hey friends!
itâs been a joy but i donât support abusers. i wonât delete the fics that are already up for now (i may in the future).
as of right now, iâm unsure what to do with this account moving forward. i may rebrand and continue to write other content, or i may abandon this account and leave it as is.
either way, wilbur soot is a piece of garbage and iâm sorry i ever, EVER supported anyone capable of such acts.
take care of yourselves. all my love <3
-seven
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like a god
wilbur soot x g/n reader
tw!: talk of religion?? kinda?? fluff. not proofread.
A/N: iâm rlly scared this is offensive to religious individuals pls tell me if it is cause i will immediately delete but heyyyy sorry for being gone for so long here is a blurb as apology. itâs bad. im sorry.
word count: 478 words
âi used to pray for you every nightâ you confessed to wilbur one evening. both of you were cuddled up on the couch, hardly watching the movie on the TV. you were far too focused on playing with wilburâs fingers, and wilbur was far too focused on you. he raised an eyebrow at your confession. âprayed?â he asks, humourlessly. you laugh slightly, shaking your head. âit sounds silly. i didnât pray to any god or anything. i guess, i just⊠spoke to the universeâ you shrugged, cheeks turning red as you continue to play with wilâs fingers.
wil nods, âi prayed for you, tooâ he confesses.
you smile at his confession, meeting his eyes as he smiles back.
âexcept, i did pray to a godâ he continues, smirking slightly, âi prayed to them all. every single one of them. including greek.â
you chuckle, âyou prayed to the greek gods?â you asked with a laugh.
âof course i did!â he exclaims, âi had to make sure they all equally knew how badly i needed you.â
you laugh again, âmustâve worked, thenâ you say, a slight hint of sarcasm in your tone. wilbur nodded, smiling widely now. he grips your hand a little tighter while bringing it up to his lips to plant a kiss on your knuckles.
âit didâ he breathes, âand i worship you. gosh, y/n, do i worship you.â
your face heats up again as he continues; âevery single thing you do, i worship. every word you say, i memorize like a prayer.â wilbur reaches a hand up to cup your cheek, running his thumb over your cheekbone.
âsometimesâ he starts, âi swear you were handcrafted by some otherworldly, unexplainable thing and placed on this earth just for me. i meanâŠâ he sits up straighter, turning his body more towards you, âyou are so perfectly⊠perfect i just- gosh, sometimes i canât even believe youâre real!â he laughs out, you giggle too.
âwilâŠâ you smile, knowing your face is redder than any tomato ever seen. wilbur leans in and plants a small, soft kiss on your nose.
âi thank each god every night for giving me youâ he whispers out, âand every time i say your name, i say it like itâs holy.â
you lean in to kiss him, breathing him in. after a beat, you both smile into the kiss. he leans back, meeting his forehead into yours.
âi love youâ he whispers, âi would run out of breath trying to recite all the things i love about you.â
you giggle, shaking your head, âi love you, tooâ you laugh, âyou, wil gold, are the sappiest man to ever liveâ you chuckle out, shaking your head into his.
he giggles, shrugging his shoulders, âsue me.â he says, before leaning back in to place another kiss on your lips.
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hey folks. i adore each and every one of you. iâm sorry iâve been gone. recovery is very hard physically and mentally. iâll be back when im able to be, but im not ready yet.
take care of yourselves.
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now that iâve had top surgery i feel like i can stop waiting to do things lmao. itâs always been âafter top surgery.â i literally have no excuses. i have to do things now. should fuck around and start streaming on twitch again lmaoooo
anyways iâve been sleeping for 20 hours everyday like a damn lizard.
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me breaking my promise hahahahaha. iâm sorry. i have just been sliced open and have been sleeping a lot. hopefully during my healing iâll find some energy to write.
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i am getting surgery tomorrow which has me kinda frazzled and running around like a crazy person to get everything ready FJDHDHD AHHHHHHH
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Your pfp makes my heart race HELP WILBUR LOOKS SO PRETTY!đ
wilbur often has that effect on me as well. bros gorgeous and he knows it
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i need 1 more follower to get to 200 whoâs gonna be the lucky winner!!! there is no prize!! just my love and appreciation.
sorry for lack of posts or fics. iâm getting a surgery in a week and have never felt more stressed and anxious in my life :D hopefully once thatâs over and done with iâll have more brain space.
how is everyone tho!? my asks are always open, even just to say hi or ask a question or say something silly.
take care of yourselves!
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i wanna do a halloween event so bad
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Please Reblog is Your Blog is Safe for Non-Binary People.
If my mutuals canât rb this then we canât be mutuals
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imposter syndrome gang đđȘ
hey so quick /gen here-- anyone have suggestions on being able to write and post authentically (or at all) on their account bc-
i wanna write and post but it just- I do not feel welcome doing so lol
any suggestions would be great- thank u!
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mutuals of mine: PLS TAG ME IN ALL OF UR FICS SO I READ THEM AND REPOST THEM BC I WANT TO SO BAD BUT I NEVER SEE THEM CAUSE I DONT FREQUENT THIS APP ENOUGH AND WHEN I DO IT ISNT TO SCROLL THANK U ILY MWAH
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hey yall! how very fitting of me to post a fic and disappear without a trace. anyways life update:
i got a new job and iâm seeing noah kahan in concert. and thatâs it! thatâs all that is new. okay bye!
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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 itâs fluffy and sweet. not proofread
word count: 1,248
a/n: literally wrote this in 10 minutes and didnât read it over so iâm sorry if it makes literally 0 sense lmaoooo. i hope yâall like it!! (also this picture of wil is so cute hes so-)
thereâs a stale feeling in the air as youâre 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. itâs 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 youâve 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 youâve been thrown backwards.
ây/n? did you hear me?â 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,
âno, sorry. what were you saying?â you respond quietly, looking over at your friend and placing the fork down beside your plate.
âi asked if you were okay. you seem like youâre in spaceâ 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.
âyeahâ you whisper, âiâm okay. sorry. didnât get much sleep last nightâ 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 âi know youâre lying, but we donât have to talk about itâ, 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 wilburâs spot. heâs looking at you. his mouth slightly agape, his eyes sad. you hold his gaze for a beat, before grabbing your fork and standing.
âmâgonna go wash thisâ 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 wilburâs 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 wouldâve done it all with wilbur.
âi think itâs cleanâ 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 hadnât 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, âwell, yaknow, just had to be sureâ you chuckle, though it comes out sad and strained.
thereâs a silence, the air feels heavy, as you both just look at one another.
ây/nâŠâ wilbur starts. you shake your head. âdonât. itâs okayâ 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.
âiâm sorryâ wilbur whispers.
âi said dont, wilburâ 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.
âi miss youâ his voice cracks, his eyes gather tears but he quickly wipes them away.
âwil-â
âi know we agreed it was best to part ways but itâs killing me, y/nâ 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.
âi-its so hard. so fucking hard to pretend im okay with this. that im fine. t-that i really believe itâs for the bestâ wilbur chokes out, he gulps before continuing, âbecause i donât. i donât think it is.â
you close your eyes to avoid the tears forming. you shake your head.
âwil, please stopâ you beg âwe both have other things to focus on. i mean, you have the band and-â
âoh, fuck the band!â 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 âfuck the band. fuck streaming. fuck everything, y/n. if it means i lose you, i donât want any of it.â wilburâs voice calms, itâs quieter.
you sigh and shake your head, âi would never ask that of you. you know thatâ you whisper âyou 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-â your voice breaks as a tear falls down your cheek, âbut 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 itâs fine but i- i couldnât wait anymore. a-and all your promises, all the missed dates, all the times i spent sleeping alone, i just- it was too hard.â
wilbur takes a step towards you, searching your face for a reaction. when you donât 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.
âthen iâll wait for you this timeâ he whispers, âwhenever youâre ready for me, iâll be here. ready to change, to do whatever it takes, to show you the love you deserve.â
a wet laugh escapes your lips as you sniff, reaching up to hold his forearms as you close your eyes.
âi love you, y/nâ he whispers, âi donât think iâm capable of not loving you.â
you nod. âme neitherâ 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.
âwhenever youâre readyâ wilbur whispers. you nod - âokayâ 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 iâm ready, you think.
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i love these lil thingies do it do it do it
Iâm Bored and Anxious So I Slapped Together a List of Fan Fic Writer Asks
1. Share a song that makes you think of [fic title]
2. Do you read/reread your own fics?
3. Whatâs your favorite fic that youâve written?
4. How many WIPs do you have right now?
5. Whatâs a fic idea youâve had that you will never write?
6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?
7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?
8. What project(s) are you currently working on?
9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what youâve written!
10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?
11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?
12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!
13. How much planning do you do before writing?
14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?
15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?
16. At what point in the process do you come up with titles?
17. Whatâs something youâve learned about while doing research for a fic?
18. Whatâs one of your favorite lines youâve written in a fic?
19. Give us a small teaser from one of your WIPs.
20. Whatâs a favorite title for a fic youâve written?
21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?
22. Do you know how your fic will end before you start writing?
23. How do you choose where to end a chapter (if you have multi-chapter works)?
24. Share a moodboard for (one of) your current WIP(s).
25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?
26. Is there something youâve written that you would never want your family to see?
27. Is there a fic you were nervous to post/share? Why?
28. Have you ever tagged a fic âDead Dove: Do Not Eatâ?
29. Share a bit from a fic youâll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you donât have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you donât plan on getting to.)
30. Ask anything!
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i (somehow) just realized that yâall donât know what i look like and now i feel rlly cool and mysterious.
based on my posts tho, what do yâall think i look like? iâm so very curious to know how u picture me
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literally hugging u so tight rn ur so nice to me oh em gee AHHHHHH.
THANK U CONNOR.
i am writing more simply per connorâs request bc iâm his biggest fan
i didnât know it (at fifteen)
hs! wilbur soot x gn! reader
tw!: talks of eating and food (this story is not ED coded, i promise. pls eat and drink water and take ur meds and take care of urself and ur body). high school au. fluff?. cocky wilbur. implied mute! reader. so incredibly unoriginal.
word count: 663 words
a/n: this has been sitting in drafts literally since i made this account. if this is liked, iâll turn it into a lil series. i have ideas for more of this story if yâall like it! if not tho, iâll literally throw it out the window never to be seen again.
there is a boy in the cafeteria who silently hands you a bright red apple everyday at lunch.
he wears wired framed glasses and a knit sweater, his tall frame walks with a slight hunch in his back, he never makes eye contact with you and youâve never heard his voice.
he always walks past you afterwards - making his way over to a table crowded with people and taking a seat while placing his white lunch tray in front of him. you watch him as he smiles and talks with each person around that table whilst eating his poorly made and far too expensive school cafeteria lunch.
you arenât sure why he does this. youâve never spoken to him before and you donât share any classes. you donât know his name and you donât think he knows yours. and yet, everyday without fail, a bright red apple is placed on the corner of the empty table in the back of the cafeteria where you sit.
sometimes you eat it, sometimes you take a few bites, sometimes you donât even look at it and throw it out the second the lunch bell rings.
sometimes you study the piece of fruit, most times you study him.
you watch him talk and laugh and smile. you almost envy him - his kindness and seemingly bubbly, outgoing, happy-go-lucky nature.
today is no different.
a hand clutching an apple comes into view as youâre staring down at the table. you donât look up. you wait the usual 7 seconds it takes for him to reach his table before raising your head.
and once you do, youâre met with wire framed glasses and a knit sweater. youâre not sure how you didnât notice him take a seat infront of you. heâs looking down at his white tray of food - lasagna with slightly burnt edges, green beans straight from a can, and mashed potatoes that mostly likely were once a powder. heâs silently eating, eyes fixed to his food. you look back down at the apple on the corner of the table. you stare at it, wide-eyed, nervously playing with the sleeves of your sweater.
youâre not sure how much time has passed. âare you gonna eat that?â you look up quickly, startled by the sudden voice. heâs looking at you, one eyebrow raised and a finger pointing down at the untouched fruit. âyou really should. you never have a lunch with you. but if you arenât gonna eat it, i willâ he states. you only stare.
he smiles at you kindly, still pointing at the apple as he waits for you to respond.
you shake your head.
âsuit yourselfâ he says, shrugging his shoulders as he reaches over to grab the apple and takes a big bite out of the side.
âiâm wil, by the wayâ heâs speaking with his mouth full, making his words sound muffled.
you stare for a moment, blinking, before reaching into the backpack behind you and pulling out your notebook. you skip through pages of notes and doodles to find an empty page.
ây/nâ you write, flipping the notebook so he can read it. he leans forward. ây/n?â he repeats. you nod.
âokay y/nâ he says, taking another bite of fruit before speaking again, âwhy donât you ever have a lunch?â
you shrug your shoulders, but he remains silent as if waiting for the real answer.
you pull the notebook back towards you - âi never have time to pack oneâ you write, flipping it towards him again.
he hums in understanding.
âi guess iâll just have to keep bringing you applesâ he states, a cocky smirk adorned on his face.
âyou donât have toâ you write quickly, making your handwriting appear sloppy and rushed.
âi knowâ he replies, before the lunch bell blares loudly through the cafeteria and students begin rushing to their next classes.
âsee you tomorrowâ he smiles, standing up and walking away with his lunch tray in hand.
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