#revivedbur x reader
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Flufftober day 3: cuddles
Wilbur Soot
CC! Wilbur Soot
- Likes cuddles but also kinda picky about them?
- Like he wants to cuddle but is awkward about it
- Prefers to be the one initiating them but doesn’t really mind most of the time
- He’s a very tall guy so like, unless you are also hellishly tall, he’d absolutely just engulf you
- Like arms around you, chin rested on the top of your head, one leg over you?
- I feel like he’d want to occasionally be little spoon cause like the guy needs a break, pamper him please
- Small cute whispers of affection or talking quietly about your day to each other
- Running your hand through his hair and him just absolutely loving it
L’manbur
- Would be so paranoid about asking to cuddle, worried that you’d say no or see him as weak
- Probably just wouldn’t ask, hoping that you would instead
- Reluctantly obliging when you ask even though he wanted it to begin with
- He secretly would want you to hold him and his heart would explode if you did
- I feel like he might get so overwhelmed that he’d cry a little bit, hiding his face in your chest while he tries to calm down
- Poor guys so overwhelmed with everything, he just needs the break, even if he says he doesn’t
- Holding you as close as actually possible
- Maybe making you lay on top of him or with his head on your stomach or chest
Simpbur
- The clingiest cuddles known to mankind
- Wants to hold you as tight as possible
- Like suffocatingly tight if he could but he doesn’t want to hurt you
- Whispering the cutest little things to you
- Wants you to lay on him or wants to lay on you
- Fully just wrapped around you
- Arms and legs included, just desperate to feel you against him
- Pouting, whining and begging you to stay when you say you can’t cuddle anymore
- Literally would pull you back into the bed and lay on you to try to stop you from leaving
Ghostbur
- He’s cold, like really cold and he can’t help it
- You just have to deal with it if you want cuddles from him
- Second easiest of the bursonas to get to cuddle (first is Simpbur obviously)
- Would probably want Friend to join in and pouts when you say no
- Holds you pretty tight, he knows it to and just hopes you don’t mind
- Accidentally gets blue all over you
- Feels bad about it when you get up and he sees that the back of your shirt and your face are covered in blue streaks
- With the face thing, I feel like he’d definitely like to hold your face in his hands
- A little sad when you say that you can’t cuddle anymore but understands that you’ve got things to do
Revivedbur
- It would take a lot of convincing
- Like practically begging to get him to agree
- Smells literally horrid and no way he’d take the trench coat off
- Secretly loves it when you hold him
- Really awkwardly kissing your neck or back, depends how you’re laying
- Unintentionally holding you really tightly because he missed physical contact
- Denies it when you mention it and pouts about it
- Hiding his face in your shoulder
- Being bitchy when you have to stop even though he said he didn’t like it
My other Flufftober stuff:
#simpbur x reader#l’manbur x reader#ghostbur x reader#wilbur soot x reader#revivedbur x reader#dreamsmp x reader#x reader#wilbur x reader#cc!wilbur x reader#flufftober
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Food for Thought: Wilbur Soot Chef!Au
this is unedited. This was also originally an ask I planned to send someone but I ended up posting it here.
——-
Thinking about Wilbur, chef au.
like— ratatouille, without the rats. An inexperienced new chef (reader) comes to the 5 star family run restaurant called the Syndicate and is for some reason hired. Wilbur, the sauce chef (third highest ranking, after techno the sous chef and Philza the big man chef— master chef. Idk), is assigned to show them the ropes. He is already cranky for ranking in *third* among his family of four, even though he loves his brother and father very much. And now they dump the newbie into his hands??? Don’t they know he has better to do?
he was going to make your life hell.
if only you weren’t so damn intriguing.
the first week, he’s cocky and arrogant, sweeping through the kitchen without so much as a backwards glance to you, giving the most vague instructions to purposefully tick you off.
—-
“so the pan over there goes here when the heat is on that level, then that goes there, and there over there.. yknow.. get the bottles from the fridge, put ‘em here, turn the heat on like so—“ he turned the oven nozzle on and then back off again, too quickly for you to see the heat level. He turns to you, hands behind his back. “Any questions?”
he took your gaping silence as a yes. “Good. Follow me. You’ll wash pans for the day, then we’ll see each other tomorrow morning.”
____
Oh you hate the smug bastard. But as you watch him effortlessly dice a variety of vegetables and scrape them into the pot in a matter of seconds, you realize that hatred and admiration is an awful combination.
one late night— when you had received the infuriating assignment of “master high-speed julienne cuts on these onions before you get to go home”—- you tried to replicate his movements, growing increasingly frustrated as the onions stung your eyes, the clock ticked past midnight, and Wilbur snickered faintly in the background. You were so intently focused on getting that stupid onion into strips that you didn’t notice your finger getting in the way. With a yelp, you drop the knife, hissing and staring at your cut thumb.
Wilbur looks up sharply, uncrossing his arms and moving away from the counter he had leaned against. “What the hell did you do now?”
“it’s nothing,” you grit out, “don’t—“ but you are cut off by Wilbur taking a hold of your hand, lifting it to his face and inspecting the cut.
“proper safety is important in the kitchen.” He states, not taking his eyes off the cut. “Not only for our sakes, but for the safety and hygiene of those who will eventually eat the food we prepare.”
you know that, but your words die in your throat as he rifled through a medicine cabinet and took out some antiseptic and gauze.
the room is silent, silent except for the ticking of the clock and the occasional ripping of gauze and tape as he patches up your thumb. His face remains impassive, neutral, showing no real friendliness but none of the hostility from earlier.
”Right.” He finishes taping down the gauze and steps back, turning to take some fresh onions out of the fridge, and a new knife and cutting board.
“do I have to do the exercise all over again?” You ask in dismay.
He pauses. “No. No, you don’t.”
you let Wilbur maneuver you to stand in front of the new cutting board— and freeze up when he stands close behind you, grabbing your hands from behind and guiding them to the knife.
“put your thumb there— no— like that, yes. There. That’s the correct way to hold a chopping knife. Now, since you’ve mangled your hands, follow my lead.”
He gently guides your hands to the onion, positions them, and cuts it smoothly.
“there. You see?” He says, his voice quiet and close to your ear. It’s a lot more gentle too, or maybe that’s just the late hour getting to him as well.
“Y-yeah.” You manage, clearing your throat. “Seems simple enough.”
”hm.” He hums, amused, and lets go of your hands. “I think that’s all for the day. It’s quite late.”
you sigh in relief, dropping the knife on the counter. Instead of walking to the front door and getting your coat, however, you pick up the boards and cutlery and make your way across the room.
“what are you doing?” Wilbur asks.
“Washing the dishes. “ you blink. That was the first rule you learned in the kitchen. A chef always cleans up after cooking, and never procrastinates or postpones the work, no matter how many plates need to be cleaned.
“…I’ll wash up.” Wilbur sighed. “You go on home.”
Who the hell was this guy, and what did he do to Wilbur?
“are— are you sure? What about you?”
Wilbur cracked a smile. “I’m sure. Don’t you worry about me. I can manage.”
“alright.” You acquiesced, getting your coat from the hanger and sweeping it over your shoulders. You pause before leaving through the door, and look back. “Good night, Wilbur.”
“good night, love.” Wilbur paused. “And remember to be here at 5:00 AM Tomorrow, at the latest.”
you groaned and shut the door, listening to his chuckles fade into the distance as you trudge your way home.
#c wilbur#dsmp#c: wlbr#dsmp wilbur#revived wilbur#revivebur#revivedbur x reader#c!wilbur x reader#wilbur soot x reader#will gold x reader#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot fanfiction
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Protectbur HC's
A/n: Protectbur is just something I call a very protective C!Wilbur. Maybe it'll catch on after this who knows 💅
Summary: Situationns where some of the -Bur variants get a little protective 🤍
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Vilbur
"Alright Wil, I'm going to Manberg to see Niki."
"Woah woah woah what? No you're not!"
"Wil it's just to see Niki. She's on our side, besides Schlatt isn't even around right now."
"I don't care! You're gonna stay right here where I can see you."
gets very worked up over little things like this
Going out to hunt, mining trips, etc. He doesn't want you accidentally finding one of his detonation sites or setting one off
Mostly his own paranoia rather than him actually trying to protect you
Revivebur
You'd be chatting with Quackity in Las Nevadas or just outside and Wilbur would spot you guys. Him being Quackity's nemesis and your lover would definitely create some immense tension
"Stay the fuck away from Y/N you two-bit capitalist."
"They came to see me!"
"They would never. They know you're a wanker, and a bloody liar. Stay away from them or you'll lose your other fucking eye got it?"
Very violent. Very unhinged
Phantombur
Fancy boi losing his shit? Don't mind if I do 💅
I don't really know the lore in Origins but I know that Fragrance Man is supposed to be sort of a creepy guy and I know there's something with Evilza so I'm looking into it. For now we're just using Fragrance bc we love Schlatt as a villain.
"Mind letting me go?"
"No no no, you smell strange. I need you to come with me so I can investigate."
Basically he'd try and kidnap you and guess what it's dusk so your boyfriend comes swooping from the shadows with a warning shot.
"Where the fuck did the arrow come from?!"
"Where do you think Arachnid?" Phantombur would reveal himself very dramatically and have an arrow notched already pointing over your shoulder into Fragrance Man's throat
"Hey now, no need to get violent there Wilbur."
"What the fuck were you doing with my darling huh Fragrance Man? Care to explain?"
Very menacing, especially with the green eyes glowing and the unfiltered rage
We love a spooky bitch
Simpbur
Obviously he's here. It wouldn't be a protection hc without our favorite yandere-ish variant
"I will blow your fuckin head off if you don't back the FUCK up right now."
Kind of a combination of Vilbur and Revivbur. Very violent and loud and commanding despite his usual background personality
Scares people off very easily with his height and anger. The first time he protected you you didn't know who he was
"Thanks and all but who are you?!"
"Wil Soot. Wilbur really, at your service."
Very formal despite his hammering heart. Kind of had been a stalker for a while so he knew very well how to make you smile
He landed a date with you after this so all's well that ends well...
It didn't end well for the guy that was harassing you to say the least
Ghostbur
Oh...you didn't think ol' Ghostbur could get protective did you? Never underestimate me my dears
"Y/N watch out!" Someone would try and warn you but be a little too late. Well they would anyways. Ghostbur's never late for his darling
"Didn't anyone tell you to stay away from things that aren't yours?"
Very smiley while he tends off whoever tried to harm you. This is the first time he's wielded a sword since he died so you'll have to pardon his disheveled appearance once he's done
"Are you alright?"
"Yea Ghostbur, I-I'm okay now. Thanks."
"Anytime darling."
Huffy puffy Ghosts Boy but he's smiling like a fool now that you're safe
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#c!wilbur hc's#dsmp#c!wilbur#c!wilbur soot#c!wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot#ghostbur#simpbur x reader#ghostbur x reader#phantombur#phantombur x reader#Protective hc's#revivedbur#revivedbur x reader#vilbur#bursonas#x reader hc's
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Hello
could we have some short fluffy Drabble or headcanons about a sick revivebur? I mean, after escaping limbo, this man’s hypochondria must be ten times as bad. And after he gets sick, the reader (who he is in a relationship with, although it’s been cold and distant since his revival) starts acting very concerned and motherly— just starts pampering him.
imagine cooling off one’s hands (with ice pack maybe) purely for the reason of holding it to a sick person’s overheating forehead. And etc.
just petting the whiny, skrunkly, sick rat of a man.
🏵 Your Tea Is Ready🏵
Warnings: mentions of sickness and death
Genre: hurt comfort (?)
| Honey makes the medicine go down Easy |
You press the back of your hand to feverish, sweaty skin, his dark curls tickling you as he attempts to turn away.
"You've got an awful fever." You fret, trying to turn his flushed face towards you.
"Yet I'm fucking freezing." He curses, finally relenting and letting you guise his face towards yours.
"How long have you been sick? Why didn't you call?" You push the hair that had begun to stick to his forehead back, he relaxes into your touch, fluid and maluable like wet clay. He smelled a bit like dirt too.
"I didn't want to bother. What good would it do anyway?" He blinks, his golden eyes reaching yours. It hurts, a sting, a cut to your already breaking heart by you swallow your pride. You swallow your anger.
"I'm here now, so let me help you, you look like you've got one foot in the grave-" He laughs, bitter but still a laugh. Maybe his fever was worse then you thought.
"That wasn't a joke, you look awful."
"What ever man wishes to hear from their partner."
Now it was your time to laugh. "Alright, settle down, I'll get you some water." You raise from the bed and leave the room, missing as just behind you he reaches for your arm, though never manages to get to you.
You return swiftly with a cup of warm sweetened tea and a cool wet cloth, by now he had abandoned all blankets from the bed, fanning himself.
"You don't have the fire going, do you?"
"No, not yet." You settle beside him, he turns his head lazily towards you, his hair looking particularly more wild then it did before you left.
"Here," you reach to place the wet cloth on his head, he flinches slightly, but eases as the cool water touches him. "Better?"
"A bit." He hummed, adjusting the rag further up his head. "It's going to soak the bed." He grumbled, a droplet of water already spilling down his cheek.
"You'll live." You tease, wiping the sweat from his brow.
"Will I? you seem to be quite worried."
"It's my job to be worried."
"What a horrible job."
"It's not, not for you."
You smile, your hand coming to cup his cheek, you hesitate, but he does not. Pressing he face to your palm and kissing your wrist with all the affection his fever addled brain could manage.
"You spoil me." He sighs, his hand coming up to inter lock with yours.
"I treat you as you deserve. As anyone, deserves." You hum, squeezing his hand before bringing the tea cup to his lips.
"What is it?"
"Tea, it will help you sleep."
"Well isn't that ominous."
You roll your eyes, but after giving it a curious sniff, he takes a sip, then gulps the rest down.
"Can't be too ominous then?" You Muse, putting the tea cup aside. You can hear the smile in his voice as he replies.
"If ominimity tastes that good you must be pure horror."
You tilt your head. "I can't quite tell if that was a compliment." This time, he squeezes your hand.
"I can't either."
You press your fore head to his, before leaning away. "Get some sleep, poet, you're starting to sound like a mad man." He smiles, blinking slowly.
"Perhaps I am." His breathing slows.
"Perhaps you are." His eyes flutter closed.
"You'll stay?" His grip tightens, like a frightened child on their mothers skirt.
"Of course, I'll stay."
#dsmp x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#dsmp imagine#wilbur x reader#wilbur imagine#revivedbur x you#revivedbur x reader
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Guitar lessons with the Burs?
Ooooooohhhh
Simpbur has one of those electric guitars you can plug in. It has a stains from spilled drinks, stray pieces of pizza, and years of wear and tear. But when he find out his darling wants some guitar lessons? This man tries his best to make it look as spiffy as the day he was born
Lmanbur runs a hand through his hair, laughing breathily. Sure love, he would say, just come join me tonight on top of the burger van for a lesson under the stars :)
Vilbur simply laughs in your face. Cackles, is more like it actually. You think that he [*wheeze*] is going to teach you how to play the guitar?
...he did it anyways
Pogtopiabur doesn't even look up from the stack of papers he's staring at when you ask him. Instead he waves you off with a generic response along the lines of "I think techno has that" or "whatever you say" :(
Ghostbur claps his hands together, cooing with excitement. He's so excited to teach you! Now he's just gotta ask around to see if anyone's seen his glimmering mahogany instrument!
If only anyone knew
Revivebur blanches for a bit. He had forgotten he had even played the damn thing. After revival, music had been the last thing on his mind, much less making it himself. But hey, if that's what you want he'll gladly dig around for the old thing
#bursona#bursona x reader#wilbur soot#wilbur x reader#wilbur#wilbur soot x reader#lmanbur x reader#lmanbur#revivedbur x reader#revivebur x reader#revivedbur#simpbur#simpbur x reader#vilbur#vilbur x reader#ghostbur#ghostbur x reader#pogtopiabur x reader#pogtopiabur
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we burned too bright (now the fires gone).
The lives, deaths, and revivals of both Wilbur Soot and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) were anything but forgettable by the citizens of what once was L’Manberg—no matter how hard they tried to forget the consequences they so desperately tried to outrun.
or, wilbur and the reader cross paths once again but neither know who was the catalyst to their own destruction until it’s a bit too late feat. pirates, war, haunted pasts, and destruction—seemingly everywhere they go.
pairing: c!wilbur soot x reader
contains: gender-neutral!reader, pirate!reader, enemies to friends to lovers, timeline is from l’manberg up to current lore (revivedbur), mentions war/fighting, blood, injuries, not entirely canon compliant (generally follows the main storyline though), mental health issues, i’ll add more as the story progresses
notes: alternatively titled babylon on wattpad. taglist can be found here.
status: discontinued
. . . PLAYLIST
i. all the things she said by poppy ii. teeth by 5 seconds of summer iii. my songs know what you did in the dark iv. i did something bad by taylor swift v. hayloft by mother mother vi. hayloft II by mother mother vii. burning pile by mother mother viii. control by halsey ix. anti-hero by sekai no owari x. everybody wants to rule the world by lorde xi. bury a friend by billie eilish xii. you should see me in a crown xiii. fitzpleasure by alt-J xiv. breezeblocks by alt-J xv. achilles come down by gang of youths xvi. alligator skin boots by mccafferty xvii. fairly local by twenty one pilots xviii. wires by the neighbourhood xix. devil town by cavetown xx. mad hatter by melanie martinez xxi. look what you made me do by taylor swift xxii. babylon by 5 seconds of summer
. . . CHAPTERS
LIFE
…
DEATH
REVIVAL
. . . EXTRAS
character aesthetics (main cast)
additional character aesthetics
series aesthetics
#we burned too bright (now the fires gone) .#series#wilbur soot#wilbur soot series#wilbur soot reader insert#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x pirate!reader#c!wilbur soot#c!wilbur soot series#c!wilbur soot reader insert#c!wilbur soot x reader#c!wilbur soot x you#c!wilbur soot x y/n#c!wilbur x reader#lmanbur x reader#pogtopiabur x reader#revivedbur x reader#dream smp reader insert#dream smp x reader#dream smp x pirate!reader#dsmp reader insert#dsmp x reader#dsmp x pirate!reader#pirate!reader#pirate au
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Revivebur stinks. Literally so badly.
Like, whenever you get too close to him you can feel his crusty ass stench, he reeks of cheap alchohol, ciggarettes, weed, gunpowder, dried blood and cum.
He has not taken a bath since he came out of the limbo and we know it.
Mans spent 13 years without a bath, he absolutely despises water and HE DID NOT CHANGE HIS FUCKING CLOTHES SINCE POGTOPIA MAN!!
Yet somehow. SOMEHOW, I manage to look at this greasy, scrawny, drunk ass, horny 40 year old man and think: "Damn, he is so fine. What a babygirl."
Like, what absurd level of rizz do you need to have to be so attractive being this disgusting?!?!?
Thanks for listening to my ted talk, follow for more.
#dsmp wilbur#revivebur x reader smut#revivebur#revivedbur#revived wilbur#revivebur x reader#wilbur soot reader#crusty
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revivebur but reader’s taken his cigs away and he’s got nothing to relieve that kind of ache that he gets from not smoking in a while, like it’s an addiction, so he ends up cornering reader and asking for his cigarettes back.
and when he eventually doesn’t get them back, he’s all feigning sadness and so he’s like, “well i guess i’ll dull the ache by smothering you in kisses until you can’t breath and you beg me for mercy, huh?”
teehee i love cocky wilbur :p
- 🌞
giggling. actually giggling at this so badly.
Like hello reader is either completely used to it and tries to walk away from him and ends up being pulled into a kiss anyway OR
reader still gets flustered by him no matter how often he is like this and they are struggling to breatheeee. Lots of teasing ensues and he probably ends up getting his cigs back.
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Apologia Pro Vita Sua
Written as a part of the @extremetimedchallengeexchange ; Prompt was Wilbur experiencing physical sensations after being revived again (showering, eating, starving, drinking, thirst, warmth)
Can also be found on AO3
Climbing out of a grave was tiring, Wilbur discovered. Almost keeling over after he stood up, clothes covered in dirt. He couldn’t tell why his stomach hurt so badly. Or why his limbs were so stiff. Confused as to why his skin pebbled, the hair on his arm raised upward. Crouching down, he brushed the tombstone, reading aloud, ‘Here lies Wilbur Soot. September 14 1996—January 6 2021…I died?’ His feet carried him to the last place he called home. A van abandoned in the white dessert sand. The moon his only light source.
As he walked, brief echoes of Wilbur’s life trickled back into his conscious. The victory of L’Manberg’s independence, a place any lost soul could call home. The anguish when he lost his beloved symphony to Schlatt. How his mind played tricks on him, unable to even trust himself. But this, this was a new leaf. If only he could figure out what these sensations that plagued his physique meant. Gasping at the little heat that shot through him, rubbing his hands together. ‘I used to, fire. I need fire.’ The image of rubbing sticks together in snow. Fingers stumbling to turn the stove nob on, holding his hands a few inches away. A blissful sigh escaping Wilbur’s lips as his shivers melted away.
‘Ah!’ Stamping out the flames that kissed his gloves. ‘I relent, I relent Mother Nature. Let’s not burn the place down. Technically, no one knows I’m back,’ grumbling to himself as he walked to the compact mini-fridge. With the light bouncing off the metal exterior, Wilbur finally noticed his gaunt face staring back at him. Purple bags under his eyes, nose and cheeks tinged a rosy red. Pulled out of his contemplation when his stomach growled. ‘Alrighty, what’s not expired?’ The fridge oddly filled to the brim with groceries, as if someone was still living there. ‘Guess I could make a grilled cheese and some soup.’ Something low effort.
Putting a slice of butter and a slice of cheese on the bread, Wilbur waited. The sizzling sound made his mouth water. The memory of Philza’s cooking filled him with a sense of guilt. He didn’t live to the expectations he set for himself. He’d failed himself and those closest with all the relationships he had ruined. Flipping it onto a plate he found in the cabinets. Eating out of the soup can, not caring enough to bother heating it. The rare downside to scarfing it down was the pang of painful fullness. ‘Of all things, didn’t think that could hurt me.’ Remembering to turn off the stove.
Everything else taken care of, the grime on his skin and clothes was quite obvious. Jumping out at him to scrub it off. Turning on the sink’s facet for a brief second to check if there was still running water since last he’d been in the shack. Wilbur grabbed a towel and a change of clothes before walking to the bathroom. Shucking off the clothes he was buried with, hand twisting the knob until it was warm enough, not wanting to become cold again. Couldn’t bare it after all the energy that he didn’t have that it took to warm up.
Humming a little tune as he re-familiarized himself with all the items in a shower. The net material of a loofa and a soap bar. Watching as the water turned brown with all the dirt Wilbur was caked in. How everything felt alien to him despite these simple actions being instilled in his routine all those years ago. Drying off, Wilbur fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows.
#not x reader#wilbur soot#dsmp wilbur#mcyt wilbur#extreme timed challenge gift exchange#dsmpblr#mcytblr#revivedbur#bursonas#gift exchange
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Jschlatt- executed pt3
It's been like a year and a half since I wrote this story but got damn am I bringing it back because it has so much potential plus I just wanna write an actual story again plus I wanna see the difference in my writing because damn I re read it and it's pretty terrible
Recap: schlatt your husband murdered you in a drunken rage and has a heart attack but you both meet in your Ghost forms leaving you following ranboo in his ender walking state
I wote the first halves almost two years ago so lore has pretty much evolved and we know what happens so I don't think this follows much of the actual lore anymore
Warnings: angst, uhhh yea dissociation and derealization PTSD symptoms almost....
After meeting glatt you felt weird. Weird as in you felt more disconnected to the server? To your self? Your ghost hands would go numb, your eyes would go blurry and vivid colourful memories of your past life would play into your imagination. The feeling of a netherite sword through your heart is very difficult to forget even in ghost form. You confided your struggles to your favourite ghost pal Wilbur onky to find out that he feels the same way.
You- and it's like I feel human again and I'm in the moment again and again but I never know who's stabbing me it's as if I'm dreaming and not supposed to know
Ghostbur- i feel the same n/n I wake up and boom my ears are ringing hands are burning and someone's standing above me stabbing a blade through me
You- bur life doesn't feel the same anymore and I'm not sure why.
Both of you were feeling pretty down in the dumps, sitting on a few blocks of grass in the middle of a wheat field not to far from the community House. like always ghostbur had friend in a leash as the blue sheep was munching away at some blades of grass. Both you and ghostbur recently have been grumpy and even lashing out at people on the server. Just the other day you yelled at ponk for almost hitting you with an arrow when usually you would just laugh and ghostbur for example would be when he pushed Phil of a podeom because he was taking too long to water bucket almost killing him. Ghost life felt different for the both of you right now but what you didn't know is that outside forces were causing you both to feel like this.
In his dreamwalking state, ranboo had been secretly breaking into the prison telling dream all the drama and tea of the server including the ghost drama of you, ghostbur, glatt meeting on occasions. He absolutely fucking hates schlatt more than Tommy, he was the only person he could not manipulate even shit faced schlatt was like a tank you on the other hand was pretty easy to manipulate but he never got the chance. You were always attached to your husband at the hip even up to your death and it seems to dream that even in death you and schlatt gravitate towards eachother. So he decided to have some fun with the help of ender walking ranboo to constantly pull the three ghosts together forcing you guys to hang out so dream could use his revivebook. That's how it worked, get you all together do the spell and over a period of time you all should wake up where you died.
You were walking to hang out with Hannah and puffy to go on a jungle trip when suddenly the server started spinning. Your eyes got super blurry, hands numb oh no your remembering but this time it felt more intense your head pounded as the scene of you being stabbed played out in your mind.
* a stabbing sharp pain was felt just above your heart, you looked down to see a black blade plunged deep into your chest, blood seaping out of you wound. You grabbed the wrist of your murder and weakly pulled the sword out.*
In your memory you finally looked up at the asailent to be met with black horns and browns eyes. It was Schlatt? Why why would he do that? You thought than everything went black.
Ghostbur
He was sitting inside Phil's chest room looking for some more blue when he felt pins and needles all up his arms and lound painful banging in his head oh no he's remembering
* a grey button in a small dark damp room was pressed. Loud tnt exploding could be heard than a loud ringing in his ears. Phil? That's when Phil jumped down anger in his eyes " kill me Phill kill me" that's when a black blade plunged its way into his heart blood seaping down his clothes Tommy screaming could be heard than darkness.
Glatt
He sat in his home made gym he bullied quackity into making. Practicing his squats like he always did when his leg felt like jelly and gave way. He feel to the ground with blurry eyes and no feeling in his body oh not this again he's remembering.
* he drunkenly stumbled down the prime path no idea what his intentions was or where he was going. Yelling something at quackity along the lines of "flatty patty" or calling him a "dumb broad" when pain shot up his left arm, clutching his chest with one hand and a bottle of jack in his other his legs gave way and helfeel to the ground the last thing he saw was quackity looking over at him wearing your diamond boots than everything went dark*
You woke up in a plot of land. An empty plot of land with some uneavn parts of dirt almost as if a building was blown up by tnt. " What the fuck what is this place how did I get here?" You placed your hands on the ground to get up when you looked down and... Omg skin? You pulled your skin at the back of your hand and low and behold it was skin. You were human again. You rubbed your hands all over your body because you could actually feel it before your hands would just go through. You eventually got up really slowly still super confused how did you become human? Where were you? How to get back! You had been to many many places on the server but you didn't nit recognise the land you were looking out into.
Turning around to see what direction you would walk to get back to the main hub your froze. Hold up, you recognised that tree because it grew in a perfect square. And the recognised that flower patch because you had planted it and you recognised the area except the house you lived and loved and was murdered in had gone. Must have blown it up when schlatt died. That basterd. You thought about killing him again than you thought about ghostbur. Was what you both had been feeling a sign that your were shifting into your human form? Does that mean Wilbur was human aswell? You pulled out your campus (kinda like cords) and sprinted in the general direction of the main smp. The while way you couldn't stop the hatred you felt for schlatt for killing you like he had.
To get to the main smp you had to unfortunately run through lmanburg know covered in glass otherwise you would have to go round adding extra time onto your journey when a brown blob moved in the distance, you ran towards it hoping it was a player and it was.
You- bur? Is that you? Omg your human too
Bur- omg I'm what- I'm human haha I'm human omg this is I'm what?
You- this shit is wild, we felt this happening remember well I think that's what this is? I'm not sure how or why but I think we have another chance
Revivebur- well reviven/n I guess we better get heading to the SMp
You- let's go I wanna have a word with mister glatt the cunt has some explaining to do
Revivebur- oh so you know about what happened?
You- yea I finally saw who stabbed me I still don't know why he did but he brutally murdered me and acted like nothing happened when I became a ghost oh and did you find out who stabbed you? Was it glatt aswell?
Reviverb- oh uh it was Phill but I begged him to don't worry I understand now
You- well I don't so you explain it to me while we walk to the SMp
Ugh a nice ish ending? Villan arc shit. This was so much fun to write.
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Dead as Disco (Revivebur x Reader)
no proofreading, we die like men
people I’ve tagged: @poraphia, @witheredroseanon, @drop-of-void, @saccharinesunset
Synopsis: Some tough memories arise, so you help Wilbur out by sending Schlatt a final “fuck you”
—-
You had a long, complicated relationship with winter. First of all— it wasn’t summer! So you could rest easy in the wonderful absence of mosquitos and nasty, sweaty heat that prevented you from enjoying any potential scenery. On the other hand, it replaced your favorite season (Fall) and brought tidings of stuffy noses and dry skin.
And your boyfriend never liked the winter, either. Not after his revival. Too cold, too dark— and too quiet, save for when the wind would blow through the open landscape, sounding far too much like the whistle of an oncoming train.
You both avoided going outside during the winter, choosing to stay curled up on the couch in front of the fireplace— your head on his chest as he muttered about whatever was on his mind, rubbing circles into your scalp.
But it was unavoidable that you’d end up outside eventually. A good chunk of Wilbur’s family lived in the tundra region and you were bound to end up walking back home late at night, having decided not to inconvenience Phil and Techno any further.
(In truth, you just wanted to get home before the snowstorm that threatened to keep snowed in for the rest of the week—- and although the Syndicate members were lovely hosts, your anniversary was coming up and you wanted to at least spend it alone together).
“Shit weather.” Wilbur mumbled as you traversed the Prime Path. “Hasn’t even snowed yet.”
Wilbur kicks at the frosted ground for emphasis, adjusting his grip on your hand and pressing as close as he could without unbalancing you. You felt sufficiently warm in your sweater and jacket, save for the stinging sensation of the wind biting at your knuckles and nose, but Wilbur was still shivering.
“The frost isn’t that bad. At least it’s crunchy.” You hum.
“Eugh, there’s so many more terrains that make better crunching sounds than this.” He grumbled.
“..Such as?”
“Gravel, for one. Sand— when it’s spread sparsely enough. But technically beaches make crunching sounds too, it’s just— muffled. I guess.” He turned to you. “Why don’t we ever go to the beach?”
“Because last time we went, I couldn’t kiss you for a week without getting sand in my mouth.”
“That’s why you wouldn’t kiss me??” Wilbur exclaimed, looking scandalized. “Because you’d get a little sand in your mouth!”
“It’s disgusting!”
“It’s not!”
“Yes it is— it doesn’t leave your mouth, and then your going about your day and suddenly feel it crunchbetween your molars—“
“That’s the best part, the fuck are you talking about?”
“What—-“ you splutter, at a loss for words. “I can’t with you. I just can’t.”
“Ouch.” He pouted in mock offense. “You know darling, with how you treat me sometimes, one would think you…”
He trails off. You continue walking, staring at the frozen grass as you wait for him to continue. When he doesn’t, you look back up.
“Wilbur?”
Wilbur tears his eyes away from whatever he was looking at and glances back at you. “—Oh. Yeah. Nothing, we’re… lost my train of thought.”
You peer down into the darkness and spot an array of cobblestone and flags in the distance.
Oh. You had forgotten that it was visible from this route.
The banners on Schlatt’s grave, scrawled with graffiti from over the years, flapped silently in the wind.
It’s no wonder he had gone silent— especially with that incident the last time Tommy visited the Tundra.
“You ought to be careful around Quackity, Wilbur.” Philza and warned, sitting by the fire as Tommy raided his pantry for more honey bottles.
“Nah, he’s no threat.” Wilbur said, stretching his limbs. “He’s all bark, no bite. Sure, he acts all tough, but he’s just like his country. All style, no substance.”
You heard Tommy snort. “No bite? Dude literally ate Schlatt’s heart at his funeral.”
Wilbur choked. “He what?”
“Yeah, and I still have his lungs somewhere. Good times.” Tommy closed the pantry and began stuffing Phil’s belongings into his pockets.
“I sure hope you didn’t do that at my funeral.” Wilbur snorts. “…How was it, by the way?”
Tommy’s movements freeze, and you avert your eyes. “How was what, again? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. Anyway, the, um, honey—-“
“My funeral.” Wilbur repeated, smile faltering. “Was it— like— how was it?”
“We, um…” Tommy couldn’t look his brother in the eye. “It was a— wiggly time back then. There was so much going on, and—-“
“Oh.” Wilbur’s smile had completely disappeared.
“With—with— with rebuilding, and threats of further destruction—“
“Yeah.”
“We didn’t— we couldn’t—“
“Yeah. Okay.” Wilbur cleared his throat. “Okay. Alright! I get it.” He stood up, clapping his hands with a strained grin. “So! Phil, you said Technoblade was outside?”
“..Yeah.” Phil said. “He’s outside.”
Phil had barely the time to finish the sentence before Wilbur was gone, leaving a slamming door and a puff of frigid air in his wake.
Wilbur Soot, the silvertongued General, Founder, Brother, Father, Son, lover—- had never gotten a funeral.
Schlatt, on the other hand…
To everyone’s credit, Schlatt’s funeral had been more of a celebration, an opportunity for everyone he had wronged to spit, laugh, and dance on his grave.
Well. Almost everyone.
You glanced sideways at Wilbur, wondering if you should give it a shot.
“Hey.” You say and his head snaps to you. “Cmere.” You take his hand and gently pull him off the path, heading to the gravesite.
“Uh—“ Wilbur hesitates, clearly reluctant to approach the very object of his inner turmoil. “What are we doing?”
“Wait.” You scale the hill and pass by the worn benches, heading straight to where the marble tomb lay.
“Uh, [Name]?” He repeats, laughing a little incredulously. “I don’t really understand why we’re—-“
“Shush!” You march right up to the coffin— and with two definitive stomp, stomps— climb right on top. Swiveling on the spot, you turn and hold a hand out to a dumbfounded Wilbur. “Cmere.”
He lets you pull him up, awkwardly finding his footing on the rectangular lid. “Uh, alright. Why— woah!”
You tug him closer, guiding his hands to your waist and wrapping yours around the back of his neck.
Wilbur stares, and you stare back.
Your confidence begins to falter— crap, this was a dumb idea. “Um. I just— thought we could dance? Yknow.. here?”
“Dance.” He echoed, a light beginning to dawn in his eyes. A smile spreads across his face— a lovestruck, wobbly smile— and he steps closer, pulling you to his chest as he buries his face in your neck, suppressing a laugh. “..Alright.” He murmurs against your skin, grinning like an idiot.
“I know there’s no music, but—“
“It’s okay.” He says quietly, holding you close as you both sway to an inaudible tune.
You let yourself melt into it, reaching a hand up to idly pet the back of his neck, playing with his hair.
It’s less of a dance and more of a prolonged embrace since there isn’t much room for foot movement, but neither of you mind.
You tilt your head to press a kiss to the stretch of jaw just below his ear, feeling his lips twitch into another smile against the crook of your neck.
“I don’t deserve you.” He murmurs, so quiet it barely disturbs the silence around you.
“You deserve the world.” You say.
Wilbur lets out a puff of laughter, shaking his head against your shoulder and wrapping his arms around you tighter. “Mkay.”
“I’m serious.”
“I know. I’ll never understand, but I know.” He sighs, turning his head to rest his chin against your shoulder, staring out into the open fields behind you.
“You’re not a bad person.” You move a hand to scratch at his scalp and he hums contentedly. “You may not have been a good one. ..Although, admittedly, this server hasn’t been the most.. conducive to good morals. You’re a person though, a human being, and all this—-“ you squeeze him tighter, kissing his jaw, “—-you deserve.”
He’s silent for a while. You let him think, rubbing circles into his back and pretend you don’t hear the quiet sniffles he tries to choke down.
When Wilbur speaks again, his voice is steady, if not a little hoarse. “Do you, uh.. think I could be one?”
“A what? A good person, you mean?” You furrow your brow.
“Yeah. That.”
Wilbur has always had different views of humanity than you do. He presented the world like a stage, bustling with heroes and villains, characters predestined by fate. Life was a story, and they were in center stage, the protagonists of it all, following a script until met with triumph or tragedy. It’s with these grand, romanticized views of reality that Wilbur had managed to win over so many people. Everyone loves a good story, after all.
As a rigidly scientific mind, you never shared those sentiments. Humans were merely developed animals, that’s all. Each struggle would be lost and rendered meaningless to the sands of time, and so would the morals on which they stood.
“I think you could.” The night is getting colder and your feet are freezing, but neither of you are willing to leave this pocket of warmth you’ve created, heads tucked into necks and hands running through hair.
“But you don’t believe good and bad people, do you? You never did.” Wilbur said quietly.
“Maybe not. But I still think you could fit your definition of ‘good person’. You are kind. That’s a start.” You continue rubbing circles into his scalp, carefully twisting and combing the curls with your fingers.
Wilbur doesn’t respond. He only lifts his head, trailing his lips in a pathway from your shoulder to your jaw, up your cheek to rest against your forehead. He stays like that, eyes closed for one, two, three heartbeats before he pulls away to look you in the eye.
Wilbur’s ears, nose, and eyes are tinged red, the first two from the cold and the last from silently crying into your shoulder.
Both your hands and his cheek are frigid, but when you brush your thumb under his eye he leans into the touch anyway, not looking away from you for even a moment.
He only closes his eyes when you lean forward, pressing your lips to his.
It’s the collapsing of a star, pulled magnetically inwards, striving to be as close as physically possible. He’s cradling your face like it’s made of sugarglass and you treat him with equal gentleness, running a hand through his hair, mindlessly stepping backwards as he crowds your space, adjusting to get closer, closer because it’s still cold—-
You take one last step and suddenly there’s no more marble under your heel, and you pitch backwards, toppling off the tomb with a yelp. Wilbur follows suit, sprawling out on the grass next to you with grunt.
Within seconds, you’re both wheezing with laughter, pulling each other closer and leaning back to rest
After catching his breath, Wilbur speaks. “We should do this more often.”
You don’t miss the tinge of sadness in his voice, and suddenly become very aware about how distant this relationship has gotten. It’s not neglected, by any means, but you can’t remember the last time you did something like this.
(Actually, you can. The last time you danced like this was November 15th, 2020).
But you opt for a more lighthearted tone. “What? Dance on this grave more often?”
“No, no— I mean yes, I’d love to make this our designated date spot— yknow?” He looks over at you with a sly grin.
“Mm-hm. Maybe bring some music next time.” You smile back.
“And a few blankets. Maybe some wine.” Wilbur leans a bit closer.
“Picnic?” You whisper.
“Definitely.” He closes his eyes and rests his forehead against yours. “But.. also in general. We could… have more dates, in general. It’s been a while.”
“Yeah. It has.” You murmur, closing your eyes as well. “…So, next Friday?”
You feel him laugh softly. “Yeah! Yeah, next Friday sounds great.”
Unable to help yourself, you cup his cheek and pull him into a kiss. It’s a lot softer than the last kiss, lips lingering together as you both pull apart to breathe.
“…I hope Schlatt’s fuming in hell right now.” Wilbur says quietly, eyes still closed and lips still close.
“I bet he is.”
#dsmp wilbur#revived wilbur#c wilbur#c: wlbr#revivebur#wilbur soot x reader#dsmp x reader#revivedbur x reader#c!wilbur#wilbur soot angst#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot x y/n#eilbir slot x redetvr#sweaty “writes”#i abuse the em-dash two: electric boogaloo
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Hi! Can I request headcanons for a few different Wilbur versions (do whichever ones you’d like, please include Ghostbur tho) with a reader who likes to steal their sweaters/uniforms? Thank you!
A/N: We love some cute Fluff pieces 😁. I'm gonna do scenarios with HC bits under them instead of the usual HC format bc its just easier and more fun
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Ghostbur
"Y/N Darling have you seen my-" Ghostbur spots you on one of the counters of his brewery snuggled up with your knees to your chest and covered by a way oversized yellow sweater that obviously belongs to him.
"Oh hey Love." You wave at him with a sleeve covered palm. Your hand is no where to be seen under the yellow fabric and on top your knees, again completely covered by the sweater, is a book. A book stained with blue on the cover and scribble handwriting for the title.
"What're you doing down here?" Ghostbur smiled and stepped over a puddle to your side.
"Reading your potions recipes." You responded and tucked your chin under the sunshine colored wool.
"Are you cold?" He asked with a smile and you nodded. Ghostbur tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and moved an empty brewing stand so he could sit beside you and read out what words you couldn't read due to a smudge of blue dye or slip of his handwriting.
~~
"Y/N?" Ghostbur poked his head into your room after you responded he could come in.
"Just back here Ghostbur." You called out and he followed your voice. You were sorting something and as he approached he recognized SEVERAL of his own clothes. Sweaters of differing shades of yellow and cool tans alone with a few sky blue ones he hardly wore.
"Is this where they've all gone?!" Ghostbur exclaimed with a bright smile. He slipped his arms around your waist from behind and hovered up to put his chin on your head.
"What? Your sweaters?" You smiled mischievously. "Yeah, I get cold at night so I stole a few and then a few turned into a few more."
"You could've come found me." Ghostbur pouted a little and you turned around and pulled him down to your level, giving him a kiss to the cheek.
"I know but you wander sometimes and come back smelling like the sewer. These sweaters always smell like you." You protested.
"Well if you're going to keep stealing them I'm gonna have tio ask you to let me see how you look in them." Ghostbur begged and tickled you until you gave in and gave him a front row seat to your own fashion show.
All the same pants but several upon several oversized sweaters with blue stains down the middle and flowers seemingly sprouting from some.
<>
Ghostbur loves it when you wear his clothes in other words. He likes how you look so swallowed by them and how warm you seem. How happy.
He tries to stop wandering and smelling like the sewer when he comes back so that you snuggle him instead of stealing his clothes.
Don't get him wrong, he loves seeing you just walking around in one of his sweaters but the guy has to wear something.
Deep down I think he feels like you going in public in his sweaters is kind of like a mark of him. Like everyone knows your his now. Deep down I think Ghostbur likes that aspect as a reminder that he still is a fragment of Alivebur.
Speaking of....
Alivebur (Pogtopia Era)
Wilbur hung his head where he stood in front the Nether portal and sighed heavily. It was pointless to try and win L'manberg back. They were tied and doubts were creeping in. Poor Tommy. Wilbur thought of Tommy now and how crushed he would be if they lost their nation to Dream and Schlatt.
"Would that really be so bad?" Wilbur thought and surprised himself. L'manberg was his melody. His symphonic masterpiece.
"Wil? You alright in there?" Your voice snapped him back to the living world and he turned around to see you. His sweet Melody. You were his anchor. If not fight for Tommy or L'manberg then you.
"Woah Darling what're you wearing?" Wilbur chuckled as he spotted your attire. A black and orange jacket that engulfed your arms and bore the logo of what looked like a gas station pump.
"I found this in a chest and thought it looked warm. The draft was getting to me." You explained and held our your arms to reveal the sleeves much too long. "But I think it's a little big."
"Well obviously. Could you not tell it was mine?" Wilbur lifted the hanging sleeve and found your hand under the fabric. He made quick work to shoving his hand down the sleeve and intertwining it with your fingers. A chill ran across his own and he realized just how cold you were.
"Really? It is?" Wilbur examined the old thing and felt nostalgic of L'manberg and his first moments in this new place so far from his desert homeland. Of course he hadn't told you about Utah yet and didn't plan on it either.
"Yeah. Its got my initials on the tag and everything." Wilbur pointed our and pulled you close to him. "Though you can keep it. Old thing needs a new home anyway." Wilbur smiled and kissed you softly. Your free hand came and cupped his cheek with the sleeve limp against his face as well.
This made him smile. His beautiful Song engulfed in his jacket. A perfect picture untouched by the madness that crept in his heart.
~~
"Darling why are you wearing that?" Wilbur asked with a sharp edge taking his voice to a lower level. You stood before him wearing his trench coat and a beanie the color of fresh blood over your ears and framing your face rather beautifully. Wilbur couldn't deny even now in his foul mood that you looked pretty.
"It's cold and my coat practically falls off my shoulders. Techno's potatoes aren't exactly the most filling thing." You responded and curled beside him under the oak tree he sat against.
It was raining and Wilbur was brooding. The ravine echoed horribly like a train was rumbling above them when it rained and it often conflicted with the rebellion leader's thoughts. (How ironic for the state of his future.)
"I'm sorry." Wilbur muttered and kissed your head absently.
"Do you mind me wearing your clothes?" You asked him shakily and Wilbur realized how pissed he must've sounded.
"Oh no! Not at all. As long as you're comfortable my love." Wilbur thought of his plan. His promise to Tommy if they lost and what would happen to him, to you both, after it was done. "I was just irritated at myself, I'm sorry for my tone."
"I know this is stressful Wil. Don't worry, we'll get L'manberg back." You said and rested your head against his shoulder.
"Promise me Darling that whatever happens to me you'll stay this optimistic." Wilbur laughed and you smiled faintly, sleep already taking you from his words.
<>
Pog!Alivebur really doesn't mind. As long as you're safe and warm he doesn't care and actually encourages it. I don't have a lot else to say really.
He knows what's going to happen soon and just wants your last moments with him to be happy ones. Even if he is a brooding emo villain boy at the time.
Alivebur (L'manberg Era)
Wilbur crept through your cottage carefully. The night chirped with his footsteps as he avoided the creaky planks from the poor architecture. Once L'manberg was finally at peace he'd build you a real house with a cellar to keep all your fancy wines, or whatever you collected, and a shed out back for storage, and a porch that you could watch the sunset on next to him. For now though he had to focus on not waking you.
Wilbur poked his head into your room slowly and nearly tripped over himself as he stood up straight in the doorway. You didn't have any blankets and only one pillow that was bent to rest under your head and be held by your soft hands close to your chest.
For warmth you were snuggled under what appeared in the moonlit room as his uniform coat. The startling blue fabric encompassed you completely and Wilbur couldn't help but stare.
"Wil?" You muttered and only then did Wilbur realize he had walked over and was caressing your cheek gently as if it were porcelain.
~~
"Y/N? Is that you?" Wilbur rubbed at his eyes and shuffled over the grass to your side. It was late and you couldn't sleep.
Ever since the war had been declared you hadn't felt safe going home so you were living in the van with your general boyfriend and his forever cooking potions.
"Did I wake you?" You clutched the coat that swallowed your body closely against the bitter night wind.
"No of course not. I just got colder than usual. " Wilbur kissed your temple and put his head on your shoulder. "Are you wearing my coat?" He asked.
"Oh yeah, I thought it would be chilly out here so I grabbed it. Do you want it back?" You begin to shrug off the blue fabric but a hand stops you abruptly.
"No No, you keep it. It's about time Dream sees who's side you're on." Wilbur smiles.
"Only yours Wilbur."
"That's just what I wanted to hear Darling."
<>
He melts honestly. Ugh and when you take it off and it smells like you? Instant joy.
Wilbur is a man of passion and to see one of the things he's passionate about sporting one of his jackets or sweaters or whatever it just destroys him.
You've tried wearing his glasses a few times but that doesn't always work out bc he ends up not being able to see you all that well.
Simpbur
Wilbur didn't pay attention to his clothes a lot so you thought it'd be fine if you took one of his spare sweaters. Just one from the stash he kept at your apartment. Nothing serious and it wasn't like you were going to steal it forever, you were just cold and lonely now.
"Y/n, why are you wearing that?" A growl responded to the jump of your body to the sound of a creaking door.
Turns out his lack of attention to such objects does not decline their attachment value.
"I got cold. Sorry, you weren't home and I needed to work in the garden so a sweater seemed more practical than a blanket-"
"Why are you still talking? Of course it's fine, but if you're going to wear my clothes go out in them." Wilbur was clingy when he was home and was practically rubbing on you like a cat. "Show the world that you're mine." He uttered in your ear and a chill ran along your arms.
"Are you still cold? Why don't we go to bed early, or take a hot shower. It's been a long day darling, lets just spend the night together. You can wear my jumper and boxers if you'd like." Wilbur nuzzled your neck and you chuckled.
Wilbur was sweet like that. You'd do something you'd never done before and he'd basically get right on board with it like now.
"Wil you're gonna smother me!"
<>
Simpbur is very encouraging about this kind of stuff. He adores you in his clothes and just wants to show the world that you're his for sure in such a way.
Might seem a little angry at first but really he's just kicking himself for not thinking of such a scenario in his head already, like damn. He's a creative musician madly in love and he didn't think of the most cliche couple thing ever? Ugh.
Revivebur
Revivebur wasnt exactly the most attentive partner after his second chance and for a while he wasn't around at all and you didn't so much as see a glimpse of his shadow around the SMP. Then one day when you're curled up in an old sweater you found laying around he barges back into your life like he hadn't just ignored you for half a year.
"Darling darling I am so so sorry I've been away, I've had to see everything since my revival and I just-" He stops dead in his theatrics and pauses on the moth bitten item of clothing you wear.
"What is that?" He asks. You look down at the fabric, analyzing the deep blue stain running down the middle and droplets of the same color right along the collar.
"An old sweater of yours. From when you were first here." You mutter and pull the sleeves over your hands in melancholy contentment.
"Take it off." Wilbur's voice demanded.
"Excuse me? You hardly have any authority to tell me what to do right now and much less to tell me, no to demand, that I remove a SINGLE article of clothing when you've hardly as much as looked my way since you earned your 'new lease on life!'" You were in Wilbur's face before you knew it and an incredulous look was on his own. A response quick on his tongue as he hissed.
"Darling, I know I've done you wrong but if you're going to wear my clothes its not going to be remnants of a weak and pitiful man that has been dead for nearly fifteen years." Wilbur was quiet in his words and his hands made quick work of keeping you close to his chest, his lips a ghost over the shell of your ear.
"There'll be plenty of time for the 'removing of clothing' as you put it, after we talk like civilized people."
"I loved that 'weak and pitiful man' and the ghost that replaced him. You are hardly a shell of what they were." You shit back. You thought Wilbur would be the same when you got the news of his new life. You should've read the clues of the ones who told you. The grave faces and sunken eyes, the grief and fear that laced their words like drugs in candy at a college party.
"You take that back." Wilbur growled and you pulled away from his tight grip.
"I'm going to talk to you Wilbur but I will not apologize until you prove yourself worthy of the same love I gave to Alivebur and Ghostbur." You stated and clung to the stained sweater. It didn't matter if the stain was the blood of the man before you or the one that died November 16th, this was Wilbur's sweater and it was all you had right now.
<>
This was the only scenario I could really think of for Revivbur bc I've only been able to imagine him as very possessive and dismissed of his past selves, so yeah. Very aggressive and kind of *ahem* needy when he finally says hello to you.
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I know I know its not exactly "Stealing Clothing HC's" or whatever but I thought it was cute and fit the request. If you would like me to do it again but in a different way you're welcome to request that. I'm also not opposed to doing a specific HC bit for just one of the Bursonas if that is what some of you would enjoy as well.
Anyway, hope you all liked it. I know I said it would've been out yesterday but an emergency came up considering my Thanksgiving celebration and had to be addressed by moi.
Happy Thanksgiving everyone and see you all very soon 💛💙
#ghostbur x reader#revivedbur x reader#simpbur x reader#alivebur#c!wilbur soot x reader#c!wilbur#c!wilbur soot#dreamsmp#dream smp#dsmp#dsmp c!wilbur#wilbur soot#ghostbur#requests open#requested
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Revbur or simpbur with a very physically affectionate reader? like, cuddles, hugs, and kisses all the time. mainly nose, cheek, or forehead kisses if they aren't dating. No pressure to do this.
I am a very touch starved and affectionate person so this is perfect
The first time you do it to Wilbur he is just-
Imagine the O_O face
He loves it, but babes I think you just short circuted his brain
After 13 years in limbo he is completely and utterly touch starved
So when his darling suddenly kisses him on the temple out of the blue he absolutely melts
Asks you to do it again
And again
And again
Now it's just routine for you to give him all your love and affection in return for his own
#dsmp#(y/n)#dsmp x reader#anon asks#wilbur#wilbur x reader#revivedbur x reader#revivebur x reader#revivedbur#revivebur
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you changed, it's good
A/N; soooo ive kinda been in a writing slump so take this fic thats been building dust in my docs- also tysm for 300!! hopefully ill come up w smth for it lol- I have no clue how to process that information omf
summary; months after wilbur's revival and his reunion with you and the daughter you share (that he didn't know about), you let out pent emotions and have a heartfelt talk with wilbur
tw// swearing, not lore accurate, im a wilbur apologist shush, children, suicidal mentions maybe? lmk if i missed anything
words; 1.8k
pairings; c!wilbur x gn!reader (they're parents), revivedbur x gn!reader
pronouns; none!
masterlist
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The time since Wilbur’s death and revival may not have been that long, but for you, it felt like ages--you had a child now, his, yes but you’ve begun another life. A life with a little girl, a life without him. But now, he was here and he was trying. You appreciated it but god did you fear it too. The memories taunted you, the hurt and the aching that still lingered, haunted you. He haunted you.
Your head is rested upon Wilbur's chest, and the thumping of his heart echoes in your mind. His left arm wraps around your shoulder and your own arms around his middle. Your daughter, Willow lays against his other side, curled into a ball, and his other arm held tightly around her in comforting warmth. This moment is what you imagined life to be all those years, before everything…happened.
You seemed to always subconsciously wish for moments like these, at least, in the past few years. One’s where Willa has a parent other than yourself, someone else to hold her, and someone to hold you too. Domestic bliss, calm and serene. No wars or bombs, no screaming, and yelling. Simply the sound of your partner's heart and the sight of him holding your child. It's a reassurance of sorts, a silent "everything will be okay, even if it wasn't before".
Things used to be so not okay that having this calmness is nice. Having his arms around you again is lovely, being able to kiss him and hold him, to watch him help raise your daughter, to play with her and hold her. Tickle her and carry her on his shoulders, hold her hand with his, and walk with her on the prime path. To teach her how to ride a horse, after bringing one home for her, and helping her name him.
"Wilbur?" You whisper to him, moving your head back, your gaze locked upwards on him. He looks down at you, a soft smile written on his features, and he tilts his head to the side.
"Yes, my love?" he leans down, leaving a soft kiss to your lips and you smile through it, the warmth in your stomach swelling the same way it did when you both were younger. You take a moment to admire him, the way his curls fall in his face, how his glasses are always crooked and now are no different, and how the small freckles he adorns sprinkle his cheeks. Everything about him is beautiful, and so it brings you back to what you wanted to say. What you need to say, what is right to say.
"What happened? After lmanburg? You were so…" Your mind goes blank for a word to properly describe it, without hurting him. Cruel, evil, manipulative, the list goes on. It's odd to you, how someone could become so horrible and then return to a better version of their old self in a matter of years. "Horrible, then. To everyone, to yourself."
His face falls, and so does your heart, falling to the deep pits of your stomach. You can feel the life drain from your face and it hurts. You feel an immense dread, and wonder if you hadn’t mentioned it, how you would feel. It's a difficult subject for him but at this point, you think it had to be brought up. How can one accept this happy domestic life without knowing the full truth?
"I got lost, I think. Lost in the greed I suppose." He pauses, dips his head down to press his forehead against yours. His eyes close and he takes a breath, his arm letting go of Willa and placing his hand on your cheek, fingers gently brushing the skin and his eyes hold a warm sadness to them, "I wanted the joy still, the happiness for our future. But it got pushed back. I was blinded. There's a lot I don't remember. I mean I remember pieces here and there. Bribes from dream, desperate attempts to make things work for everyone and everything."
"And then what? You realized hurting us was better?" You’re hostile now, something switching or rather, breaking in your heart. You know you shouldn't react this way, get defensive--but a piece of you is still painfully angry and hateful, filled to the brim with spite and it’s accidentally let through the cracks. You back up a moment, his touch leaving you, hand falling to his side, head still dipped down.
"I realized I couldn't make it perfect for everyone, there were sacrifices I had to make." He takes another deep breath, wraps his arms around Willow again, she doesn't move. "And I made the wrong ones, I know that. I see that." Wil looks down at the lump that his daughter forms, a little ball of a girl. She moves to grab onto his arm in her sleep and she hums, a soft smile adorns his lips.
You feel you should be satisfied with his answers, and half of you is, but you still wonder; "Why? Why did you do it?"
His gaze lets its grip off of Willow, walks up and he looks to you, pupils big and somber, bloodshot and wet. "To not hurt anyone anymore. It was for the best."
You want to scream at him now, tell him how much of an idiot he is. Screams that are bloodcurdling, one’s that most definitely would wake up Willa and anyone surrounding the area. That no, killing yourself in fact does not stop the hurt, it only fuels it, like a spark to dead grass. He made Phil kill him, he made you watch as he destroyed his livelihood, your shared livelihood, watch as he's stabbed to death by his own goddamn father. It was never ending with him, it was always something new, something bigger, more painful than before. You want to storm away, back off, and not let him near you for a split second, it's all an overreaction, you tell yourself but you simply can't help it.
You stare at him for a moment, your expression blank and emotionless. Willow turns onto her back, eyes open slightly and her arms reach up to Wil. "Hey, daddy." She mumbles out, a smile of her own sculpted onto her features. Wil smiles back.
"Hello, my love. Are you ready for bed?" He asks, lifting her up by her sides and gently sitting her on his lap. She nods sluggishly, and she rests herself against him, chest to chest, head on shoulder, and tiny arms wrapped around his neck. "Let's get you into bed then, sweetie."
You just watch, your eyes follow him as he walks out of the living room, into the kitchen, and down the stairs. You sit there, alone now. Thoughts cycle through your mind. All the things you had wished for, every thought that graced your consciousness, every question unanswered for years. You missed him, you really truly did. But you aren’t sure who you missed more, and is the one you missed, the one you lie with at night? The one that wraps his arms around you in the morning, leaves a sloppy kiss on your cheek, and brushes the hair out of your face. The man that waits there, holding you, until Willow comes rushing in the room to ‘wake’ you both up. The same man that shushes you lovingly and says "Pretend you're asleep, love," the moment he hears her bedroom door open, so she can have the satisfaction of waking you both.
You now rest your head on the back of the couch, your gaze focused on the window on the opposite side of the room. Snow gently falls past it, frost taken over the glass. The fire crackles and warms you like a hug.
What feels like moments later, even warmer arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to the body they're attached to. "Wil?" You call out, your voice coming out gravelly, and you realize you must've fallen asleep.
"Hey.." It comes out weak, the word feels broken and sounds broken. "I'm sorry, for all the shitty things I've done. I know my reasoning isn't nor has it ever been valid. But I'm here now and I'm not going anywhere, and I don't have any plans of mass terrorism." His voice becomes clearer, breaks up less and he dips his head down again, pressing his cheek against yours. You nearly open your eyes, but keep them closed, and revel in the feeling of him more.
"I know." You pause, and let your own arms wrap around him, but instead of his middle like he has you held--you wrap your arms around his neck, your hands weaving into his mop of curls. "I think part of me still hurts, it's stupid I guess." You rest your head on his shoulder, and he pulls you closer, your legs now wrapped around him too.
"It's not, I hurt you. I take accountability for that and I hate that I even did it in the first place." His voice cracks again, and you know he means it. You pull back, your hands pressed against his cheeks and he looks up at you.
You hesitate, mulling over the words falling off his lips, his expression knotted in anxiety. Your thumbs run over his pink-tinted cheeks and you kiss his forehead.
"If you were that same person, you wouldn't say that." You take a breath, "I think you've changed. In a good way."
He sighs, wrapping his arms tighter around you. "I hope I have."
“I know you have,” You pause, grasping his face in your hands and getting him to pull back simply so he can gaze at you.
“How?” His voice is merely a croaked-out mumble but it’s enough that you hear it loud and clear.
“Would you be here, in my arms, after putting our daughter to bed if you hadn't changed?" You paused, eyes gazing deeply into his and searching for any doubt to crush with your words, "Would you even search for us if you were that same man? For good, not to hurt us."
He shakes his head, "I changed, didn't I?"
"In the best way possible." A soft kiss placed on his lips, one of love and devotion. A simple peck speaking every word and emotion you've ever felt--but only the good.
He smiles against the kiss, grasping at your sides and pulling you closer and closer to him. You were already so close, practically one, but he felt the need to pull you so much closer that not only were your bodies one, but so were your souls.
He pulls away from the kiss, hands resting on your face, "I love you," he nuzzles his nose against yours and you giggle, twisting your fingers into the curls on the back of his head, "so much." The last bit is whispered, like a quiet promise. A promise of devotion and loyalty. Something you're glad to finally have.
There's nothing in the way of him being with you. With your daughter.
"I love you more," You smile to him softly, a kiss placed on his forehead, and you push stray curls out of his face as he nuzzles his head against your chest.
taglist; @ella-fella-bo-bella @lillylvjy @sleepyburs @lotusanonymouse @lcvejoy
#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#c!wibur#c!wilbur x reader#c!wilbur#c!wilbur soot#c!wilbur soot x gn!reader#wilbur soot x gn!reader#wilbur soot x y/n#dsmp x reader#dsmp wilbur#dsmp wilbur soot
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I posted 1,161 times in 2022
That's 1,161 more posts than 2021!
50 posts created (4%)
1,111 posts reblogged (96%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@ventique18
@mochinue
@chekhxvsgun
@sardonic-the-writer
@spaceistheplaceart
I tagged 120 of my posts in 2022
#hearteater says - 100 posts
#twisted wonderland - 13 posts
#twst - 13 posts
#tommyinnit - 6 posts
#mcyt - 4 posts
#fanart - 3 posts
#twst wonderland - 3 posts
#idia shroud - 3 posts
#origins smp - 3 posts
#revivedbur - 3 posts
Longest Tag: 44 characters
#card looks nice but i think im skipping haha
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
If you enjoy SPY X FAMILY, may I suggest reading Mission: Yozakura family?
It's about this two childhood friends, Taiyo and Mutsumi. Bc of Mutsumi's overprotective older brother, Kyoujiro wanting to kill Taiyo for getting close to Mutsumi, Taiyo and Mutsumi ended up getting married (Kyoujiro cannot murder his family, brother in law included)
It turns out that Mutsumi's entire family is the first ranked spies in the world. Her entire family has special powers except for her because she is the head of the family. But that also means she's the one that the entire family protects because she is the most valuable person in the family. Taiyo trains under their guidance to become a spy that can protect Mutsumi.
It's very wholesome and it's dark when it needs to. It has comedy and found family too. Please give it a shot!
17 notes - Posted November 27, 2022
#4
I know i said ill be off tumblr but this is an emergency
WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS ATROCIOUS LACK OF ISHIMIKO WORKS ON AO3
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO
31 notes - Posted May 8, 2022
#3
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CAN SOMEONE WRITE A ROLLO X READER X MALLEUS FIC IM BEGGING ILL DO ANYTHING IVE ONLY SEEN ONE AND IVE ALRD INHALED IT HELP
58 notes - Posted November 24, 2022
#2
Kindred Spirit (Rollo Flamme x Reader)
The Rollo propaganda worked on me. This fic is heavily inspired by @linawritestwst 's Rollo x Reader who is scared of magic, which you can find here:
TW: PTSD flashbacks, panic attacks (?), self deprecating, mentions of Chapter 6
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You look at the crowd of smiling faces, joyful chatter fills the air as festive music plays in the background.
But for some reason, you can’t bring yourself to get drunk on the happy occasion too. You feel abnormally tired, as if an imaginary weight has settled its home on your shoulders. Truthfully, you’ve been feeling fatigued for the past months, biting your tongue and forcing yourself to go through life because who else will make Grim attend his class?
Really, someone should award you an oscar. This mask of yours has been ingrained through memory, the false pretence of everything is fine.
Weirdly enough, said mask has been slowly cracking. The proof lies in your inability to enjoy the festival. To be fair, you did help in saving six individuals from their own overblot. Not a surprise, the alternative is death after all.
You didn’t ask for this.
You spend your nights crying in silence, grieving for your old life of familiarity. You were unjustly torn away from your routine, harshly shoving you into the arms of a stranger. Forced to adapt and survive, your mind pushes the events that occurred and focused on survival.
Once upon a time, you were intrigued by the concept of magic, but now you know better than to trust it. It’s volatile and it plays by its own rules, unpredictable and unstable. It is like walking on a tightrope with no safety net. Better to depend on your two hands, knowing what to expect and the worst-case scenarios that accompany it.
Standing at a distance, your friends (is it right to call them friends when they were the very ones that also hurt you?) laugh with the crowd, sparks shooting out of their pens. You really should wear a smile, it would be suspicious to see a frown on such an occasion.
The sea of stalls and people blended together, your stomach churning as the grape juice you drank felt more like overdue milk. Colours swirl in your sight as they blurred together, your brain foolishly wonders if someone is trying to split your skull open.
“Are you alright?”
Someone holds your hand, stabilising your swaying body. Their voice is rather familiar…
“Sorry, I was feeling rather nauseous,” you muttered, your free hand holding your heavy head. “Thank you, I think I am better now.”
A poorly crafted lie, you are definitely in no condition to act as carefree as your friends.
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71 notes - Posted November 26, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
A Love not Lost (L'Manberg! Wilbur x Reader) (NSFW)
Warnings: NSFW, used female anatomy, no pronouns, starving (not abusive), implied anxiety (not obvious and momentarily)
Genre: Fluff, Fluffy + Slightly dirty smut
Dedicated to @sardonic-the-writer hope youre feeling better and sorry for that message
REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED!!!
“Darling? Where are you, my starshine?” I hear someone’s voice ringing through the house. There’s only one person who calls me starshine.
.
“W.. Wilbur?” I croak. Shit, my throat hurts. I looked into the mirror and saw my dishevelled self. Fuck, this place is a fucking pigsty. I should really clean up, but I'm so tired… Just so damn tired.
.
The door burst open, revealing him in all of his glory. “Starshine?” he cried, glancing around the room before his eyes fell on me. “Dearest, I apologise for my late arrival.” He softly said.
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I can’t see clearly, it's too blurry, but I hugged him in an instant. “You’re… you’re safe,” I whispered hoarsely. “Welcome home, mon coeur.” My eyes burn, but I don’t care. He’s finally here. He’s here and he is safe.
.
“I’m home.” He holds me tight in his arms. It’s warm, like home. It’s been so cold in this house, no matter how many blankets I cover myself with, it’ll never compare to this warmth. “I’m sorry it took so long.” He murmured, kissing my hair.
.
“Don’t, don’t do that. You’ve-“ I was promptly cut off by him.
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“Shh, don’t talk. I’ll get you some water, your throat must be dying.” He shushed me, wiping my tears before getting up.
.
“Don’t… I don’t want you to leave,” I sniffed. “I don’t want this to be a dream.” I don’t want to be alone again. Not again please, please.
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“It’s no dream, starshine. I’m here now. Everything’s going to be alright.” Wilbur said, carrying me to the kitchen. Since when could he carry me? Was he always this strong?
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Oh. The war. The war between Greater Essempi and L’Manberg. How could I have forgotten?
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The very thing that separated him from me.
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“Here you go, mon amour,” Wilbur hands me a cup. “Drink slowly, okay?” Since when did he sit me down? I don’t recall sitting at the table. My hands reached out to his, slightly trembling. Whether from hunger or fatigue, I don’t know.
.
“Maybe that’s not a good idea to give you the cup when you’re this weak,” Wilbur moved the cup out of my reach. “Open your mouth, dear.”
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416 notes - Posted April 21, 2022
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