#wilbur soot fic
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🤍 Did You Just Flinch? 🤍
Summary: You flinched when he yelled at you.
word count: 761
tags: @zuuriell @somebody-v @vibestillaxxx @ax-y10 @joviepog@themonsterunderurmom @ogelizasoot @wilburstan@smolsleepykitten@funnyreally2009@crows-death@dykepunz@aresriiots@0miamor0@defonotval@chipch0p@mazzistar16@unmellowyellowfellow@justalittlebitofchaos@thosecolorfulsheets@vopix@taylors-version-from-the-vault@aine-lasagna@merianakross@veeislost@urfav-sapphic-siren@shazbaz58-blog @wifiatthetrainstation@mcr-pr-fob@shd454@universe-friday@rqvii@idioticion@m0thza@artistphantom @ace-call-me-what-youd-like @lexx-the-gay-rubber-ducky @finleyforevermore @poraphia @radio-to-trenchcoat-demons @mysticalsoot(let me know if u don't or do wanna be tagged!!)
cw: cursing, arguing, use of Y/N, you/yours pronouns used, reader flinches, hurt/comfort, Wilbur being kind of a dickhead, mentions of past abuse, use of a pet name at the end
a/n: hey guys! Quick little story: I watched a video that was basically Wilbur getting mad for like 3 or so minutes, & the first clip was Wilbur pretending to be angry at someone who was interviewing him, & Wilbur yells very loudly & I flinched & I thought "that's a banger idea for a fic, good job, me!" so yeah!! :) here's the video if you wanna see
You & Wilbur both had terrible days. You didn't get a wink of sleep because of work & stress, & the entire week, you two were snippy with each other. You didn't blame him for any of it; he was stressed, & he was tired. Today, however, you were a little angry with him for it. You two had been extra snippy last night & had an argument, & that led to Wilbur choosing to sleep on the couch, & he didn't give you your good morning kisses & hugs when he left for the studio. He just said muttering a goodbye. Not once, in all of the years of dating you, did he ever not kiss you before he left. Even if you were screaming at him the night before or you were both pissed off at each other, he'd still do it.
When you finally got home from work, you found Wilbur sitting at his desk in the office, a mug of coffee next to his laptop. He was tapping his foot repetitively & he looked tired. His hair was tousled & his eyelids were drooping. You walked over to grab the coffee mug & he grabbed your wrist, not hard enough to hurt you.
"I'm still drinking that," he sighed.
"Hello to you too," you replied. He sighed again. "I'm just refilling your coffee for you."
"I didn't ask you to do that," he snapped. "I can do it myself."
"What is your issue today?" you said, somewhat annoyed.
"What's my issue?!" he said, raising his voice slightly. "What's your issue?! You've been such an ass to me this week! You're not making the stress any fuckin' easier!"
"Neither are you!" you said, your voice also raising. "You're being an ass, too! A massive one!"
"Oh, j--FUCK OFF!" he said, now yelling. "Fuck off! You think--you just sat there thinkin' you're tough shit, didn't you, fuckin' wanker?"
You froze. He's never yelled at you like that before.
"I-I can leave & let you be if you want--" you started in a small voice.
"Oh, so you're just fuckin' dumping me now?!" he shouted. "Is that what you're doing?! You're trying to break up with me?! What a fuckin' load of bollocks!"
"No no no no!" you said, still using that soft voice. "I-I was just going into another--"
"What, are you gonna try & cheat on me?!" he yelled, somehow getting louder. "Is that what this is, you fuckin' wanker?"
"Not at all!" you said quietly. "Not at all! I wouldn't dream of--"
"SPEAK UP!" he nearly shrieked as he raised his hand. "JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!"
You flinched & covered your head as you shook & were on the verge of tears. He was most likely going to hit you. That's what the last few did.
Wilbur froze. He lowered his hand & looked at you with shock. Tears began to fill his eyes.
"Did you just flinch?" he said, almost a whisper. "Love, I--I wasn't going to hurt you. I would never."
You didn't say anything. You just sobbed.
"Oh my God, darling," he whispered, his voice cracking. He moved your hands away from your face & wrapped his arms around your waist as he took in the sight of your trembling lips & tearful eyes.
"I'm not like him, love," he whispered, tears rolling down his cheeks. "I would never even dream of hurting you, okay? I'm so sorry I scared you. I shouldn't have yelled."
& you broke down in his arms as he buried your head in his chest & let out a few small cries of his own. You both mumbled apologies to each other constantly as you hugged each other like your lives depended on it. Suddenly, he picked you up bridal style & placed you on the bed.
"Wait right here, okay?" he said, brushing the hair away from your face. "I'm going to run the store."
He came back a few moments later with a full grocery bag. When you opened the bag, you saw your favorite snacks, drinks, candy, a plushie, & a pair of slippers.
"Wil, this is too much--" you started. He cut you off with a gentle kiss.
"Nothing is too much for my sunflower," he smiled. "Now, what movie do you want to watch?"
For the rest of the night, you two watched your favorite movies & TV shows, & when it was time to go to bed, you two cuddled & talked & giggled with each other until you fell asleep in his arms.
#wilbur soot#wilbursoot#wilbur#wilbur soot imagine#fanfic#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot fic#creative writing#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x reader fluff#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x you#angst with a happy ending#angst#hurt/comfort with a happy ending#hurt/comfort#sad fanfiction#happy ending
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— NOT MUCH LONGER
summary : wilbur has always been dedicated to his viewers, sometimes too much. his fans are aware of this, you are aware of this, and he is aware of this. so when you go multiple days without seeing your boyfriend because of how hard he's working you take matters into your own hands, not realising that thousands of people are there watching you do it.
genre : fluff
warnings : mentions of eating/food, a few swearwords, wilbur not taking care of himself, very small panicky moment
pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader
pronouns : she/her, reader is called wilbur's girlfriend/wife
featuring : cc!wilbur soot
requested : Could you do a fic where the reader isn’t a very public person (in regards to the internet) and one day, wilbur’s streaming and she goes in and brings him some food and kisses him, not knowing he was live, and when she notices, she just gets all red and embarrassed and wilbur goes out of frame with her and its just all fluffy, and the chat goes craaazy
word count : 1.3K
note : hi lmao. i know, i know it's been nearly 2 months since i 've posted anything. school really caught p to me, i was so stressed out i was crying like multiple times a day for a few weeks. i wanna thank you guys for your patience, i have one more week of classes before spring break and then exams are right after that so i am really unsure of how much free time i'm gonna have until like mid-november.
There was a lot of things that you loved about Wilbur. Of course there was, the two of you had been together since university, nearing on 5 years. Knowing for someone that long, though, and there were obviously aspects of your boyfriend that you were less than fond of. There weren’t a lot, but the main one was the fact that he was a major workaholic.
You were completely understanding of how important his job was to him. He had been doing it longer than you’d even known each other and you’d never want to do anything to make it seem like you were anything less than supportive.
But the last couple of weeks had been driving you crazy.
He’d be out all day filming for twenty different videos or in the studio - that was fine, you had your own work and hobbies to keep you occupied. But then he’d get home and it was straight to editing, or writing, or meetings for merch, album art, new videos. It had gotten to the point where you hadn’t even seen him in two days. You knew he’d been home, you vaguely heard the shower running while you were asleep, so tired you couldn’t bring yourself to lift your head. Clothes had been added to the laundry hamper, and water glasses had been added to the sink. He’d messaged you, of course. You were high on his list of priorities, it being a no-brainer that whenever he got a free minute he was texting you to let you know where he was going, promising that he’d be home soon.
When you got home from work, you were pleasantly surprised to find his docs at the front door, neatly kicked to the side so they were out of the way along with the rest of your collective pile. You put your stuff down and practically floated around the house, searching for your boyfriend. Not in the kitchen, though the dishes had been done for you, left to dry. Not in the living room, though there was a coat draped over the back of the couch that you picked up and deposited in the bedroom (also empty, but his side of the bed was rumpled like he’d fallen straight on top of the blankets).
You were walking down the hallway when you finally heard him. He was talking softly, not outside of the norm for him. His office wasn’t soundproof, and you often heard him through the walls as you went about your day, whether that was laughing loudly as he streamed, or the muffled sound of him strumming his guitar, trying to write a new song. He was being quiet, probably editing a video. You knew he had his own room in the group office, just for him to edit, but he liked to bring them home sometimes.
You went back into the kitchen to dry the dishes for Wilbur and you noted that there weren’t any new plates added to the pile. You knew that Wilbur had eaten while he was gone, he’d texted you every time they ordered food, but you also knew that it had been a couple of days since his last home cooked meal. You, admittedly didn’t have much in the pantry, but it was made with love, which was the thought that counts.
That was the thought on the tip of your tongue as you knocked gently on the door, a plate of mac and cheese and a glass of water in hand, smile breaking out at the sight of your boyfriend at his desk.
Wilbur’s viewers had always been aware that he had a girlfriend. He mentioned you for the first time after you guys had been together for a year, and since then you were a sporadic presence in his online life, maybe a mention every couple of weeks or months. They didn’t know anything else though, not even your name. His viewers, over the past couple of years had developed their own nicknames for you. It started from one of the first streams you were mentioned in, someone in chat asked if you were Wilbur’s wife. He’d laughed, said no, and then tried to say you were not his wife, and instead pronounced it “wiff.” It got slightly out of hand over the years, with most people lovingly referring to you online as wiffleball. Wilbur had apologised profusely for the slip up, but you found it too funny to actually care. It was definitely weird for you to see, though, the phrase ‘Wiffleball’ randomly trending every couple of months.
So, they didn’t know your name, and they definitely didn’t know your face. Wilbur was usually on high alert for even your footsteps outside the door, let alone you wanting to come inside. He’d yell that he was live, and you’d wait dutifully at the door for him to come outside. It was more for your sake than his, but he cared just as much about your right to privacy as you did. But today, he was so preoccupied with the fact that he hadn’t seen you in nearly three days that he completely forgot to.
The monitor with his own face in it was tilted away from the door, and you were so entranced by the smile on his face that you didn’t notice until it was too late. He was standing to meet you, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Hi, lovely, I’ve missed you.”
“Missed you too, Wil,” Your hands were on his arms the second you placed the food down, and you were right about to kiss him properly when you saw a fast movement out the corner of your eye. His chat was whizzing by so fast that you almost couldn’t read it. You backed out of frame immediately, almost out of instinct, wide eyes meeting Wilbur’s. “You’re streaming?”
“Fuck,” Wilbur made sure that you were definitely out of the frame before putting his stream back on the loading screen and going back to check on you.
Your breathing was much faster than usual and he could all but see your heart jumping out of your chest. “I am so sorry, darling, I was too busy being happy to see you that I completely forgot that I was even streaming. Are you okay?”
Your hands found Wilbur’s shirt, clenching it between your fists and burying your face in the fabric across his chest. His hands were securely on your back as he held you while you calmed your breathing. You weren’t crying no, he could tell you just needed to slow your breaths down and you’d be alright. He was whispering reassurances in your ear and within a few minutes your heart had calmed down. “I’m alright.”
“I’m so sorry,” Wilbur launched immediately into apologies again but your vice grip on his shirt stopped him.
“I’m alright, Wilbur.” You strangely were alright. What you could see on the chat were all nice things, they were all so excited to see you. “Never want to go back on your stream again, but I’m okay with them seeing me.”
“You don’t have to be okay, love, if you’re not. I’ll get the VOD taken down when I’m done and edit you out and say something about not circulating the video, I am so sorry-”
“I’m fine, Wilbur.” You pulled the fabric closer to your chest, the movement effectively silencing him. “Like I said. I am still good not showing up on your streams and stuff, but you can leave the video up. I’m alright with it, I promise.”
He softened at your determined face. “I love you,” he said in place of another apology. “I love you, and I am still sorry that I forgot to tell you. No more until you say so, I promise.”
“Thank you,” you said earnestly, loosening your grip on his shirt. “I’ll let you finish up now, do you think you’ll be a while?”
Wilbur kissed you softly before sitting back in his chair and looking up at you full of love. “Trust me, I definitely won’t be much longer.”
#wilbuh#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot x reader fluff#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot angst
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PAIRING — cc!wilbur x (cc if u want)reader
SUMMARY — wilbur loves kisses, meaning he most definitely has his favourite spots, or as he calls them, the sweet spots.
NOTES — fluff, kisses, readers gender isn't specified however i made it with a fem reader in mind
EXTRA — i was watching that one stream where he talked about the girl in his history class he liked, so thought i'd just make a funky little list of his kisses ^_^ !!
ʚ┊knee kisses ; the back of the knee, when you're laying face down on the bed, is one of his favourite spots to kiss. you're laying down on your stomach, scrolling through your phone or reading, and he climbs up over you to trail small kisses down your back. once he reaches your knees, he lets out a small smile, kissing the back of them softly, holding onto your ankles to hold himself up. after, he'd probably just flop ontop of you, just for fun !!
ʚ┊hair / head kisses ; wilbur isn't usually one for PDA, only really liking hand holding, or arms around shoulders, as he prefers to be private when holding you, but he loves kissing your hair. if you're in the shop and he's behind you, while you're looking at stuff on the shelf, he most definitely adores wrapping arms around your waist and kissing your head, probably placing his chin on top of your head after. if you're too tall for his chin to be ontop of your hair, hed place it in the crook of your neck and shoulder, kissing softly, relishing in the small giggles you let out.
ʚ┊wrist kisses ; this one makes me so soft ohmygod. he most definitely loves kissing the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse is, as if hes kissing your heart through your hand. if you were to pass him something without looking at him, he'd take it from your hand, but grab your wrist before you could pull it back and kiss the inside as a thank you, smiling innocently after. or if you're laying on bed, and you're sprawled out, he'd kiss your wrist, trailing up your arm, until he finally reached your mouth, in order to wake you up.
ʚ┊stomach kisses ; if you were or if your weren't insecure of your stomach, he'd ask if he could kiss it anyway. you ask why, he just says he wants to show you how much he loves you. simple as that. he's laying his head on your stomach as a film plays, the film is one he's seen multiple times before, as it's usually your go-to romcom for movie nights, so he lifts up your pyjama shirt, leaving soft kisses on your stomach as the film continues. when he first started, it was ticklish, but it soon turned into something you absolutely adored as he left tingles with each kiss placed.
ʚ┊cheek / neck kisses ; cheek kisses are perfect for when he's in a rush, especially with the band, and him having to leave for shows often. before he left the apartment (or house, hotel room, etc), he'd quickly try to find you, giving you a loving kiss on the cheek as he muttered an 'i love you'. neck kisses are similar to the head kisses — he'd like to stand behind you, arms around your waist, while softly kissing your neck. he'd prefer to do this privately, when you two are dancing in the kitchen (cough cough), but he doesn't mind doing this in a somewhat public space. he wouldn't do it infront of a group of friends, more like if you were waiting in line for something .
#wilbur soot#wilbur#wilbur soot fic#wilbur fic#soot#lovejoy#fluff#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x reader#wilbur mcyt#will gold#wilbur x you#wilbur x y/n#mcyt x reader#streamer x reader#streamer x you#wilbur headcanons#headcanon#kisses#deejayrockz#kisses fic#wilbur fanfic#wilbur soot fanfic#fanfic
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and we hold onto this (for whatever reason)
wilbur soot x gn!reader
tw!: angst, breakups, food mention, crying, other than that it’s fluffy and sweet. not proofread
word count: 1,248
a/n: literally wrote this in 10 minutes and didn’t read it over so i’m sorry if it makes literally 0 sense lmaoooo. i hope y’all like it!! (also this picture of wil is so cute hes so-)
there’s a stale feeling in the air as you’re surrounded by your friends. a large table, a potluck dinner, laughter and 5 different conversations, all while brown eyes with your same sadness across and to the left of you attempts to impossibly avoid your gaze.
wilbur joins in one of the conversations, you can hear his laughter and smooth voice. it’s all that seems to reach your ears as you play with the food on your plate. you missed the sound of his carefree and light voice, his laugh sweeter than nectar. a pang of sadness hits your chest like a tidal wave. a feeling you’ve invited to the dinner table often these past few weeks, but having him here in front of you, hearing his voice and laugh in the room and not in your head, has made the sadness hurt even more. it hits your chest, knocks the wind out of you, makes you feel like you’ve been thrown backwards.
“y/n? did you hear me?” a voice comes from your right, causing you to flinch and drop the fork in your hand. the sound is loud, it makes you physically cringe as you hear the conversations die down and feel multiple eyes on you. you lean down to grab the fork,
“no, sorry. what were you saying?” you respond quietly, looking over at your friend and placing the fork down beside your plate.
“i asked if you were okay. you seem like you’re in space” they say, voice quiet and full of compassion. you nod, forcing a smile on your face. how weird is it to be seen, studied, known. your friends see through you. you wonder if wilbur does too.
“yeah” you whisper, “i’m okay. sorry. didn’t get much sleep last night” you let out a light laugh. they smile back at you, a half-crooked, sad smile. a hand reaches up to squeeze your shoulder - as if to say ‘i know you’re lying, but we don’t have to talk about it’, before they turn back around to continue their conversation. you finally look around as conversations have sparked back to life, scanning the table before reaching wilbur’s spot. he’s looking at you. his mouth slightly agape, his eyes sad. you hold his gaze for a beat, before grabbing your fork and standing.
“m’gonna go wash this” you mumble for no one in particular to hear, as you scurry to the kitchen. you sigh as you reach the room, running your hands through your hair and leaning down onto the counter. the wound of yours and wilbur’s breakup is still so fresh, still so new, still prone to infection. seeing him is harder than expected, but this get together had been planned for too long for either of you to cancel.
with another sigh, you grab your fork and turn on the tap, beginning to wash it. your mind wanders as you grab the dish soap and sponge - you planned a future with wilbur. you thought he was the one. your parents loved him. god, you loved him. you wanted all the stupid, gross, lovey-dovey shit with him. a big wedding, a small family, a white house with a fenced in backyard, cats and dogs, growing old together. you would’ve done it all with wilbur.
“i think it’s clean” a familiar voice cuts through your thoughts. you flinch, dropping the fork into the sink. your head whips over to the voice, seeing wilbur standing there, looking at you. you hadn’t noticed the tears streaming down your cheeks until he brought you back to reality, causing you to quickly wipe them with your sleeve. you sniff, “well, yaknow, just had to be sure” you chuckle, though it comes out sad and strained.
there’s a silence, the air feels heavy, as you both just look at one another.
“y/n…” wilbur starts. you shake your head. “don’t. it’s okay” you reassure, breaking your gaze from him to look down at the fork in the sink. you grab it, walking over to the dish towels hung over the oven handle.
“i’m sorry” wilbur whispers.
“i said dont, wilbur” you sigh, looking back up to him. he looks just as broken and disheveled as you do.
he nods his head. a silence washes over the room.
“i miss you” his voice cracks, his eyes gather tears but he quickly wipes them away.
“wil-“
“i know we agreed it was best to part ways but it’s killing me, y/n” wilbur cuts you off, his voice is quiet but filled with emotion. you stay quiet, your heartbeat loud in your ears as you take shaky breaths.
“i-its so hard. so fucking hard to pretend im okay with this. that im fine. t-that i really believe it’s for the best” wilbur chokes out, he gulps before continuing, “because i don’t. i don’t think it is.”
you close your eyes to avoid the tears forming. you shake your head.
“wil, please stop” you beg “we both have other things to focus on. i mean, you have the band and-“
“oh, fuck the band!” wilbur shouts. your eyes shoot open to look at him as he brings his fingers up to pinch his nose bridge. he looks at you “fuck the band. fuck streaming. fuck everything, y/n. if it means i lose you, i don’t want any of it.” wilbur’s voice calms, it’s quieter.
you sigh and shake your head, “i would never ask that of you. you know that” you whisper “you love that band. and you love touring. and you love making music. and i love watching you do it, wil, i love seeing you happy but i-“ your voice breaks as a tear falls down your cheek, “but i cant sit there and wait for you to make time for me anymore. you were busy and you were happy and i waited and it’s fine but i- i couldn’t wait anymore. a-and all your promises, all the missed dates, all the times i spent sleeping alone, i just- it was too hard.”
wilbur takes a step towards you, searching your face for a reaction. when you don’t react, he walks over to you, standing in front of you. hesitantly, he reaches his hands to cup your face, wiping your tears with his thumb as his own tears fall from his eyes. he leans down and rests his forward against yours. a shaky sigh escapes your lips as you breathe in his scent.
“then i’ll wait for you this time” he whispers, “whenever you’re ready for me, i’ll be here. ready to change, to do whatever it takes, to show you the love you deserve.”
a wet laugh escapes your lips as you sniff, reaching up to hold his forearms as you close your eyes.
“i love you, y/n” he whispers, “i don’t think i’m capable of not loving you.”
you nod. “me neither” you agree.
his forehead leaves yours, being replaced by his lips. a lingering kiss on your forehead. he steps back, grabbing hold of your hands as you both look into each others teary eyes.
“whenever you’re ready” wilbur whispers. you nod - “okay” you whisper back. he smiles, as do you, before he walks out of the room.
you look down at the fork on the counter. a forgotten task. you smile, leaning over to pick it up. inspecting it in your hands. a breath, a sniff, a final wipe of your eyes.
whenever i’m ready, you think.
#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot fic#dsmp x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#mcyt#wilbur x you#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur
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types of kisses ft. Wilbur Soot
author notes: types of kisses that I imagine Will giving you :)
Types of Kisses ft. Wilbur Soot
FOREHEAD KISSES MOST DEF
Cheek kisses make him blushhh
Pecks on the lips are his favorite
when he’s feeling silly he’ll give you Butterfly kisses
kisses your hand
when you’re feeling insecure, he’ll kiss his favorite body parts on you
will kiss you in pictures all the time
kisses you on stream
late night kisses are the best
especially with cuddles
#dream smp#dsmp#fanfic#wilbur soot#oneshot#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x reader smut#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur x y/n#wilbur x you#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fluff#qsmp wilbur#dsmp wilbur#mcyt wilbur
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✮ knock ✮
in which- you have a fear of showing too much of your own skin due to past dreams and coincidences, but wilbur is there to help.
chapter info- mentions of private areas, mentions of fears, descriptions of nudity, descriptions of past situations, just a vent fic essentially
a/n- i made this as a sort of vent/coping mechanism because i needed to get this out somewhere to make myself feel better so here you go
pronouns- none (you/yours)
masterlist-
you're sat in your boyfriend's bedroom, a frown present on your face and hot tears running down your face. maybe this wasn't worth getting so worked up about but it reminded you too much of years ago.
when you were in grade five, you'd had a dream where you were naked at school, beginning your fear of being judged by everyone. a year later in grade six, you had another dream about being naked at school, and that heightened your fear, if not hatched your fear of showing skin.
to make things worse, you've had multiple occasions where someone you know, whether it be family or close friends, has walked in on you changing, ultimately making your fear of showing skin ten times worse.
you'd swear that you would rather die than show skin to anyone in close relation to you. if you had to do one thing before you died, showing skin was the last on that list. it was your last resort, barely that. showing skin was never an option for you.
you'd been pressured by beauty standards, peer pressure, and wanting to seem more confident that once you did finally show a tiny bit of skin, it all went haywire, and every girl you walked past gave you weird stares or even just laughed at you as you walked past. you were never and never will be known for showing skin. you'll always be known as the girl who has self-esteem issues, hates showing skin. the amount of times you've been called a pick-me for the way you dress has you fuming at the statement.
and now, your boyfriend accidentally walking in on you showering has sent you back into a horrible spiral of worries and concerns and fears, breaking down into hysterics on his bed.
did wilbur know you were sobbing in his bedroom? no. he was in the kitchen cooking dinner for you both. were you desperately trying to calm yourself down without wilbur's help? yes, and it sure as hell wouldn't work with him not there.
"darling?" his voice from the other side of the door startled you enough to break you out of whatever bad thoughts were strangling your head.
"i have dinner," he'd state, before the handle of the door slowly starts turning.
"no! not yet. give me a second!" you yelled from his bed, scurrying into his bathroom and throwing on one of his sweaters he'd left in there for you.
it was silent. at least on the outside of his room. inside however? your mental rambling had started back up again and was attacking you.
a minute passed. two minutes passed. three minutes passed. five minutes passe-
"sweetheart, i'm gonna come in. something's wrong,"
his large figure in the doorway was inching it's way towards you, causing you to move back with each of his steps.
"oh, my love, what's wrong?" fuck. he'd caught on.
you were silent. all your communication skills were out the window.
"c'mere" his voice soft, calm, and collected rang through your ears.
and before you could blink, your head was nuzzled in his neck, your arms tightening around his shoulders as you clung to him, you legs bent uncomfortably underneath you, and your tears soaking into his shoulder.
he was happy to stay there all night if you needed, happy to let you cry it out, happy to listen, happy to talk. as long as you were okay.
"knock before you walk into the bathroom if i'm in there, please?"
"no problem, darling. have some pasta and rest easy and you can talk about it more if needed when you wake up, alright?" he paused, took a deep breath, and continued., "i'm right here, always. i'll stay with you tonight, okay? i love you,"
and all you can remember was the warmth of his arms before you fell asleep.
#wilbur soot#wilbur#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur imagines#wilbur fluff#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot x yn
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Fairytale au where Wilbur and Tommy always had no one but each other. The two young brothers fend for themselves as much they can, but it’s hard. One winter day they get desperate and try scavenging in the woods far past where humans are supposed to go. They find a cozy cottage, and tentatively investigate to find the owner is gone. The boys break in and devour as much as they can because they haven’t had a good meal (or sometimes any meal at all) in so long.
They scarcely notice the crow watching in the window sill, but it notices them. Philza is a very powerful witch, and naturally knew the moment they broke in. But he also has business at the moment, and so only gets back by nightfall. He finds the boys hidden in a cupboard sleeping nearly fused into one another. They didn’t want to get found, of course, but it was so cold outside.
Tommy and Wilbur wake up tucked in a bed. Naturally they flee, terrified of the wrath of a witch. The brothers count themselves lucky for surviving the encounter.
They find the cottage nearly every time they enter the woods now. But the brothers are cautious, a survival instinct beaten deep into their marrow. They avoid the cottage avidly, worried what awaits them.
But then Tommy hasn’t eaten in days, and Wilbur hasn’t eaten even longer than that. And Tommy keeps crying at night and Wilbur would do anything for him. So they enter the cottage. It is empty, or so they think, and so the pair raid the pantries once more.
But they freeze when they realize there’s a witch perched in the rafters, watching them the whole time. Like he’s ready to swoop at a moments notice and twist their necks with his sharp crow’s feet. They run.
But they don’t the next time. Wilbur keeps a wary watch on Philza the whole time as he urges Tommy to keep grabbing food. Wilbur almost expects the door to be locked when they try to leave, but it isn’t. The shadows that cling to the ceiling like fog don’t quite hide the witch’s smile. It sends cold down the both of their backs.
The boys grow a little bolder each time, still cautious, still wary, but assured to some degree the witch only ever watches. They never take anything but food, since all the stories say that’s a death sentence. Still, Wilbur is half way convinced their souls have been stolen already and they just haven’t noticed yet. But it matters little when his brother is starving. The winter is unrelenting in its cruelty, and each time hunger claws at their insides they’re a little quicker to turn to the cottage for warmth and full bellies.
And then one day the cupboard is barren. The witch’s crow lines crinkle as he stares at them. But the house smells of glorious cooking and Tommy scampers off. Wilbur follows, though keeps his eye on the witch the whole time.
They find a table set with three plates. They’re still warm and piled with mouth watering food. The boys have only ever really cooked something if it was dangerous to eat else wise, and it turned out charred more often than not.
The boys dig in, but freeze as the witch appears at the threshold. Philza drinks in the scene, then walks in, claws scraping across the floorboards. There’s no comment as he takes a seat at the side, Tommy having claimed the head of the table. The witch simply begins to dine, and then Tommy, finally Wilbur.
“So. You’re fattening us up to eat us?” Wilbur challenges.
“The pair of you are rather scrawny for that,” Philza says lightly. “Malnutrition tends to do that. I’d be waiting years if that were the case.”
“Then you’re trying to steal our souls!”
“I make no promises either way.” It was almost more soothing than if he’d outright denied it, because then Wilbur would’ve known for sure he was lying. Like this? …well, Wilbur still isn't sure, but his caution feels vindicated.
Caution that still fades over time. They begin to eat more meals than not with the witch. And when blizzards come and they have no other bed to turn to, the brothers find themselves welcomed to the softest pillows and blankets they’d ever known. They keep watch, of course. They always did, instinct ingrained. And then they spend more nights with Philza than without, and nothing ever goes wrong, and they both get so much more sleep if they don't bother with watch…
Gradually, they begin to never leave the cottage at all. There is no food or warmth to be found outside in the terrible blizzards. It just makes sense to stay. And Philza is so lovely to talk to. Wilbur no longer checks over their backs. The scrape of his talons on the floor bring not a shudder but a grin. And anyway the claws are always so gentle when they ruffle through their hair. On the coldest nights the witch’s feathers are so wonderfully soft and warm, so why shouldn’t the boys tuck under wing?
It’s when spring comes that Wilbur realizes something is wrong, so horribly, gut-wrenching wrong. Because there is no excuse to stay anymore, and yet the brothers do.
Wilbur prods the distrust in his gut, the wariness that’s served him his whole life. All he feels for Philza is warm fondness, and that— that is a feeling reserved for Tommy and no other. No, Wilbur knows for sure that whatever the witch has done to them is powerful magic indeed. A thrall inescapable, sly and slow like a poison seeping in until it's too late to cure. No curse is more inescapable and deceptive than mind control. The witch stole their hearts alright, just not in a way Wilbur had known to guard against.
Wilbur will cut out the part of him that feels that way if that’s what it takes. It’s only ever been Wilbur and Tommy, or Tommy and Wilbur. And no one, not even some all-powerful witch, will take that from him.
So quietly, carefully, Wilbur hardens his heart and prepares their escape.
(End part 1)
#Techno is. Idk a familiar man#3/4 curse real#Sbi#sleepy bois inc#sbi fic#sbi family dynamic#crime bois#crimeboys#sand duo#Wilbur soot#tommyinnit#wilbur soot fic#philza#Sbi au#sbi fanfic#something to nom on
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hi lorelai! if you are feeling up to it, maybe give me some dadbur headcanons. the dadbur thoughts are consuming me. 🤭🤭 (also lorelai is a gorgeous name 🫶🫶)
hi!! thank you so much 🫶🫶🫶 i am ALWAYS up to writing dadbur
dadbur headcanons
cw: none
wilbur is totally a girl dad btw
—
-when the baby comes home for the first time, he insists on taking care of her while you rest, which means he holds her the whole time
-says stuff like "i'm so happy you're here" to her, tears in his eyes everytime
-(when the baby's older) definitely becomes a daddy’s girl. wherever he goes, she goes as well. always clinging onto his leg or sweater.
-she definitely comes to lovejoy rehearsals, loves screaming the lyrics with them, even if she doesn’t understand what they mean
-a bedtime routine of wilbur tucking her into bed, reading her a bedtime story, and maybe singing her a song or two (he knows she’ll most likely wake up from a nightmare and walk to his room, beg to sleep with him anyway, but it’s never a problem for him)
-oh and i think he writes his own stories to be read to her while he’s on tour
i’m sorry this is so short; i can definitely write more if you request it, but it’s been in my drafts for a few days now and i don’t wanna keep you waiting :)
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As long as her hands are so warm ⅏ Wilbur Soot x GN!Reader
Summary:
William Gold, a performer, seeks a break from fame and proposes a trip with his partner, Reader, to take a break from life and slow down for a bit.
Notes:
Hey Mate!!!
I’m Peter and I say right away that English is not my first language.
I’m curious to hear your opinion about this work in the comments!
Enjoy!
𝒜s LoveJoy and I extinguished the candles marking our 100th concert celebration, a wave of relief washed over me. The weight of the relentless schedule lifted, granting me the rare opportunity to relax and simply be; free from the ceaseless churn of thoughts and obligations.
I couldn't help but marvel at artists who thrive in the whirlwind of weekly gigs, or even more frequent performances! It's crazy. Especially for someone like me—an introvert who grapples with panic during crowded spaces.
𝒮o, now lying in the cocoon of our hotel bed, I steal a moment to gaze at my beloved, my anchor amidst the chaos of life on the road. They nestle closer, their rhythmic breaths stirring gentle wisps of air against my unshaven chest. With tender fingers, I weave through their hair, finding solace in the simple intimacy of our connection, knowing they'll stand by me through every storm, even when words fail to express my love.
Continuing to stroke their hair, but as I reach for distraction, checking my bank account on my phone, a peculiar sensation grips my stomach and tightens around my neck—a prelude to either nausea or panic.
I try to calm my racing breath and look towards the window in the hotel room.
𝒯he notion of living in America flits through my mind, a tantalizing prospect amid the newfound respite from the relentless demands of fame and performance.
Maybe?
Perhaps now that I'll have a break from everything... From social media, from singing, from fans, from spotlight.
Am I able to take a break? Do I even know what that means?
After all, isn't the pursuit of self-discovery worth the risk of venturing into the unknown?
* * *
“𝒮o, if I understand you correctly, you want to spend New Year's Eve in New York?" Reader inquires, their voice tinged with curiosity as they zip up the suitcase resting on the bed.
I scratch the back of my neck and lean against the bathroom door, brushing my teeth. "Not really, I want to go back to England with you for two days, maybe three. Repack. Then, we could return to New York and stay there for a while. Until March, perhaps even April?" I respond tentatively, uncertain of how my suggestion will be received.
Knowing Reader's preference for structured plans and aversion to spontaneous ‘getaways’, I brace myself for their response. “Of course, I'll organise it; I've already found a small flat, not even a studio. One bedroom connected to the kitchen and living room, but enough for us. Plus, there's a sofa if we need extra sleeping space. And don't worry, we have enough savings for it, we have enough savings for that." I say and resume brushing my teeth while listening to the silence of the hotel room.
𝒜s the moments tick by, the absence of Reader's response weighs heavily on me. Did I say something wrong? Should I have approached the topic differently? Doubt creeps in, mingling with the lingering fear of disrupting Reader's plans and inadvertently coming across as selfish.
𝒫erhaps, I muse silently, I should take matters into my own hands. Maybe Reader already has plans in mind, and my impromptu proposal is throwing a wrench into their carefully crafted itinerary. Am I being unreasonable? Self-cantered, even? Self-obsessed bitch?
I spit out the toothpaste and look at my reflection in the bathroom mirror.
A sudden realization dawns upon me. Perhaps Reader is looking for a change, just like I am. Maybe my impromptu proposal has struck a chord within them. With newfound determination, I decide to approach Reader and express my thoughts openly. As I approach them, their eyes meet mine, mirroring the flicker of curiosity that dances within me.
𝒲ithout hesitation, I blurt out my idea, stumbling over my words in a rush of enthusiasm.
"I'm tired ... mentally. I know how much is waiting for me..." I manage a faint smile, the weight of anticipation and expectation pressing down on me. "as well as for you in the new year. 2024 promises to be very good for me. For you. For us. And I not only want a break from Wilbur Soot, but I want William Gold, to be with you now. Even if you were to force me out of bed like you used to. All I want is to rest. And I will fully understand if you say no. Because at the end of the day, I'm the one dragging you on tour and changing your plans for months." As the words spill from my lips, I can't help but acknowledge the weight of my confession. I admit, perhaps for the first time, that I haven't always prioritized their well-being amidst the whirlwind of my own ambitions and aspirations.
𝒯heir eyes fix on me, penetrating and perceptive, leaving me feeling exposed and vulnerable. I instinctively avert my gaze, unable to withstand the intensity of their scrutiny. In that moment, I feel naked, stripped bare of pretense and facade.
Yet, even in my vulnerability, I find solace in the knowledge that I've spoken my truth, laying bare my desires and vulnerabilities before them.
"Is this what you need? No. Wait," Reader pauses, their brows furrowing in contemplation as they gaze into my eyes. Their smaller hands gently cup my cheeks, grounding me with their touch. "Do you want me to be there for you while you relax? I don't want to be a problem or a distraction," they inquire, their voice carrying a depth of emotion that eludes my grasp.
"You, a problem?" I shake my head, disbelief tinging my words. "I could be the problem. All you are is a sun in my day, even when the day is full of rain. I want you by my side," I declare, the sincerity of my words reverberating in the air between us. Yet, even as I speak, a nagging doubt creeps in, whispering the fear of sounding manipulative or imposing my desires onto them.
𝒞an I truly allow myself to lean on them, to relinquish control and accept their support without reservation? And can they, in turn, offer their presence without feeling burdened or constrained? As I search their eyes for answers, I find solace in the warmth of their touch and the tenderness of their gaze.
I realise that perhaps, just perhaps, I have found the person I have been looking for so, so long.
"I will be there for you," their words, simple yet profound, stir something deep within me. Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes, an inexplicable surge of emotion welling up within my chest. Without hesitation, I envelop them in a tight embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of their embrace and the sanctuary of their presence.
As I bury my face where their neck meets their shoulder, a sense of peace washes over me, chasing away the shadows of doubt and uncertainty that have plagued me for so long. In their arms, I find refuge from the storms of life, a haven of acceptance and understanding that I've long yearned for.
"Thank you."
* * *
𝒮pending days together with them feels like a waking dream, each moment steeped in a timeless embrace that defies the constraints of the world around us. We walk hand in hand, weaving through the bustling streets, our laughter mingling with the rhythm of life pulsating around us.
A trip to Whole Foods becomes an adventure in culinary exploration, as we meander through aisles adorned with vibrant produce and artisanal delights. With each item we select, we exchange knowing glances and playful banter, our shared excitement palpable in the air.
Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. Exchanging knit-caps becomes a symbol of our bond, a tangible reminder of the warmth and comfort we find in each other's presence. They specifically learn how to knit to make me a cap.
Every US monument we encounter becomes a portal to the past, as we recount its anachronistic history with fervent enthusiasm. With each story we share, we delve deeper into the rich tapestry of American heritage, finding connection and meaning in the echoes of the past.
Spending time eating popcorn while watching movies becomes a cherished ritual, a sanctuary of relaxation and intimacy amidst the chaos of the world outside. As we snuggle close on the couch, the glow of the screen illuminating our faces, we lose ourselves in the magic of cinema.
Burning one joint for two, as we pass the makeshift torch between us, sharing in the euphoria of a shared high. With each inhale, we surrender to the intoxicating embrace of the moment, our bodies melting into the blissful haze of mutual contentment.
Sex becomes an act of pure devotion, a celebration of our connection and mutual desire to make each other feel truly alive. With each touch, each caress, we lose ourselves in the ecstasy of the moment, our bodies becoming vessels of passion and pleasure.
In those fleeting moments, as we bask in the warmth of each other's presence, our hearts overflow with gratitude for the gift of love and companionship that we share. Whether embarking on a little trip to visit mutual friends or eagerly awaiting their arrival at our doorstep, every moment spent in the company of loved ones becomes an opportunity for joy and connection.
𝒪ur journey to Niagara Falls with Leandra, Joe, his partner, and Ash. As we stand in awe of nature's majestic spectacle, the roar of the cascading waterfalls echoing in our ears, we find solace in the shared experience and the laughter that bubbles forth from our lips.
Yet, amidst the beauty of the natural world and the warmth of friendship, it is the presence of Reader that truly fills me with a sense of fulfilment. With each glance exchanged and each tender moment shared, I feel myself growing more and more ready for a future with them by my side.
𝐼n their eyes, I see the promise of endless possibilities and the unwavering support of a true partner.
#wilbur soot x Olga#wilbur soot x you#mcyt wilbur#mcyt x Olga#mcyt x you#wilbur mcyt#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot#wilbur x you#wilbur post#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#mcyt x reader#Mammalian Sighing Reflex
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Ok hear me out… scare actor reader and Wilbur who just wanted to go to a haunted house and then boom he’s like “oh no. The serial killer is pretty” you can use ur imagination for the rest this is just the caffeine talking to me with fanfic ideas :)
🔪 Is That Too Scary for You? 🔪
Summary: Headcanons about how Wilbur would act if he saw you, the reader, being pretty & a fake serial killer in a haunted house
A/N: HOLY SHIT. I LOVE THIS IDEA! Again, very sorry that it's only headcanons (idk if I'm even using the right term anymore lol), I'm extremely burnt out & tired rn. also tysm for the asks! it's been keeping me busy af & i love it! Also, the title was based off of the song I Think I'm Okay =)
pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!actor!reader
pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers
tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)
warnings/cw: scary stuff, reader is a scare actor (you're basically a fake serial killer), fake blood, the people with Wilbur & Tommy on the vlog getting jumpscared, reader pretending to k!ll Wilbur, Wilbur having a dream about the reader
genre: fluff/horror
Wilbur would probably be accompanied by the Sorry Boys for a Tom Simons vlog
Wilbur probably wouldn't want to go in the first place because he;d get scared easily
So when they do get inside the haunted house, they learn that everyone who's in the haunted house now becomes part of a challenge. They now have to escape the haunted house without being killed by any of the creatures/ghosts or you, the serial killer. It's basically just an escape room
When he first hears your menacing voice behind him, he stops walking. Not out of fear, but out of awe.
↑↑ You laughed creepily. "It seems I have some visitors here today..." Wilbur stopped in his tracks & Tommy turned the camera towards Wilbur. He was staring at you in awe. "Wilbur, stop being a simp & run!" Tommy laughed, pulling Wilbur away from you. "...Tommy, the serial killer's hot."
He basically tried to find any way to bring the group closer to you. He thought you were really pretty.
Would definitely 'die' first just to hang out with you
If you pinned him to the wall to 'k!ll' him, he would be so fcking flustered
↑↑ "Nowhere left to run..." you chuckled. You stabbed two of your fake knives into his shirt sleeves to pin him to the wall. "Any last words?" & Wilbur would be crushin' & blushin' so damn hard as he said, "Honestly? Uh you're really pretty & I kinda want your number if it isn't too much to ask-"
He ended up letting you 'k!ll' him so that you could bring him to where the people who were eliminated stayed until the attraction was over & you two just talked for an hour or so
& then you were stabbing him to death in his dreams <3
#wilbur soot#fanfic#lovejoy wilbur#wilbursoot#creative writing#wilbur x reader#dsmp wilbur#wilbur#wilbur mcyt#wilbur smut#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot x reader fluff#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x you#wilbur x you#qsmp wilbur#dream smp
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— INVITATION
summary : after a long day of work, wilbur is desperate to curl up and spend time with his favourite girl. only problem is you’re not speaking to him.
genre : angst -> fluff, happy ending
warnings : light swearing, mentions of food/eating, wilbur being mean
pairing : cc!wilbur soot x fem!reader
pronouns : she/her, reader is called a girl
featuring : cc!wilbur soot
requested : Could you do a wilbur fic where the reader is an overall bubbly, energetic person and wilbur just suddenly lashes out at her one day, and she apologizes and goes home, and wilbur tries to call her and apologize and everything in the end it’s just fluff and apologies<33 tyy
word count : 2.1k
note : hi anon!! i hope you enjoy this fic, it’s a bit longer than i expected but i’m very very happy with it <3 also you referred to reader using she/her so i used those pronouns in the fic i hope that’s alright <333
you were wearing his favourite jumper. it was yours - he’d swear on it - but you were adamant that it belonged to him. it had, originally, as most of your jumpers were, been his. but he’d given it to you months ago, and you were still promising that you were going to return it one day. he hoped you didn’t.
you’d been stealing his clothes for as long as you two had been together, for the last four years he had bought every single shirt, jumper, jacket, with the knowledge that you would steal it. it made sense, in your earliest days, when the two of you were long distance. you’d arrive at his flat for a week with a half-packed suitcase, and you’d leave with nearly a drawer full of his sweaters. but even now that you lived ten minutes away, you still had a habit of nabbing his sweaters. he didn’t mind in the slightest, and most of the time he would offer up suggestions for articles of clothing you could take. you guys had been together for nearly five years, it felt weird for him to be territorial on his clothes, especially because you’d return them whenever he asked, the scent of your perfume mingling on the fabric. he absolutely loved seeing you so happy, and if you stealing a shirt or two did that then he was more than willing to comply.
or at least, he was usually. now, he was running late for a stream and he couldn’t find his grey jumper. he’d been tearing his bedroom apart piece by piece in an attempt to find it so he didn’t have to walk through the rain in just a t-shirt. he sighed and sat down on his bed, remembering that he gave it to you when he went over to your apartment earlier in the week. it had been five days since he’d seen you in person, and it was driving him crazy. he had planned to spend the night at your place after his stream though, and that was pulling him through. it was fine, he took a few deep breaths and went to go and find a jacket to wear, already pulling up twitter to post the stream would be ten or so minutes late. he remembered to tweet out about his late stream, but he hadn’t remembered to text you to tell you that he would be late coming over. you’d organised for seven, which gave him nearly three hours of streaming time, and he assured you that he wouldn’t be going for that long. he ended up jumping on a call with some other people while he played, though, and that completely distracted him. leaving the office at eight, he had his phone on speaker as he tried to order an uber and call you at the same time. he was exhausted, and of course he wanted to see you and spend time with his favourite girl, but he didn’t know if he’d be able to reach your house without falling asleep, and being more social sounded like torture.
his jacket was rough against his arms, and he remembered suddenly about the jumper. your call timed out and he finished ordering the uber for his own flat, moving to text you and tell you he didn’t feel up to hanging out.
he opened your message history, and was hit with a message from you from half-past six, over an hour and a half ago. hi wil, you’d opened with, and he softened, knowing his annoyance didn’t really mean anything. my neighbours are being really loud, so do you mind if we meet at your place? can’t wait to see you. there was another two, each sent half an hour apart, a second one apologising for messaging while he was streaming, and a third saying, hi i let myself in i hope that’s okay. are you almost home? your most recent message was nearing forty-five minutes ago, and he cursed under his breath, cancelling the uber knowing it would be faster for him to walk than wait.
he reached his apartment out of breath and cold, and he couldn’t wait to collapse into bed. he still got to see you, and hopefully your smile would be enough to rid himself of any residual annoyance he held towards you.
he dropped his guitar case on the floor in the living room, calling out your name. “lovely? you still here?”
he heard a crash from the kitchen and took his coat off, slinging it over the arm of the couch. “hang on!”
he had a headache, and he massaged his temple as he made his way into the kitchen. you brightened the second he arrived, all but running into his arms. “hi, darling,” he needed alone time. he loved you, of course he loved. you were one of the most important people in his entire life, he absolutely adored you. but right now, he craved being by himself. you were here though, so he wasn’t going to make that your problem.
“hi, wil! sorry about the mess!” you smiled up at him. “i thought i’d make food? are you hungry?”
he shook his head. “no, you’re alright. want any help?” this time it was you who shook your head, and he kissed your temple before going to sit down on the couch, closing his eyes. you’d eat, and then you guys would be able to go to bed, and when he woke up in the morning you would be there, and he’d get to take you out for breakfast and spend the entire day with you. he just needed rest.
there was something you needed, and it was on the top shelf. you didn’t want to bother wilbur, he’d just got home, you could do it yourself. wilbur was much taller than you, so to get to his top shelf you would have to climb up on the counter. you’d be alright, you didn’t need to stand up or anything, just kneeling on the bench would be fine. you got up there with ease, but wilbur came through the doorway right as you started reaching. “what are you doing?” he’d been too loud, he knew that instantly, you jumped, and he had to rush forward and stop you from falling off the counter. “what on earth are you on the counter for?”
“i was trying to reach the bowl,” you said quietly. he stroked your cheek with his thumb.
“why didn’t you come get me?”
he helped you down. “i’m sorry, wil. didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted. he felt a flash of annoyance, and then kicked himself for it. you were never a bother, not even when he was exhausted.
“you should have asked for help.” he said simply. “do you need anything else?”
you smiled up at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to return it. “do you wanna watch a movie? i’ve been hearing good things about this one new one, here let me-”
“stop,” he breathed out. “i’m exhausted, and i just want to be alone, and you’re here, in my kitchen crashing around and almost hurting yourself! i can’t do this right now?”
your smile ebbed, and you took a step back. “why didn’t you say anything?”
“because i didn’t want to upset you,” he sighed out, running a hand through his hair. “i just can’t do this tonight,”
“you invited me-”
“you invited yourself!” he wasn’t yelling, no, he had enough patience to not be yelling at you, but his voice was raised. “i didn’t invite you over to my house into my kitchen, to wear my sweaters.”
you’d been together for half a decade. neither of you needed an invitation, you both knew that. wilbur had given you a key because he wanted you to let yourself in whenever you needed. he’d spent entire days in your flat without you there while you were away. this had never been an issue before, and he made sure you knew that.
you stood still for a moment before reaching down and pulling off the jumper of his he’d been looking for, leaving you in a black long sleeved shirt underneath. you tossed it to him. “because you never thought to call me and let me know you’d be late. by over an hour.” you were quiet, quieter than you usually were. your voice was loud, and bright and he revelled in it, soaking up every little comment you made, every “i love you,” every giggle, he adored it.
“because not everything i do has to do with you,” he was verging on cruel, and he knew it. “i had a long day at work, and i just want to be alone, but you’re here. so i have to cater to you.”
you didn’t reply, just brushing past him, with a soft “sorry” as your arm brushed his. you grabbed your stuff and left in silence, deciding on walking home.
he rested his forehead against the closest surface - the fridge - and swore under his breath. he was still holding your jumper, and he brought it up to his face, burying his nose in it. it smelled like lavender.
he fished his phone out to call you as he retook his place on the couch, cheek still pressing into the jumper. it was soft. he loved it. he loved you. he was such an asshole.
he called. you ignored him. he called again, three times. four times over the half an hour until he knew you were home and he knew you were ignoring him. his headache had increased, and all he wanted was for you to be resting in his lap, drinking you in while you watched your movie. he opened his phone again, not to call you this time, but instead to order an uber for your place. god, they were probably making so much money off him tonight but if he had to walk the entire way to your house, he’d collapse of exhaustion. he was there within fifteen minutes, thankfully this driver not getting him lost, and he payed with one hand as he bounded up the stairs with the other. he brought out his keys on autopilot and then remembered what he’d said, putting them down to knock on your door instead.
“darling!” this time he was yelling. he didn’t care though, he needed you to hear him. it took three more times knocking and five more yelled pet names before you opened the door. your eyes were red, and you had changed into softer clothes, these ones all belonging to you. “i’m so sorry,” the words spilled from his mouth before he could stop them. “i’m sorry i got angry, i’ve been so tired recently and that’s not your fault nor your problem, but i took it out on you and you don’t deserve that, lovely.”
“i didn’t want to bother you,” you said softly, voice barely above a whisper. he took a step closer to you hesitantly, and when you didn’t step back he wrapped his arms around you.
“you’re never a bother,” he said, voice pouring with affection to make up for his thoughts betraying him earlier. “i love you more than anything. i’m sorry i didn’t show you that tonight,”
“i’m sorry for going in without you telling me,” you said.
he shook his head vehemently. “i gave you a key, lovely. i gave you a key because any space with you is better than one without.” he took your face in his hands and made you look at him as he spoke, trying to get you to absorb every word he was saying. “i want to spend the rest of my life with you, and i can’t do that if you can’t get into my house.”
you looked like you were about to start crying again, and he kissed you gently. “i’m sorry,”
“don’t be sorry,” he assured you. “just let me in? i want to watch a movie with you.” your smile came back, if only slightly, and he knew he was making progress. you brightened up every room you were in, and even if you were a little loud, and too bubbly, and you stole his sweaters, he wouldn’t want you to be any different. he kissed you again, slowly and gently and when he pulled back your eyes were sparkling. “lovely?” you hummed to show you were listening. “when we get a place together, promise you won’t climb on the counters?”
“i don’t know if i can commit to that,” you said, laughing softly. “but i’ll see what i can do.”
#wilbuh#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur soot x reader fluff#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot x you#wilbur soot fanfiction#wilbur soot angst
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PAIRING — drunk!cc!wilbur x (cc!)reader
SUMMARY — drunk wilbur is a soft and mushy mess for his lovely partner
NOTES — wilbur headcanons, fluff, maybe fem reader idk interpret however u want
EXTRA — wilbur stream ongjdjdn, i've had this idea for months, but wasn't sure how you guys would like wilbur headcanons :/
ʚ┊wilbur is most definitely a loud, yet very soft drunk. hes clingy, but when drunk he loses the ability to talk normally. it's either whisper or really loud, no in between
ʚ┊he knows his limits, and hes one of those who doesn't lie on wether hes drunk or not. if you'd ask if hes drunk, he'd be like "yeah, very." instead of "noooo!!"
ʚ┊if you were streaming, like a drunk stream, the minute the cameras turn off, he'd cuddle into you, leaning his head on your shoulder, until you moved off their chairs and onto the bed to cuddle.
ʚ┊he loves drunk cuddling. he loves loves loves drunk kisses, where it's slightly messy and you can feel each others smile through the kiss.
ʚ┊he goes insane for late night drunk walks. if he'd had too much to drink, he'd usually go outside and let the cool wind sober him up. he's also definitely the type to point out buildings you walk past at midnight and ramble random facts he memorised.
ʚ┊conversations like "you are so pretty, have i ever told you that?" "you've said that multiple times tonight, but thank you for the constant reminder." would be consistent throughout the night, with held hands being swung back and forth in between you.
ʚ┊while holding hands outside, he'd spin you around in the pitch black, giggling as you struggled to find your footing again.
ʚ┊okay, once you're back inside, you'd both just flop down int he settee, him laying on your chest, and drift to sleep. he'd most likely carry you, or wake you to take you to the bedroom later on, just so you can both get a more comfortable sleep, but there were the rare occasions where you both just decided sleeping on the couch was nicer.
ʚ┊i most definitely got carried away with this, but anyway, he's clingy, loving, and just so affectionate while drunk, wether that be towards you or just simply his friends !! <3
#wilbur soot#lovejoy#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur x reader#fluff#will gold#wilbur mcyt#wilbur x you#wilbur fic#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot fic#drunkbur#drunk wilbur#drunk headcanons#wilbur soot headcanons#wilbur headcanons#headcanons#wilbur soot oneshot
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speak now
wilbur soot x gn!reader
tw!: alcohol, throwing up, angst? hurt/comfort. kinda makes no sense; not proofread.
word count: 1,336
a/n: i hate this but i rlly just wanted to post bc i miss it. more stuff coming! this is just to get me back into the groove of writing and sharing lol. clearlyyyy i write too much angst im sorry i just thrive in it. ill write more fluff! expect more!
wilbur is lying on the vinyl kitchen flooring when he calls.
he’s wine drunk and crying like an overtired toddler. wails of grief and laboured breaths, clutching his phone with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. the cold surface of the floor giving him some relief for his overheated body.
“hey, you’ve reached y/n! i must be super busy, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you when i can!” he’s heard that voicemail hundreds of times this week. he loves hearing your voice, even if only through a phone speaker.
“baby?” he sniffles, wiping his snot on his sleeve, “hey darling, hey y/n.”
a shaky breath, “listen i-“ he looks at at the ceiling, silently cursing himself, “i need you to tell me where you are, okay?” he catches a sob before it escapes, trying to display strength. “we’re all so worried about you. i-i’m so worried about you.” he’s dizzy, the room is spinning now. he reaches his hand out to lay flat against the floor in an attempt to steady himself.
“just call me. or text one of us. anyone. w-we just want to know you’re okay.” wilbur can no longer hide his misery. his voice is wobbly and it cracks at the beginning of each sentence.
“i love you, y/n. i-i love you so much it hurts.” he begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, “come home, okay?” he hangs up. he gets up from the floor on shaky legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom, and lets out of the contents of his stomach. he’s coughing and spitting, hugging the toilet and resting his head on the side of the seat.
he flushes the toilet and scoots back to lay his back against the opposite wall. he leans his head back, closing his eyes, before crumbling again. loud sobs, fat tears, hiccups and laboured breaths. the pain and grief hits him like a train.
there was an argument between you two the night you left. he hasn’t seen you since, and nobody has heard from you. your phone, however, has remained on - proven by the fact that wilbur has been able to leave you voicemails and each of his texts deliver. both, however, go unanswered and unread.
he is riddled with guilt - his brain playing every possible scenario. hurt, kidnapped, murdered, lost, alone. although, his hopeful side prays you’re at your parents house and you just don’t want to talk to anyone.
he picks up his phone and calls again. he leaves more voicemails. he does this for hours until he’s sober with a pounding headache and a broken heart.
until, finally, “wilbur, please stop calling.”
you answer. he’s frozen, sitting up from his leant over position quickly.
“y/n?” he’s convinced he’s hallucinating, that this isn’t real, that you didn’t actually pick up your phone.
“i’m fine, wil. i’m safe. please stop calling and go to sleep.” you seem annoyed, your voice is heavy with exhaustion; like he’s woken you up multiple times with his constant calls.
“w-where are you?” he’s frantic.
“i’m safe.” you respond, sternly.
“stop calling, wil.” it comes out like a warning.
“are you going to come back?” he asks, the emotions bubbling in his gut, “please, y/n. please come home.”
he hears you sigh. he holds his breath as he waits for your answer.
“i’m sorry i worried you” you began, “i just needed some space. i’m coming home in a couple days.”
wilbur falls apart with relief. he cries without the pain and grief present.
“we will talk more about it when i come back. just-“ you pause.
“just give me some space, okay? get some sleep.” you speak gently.
he nods, wiping the tears spilling down his cheeks.
“i love you” he sobs.
“i love you, too” you whisper. you hang up, and wilbur cries more.
two days later, wilbur hears keys jingling at his front door as he sits on the couch. he rises to his feet so quickly that he stumbles slightly, nearly tripping. he watches the lock switch, the door handle twist, and the door begin to slowly swing open. he’s frozen as he watches, wide-eyed.
you walk in, a small bag in hand. you haven’t yet noticed wilbur’s presence as you lock the door and remove your shoes, setting your bag down on the floor next to you.
finally, you look up. you freeze upon meeting wil’s eyes. you both stand there - staring in each others eyes, mouth slightly agape, feet planted in place.
wilbur’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. he gulps, feeling the emotions rise to his eyes.
“hi wil” you break the silence with a small whisper.
his lip quivers, a tear falls down his cheek.
“hi” his voice cracks as he whispers back.
there’s a beat of silence as you both remain solid in your places. wilbur is silently crying, staring at you. you can feel your eyes welling with tears as you speak again; “i’m sorry i left” you begin, “i just needed some space. i should’ve told you where i was going. that was incredibly selfish of me.” you look down, your fingers anxiously playing with the hem of your shirt. you swallow before beginning again, “it killed me to not talk to you, but we both needed time apart.” you look up to meet wilbur’s eyes again. he has tears steadily streaming down his cheeks, his mouth is slightly open. you are finally taking in just how broken he looks; his hair is a mess, he has dark eye bags as if he hasn’t slept since the night you left, his skin is pale and dry. you feel like the shittiest human being on earth for having caused him this pain. you quickly wipe the tear that falls from your eye.
wilbur gulps again before speaking in a hushed voice and broken tone; “i never want to go that long wondering if you’re okay again. w-wondering if i’ll ever see you again. i-“ a choked sob leaves his lips. he breathes deeply before continuing, “i was s-so scared that the only time i would ever hear your voice again was through your voicemail message.”
you can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks as he speaks. you nod as you look down.
“i’m so sorry” you crumble, both of you letting out soft sobs and hitches of sharp breaths.
“let me hold you” wilbur speaks up, “please, l-let me hold you.”
all you can do is nod. the words won’t form. so you do; you nod as he quickly steps forward.
and as he reaches you, he pulls you into him. his hands wrap themselves around your middle as his head buries into your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull your face into his chest, breathing him in. you can feel his hot tears on your skin and his body jump as he lets out quiet sobs.
you stand there, in the living room of your shared apartment, holding each other and crying together for an unmeasurable amount of time. until eventually, the sobbing subsides and all that is heard is sniffles.
wilbur pulls away from the hug and instead, brings his hands to your face and rests his forehead against yours. you hold his forearms and close your eyes. you missed this - you missed being close to him, feeling him, smelling him. you missed him.
he missed you equally as much.
“never again” he whispers, as his thumbs begin moving against your cheeks.
“never again” you repeat in an equally quiet voice.
you both smile slightly. wilbur moves his head up to leave a long, lingering kiss on your forehead before returning his forehead to yours.
a silent vow of forgiveness, a silent vow of “i’m sorry.”
and yet, there is a quiet but heard vow of a promise to never let this happen again.
#wilbur soot#wilbur soot x reader#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot fic#dsmp x reader#mcyt x reader#mcyt x y/n#mcyt#wilbur x you#wilbur x y/n#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot angst
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Wilbur and reader constantly denying being together even though they are. It becomes almost a bit for them during streams?
-🧶
MY FAVORITE ANON 😍😍😍 I LOVE THE IDEAS YOU GIVE ME SM! PLEASE KEEP REQUESTING!!!
alright so i came up with the idea for the title after that one tiktok audio that’s like ‘are you falling in love? i got a feeling you are.” that sorta thingy yk?
ARE YOU FALLING IN LOVE?:
2 weeks ago:
“welcome back chat to my stream and today we have the wonderful Wilbur Soot here, live, with us!” y/n says, giving jazz hands towards wilbur.
He blushes and smiles. “‘Tis I, the wonderful Mr. Soot. Today, we will be doing a laugh you lose!”
“I won’t lose because my humor isn’t shit, unlike someone’s handsome ass.” I grin, winking.
Chat started going feral.
randomusername: omg!!! are they flurting?!?!
simpforwilbur: SIMPBUR!!
y/nfan: look at the way they look at each other! it’s adorable! ❤️
Will and y/n look at chat, giggling and blushing. “Guys, we’re not together!”
today:
“hello fellow people, welcome back to another stream, i know, i know, two streams in a row? surprising! today we have a special guest! it’sssss y/n!” wilbur grinned, his cheeks dusting pink.
he read chat. “guyssss nooo! i’m not in love with y/n! we’re just friends!”
y/n giggled. “yet you moaned my name loudly last night. wow, you wound me, truly, did last night mean nothing to you?” they started to fake cry.
chat ate that shit uppppp
SAPNAPLIVE: Y/N!
poggername: omg 😳
Tommyinnit: i need bleach for my ears
wilbur groaned and shook his head. “chat! chat! that’s all fake! that’s all fake! i don’t like y/n like that! seriously!”
y/n laughed and nodded. “yeah, we’re not together, duh.”
after a few hours of streaming, wilbur came over to y/n’s place and tickled them. “you just had to throw that comment out there, didn’t you love?”
y/n gave them a smile and kissed their lips. “just for you, my dearest.”
#dream smp#dsmp#fanfic#oneshot#wilbur soot#tommyinnit#wilbur soot x reader#mcyt wilbur#wilbur soot fic#dsmp wilbur#qsmp wilbur#wilbur#wilbur loveposting#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot x y/n#wilbur soot x you#wilbur x reader#wilbur x y/n#wilbur x you#wilbursoot#writers#writing#chloewrites
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Soundcheck
In which- A flirty Wilbur doesn't quite match with a nervous reader
a/n: This is for a writing trade with @lanaxoxoxoxoxox. Sorry if it's shit but I'm currently writing this right before I'm going to help my friends with training for their soccer game
Chapter info: Short... sorry, based off of this, almost kissing, small spaces, pinning against a wall (well, Joe, in this instance), eye contact, flirting, nervousness, friends to lovers?, claustrophobia, swearing, slightly suggestive?, teasing
Pronouns: None (You/Yours)
Masterlist:
Between Wilbur's flirty comments and the rush of losing one of Mark's drumsticks, you weren't having such a great day. Wilbur would not shut up and kept trailing behind you, spewing pick up line after pick up line, "Are you from Tennessee? Because you're the only ten I see," "Wilbur, I swear to- shut the fuck up and help me find Mark's drumstick,"
And Mark wasn't much of a help either, and encouraged the flirtatious remarks, pushing Wilbur towards you and shouting out a pick up line for him to say. At one point during soundcheck, Mark decided to hatch a plan with Wilbur, which you were very unaware of, and surprised you were when you stumbled forward, a hard surface behind you.
"Joe? What the fuck. Is happening? Why the fuck is Wilbur pushing me towards you? Please, tell me something," You begged for an answer. Why were you being caged in? Why was your long-time crush, Wilbur fucking Soot, backing you up against Joe? Was he in on the plan too? Does no one know you hate small spaces?
Getting scared being pushed up against Joe and Wilbur slowly leaning towards you, you were getting nervous, moving your legs up and down and rubbing them against each other in nervousness. Fair enough, it's a tiny space, but you can move and get away, right? Wrong.
Soon enough, Wilbur's long ass arms were right next to your head, his palms pressed flat against Joe's back, and his head tilted to the right, as if leaning in for a kiss. It's stupid, and you know he doesn't like you back, but what if? What if he's liked you as long as you've liked him? What if he's actually leaning in for a kiss? Should I kiss him? Should I tell him to stop? Should I-
And you were both separated by Ash, Wilbur sending you a wink, seeing your tomato red cheeks, and going back to the soundcheck at hand.
He's going to regret that...
#wilbur soot#wilbur x reader#wilbur soot imagine#wilbur#wilbur soot x reader#100 follower event#100 followers#event#follower milestone#wilbur soot fic#wilbur soot fluff#wilbur soot drabble#wilbur fluff
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The Lambs Wolves Wear part 5
Dark SBI AU where Philza’s human children were replaced by monsters. Start of ficlet is here.
“Do you really love us?”
“No.” “Wilbur” ripped the answer out of Philza’s throat before he had time to lie. Philza swallowed roughly, throat burning with the traces of fae magic used against him. He’s fairly confident he could win in a fight between the two of them, but “Wilbur” was still at times the most dangerous out of all of them. Sly where “Technoblade” was straightforward, subtle where “Tommy” was obvious. Both the most suited to uphold the illusion of their perfect, normal, happy family, and the most determined to tear it to shreds. Only barely had Philza salvaged “Wilbur” revealing he knew the monsters had replaced his real children. And yet he was determined to destroy that lie, too.
Only, Philza didn’t understand why “Wilbur” didn’t do this in front of the others if he really wanted Philza to be ripped to shreds. No, apparently this was to be a private affair, “Wilbur” locking Philza’s bedroom door behind him. Philza couldn’t tell if the tears in his eyes were from hearing the truth, the burn of the iron knob against his spindly changeling claws, or simply an illusion designed to manipulate Philza.
But if he had the truth of how Philza felt about them, why would he bother?
“I’m not going to kill you,” “Wilbur” drawled, stalking towards where Philza sits very still at the foot of his bed. “I know that’s what you think, why you’ve been pretending to love us like this. You’re a smart guy, if nothing else.” The tears streaked through his borrowed face, clawing imperfections through the mask of the real, human Wilbur. “But you know the other two would obliterate me if I killed you. There. That’s all the logic a survivalist like you needs. So now you can stop pretending,” “Wilbur” hissed, voice rippling with fae magic.
“I don’t know how you could expect me to really love any of you.”
“I didn’t! I’m not stupid like the others, I knew going in your love was never going to be for the real me. For the kid I stole the face of, maybe, but in what world would you have ever cared about the monsters that took them from you?! You were always going to hate me when you found out!” Philza couldn’t imagine why the changeling would force his ears to think his voice cracked with betrayal. He looked up to the creature looming over him, watching the way he glared through heavy tears. Why was he still being manipulated if “Wilbur” was claiming he wanted an end to the illusion?
“Actually, it’s because love takes far more time than a few weeks. But I don’t have to love you to be kind,” Philza continued. “And what you boys need is kindness. You wouldn’t stay if there wasn’t some part of you that yearned for a soft life.” Not that the fact softened his heart to them. His manipulation of that yearning was the only thing that kept him alive and would save his real sons.
“That’s not a life I’m ever getting, though. I was never going to be a worthwhile replacement. Never. Your real son is gone, alright!? I’m never going to be perfect, wonderful Wilbur!” The features of his son washed away to reveal the truth of the changeling. Uncanny ivory skin drained of the colors and features “Wilbur” wore like a mask. The creature was almost skeletal, sharp and bony, and yet at the same time melted like candle wax. It felt wrong to watch a monster weep. “Look at me. This is the real me. No one wants this. Not me, not you, not her.”
And it was a little easier to take his claws in his own hands than it usually was, Philza careful not to brush against the faeling with his iron wedding band. He couldn’t say he wanted “Wilbur” because he never wanted any of this. But for the first time Philza realized that “Wilbur” never wanted to replace his child in the first place. “Who is ‘her’? Why would she tell you such awful things?”
“Wilbur’s” claws dug into him, the changeling’s head dropping in shame. “The Fae Queen. She tried so hard to make me Wilbur, and I just wasn’t good enough. Not for her, not for you. That’s why she stole him, she deserves better than me.”
“Wilbur” didn’t catch the spark flash in Philza’s eyes as he finally got a hint as to where one of his boys was. The taste of hope was nearly suffocating. “Trying to be someone you’re not is horrible. She never should have forced you to try.”
“I wanted to be Wilbur. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s perfect,” he spat with a voice of venom and longing in equal measure. “I can’t blame her for hating a worthless copy like me.”
“I don’t think you’re worthless–”
“You hate me. You were my one chance and I ruined it.” The changeling choked on his own words. His legs trembled and gave out, collapsing to his knees before Philza, still clutching his hands like a lifeline. Philza said nothing as he nudged “Wilbur’s” head to rest in his lap, stroking the strange silver strands so unlike the texture of his child’s dark hair. Thin locks of it wrapped around his fingers, reaching to entangle him. “I’m sorry. I knew I was going to ruin your life and still I came into it anyway.”
The changeling wept in his lap, apologizing for ever being made. Quietly, Philza drew out information from him, how the Fae Queen raised “Wilbur” to replace his child and why and when and what she’s like. Anything to help him find and save his real child. Glamours danced about the room, the dark veiled figure of the Fae Queen, the way Wilbur struggled and screamed for him as he was replaced, the thick illusion “Wilbur” had put upon the rest of his household so they wouldn’t hear Wilbur’s pleas. The cold and lonely castle that the changeling was raised in, the cruel Fae Queen trying to shape him into the child that caught his eye only to discard him. Philza gently soothed him, telling him how soul destroying it could be to pretend something was real, especially when you wanted it to be. Swearing that “Wilbur” didn’t have to pretend to be his child in order to be loved. Assuring him it wasn’t his fault.
Seeing the true form of the changeling wasn’t terrifying compared to Philza realizing there was a shred of truth to his comforting lies.
Next>
Art for this part
#the lambs wolves wear#philza#philza minecraft#sbi#dark sbi#sleepy bois inc#tommyinnit#technoblade#wilbur soot#sbi au#Sbi angst#Dsmp au#sbi fic#sand duo#sand duo fic#mcyt#philza fanfic#wilbur soot fic#dark sbi fic#dark sbi fanfic#tw self loathing#what nooo i didn't base changeling wilbur off a dnd character I had once..#fae au#wow philza really did manipulate a crying child good job man#something to nom on
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