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mystic-writings · 1 year

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wherever i go (you bring me home)

PAIRING — wilbur soot x fem!reader

SUMMARY — you and wilbur get into your first major fight

WARNINGS — angst, hurt/comfort, arguments, wilbur’s a heat of the moment asshole

WORD COUNT — 2,078

SONG — sweet creature - harry styles

NOTES — writing this took forever lol sorry i've been gone for like 3 months <3

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“Wilbur, you can’t just keep ignoring this!” You’d been trying not to raise your voice for almost an hour now, but it just wasn’t working.

The man turned away from you and played with the hem of his button up. “I told you, I’ve got it under control.” He spoke at a low volume, keeping his eyes downcast. “I’ll deal with it. I don’t even know if I’m going back next year, okay?”

“Why not?” You asked, settling on the couch beside your boyfriend.

“Because, I don’t see a point in it anymore!” His voice raised with every word, until he turned to face you and began shouting. Quickly, he stood up and paced the room. “I don’t see a point in getting a business degree, or working an office job until I die. I don’t want to do that!”

He made a start for the door, and you stood, following him. “Wilbur, that’s okay! But you can’t keep skipping class, either! You can work out what you want to do and still go to school!”

“No, I can’t!” He turned, whipping around at lightning speed. You took a step back. “Because I don’t have that kind of money! I can’t afford to go through university twice. Not everyone has the privilege of using their parent’s money to pay for school, unlike you.”

Wilbur was seething by the time he finished. Your shoulders sagged and your eyes began to well with tears. As much as he was right, it was still painful. He scoffed at your lack of a response, pulling his shoes on and grabbing his jacket from the hook by the door and left you alone in the apartment, silence pressing in on you.

You managed to bring yourself to the couch, falling onto it with your head in your hands. You knew you shouldn’t have pressured him, but it was his final year of school, and enrollment was coming up soon. You just wanted him to make sure he had made his choice.

The room felt both too large and too small when you were in it by yourself. At some point, the guilt and regret dragged you down into a lying position, and it didn’t take long for your mind to lull itself to sleep wondering when Wilbur would come back. If he’d come back.

Anxiety stuck like a boulder on your chest, guilt and the unknown creeping in on you like the monsters you were scared of as a child. But this time, there was no one to hold you, to comfort you and tell you it was okay. That you had nothing to worry about. Because you did have something to worry about. And that was where Wilbur had gone. If he was okay. If he was still your boyfriend.

Eventually, the little tears your body was able to produce and the whirring of your constantly changing thoughts brought you to sleep, curled into yourself on the couch with tear-tracks marking your cheeks.

By the time you’d woken up that morning, Wilbur still hadn’t come home. The pit in your stomach expanded larger and deeper than you ever thought it could, consuming your entire being as you wondered what his absence was beginning to mean.

Was it just… over? No goodbyes, no real ending, just… the end?

It was all you could think about as you forced yourself to go about your normal routine, ignoring the twinge in your back from sleeping on the couch.

Going out in public felt so odd. None of these strangers knew the state of your relationship, of your mind. Then again, you weren’t sure if you did, either. Still, your routine continued, heading to class as though you weren’t a wreck.

Wilbur knew just how fucked he was as soon as he stormed out of the house. He knew he didn’t mean any of the bullshit he’d told you, but he was still fuming and couldn’t be at home. At least, not at home with you, at the moment.

The small, reasonable voice in the back of his head was telling him what an idiot he was being, that his anger would subside and he would regret everything he’d done and everything he was going to do, but he didn’t listen to it. Especially when it told him to march back inside and apologise to you.

Before he knew it, Wilbur had gotten on a bus that carried him to Canada Water station, and a thousand thoughts were cropping up all at once as he stood on the escalator, too fast for him to process, but all of them underlined with one, booming thought. What had he just done?

It was all he could think about as he boarded the train headed toward the London Bridge station, letting his feet take him wherever they needed to go. Right now, all he knew was 3 things: The stress of next year being his last year at uni was unbearable, he took said stress out on you even though he swore he’d never do anything like it from the moment he met you, and that he needed to apologise.

But how? By the time he realised it, Wilbur was almost an hour away from you, with no cell service, and only three stops away from King’s Cross. He could picture you now, distraught on the couch like he’d seen his mother so many times after she’d fought with his dad when he was a kid, and it killed him to know that he’d been the one to cause it. That he’d broken the promise he made to himself a very long time ago.

Even as all these thoughts came to a head in his mind, battling on which one he needed to process first, Wilbur managed to make it to King’s Cross St. Pancras station. And as he bought a ticket from the handler at King’s Cross station, and began the trek to his platform, where a train would eventually come and carry him back to his mother’s embrace, he was mindless. The ticket was cheap, but the train wouldn’t be coming in until later in the morning - all the other trains to Ipswich were full. It was after midnight, and Wilbur wondered if you fell asleep on the couch, or if you ended up wandering into bed at some point during his travels.

Wilbur ended up finding a bench to sit on at his platform, ticket in hand as he awaited his train.

Time seemed to stretch on forever by the time Wilbur’s train arrived at the platform. It was going to be almost completely empty; after all, the only people on the platform were stragglers. His mind felt empty, like he wasn’t fully there. It was like he was torn, half of him on the platform, the other half of him at home. Most of the people waiting for the train had shown up, but even then he felt entirely alone, arms wrapped around himself, clutching the sides of his sweater, desperately trying to think straight.

It felt like an eternity, his mind running loops, laughing as he tried to get it on a sane path of thought. But when it did, when he finally felt like he had some sense of clarity, the train was breezing past him, pulling into the station, awaiting his boarding. But as he stood from where he sat on the bench he’d been on for ages, he couldn’t bring his feet to move him toward the train. He had the ticket, and he was mere feet away - it was so easy. It should’ve been easy.

But all he could think about was you. Was the hurt he put in your chest with the words he spoke - however true they seemed to be at the time. All he could feel was regret weighing him down, guilt piercing his lungs and making it harder to breathe. Puncturing his heart and tearing it apart.

And with tears beginning to build up, Wilbur turned. And as he walked away from the platform, he dropped his ticket in the bin, and checked his watch. You were in class right now, if you even went, and would long be home by the time he got back. But it didn’t matter right now, what mattered to Wilbur was that he made things right.

He’d arrived back at your shared flat almost an hour and a half later with shaking hands, unsure of whether you were home or not. His phone died along the northern line, and his leg bounced with anxiety every time he was seated.

With a slow exhale, Wilbur reached for the door handle. It twisted mercifully in his grasp, and he knew in an instant: you were home. The door creaked, Wilbur cringed. He hadn’t been able to hear any signs of your location in the flat, but the unlocked door told him at least that you were inside. As he stepped inside, he felt almost like a stranger in his own home. It was deafeningly silent, and it felt as though there was no warmth flowing through. Like you’d simply disappeared, and he had, too.

Still, Wilbur persisted. He slipped off his shoes, shrugged off his jacket, and tiptoed to the bedroom. His confusion began growing with every step, as there was no sign of you, but when he pushed the bedroom door open, only to still find no signs of your presence, it nearly doubled. He made his way to the bed to plug in his phone, and startled himself when he turned around, finding you in the doorway.

“Where were you?”

“Y/n, I-”

“Where have you been, Will?” You asked. Your voice tried to sound stern, and your eyebrows remained furrowed, but the crack in your voice and the tears in your eyes told Wilbur everything you didn’t want him to know. “You didn’t come home. I was worried.”

“I’m sorry.” He breathed, and your heart cracked.

“No.” You shook your head. “You’re not the only one. I pushed you too far.”

He followed you as you turned, heading back into the living room. “It wasn’t just you, okay? I have some blame in the fight, too.” Wilbur sighed, watching as you stood by the coffee table, arms crossed, lip between your teeth. “Look, darling, I- I’m sorry. I’m so, so, sorry. I was an idiot. Hell, I am an idiot. But I’m your idiot, and I love you. I was so caught up in leaving that I ended up at King’s Cross somehow. I had a ticket in my hand, and I almost went back home - back to Suffolk - but I didn’t. I didn’t because I hurt you, and it wasn’t fair of me to hurt you the way I did and leave without a word. I’m sorry.” Wilbur’s head bowed, chest almost heaving from the pace with which the words tumbled from his lips.

“You love me?”

Wilbur’s head snapped back up, eyes locking with your soft ones. Had he said that? “I-” his mind ran for miles in the span of a second, processing what he previously said. But it didn’t matter. He did love you. “Yeah, I do. I love you, Y/n.”

“Then you’ll let me take some of the blame,” you said, voice soft as a small smile started stretching across your face. “I pushed too far, Will, and that wasn’t fair of me, either. And I’m sorry, too. I didn’t mean to. I just want what’s best for you, and that’s up to you to decide, not me. I just did it because I love you, too, and I want you to be sure in your decisions.”

Wilbur smiled back at you, not wanting to waste a second as he stepped forward, wrapping his arms around you and shoving his face in the crook of your neck - nose buried in your hair. Without missing a beat, you wrapped your arms around his torso, breathing him in. His warmth spread through you in an instant, and your heart stuttered with emotion. There was no need to worry.

Wilbur was home. You were his home.

Tangled up in your limbs, head resting on your chest, calmed by your heartbeat and the fingers in his hair, scratching ever-so-gently at his scalp, was his home. And home is where he spent the rest of the night, watching movies until he fell asleep, comforted by your presence.

hba taglist: @z0vamp @blancastans @vanillaarr @chillidaquack

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#the heartbreak anthology #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot angst #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

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asoftepiloguemylove · 1 year

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Joan Tierney Why Are You Haunted? / @/oceaii (tumblr) / Liv Ullmann Changing / The Elektra Complex / Rosario Castellanos Monologue of a Foreign Woman from "Meditation on the Threshold: A Bilingual Anthology of Poetry / unknown / @/violentcherries (tumblr) / @/nutnoce (tumblr) / Jean-Paul Sartre Nausea / unknown

i. Joan Tierney Why Are You Haunted? [ "This haunting is architectural. It is not about you. It is about where you are. There are bones in the foundation. This house is a graveyard. This house is a corpse. You are inside the corpse. That makes you the maggot." ]

ii. @/oceaii (tumblr) [ Black and white illustration of a deer. The deer looks forwards in the first panel and turns back to face the audience in the second panel. "Turn and face / the person you've become." ]

iii. Liv Ullmann Changing [ "I will never forget the loneliness I knew as a child. For a period in my life I hid behind a mask. Did not want to acknowledge any longing. / Now it is a part of me-something I can share. / Both the loneliness and the longing." ]

iv. The Elektra Complex [ "If you were to peel the skin of me apart as a fig's, you would finally understand. I am my mother's daughter. From poisoned seeds sprout poisoned fruits." ]

v. Rosario Castellanos Monologue of a Foreign Woman [ "I didn't want / to be the dead star / that uses borrowed light to survive." ]

vi. unknown [ Black and white illustration of two deer. They are both labeled with words. The deer in the background says "just be." The deer in the foreground replies "just being is the hardest part." ]

vii. @/violentcherries (tumblr) [ "the environment you are not thriving in is not yours forever / IT'S OKAY TO LEAVE / ... / IT'S OKAY to abandon the things you used to love" ]

viii. @/nutnoce (tumblr) [ Black and white illustration of a scorpion doing chores. It's tail just barely curls over the front of a clothes line. Various pairs of socks hang from the clothes line. It stands before a bucket with more clothes inside. "I come from the toughest, meanest place you can imagine. / I want to be gentle, I want to die gently, but / It seems that when life gets hard / I have to get harder to match." ]

ix. Jean-Paul Sartre Nausea [ "I am going to outlive myself. Eat, sleep, sleep, eat. Exist slowly, softly, like these trees, like a puddle of water, like the red bench in the streetcar." ]

x. unknown [ "1. Man is a MORAL animal. / 2. You can get human beings to do anything - IF you can convince them it is moral. / 3. You can convince human beings that anything is moral." ]

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honeyfolklore · 14 days

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And all at once, the postmortem second part is complete. 🖤🪶

Please repost, it helps me reach more people!

Sincerely, your grim pathologist. Xxx

Ps, you can thank @froggy713 for the How Did It End wallpaper request. X

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taylorsmidnights14 · 2 months

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To me it's the fact she deliberately sang her heart out, her fears, perceptions, anger and deceptions.

But what strikes me the most is that, despite everything, she's now left it all behind. She went through the stages of grief, accepted the story as it was, and now she's leaving everything behind.

It's done, it's not something she can change, and she's ok.

And so the healing begins.

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artyr0s3 · 5 days

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And I won’t confess that I waited, but I let the lamp burn.

Taylor Swift (Peter)

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anime-to-the-t · 2 months

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#Tsubomi #Heart Ablaze #Hitomi #yuri #yuri anthology #heartbreak #Miyauchi Yuuka #oneshot #Heart cap #my caps

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sevenheavxns · 12 hours

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this is such an underrated song, top 5 on the album

#the lyrics are so heartbreaking #taylor swift #ts ttpd #taylor swift ttpd #ttpd #the anthology #swifties #swiftblr #Spotify

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alliwanttodoiscollectpoetry · 12 days

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Watching My Friend Pretend Her Heart Is Not Breaking by

On Earth, just a teaspoon of neutron star

would weigh six billion tons. Six billion tons

equals the collective weight of every animal

on earth. Including the insects. Times three.

Six billion tons sounds impossible

until I consider how it is to swallow grief—

just a teaspoon and one might as well have consumed

a neutron star. How dense it is,

how it carries inside it the memory of collapse.

How difficult it is to move then.

How impossible to believe that anything

could lift that weight.

There are many reasons to treat each other

with great tenderness. One is the

sheer miracle that we are here together

on a planet surrounded by dying stars.

One is that we cannot see what

anyone else has swallowed.

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zombieskae · 4 months

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I would love to be in orbit once more,

reach the stars,

reach you.

Be a part of your system,

Be a star spinning around

Your gravitational pull.

—Anthology for Reflection in Poetry. Chapter "Black Holes". In Kobo.

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mystic-writings · 1 year

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right where you left me (no choice but to stay here forever)

PAIRING — wilbur soot x fem!reader

SUMMARY — wilbur sees you, his ex, at your favourite café three years after breaking up with you

WARNINGS — angst, hurt/no comfort, a little fluff

WORD COUNT — 2,281

SONG — right where you left me - taylor swift

NOTES — this was supposed to be a reggie peters fic from two years ago but uh. well now it’s this i guess

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It’s been ages since Wilbur’s been back to the Harbour Café - over two years, to be exact. He felt like he was an entirely different person compared to the last time he walked through the door, and he wasn’t sure if it was for the better or for the worse.

The last time he was here, he was with you. Just a boy, barely a man, with the woman he loved. There was nothing special to the outing - classes were cancelled due to a strike and you both slept in, spending an hour just laying together in bed before getting breakfast here. You had insisted on getting a cupcake despite it being mid-morning, and he couldn’t help but wonder if things would always be like this for him.

Now, he was walking in as a famous streamer, working on an album with his band. It was the entire reason he was in town, after all. Well, that and to visit George.

Near silence filled the cafe, aside from the chatter of the few patrons and employees that mixed with the music and machinery operating behind the counter. It felt odd to be back, like Wilbur didn’t know where to stand, put his hands, or what to do with himself. His eyes wandered for a place to sit, and in the back corner, he spotted someone he didn’t think he’d ever see again.

You were sitting in a booth at the back wall, tucked closely into the corner of the cafe, near the pastry case. The sun shone in through the windows, highlighting you as you turned the page of a book - one that Wilbur recognised instantly. It was your favourite. In fact, it was the special edition he bought for you for your birthday; the last one you spent with him. The only thing on the table in front of you was a mug.

Like there was some invisible string pulling him along, Wilbur moved past the counter entirely, and quietly slid into the seat across from you. It was an idiotic thing to do, especially with how things ended, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to talk to you, even if it didn’t end well. He needed to have just one more conversation with you.

You barely registered that someone had sat across from you, but when you finished the page you were reading and glanced up, an immediate shock of pain jolted through your chest. Your mouth ran dry as you tried to process the sheepish look on Wilbur’s face as he sat across from you with his hands tucked into his lap.

Swallowing, you finally gained the will to say something, but all you could say was his name. It broke coming out, quiet and breathless, like a final whisper of a life left behind, haunting.

“Didn’t know you were still around,” he said, voice small.

You nodded, sliding an old receipt into the book and placing it on the table, next to your full cup of coffee - definitely cold by now. You had yet to touch it. You never did. You never would. “I, uh, decided to stick around. Couldn’t bring myself to go, I suppose.”

“I get it,” he nodded, gnawing on his lip and avoiding your gaze. When he finally did look up, you could barely maintain eye contact. “How’ve, uh-” he cleared his throat, speaking louder, “how’ve you been?”

“As good as I can be.” You shrugged.

“That’s good.” Wilbur muttered, nodding his head as he pursed his lips. He didn’t know what to say. “How’s everything been?” He said it slowly, like he was unsure of his words.

“Uh- good, I think. I’m working now, doing well with that. My sister’s married now; had a baby in June.”

Wilbur’s brow raised, a smile slowly taking over his face. “Has she? I always liked Mark. Wonderful lad.”

You nodded, wrapping your hands around the cold mug before you. “Yeah. He’s been wonderful to her this whole time. And me. Helped me get work. Their daughter looks just like him.”

“That’s lovely.” Wilbur said as he leaned forward, placing his clasped hands on the tabletop. “I’ve been doing pretty good, myself. That streaming thing sort of took off, and I’m making music now.”

“I know.” You admitted with a shrug, smiling sheepishly at Wilbur’s confusion. “I’ve always supported you, Wilbur, you know that. No matter what. I knew you had it in you. And I… I’m proud.”

“You’re proud?”

“Yes. I’m proud of you, Wilbur.” You told him. “It doesn’t matter how we ended or… what happened. I always will be. And I like your music, by the way.” He downturned his gaze, a blush forming on his face. “Though, I have to say, the melody for Jubilee Line sounds familiar.”

He could see the knowing look on your face. He’d played the melody for you a few times before, but he never read you the lyrics. He didn’t have any for a long time, not until after you’d broken up. But he could see that shine in your eyes. The one that told him that you knew. You were imbued into that album. Every line, every note, every beat, you were there. And so was his pain. His regret. The regret he still had for leaving you.

He only nodded, letting the silence settle for a moment. He didn’t know what to say anymore. He never did with you. You were so high above him, so wonderful and ethereal to him, that even in the years you spent together, he never felt like he was able to appease you. To make you happy. But he did. More than he could ever know.

“So, other than all that, how’ve you been?” You asked, picking at the skin on your fingers. “When things… I mean, you weren’t in the best place.”

“Better.” Wilbur said. The word was so final, punctual. “I sort of… I dunno, I realised what a shitty person I was after you were gone.” He shook his head, almost scoffing. “It took a lot to get to a point where I was okay with going to therapy, but I did. I still am. And I’m sorry, for the way I treated you. You didn’t deserve it. Any of it.”

You reached out, resting a hand on his clasped ones. It was the first contact he’d made with you in years, and it still radiated comfort. Your hands were cold, and Wilbur recalled how they never were. He remembered how you always stuck them under his shirt or into his own hands, just for a semblance of warmth to comfort you. “It’s okay, Wilbur. I understand, more than anyone.”

Wilbur unclasped his hand and took yours in one of his, unable to stop it from shaking as he did. His large hand wrapped around your smaller one, and almost instinctively he tried to warm it up. His mind was reeling, wondering, thinking, of where you would be if he hadn’t done what he did. If he hadn’t forced you out.

Would you be married? Would you have been considering kids by now, or would you already have one? Would your life have mirrored the perfect picture of your sisters? He had plans for you both. For your future. But he let his own mind get in the way of it.

It didn’t help that he was planning to propose. The ring sat, every day, at the bottom of a drawer in his desk where he streamed from. It gnawed at him 24/7, feeding his already poor mental state with constant anxiety. It tore at him until he couldn’t take it anymore. And he regrets it every day.

“I’m sorry.” Wilbur whispered, voice trembling as he hung his head. “I’m so sorry.”

You gripped his hand as tight as you could manage, reaching your other one out as well. Hearing his voice, so thick with tears like it had been so many times before you broke up, tore at your still broken heart. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I forgive you, Wilbur.”

He gulped, squeezing back, sniffling and clearing his throat before he looked back at you, eyes a little more red than they were before. “I, uh, I feel like I’ve got some things to tell you. I think you deserve to know them, you know?”

Your heart jumped and your stomach twisted, waiting for whatever Wilbur had to tell you. It didn’t sound good, or like it would benefit you in any way, but you nodded anyway, clinging to Wilbur’s hands and the warmth they provided like a lifeline.

You nearly died when his thumbs started stroking the backs of your hands.

“I had plans for us. For the future. With you.” He told you, and you froze. “There was a ring, I was hiding it in the bottom drawer in my desk for months. Four feet from where you slept. And sometimes I considered just proposing to you in the middle of the night, just to get it over with and be happy with you, you know? But I never could, and it made things worse, all that anxiety.”

You stifled a noise, a mixture between a laugh and a sob caught in your throat.

“And I was gonna wait until I got more money from streaming to have the wedding, so I could give you as big of a wedding as you wanted and we wouldn’t have to worry about anything.” He gulped, pausing for a moment to blink tears away. “And I wanted kids with you. A house, a cat- or whatever animal you wanted, really- and a life. Something that meant something to us. Whatever you wanted. And I just- God, I was an idiot. And I threw it away.”

This time, you laughed, wet and sad, soft and quiet. You squeezed Wilbur’s hands, short and bittersweet. You were the one to pull away, wiping a tear from Wilbur’s cheek, hand lingering on his skin. He leaned into it, breathing deeply as he did, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on the corner of your palm.

For a moment, Wilbur could believe he was back there. Before he ruined everything for himself - for you. He could trick himself into thinking he was back in that old apartment, sunset painting the bedroom walls gold, your cold hands warming his heart even with the simplest touch.

But he couldn’t be there forever. Neither could you. Both of you had people that needed you, that loved and cared for you, independent of one another. And Wilbur had someone he cared about, too.

And she wasn’t you.

As much as he wishes she was.

So, he pulled back, taking a second, clearer breath in and opening his eyes. His hand pulled away from yours, landing back in his lap. The cold leeched back into your skin immediately, missing the warmth Wilbur provided. You shrunk back, too, and the moment was over. It was like the conversation you’d just had with Wilbur didn’t happen, and you were back to the beginning.

You knew what he was trying so hard not to tell you. It was written within the guilt on his face. “How’d you meet her?”

Wilbur looked up. “What? How did you-”

“Don’t worry about it, Wil. It’s fine.” You lied, shrugging your shoulders with casualty as if some part of you didn’t just break down within. “It doesn’t surprise me, you know. I mean, it’s been two years.”

“We met a few months after I left.” He muttered, pushing the hair from his eyes. “I remembered that you told me about how you got your feelings out with art sometimes, and the university offered night classes. So I went. She was there, next to me, and we had a lot of fun.” He told you, and you felt another piece of the heart you worked so hard to rebuild fall off. “We got each other through lockdown, too. We started dating last May. I mean, she doesn’t quite approve of my career, but it pays the bills, so,” He shrugged, and your heart tore in two.

“That’s,” you started, clearing your throat when you felt your voice about to betray you. ��That’s nice, Wilbur. I’m glad.”

The man before you only nodded. The silence settled between you again, neither of you two knowing where to go with the conversation anymore. Neither of you looked at the other, the guilt and heartbreak that was resurfacing and healing all at once being too much for either of you to stomach.

Until, the bell rang at the top of the door and shoes squeaked against the tile. “Wilbur! Jesus, man, when you said this place was hard to find, you weren’t wrong. Google maps rerouted me twice, and I was walking.”

Both you and Wilbur looked up at the brunet that was approaching your booth. His cheeks were flushed and his smile wide, until it faded seeing you with your ex.

“Oh, uh, sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“It’s okay, George.” Wilbur gave the man - George - a tight smile. “Y/n’s an old friend.”

“I should get going,” you said, grabbing your book from the tabletop. Offering a tight smile to Wilbur and a polite one to George, you slid from the booth. “It was nice to see you again, Wilbur. Really. I wish you the best.”

He smiled back at you, sad and slight, but it was a smile nonetheless.

With a nod to George, you turned to leave the cafe, catching the whispers of George asking Wilbur who you really were. You were just glad you didn’t hear his answer.

hba taglist: @z0vamp @blancastans

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#the heartbreak anthology #wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot angst #mcyt fanfiction #mcyt x reader

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