left is finishing a fic..

#Modelbus #✨🌌🌙anon #✨🌌🌙NOTAnon

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average-vibe · 4 months

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•Fame Hurts•

Pairing: Wilbur Soot X streamer!Fem!Reader

Summary: As you grow more popular on social media, people begin to assume thing about you that simply are not true.

Genre: Angst, Slight fluff

TW: Cursing, Trust issues, YN is american

A/N: Hi! This fic idea was inspired by @modelbus , who wrote Cut Chaos. Go check that fic out, it’s absolutely incredible! Love y’all :)

part 2 is here

masterlist

“Alright, let’s end the stream there, guys.” You said, smiling to your camera. You glanced at chat, who were all saying goodbye and leaving. “Bye!” you said, before hitting the End Stream button before sitting back in your chair. Streaming was super fun, and you could never ask for a better job, but it was very tiring. you shut your eyes and allowed yourself to rest, when you heard a soft knock at your door, signaling that Wilbur had come in.

“Hey, Darling.” He greeted, standing next to you and kissing you on the forehead. “Want some soup?”

“Oh, yes please.” You said, nodding. You were starving at this point, you hadn’t eaten anything since before the stream started. “What kind?” You questioned.

“Chicken noodle.” he answered, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen, smirking at your small celebration. He knew that chicken noodle soup was your favorite soup of all time, and that it brought you comfort.

after you both had sat down, you began to chat about your day. what was happening, how wilbur’s band practice went, and what the plans were for tomorrow. it was relax in g and a nice break from the stress of streaming and being such a prominent figure online.

after dinner, you were doing the dishes, wilbur sitting on the couch, scrolling twitter. you hummed a small song that you had memorized after wilbur thought it to you on guitar.

“whatcha doin?” you asked, walking into the sitting room where wilbur was.

“nothing.” wilbur said shortly, catching you off guard. usually, he would look at you and smile, and say something cheesy like, ‘lookin at you.’. but instead, his eyes were glued onto his device.

“oh, ok.” you mumbled, sitting down next to him and leaning into his chest. “you okay?” you questioned.

“m’fine.” he said, not even sparing you a glance.

“are you sure? you seem off? did i do something?” you asked, sitting up and looking at his focused eyes scroll.

he stayed quiet for a good bit, but after realizing that you weren’t going anywhere without and answer, he huffed and spoke. “oh i don’t know, yn. why don’t you check twitter and see? or youtube? or anywhere? they all figured it out now, even me.” he spat, getting up and going into the bedroom, you on his heels.

“what’re you talking about? who figured what out?” you asked, genuinely having no idea what was going on. after a moment of silence, you pulled out your phone, beginning to scroll through twitter, like he had instructed.

the first thing you saw was a picture of you smiling at wilbur, with the caption, ‘she doesn’t even love him’. the next thing was a photo of you and wilbur on a bus, when you were super tired from a recent subathon. because of that, you were on your phone, facing away from wilbur. to make it even worse, the poster paired it with the caption ‘look how she treats him off camera! such a slut.’

you looked at the comments, surely they would defend you.

@gordon ramsay’s mom: ugh. i thought they were cute too. can’t trust anyone these days.

@Jo Mama: IKR! what a waste of fucking beauty.

@player: what a hoe.

@kenfromthebarbiemovie: no guys, this doesn’t make any sense???

you looked up at wilbur, tears building up under your eyes. his own eyes were trained on you, watching your every move.

“awe, are you sad because you’ve been caught? poor baby!” he said, in a mocking tone that only enhanced your tears.

“wilbur,” you muttered, “w-wilbur you know that’s not true. all of it. i thought y-you fucking trusted me but i guess not.” you spat, yelling now.

“i did trust you until i found out your using me. that you don’t actually fucking love me.” he yelled back. “and to think, we would’ve made a good couple”

“yeah, if you weren’t such a fucking twat, maybe. but no! you must believe some fucking shits on twitter instead of me.” you said.

“did you not see the fucking pictures, yn? all of them? the one on the bus, where you wouldn’t even glance at me? the one on the sidewalk, where you had your headphones in? it was so obvious! you didn’t even try to hide it!” he said.

“fine, fuck it. you can do whatever the shit you want. but just know that you were the guy who broke up with his girlfriend because of some incels on twitter.” you said, grabbing your purse and walking out of the house.

fuck. fame hurts like shit.

—

an: hiiiiiiiiii! i can do a pt 2 if you are interested! love you 🫶

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nolongerinusegotomodelbus · 2 years

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Friends to Lovers with Wilbur

CC!Wilbur x Reader (mentioned Tommyinnit)

Anyone new: follow @modelbus as that is my real account and this is no longer in use but cannot be deleted.

Just a bunch of little scenarios about a friends to lovers arc with Wilbur :)

>Holding hands for just a bit too long

You're both in a pretty large crowd at Disney for one of Tommy's vlogs, struggling to get to the castle.

Seriously, it felt like everyone had just decided to congregate right there at that exact time.

Tommy was able to slip through the small gaps, leaving you and Wilbur far behind to struggle. Wilbur had complained loudly about it, but it hadn't deterred the boy from pushing ahead.

"We're going to lose each other." Wilbur had groaned, losing sight of the blond hair.

"I'll just stick by you, and we can catch up." You said, laughing nervously.

Of course, immediately after you said that a person forces themselves between you two. You get jostled by a few more people, losing sight of him too.

"Jesus." Wilbur huffs, breaking through people to grab your hand. "I saw his hair, come on."

Not wanting to get left behind, you grip his hand tightly as he pulls you through the crowd. (totally not because his hand is warm and you've had a crush on him for ages. Definitely not that)

Eventually you two burst through the crowd, but you don't drop each other's hands. His grip doesn't loosen in the slightest, so yours doesn't either.

"Tommy!" Wilbur yells.

Tommy turns around, grinning. "Look at how cool this is! Wait, are you guys holding hands?"

You both immediately drop each other's hands, and you look away when you feel red rising to your cheeks.

"Yeah, because you left us in a giant crowd." Wilbur laughs, sounding unbothered. "Now what's cool?"

>Someone mistakes them for a couple and they both get really flustered

Wilbur and you are out at lunch, chatting about your lore plans for later.

The waitress comes to take your drink orders, glancing between the two of you with a smile. Wilbur knows your order, so he just orders for you.

Before she walks away, she says something. "You're a cute couple, by the way."

"O-oh." You stutter. "Um, we're not a couple."

"Oh! I'm so sorry!" The waitress responds, eyes as wide as yours are. You have the be as red as she is, too.

When you look at Wilbur, he's also red. He's probably so uncomfortable while you can't help but almost like being confused for a couple.

"Why would she ever take us for a couple?" You blurt out, forcing a laugh.

His smile waivers, and you mentally wince. In the end, he agrees. "Yeah."

>Falling asleep on his shoulder

After a long day in London, you wanted nothing more than to pass out.

The soothing motion of the train and the warmth of your hoodie is lulling you to sleep, forcing your limbs to become heavier by the second.

You keep yawning, regretting sitting next to Wilbur on the aisle and not the window. He's busy on Twitter or something with earbuds in, and you don't want to disturb him by asking to swap spots.

Eventually though, you're just too tired to resist the allure of falling asleep,

Your head drops onto his shoulder while you try to convince yourself it was completely normal. Friends sleep on their friends, right?

After a second you feel his head drop on top of yours. Glad he isn't shoving you off him, you doze off while using him as a pillow.

He shakes you awake when the train arrives, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Come on darling, we're here."

You're too tired at the moment to register what he just called you, but later you spend the entire night thinking about it.

#mcyt imagine #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #dsmp #mcyt #wilbur soot imagine #friends to lovers #its the best

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1donoow · 10 months

Text

CONTENT CREATOR FANFICS REC PT.2

[Fanfics i've read]

edited

......

♡ - smut

Mostly fluff

......

Corpse husband

Tommyinnit

technoblade

- DSMP reacting to you actually being rich

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

@beeindaclouds - Things you do that they love pt.1 pt.2

- DSMP reacting to Reader with a high spice tolerance

- C!DSMP meet OWL!Reader, right-hand of Lady Death

- Children!DSMP reacting to Babysitter!Reader having a partner

- Crew Boys reacting to you "saving" their basket ball

- dsmp with rich!reader

- C!DSMP react to Reader switching during a fight

- C!DSMP w/ a Vampire!Reader

@dsmpxreaderstuff - reader gifting the dsmp flower

- sassy! reader

- Reader who's always wearing gloves

- your highness

@ruminationnn - nickname for you

@rae-writes - sbi finding out techno has a daughter

@basilly - kissing their nose

@astrologyslayy - what the dsmp would do when crushing on you

- their reactions when they watch you draw

@god-of-balance - ___(hybrid creeper!reader)

@krabs-quill - old phantom phriend

@brightert0mb - Syndicate Gang with a Glare/Allay/Copper Golem!Reader Headcannons

@ruminationnn - a random hug from the reader headcanons

@angel-anoetic - killer cutie (killer bunny!reader)

@cupidmybeloved - ice skating (platonic)

- knitting (sbi x sibling!reader)

@voidgonemissing - a gentle rainy day (platonic)

@helliontherapscallion - sbi sibling deer hybrid!reader

@ramzawrites - strike me down,Zeus! (creeper hybrid!reader)

@retroaria - comparing hand sizes

@modelbus - face id

@thabeeboii - (Y/N) loves hugging people randomly pt.2

@streaming-yn - p! cc! multiple x shy! y/n

- forgetful!y/n duo names

- forgetful!y/n interacting with other streamer

@myntrose - face reveal pog?

@quackarl - mcyt having a crush

@griffintail - just another day (sbi x winged!child reader)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

corpse husband

@sarahwasfound - fuckin' hot

@thefanficmonster - the doll

@bunnvlr - Mama's boy

@malleux - spell

@whiteqnn - pure 2

@quits-writing - being corpse husband's s/o hc

@castor--writes - corpse finding out you have a bingus cat baby

@rottenroyalebooks - my girlfriend is a witch

@dollsbite - corpse with a pink-obsessed s/o

@kbrownie - leaked

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

tommyinnit

@isadora-larkspur - tommy with shorter reader

@ohlovejoy - reacting to his beard

- the jitters (mute!reader)

@julibeeline - tommy and wilbur accidentally revealing their relationship

@sanderchu - breakfast made with love

- ylyl vlog

@modelbus - beguiled in the background

- cute cat

@bingbongsupremacy - little intruder (toddler!reader)

·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·—·

Technoblade

@ze-maki-nin - child in the snow

@milqueandsugar - ___

@beeindaclouds - having c!technoblade as your dad

@fandomlit - imagine technoblade being jealous of the attention you give tommy

@smelted-applejuice - ___ (techo's daughter)

- ___ (wither skeleton!reader)

@beelzebubaz - techno seeing you in his clothes

#masterlist #content creator rec #tommyinnit x reader #technoblade x reader #corpse husband x reader

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sunshine-on-marz · 1 year

Text

PLEASE SPREAD THIS POST!!!

Ok so if in a few months I started streaming would y’all watch?

I’d likely be streaming Minecraft and just talking.

Here’s some about me!!!

I turn 14 this week!

Im in CST

I’ve been into the DSMP for almost 2 years and Ive been into mcyt for nearly 6

I have a ranboo+Tommy type humor

I’m bi and use they/he pronouns

Tags: @tubbosfriend @tubbo3091 @ranboolivesaysstuff @snifferish @theeretblr @aimseytv @maxggs @ghostiefruit

Tags: @lyssys @kit-is-a-weeb @the-radio-system-writes @sunnnflowwwer @zooone @emoandglam @euthonia @the-phantom-author @ivyinnit @abucketofcrows @ayat0s-hydr0-v1s10n @a-gay-little-ghost-2 @a-streakofblue @florencicle @honeybee4701 @chumkles @modelbus @minorinnit @sanderchu @sapnaps-sadnap @grey-rambles @joviepog @julibeeline

#pls send me good things to buy to start streaming #dsmpblr #mcyt #minecraft streamer #dsmp #streaming

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rslayouts · 6 years

Text

Bachmann Fan Code March 2018

Videos Bachmann N Scale Model Railroad Locomotive | eBay Rails of Sheffield – Suppliers of: Hornby, Bachmann … Modelbus Zone – The Model Commissioners Index Footplate, The home of Model Railways in Kidderminster source http://www.rslayouts.com/bachmann-fan-code-march-2018/

#model train

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southwesttours-blog · 6 years

Photo

South West Tours fan of een modelbus verzamelaar? Wij hebben een aantal miniatuurbusjes van ons eigen wagenpark! Meer informatie of bestellen? Kijk dan op www.swtours.nl en ga naar het kopje “bus huren”#modelbus #miniatuur #schaalmodel #minitouringcar (bij South West Tours)

#modelbus #minitouringcar #schaalmodel #miniatuur

0 notes

modelbus · 7 months

Text

Flufftober 2023 masterlist

Prompt List

Day 1 (Tommyinnit)

Day 2 (Wilbur Soot)

Day 4 (Kaz Brekker)

Day 7 (Wilbur Soot)

Day 8 (Tommyinnit)

Day 9 (Tommyinnit)

Day 14 (Wilbur Soot)

Day 15 (Wilbur Soot)

Day 23 (Wilbur Soot)

Day 27 (Tommyinnit)

Day 28 (Wilbur Soot)

#dsmp #mcyt #mcyt imagine #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot #modelbus #flufftober #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #soc #six of crows

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average-vibe · 4 months

Text

•Fame Hurts 2•

Pairing: Wilbur Soot x Streamer!Fem!reader

Summary: your presence on social media fades, and your ex notices.

Genre: Angst, Fluff at the end

TW: cursing, arguing

AN: HOLY SHIT YALL LOVED THE FIRST ONE???? SLAY??? AGAIN TY TO @modelbus for inspo!

TAGS (sorry if you didn’t want it!): @queenofdisaster-6 @lemonboys-stuff @cathers-world

part 1 is here

masterlist

Wilbur had broke up with you over 2 weeks ago, and you hadn’t streamed, posted, or made any presence on social media since then. You didn’t see any point in trying to redeeming yourself, as people would still say the same shit anyway. About how you were using him, how you didn’t deserve your fame, and how you needed to humble yourself.

quite honestly, you hated yourself for not seeing the signs sooner. How Wilbur wanted to ‘Talk’ that one day, or how he became distant for a little bit after you had collaborated on a stream, or when your stream views started to decline. It was so fucking obvious, but you were too caught up in your own emotions to notice.

You hadn’t checked your phone since then either. It had been on ‘Do Not Disturb’ since you went to an old friend, Carissa’s, apartment to stay. The only person who knew you were alive was Carissa, and she was the only one who saw you. As far as everyone else knew, you had disappeared out of nowhere.

But today, for some odd reason, you had the urge to turn your phone off of ‘Do Not Disturb’ and check your notifications.

There were about 2000.

Texts, comments, DMs, and tags had taken over your notifications, mostly people just wondering where you went.

@bae: where did @yn.loves.you and @WilburSoot go??? did they die? where did they go??? —>@gaywaffle: i’ve been wondering this forever! like did smth happen???

you didn’t know Wilbur stopped posting too. but sure enough, his last tweet was about 3 weeks ago. And his last stream was 15 days ago. He hadn’t been position either, and it was a mystery to you why.

Next, the texts. Oh, the texts.

Tommy: YN wtf where are you????

BooRan: YN, please answer

Wilbur (blocked): 75 messages

You knew it wasn’t gonna end well, and that it was a bad idea, but you clicked on Wilbur’s profile.

Wilbur (blocked)

I’m sorry

please yn

respond please

it was shitty

i’m sorry yn

i love you so much

please..

Your vision turned red. after all the shit he said about you, after all the hurtful things he did, after fucking dumping you because of people on twitter, he was begging you to come back. you got up and stomped to your car. Your plan? to go to wilbur’s house and yell at him until you couldn’t yell. or until you passed out.

You pulled into wilbur’s driveway, with nothing but your phone and a lot of angry thoughts. you opened his unlocked door, and found him sleeping on the couch. You got some water from the fridge, brought it over to him, and poured it in his face.

he woke up with a jolt, sputtering and thrashing around like an idiot. he looked at his attacker, who was you, and his eyes lit up.

“YN!” he said, a smile gracing his lips.

“YOU BITCH!” you screamed, wiping the kind look away from his face. "Fucking dump me on the side of the road, then try to get back with me?? cause you realized that your too fucking sad without a girlfriend to stare at? I’m so sorry that YOU brought this upon yourself!” you continued, voice faltering in tears. you didn’t want to cry, but you couldn’t help it. the fact that every single word was true, and not one misunderstood word, made it hurt so much more.

“YN, can i explain?” he asked, eyes looking more sad than anything.

“Explain what? how you-“

you were cut off by a kiss. A gentle, sweet, loving kiss. if you weren’t so mad, you would even admit you liked it. and you couldn’t deny the fact you leaned into it.

He let go, looking at your eyes. “I’m sorry, i shouldn’t have done that. I just hate to see you so mad- and at me, i just didn’t know what to do. can i please explain?”

you let out a loud sigh. “alright, go ahead.”

“Tommy told me that you loved me more than anything in the world, and so did Ran, and Phil too. everyone was saying how much they loved you.. except for the people who didn’t know you. I realized that the only reason people were saying that shit was because they didn’t know you. And if they did, they would never say that about you. Your sweet, smart, funny, beautiful, kind, and an incredible person. and i cannot believe i ever broke up with you. i’m so sorry.” he said everything in a fast paced manner, looking at the floor for the entire time.

your anger melted away. The way he said everything, you knew it was coming right from his heart. he glanced at you for but a second, and you decided to fuck it. you grabbed his face and kissed him, again. this time, it was happy. full of love, and pure joy.

you let go, and gave him a hug, at this point, you were both crying.

“YN, do you forgive me?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Yes, Wil. i forgive you.”

—

what can i say i like ending on words

ANYWAY

i wrote this is 1 sitting so uh

yeah

there MIGHT be a part 3 😏

only if you ask nicely 🙄

OKAY ILYSM BYEEEE

-vibe

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nolongerinusegotomodelbus · 2 years

Note

hellooooooo

can I request a cc!Wilbur were he has a crush on the reader, they work in a library. And when signing the books back in, he leaves note for them.

Have a amazing day <3

I actually love this so much; I just couldn't stop smiling while writing this. I don't know if you meant that he admired from afar, but I took kind of a different route that I haven't seen before :D

Anyone new: follow @modelbus as that is my real account and this is no longer in use but cannot be deleted.

Library Love

pairing: cc!Wilbur x Gn!Reader

The first time he comes in is like any other day.

You're behind the checkout counter, reading a book you had grabbed earlier. A huge perk of your job at the library meant that you could grab a book whenever. It was awesome! But you're reading, so absorbed that you almost miss the person approaching.

Luckily, you don't miss him. It was kind of hard to, actually. He was tall, had to be reaching over six foot. With brown hair and circular glasses perched on his nose, it was a bit hard not to think of him as at least a little bit attractive.

"Could I check out these books please?" He asked, eyes meeting yours for just a second before flicking away again.

"Of course." You replied. That was kind of your whole job, after all. "Do you have a library card?"

"No."

"They're free if you want one, makes it a lot easier to check out books."

Of course, it only worked if he came back. You'd definitely never seen him before so maybe this was a one-time thing.

After a moment, he nods slowly. "Sure, I'll take one."

Oh, wow. Normally people just gave a polite nod and didn't get one. This stranger wasn't too bad then.

"Great! You just have to fill out this paperwork." Upon seeing a grimace flicker through his face, you make a joke. "Don't be scared, there's no waiver."

To your surprise, your shitty joke makes him laugh. "Thank God. I'm not legally allowed to sign them after Disney World."

"What happened in Disney world?"

With a smile, he doesn't respond. Guess he was funny, too.

When he returns the paperwork, you give it a glance before filling out the details on the computer and printing his card. His books are added onto it, a strange mix of Greek mythology and historic composers.

"Here you go. The books are due back in two weeks. Any damages you can be fined for, and failure to return them will result in a fine."

"Don't worry, I'll be back." He promises, taking both the books and his card.

With that, he strides out of the library. Strange, to get a new face. Even stranger for it to be someone as cute as him.

As you go about the rest of your day, all you can think about is the name you entered on his card.

Wilbur.

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

Luckily for you, he kept coming back.

Each time you can't help but watch him as he wanders around the library, abandoning your book. Something about him just drew your eyes to him.

When he would eventually check out more books, you'd make an effort to have a conversation. It's how you got to know that he actually writes music and plays the guitar, how you learned that he's twenty-five. It's also how he learned about you.

Somehow he was effortlessly funny, but always managed to come off as shy. From the way he avoids your eyes, you almost thought him afraid of eye contact. Undeniably, he was charming. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't have a little bit of a crush on him.

Unfortunately for you, he was just a regular. A person with increasingly odd book choices (seriously, Pride and Prejudice and The Art of War?), destined for you to never see outside the confinement of the four walls of the library.

You did enjoy seeing him though. Perhaps too much for someone you didn't even have the number of. Well, that was a lie. He had written it down on the paperwork as required, but that felt too weird.

For now you contented yourself with looking up every time the door opened, hoping it was him. Eagerly awaiting the next time you could converse. Wilbur wasn't just a regular anymore, he was your favorite regular.

So, the second he walks in, it's not hard to notice something off about him. The smile he normally wore was gone, replaced by a nervous look. You hadn't seen him in almost two weeks, meaning he was just barely making the due date for his books.

For a guy who had been showing up three times a week for months, it had gotten you a little worried.

"Hey, Wil." You greet, automatically smiling just at the sight of him. "I was starting to think you were dead."

He shakes his head, mumbling something that you can't quite hear.

"Are you okay?" You ask, now getting worried.

Wilbur nods, setting the two books he holds on the counter.

"Gotta go." He quickly says, turning and rushing out.

You're left staring at the closing door, mouth open. What the hell? That wasn't normal at all. You close your eyes and think about what just occured.

He hadn't looked great, for starters. With messy hair and circles under his eyes, it was clear he lost sleep for some reason. The normally composed man had turned into a mess in two weeks.

Wait, he hadn't checked out any new books!

At least you knew he had to come back when he checked out books, but now there was nothing to force him to come back. You very well could never see him again.

Hopefully you were just jumping ahead and overthinking it though. Maybe he had gotten busy with whatever his job was or writing music. Maybe he was just too tired to uphold a conversation.

You reach forward and grab the first book, a collection of poems. You've never personally read this particular book, but he seemed to enjoy a lot of poetry. After checking it in, you place it on the book cart to shelve later.

His last book was another poetry book, one that you've actually read. It wasn't a long read, but it was quite good. When you pick it up a piece of lined notebook paper slips out from the thin pages.

Barely managing to grab it before it falls to the floor, you set the book back on the desk and unfold the paper. He had never left anything in a book before, but maybe this was important.

Eyes skimming through, trying your best not to invade his privacy, you almost miss the fact it's a letter. And not to anybody, but to you. He had written you a letter and left it in the book.

Now aware that it's meant for your eyes, you reread it. Carefully this time, soaking up each and every word.

I keep reading these poetry books to try and write a poem of my own to impress you into going on a date with me, but it's not working. My apologies if this is weird, but I just can't stop thinking about you. Ever since the moment I walked into the library, you've consumed my every thought to the point where I come back just for you. You're just I think I'm rambling. Sorry. Would you be interested in going on a date with me?

Wilbur

He was asking you on a date. Somehow, the letter, short and scrawled messily with crossed out words, was the most romantic thing you've ever read. From Shakespeare to Austen, nothing came close.

Suddenly his behavior all made sense. The way he rushed out, how he avoided your eyes. He was nervous!

The idea that you'd refuse is so ridiculous that you almost laugh. Searching for your phone, you're about to message him when you freeze.

The idiot didn't include his phone number.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur #dsmp #oneshot #wilbur soot fluff #mcyt wilbur #wilbur mcyt

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