sleepyrights

[sleepyrights]

5 times wilbur helped you + 1 time you helped him

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: hypochondria + drinking alcohol + sickenss + death mentioned

note: this was so cute to write ee i love a good 5 things + 1! this fic is very cutesy too, a good strangers to neighbors to friends to best friends to lovers moment!

taglist! @l0veb0mb1ng

word count: 6.2k

one

The record store managed to be both small and incredibly overwhelming. It was a cozy place, with gorgeous dark blue walls, soft lighting, and big windows. You’d decided to stop here on your way home from work given that you’d been living in Brighton for nearly four months now and have barely gone anywhere but work and your apartment. It was about time you’d looked at expanding your music taste, so a record store was the perfect place to try and find something new. 

At least, you’d hoped it was. You’d been browsing the place for a good fifteen minutes, just completely mindless as you searched for anything that could pique your interest. A few customers had come and gone, and you could tell the shopkeeper was getting a bit annoyed by your presence. There was one other person in there with you, but the sun was starting to set, so you could imagine that the shopkeeper wanted to start closing. You looked around again, eyes scanning the title cards. 

The Front Bottoms. You’d only heard a few of their songs, so maybe it would be good to give them a listen, and at least this way, you could get back home before the sun finished setting. You went to grab the last record, deciding it would be better than going home with nothing. As you reached for it, your hand quickly came into contact with another person’s, and you pulled your hand back quickly. 

“Oh, sorry!” You heard, turning to look up at the only other person in there. He was tall, soft brown curls peeking out from a beige beanie that matched his sweater. He was really cute as well, a soft flush covering your cheeks as you looked up at his smile that honestly took your breath away. 

You spent a moment remembering how to respond like a normal person before you spoke up, “Oh, no, that’s my bad!” You smiled softly, “You can have it, if you’d like, I’ve never really listened to them much.”

“Are you sure?” He gave you a soft smile that honestly made your heart melt a bit. 

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure, go ahead!”

He grabbed the record, holding it for a moment before looking back at you, “If you’ve never really listened, can I ask why you were going for it? I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”

“Oh,” you looked away, red dusting your cheeks, “I’ve been trying to expand my music taste a bit, so I figured I’d just come to a record store to find something that might catch my eye.”

He thought for a moment, walking away while talking, “Well, if you’re looking for suggestions,” he sorted through a few slots before walking over with a record, holding it out for you, “this band is one of my favourites, they have a really unique style and their lyrics are fantastic.” 

You took the record, looking down at it. The front cover showed a pair of knees with blood going down one leg and a bed behind the legs. An interesting cover, to say the least. You turned to the back cover, which was more simple, detailing the tracklist with the band’s name up top. 

“Los Campesinos!? I’ve never heard of them.”

He lit up like a kid in a candy store just from you saying their name, “Yeah, I mean, they’re not as big as they used to be, but they’re really good.”

You looked down at the record in your hand once again, before looking back up to the excited but nervous grin on his face and nodding. “Alright, yeah. Thank you.”

He perked up even more, stuttering out his next words, “Cool, yeah, alright.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he moved to go check out. 

“I hope you enjoy it, really, it’s one of my absolute favorite records,” he gave you a gentle smile as he finished getting rung up by the shopkeeper. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, but before he could, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, cursing softly. 

“I’ve got to run,” he sighed, smiling at you once more as he headed towards the door, “it was nice talking to you.”

You tried to ignore the fact that your mood faltered a bit at the knowledge that he would have to leave, even if you’d only been speaking for about five-odd minutes. “It was nice talking to you too. Thanks for the recommendation!” You smiled, giving him a slight wave as he walked out the door, before purchasing the record. With a frown, you realized that you never caught his name.                                            

two 

It was raining. It was cold, and it was raining. It was cold, raining, and your arms hurt. You had walked half a mile back to your apartment in the freezing rain with a box of your things because your boss decided that your last work wasn’t “suitable for the brands image” whatever that meant and fired you. You’d cried about it on the first half of the walk, stressed over having to potentially find a new job. But now you were just tired, the rain was seeping through your coat to your skin, and you could feel the cold in your bones which was entirely unpleasant when carrying a shitty cardboard box filled with the contents of your entire office. 

You managed to get into the building, thankfully your downstairs neighbor was kind enough to hold the door open for you when she’d seen you struggling to open the door. That wasn’t the hard part, though, no, the hard part was somehow trying to fish your keys from your pocket without dropping the box of things and then proceeding to unlock your door. 

You pushed the box between your door and chest, trying to use the tension in order to get the keys out of your pocket.

You quickly got distracted by the sound of a door behind you opening. You didn’t really know much about your neighbor across the hall. You’d never actually met him, since it appeared you and him had opposing schedules for the most part. You were always out by eight A.M. to walk to work, and you usually only returned around 6 P.M.. From what you could gather, he usually left sometime around noon and only returned later in the night, though sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d hear him get back as late as 2 A.M..

 Because of the distraction, you ended up dropping the keys right onto the ground. You tried to carefully manuveur your way into picking up the keys, but instead, you were met with the sound of crashing as the wet cardboard gave way and fell to the floor, scattering your belongings across the hallway.

You sighed, crouching down to start picking things up when you heard a voice from across the hall.

“Oh, here, let me,” your neighbor spoke, leaning down to grab a photo that had fallen in front of his door. 

You looked up, shock flooding you for a moment as you finally got a look at your neighbor.

“You’re that guy,” you smiled, and his head whipped up alarmingly fast, “from the record store.”

He relaxed when you finished your sentence, a soft smile coming onto his face as he held out the photo, “Yeah, uh, hi. You live across the hall?” You nodded as you took the photo, and he chuckled, “Well, that guess the world is funny like that.” He helped you clean up the things, placing them inside the box for you.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, no, I insist, trust me,” he gave you a warm smile, and you suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore. 

“Thank you,” you spoke timidly

It didn’t take long before all of your things were recollected, and you carefully stood, unlocking your apartment door. You went to lean down to pick up the box, but your neighbor had already picked it up.

“I could bring it inside, if you want. It’s a bit heavy. Not- not that you can’t carry it, I- I just mean-” His nervous stuttering brought a laugh out of you, and he paused, face flushed as he looked up at you.

“It’s alright, I knew what you meant. That would be really nice, thank you,” you opened the door, holding it open for him as he carried the box in. 

“You can just place it anywhere on the counter,” you spoke, and he nodded, placing it on the countertop before processing the contents of the box.

He clearly knew what that box meant, but he didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was because of your red-rimmed eyes, or the fact that it was quite obvious that you weren’t having a good day, but he asked another question instead.

“How did you like the album?”

You shrugged off your wet coat, hanging it up before turning to him, a soft smile on your face, “It was a bit odd, but I really liked it.”

He lit up, “Really? Which one was your favorite?”

You thought for a moment, “I’d have to say A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State.”

If he lit up just from you saying you liked the album, he was set ablaze with happiness as you spoke, “God, that song is fantastic! It’s my favorite as well.”

You grinned, and after a moment, it occurred to you that you still didn’t know his name.

“Alright, so, things I know about you: you really like The Front Bottoms and Los Campesinos!, and your favorite song from Romance is Boring is A Heat Rash. Things I don’t know: your name,” you chuckled.

A blush returned to his cheeks, and he looked down sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back up at you, “My name’s Wilbur.” You smiled, “Wilbur. It’s nice to know you and meet you, in that order. My name’s Y/N.” 

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” he gave you a bright smile, before humming softly, “Do you want some hot cocoa?” You laughed, tilting your head a bit, “What?”

“Well, I was gonna run by the shops to get some, so I was wondering, if you wanted, I could bring you some. I’d imagine it would be nice after getting caught in the rain.”

You looked up at him, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face, “Yeah, uh, thank you, Wilbur. That sounds lovely.”

three

Sometimes you think the universe had it out for you. It had only been about a month and a half since you’d gotten fired, and while you were able to start doing freelance work, that didn’t mean that things were looking up for you. Not at all. Because sometimes, when the stars aligned, they didn’t align positively. 

You got the text an hour ago. Your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — Jared, sent some short message detailing just why he couldn’t stand you anymore. How your “love” had died out and lost its spark and honestly you couldn’t care. He hadn’t done anything in months, you were the only one trying anymore. You’d just hoped maybe he would eventually try. 

Regardless, you found comfort in the night sky. The roof was supposed to be off limits, but you discovered pretty quickly upon moving in that they never actually locked the door. Still, you didn’t make it a habit to come up here, just in case. But on nights like this, where you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or distraught, the quiet night sky always helped you feel somewhat consoled. You put on a nice pair of headphones and listened to some quiet music, allowing the song to drown out the sounds of the city. 

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, taking a deep breath. 

When you went to look up at the stars again, you were instead met with the concerned look of Wilbur from above you. You startled, sitting up and pulling your headphones off. 

“Wilbur! Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me.”

You hadn’t seen Wilbur much since that day outside your door. He did eventually bring you the hot cocoa, and you had a nice chat but not much else after that. You saw him in passing sometimes, now that you weren’t working a 9-to-5 and could leave your apartment whenever you dictated, but you would only share a few words.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, a soft blush on his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to, I thought you’d heard me saying your name. Didn’t realise the headphones were soundproof.” 

You sat up, getting a better look at him. He had a pair of nice black pants on, as well as a large grey jumper. He also had a guitar across his back. You knew he played, you could hear soft strumming sometimes at night, but it was different to actually see him with it. He was also holding a half-empty bottle, and while you couldn’t see the label, you could tell it was probably vodka. 

“It’s alright,” you laughed lightly, “what are you doing out here anyways?”

“I could ask you the same,” he smiled, pulling the guitar off his back, “I come up here to play sometimes when my apartment feels too confining. You?”

You sighed, “I like staring at the stars when my head feels overwhelming. Makes it easier.”

He nodded, considering something for a moment, “Do you mind if I’m here as well? I won’t bother you, if you don’t want.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Might be nice to have some company, actually.” 

You gave him a soft smile, and he returned the gesture, sitting across from you. He pulled his guitar across his lap, starting to pluck out some gentle notes. You looked up at the sky while he played, and it felt nicer than when you had been alone. 

The only thing that brought you out of the peaceful energy was Wilbur pausing his playing to open the bottle and take a drink. You watched him curiously.

“Do you want some?” He asked, holding out the bottle, “It’s just vodka.” 

Any other night, you would’ve said no. Any other night, you couldn’t justify it. Tonight? Tonight, you could. 

You nodded and took the bottle, taking a swig. You cringed a bit from the taste, setting the bottle back down between you both. Wilbur’s company was nice. He played delicate melodies, and for the longest time, neither of you spoke. 

The alcohol softened you, made you lose a bit of your filter. You were curious about Wilbur, and a conversation sounded comforting. 

“You… said you come up here when your apartment gets too confining. What did you mean by that?” You drew your knees up to your chest as you asked him, giving him a curious look. 

His hands paused for a moment as you asked, but he continued to play softly as he went on to speak. 

“I’m not used to staying in one place for long. I haven’t lived here incredibly long, but sometimes I have to fight that urge to just pack up and go. Being in my apartment makes that feeling, that urge stronger. Being up here makes it feel easier, because I’m not stuck in some room. I’m just up here with the sky.” 

You nodded as he explained, humming softly in lieu of a response. He took your questioning as an opportunity himself. 

“You come up here when you’re overwhelmed. What’s on your mind?” 

A sigh escaped you before you spoke softly, “A lot. I’ve lived here nearly six months, and it’s been… weird. Moved here for a job that fired me. Haven’t made an actual friend yet. My now ex-boyfriend gave up on our relationship. Lots of little things stacking into a pile that is currently tipping over.”

He continued playing as he listened and for a while you wondered if he was going to respond at all. Eventually he did, but it wasn’t the response you’d expected.

“You have me.” 

“What?”

“I just- You said you haven’t made an actual friend yet,” he shrugged softly, “I’d say you have. Me.” 

It took a moment — and you could see the nerves rising in him as you processed his words — but a grin split across your face.

“Thanks, Wilbur.” 

He chuckled, and you could just barely spot the pink tint on his cheeks. “You make good company,” he reached for the bottle again, taking another sip as he spoke.

“So do you.” You drank a bit more as well, and the two of you fell back into comfortable silence.

You both stayed out there until the bottle was empty, chatting lightly every now and then, but mostly just staying quiet while Wilbur played soft tunes. When you went back downstairs to your respective apartments, Wilbur kept an arm wrapped around you to keep you from drunkenly stumbling your way down the stairs. It wasn’t stressful or anything, both of you muffling laughter to try and prevent any complaints. He walked you to your door, staying with you to make sure you got inside your apartment. 

Once you had the door open, you walked in, but turned and leaned against the doorway to talk with him for a moment. 

He smiled softly at you, speaking in hushed tones, “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You smiled back up at him, “You too, Wilbur.”

He turned and walked across the hall to his apartment, getting his door open. Before he could close the door behind him, you called out softly. 

“Hey, Wilbur?”

He turned, looking back at you curiously. 

“Thank you.”

His smile widened, eyes bright.

“Don’t worry about it. And if you ever need company again, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

You nodded, before walking into your apartment, and heading to bed feeling relieved and light despite everything that should’ve made you feel otherwise. 

four

If there was any way to describe you, it was stubborn. Hence why, despite the severe cold and fever you had, you were still working. You were working from home on some graphic design for a law firm, so it wasn’t particularly hard, but the fever was definitely impacting your ability to actually understand the task you were supposed to be working on. 

Despite most of your work being done from home, you still made it a habit to leave your apartment at least twice a week to stop you from going completely stir-crazy. You followed a routine. Once a week you’d go out to get groceries and a coffee, and the second day was up to you to figure out what to do. Wilbur made that easier. Your rooftop trips became a common habit, usually going up there once a week, sometimes with snacks or drinks, to just talk. In a matter of about two months, he quickly became your best friend, and even though it was getting cold outside, you’d always gladly jump at the opportunity to head up with him and just exist. It was also nice to have him living across the hall; it made living in a new city easier to have your closest friend mere steps away. 

It also made it easy for him to notice your routine. More importantly, it made it easier for him to notice when your routine was off. Like this week, when you decided to forgo going out for groceries, deciding that you’d just deal with what you had since you weren’t feeling well enough to actually leave your apartment. That was the first time he noticed something was wrong. 

The second time was when he texted you, asking if you wanted to go up to the roof that night. You replied, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what the reply said. 

‘ m niur sure im nto feelkibt to o good’

Your phone buzzed with his reply, a series of question marks that you couldn’t honestly gather the strength to reply to. You tried, for sure, but your message was less legible than the first, so you didn’t bother sending it. Because of how close you two had gotten, you’d also swapped emergency keys. Primarily because one night you dropped your key on the way in and had to take temporary residence on his couch while you waited for your apartment’s office to open, so you could get a replacement made. 

When he got that text, it worried him even more. When you didn’t respond to his follow-up, it made him worry enough to go knock on your door. You didn’t even hear the knock, head foggy from a mixture of sickness and attempts to focus. That brought an entire other wave of concern to Wilbur, and he felt panic begin to bubble up in his chest. 

He pulled out your spare key, opening the door quickly and eyes scanning the room. 

“Y/N?” He called out, seeing you sitting on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared helplessly at your laptop screen. 

You looked up, eyes taking a moment to focus. “Wilbur?” Your voice sounded weak, and your nose was clearly stuffed, “What are you doing here?” 

He relaxed when his eyes met yours, walking over to you. 

“I got worried. Your text was… less than readable. Plus, you didn’t answer when I knocked.” He looked over at your computer, “What are you doing?”

You groaned, tipping your head back. “Trying to work.”

“While sick?”

“I’m not that sick. Just a cold.”

He raised an eyebrow, walking closer and placing a hand on your forehead. “You definitely do not just have a cold. When’s your deadline?” 

“Next week,” you sighed, “But I want to figure it out sooner.” 

“And how’s that working for you?” He chuckled a bit, “If your text is anything to go off, I strongly doubt you’re doing your best work right now.” 

You huffed softly, closing your eyes for a moment, “Maybe I’ll take a break-“

“Nope! You’re done for today,” he hummed, happily picking up your laptop and moving it to the side table. 

“Will,” you whined out. Before you could even try to argue, you started coughing into your arm, gasping a bit for breath. 

He cringed a bit, but he gladly fought his own hypochondriatic thoughts to make sure you were alright. 

“Have you taken any medicine?” He hummed, walking over to your pantry and opening it. You’d be more baffled by his behaviour if it weren’t for the fact that raiding each other’s pantry was usually the first thing either of you did when you came over anyways. 

“Not since this morning.”

He nodded, grabbing something from the pantry. From your spot on the couch, you couldn’t see what he was grabbing, but he didn’t even give you a chance to look before walking over. 

“Go take a warm shower and put on comfy clothes, okay? You can take the medicine after. Sounds good?”

As stubborn as you were, it honestly sounded fucking fantastic. Maybe the sickness made you weaker, but you sighed, slowly standing. He reached his hands out, just in case you wobbled or fell. 

“Do you need help getting there?” He asked. Normally, someone asking that would make you want to kick them out and crawl into a hole to die, but with Wilbur, you sensed no malice or judgement in his tone, only genuine care and concern. Regardless, you shook your head, stabilising yourself enough to walk to your room. 

Your shower was quick, but the warm water did wonders. Your muscles felt immediately better, and your headache finally weakened just enough to make it feel relieving. Plus, you put on a big hoodie and some long pajama pants which helped you feel much more relaxed than the stiff clothing you’d been wearing before. You walked back out into your living room, seeing Wilbur standing at your stove. 

“Will? What are you doing?” You chuckled, walking over. 

He smiled, “I made soup. Go sit, it’s almost done.” “Did you make any for yourself?”

He faltered a bit, “Uh, no, I didn’t, why?”

You frowned, “Make yourself some too, please. I feel bad.”

“Will it mean you letting me take care of you?”

You nodded, and he sighed softly, a fond smile on his face. “Alright. Do you want to eat at the same time as me, or would you prefer now?” “Same time as you.”

“I should’ve guessed that,” he chuckled, “Okay. Just relax, put something on the TV. I’ll bring you the food and medicine once it’s done.”

You nodded, footsteps padding across the floor as you returned to the couch, this time curling up on your side, against the edge of the couch. You turned on some light music, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to actually watch anything you could turn on. You closed your eyes, trying to relax as you fought off coughs and nausea waves.

You could hear Wilbur humming in the kitchen, and you smiled lightly. As stubborn as you were, it felt nice to have someone taking care of you. Especially since it was someone you trusted as much as Wilbur. You let yourself start to drift off as waves of exhaustion rolled over you.

You woke up from Wilbur gently shaking your shoulder.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to eat,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to startle you awake. 

“Mm’kay,” you groaned out a bit, slowly sitting up. 

He helped you sit up, smiling and holding up the bowl. “Do you want to hold it or sit at the counter?”

You reached for the bowl, “If I move, I’ll probably cry,” you joked. He passed the bowl to you, and he sat down next to you with his own bowl. You started eating slowly, thankful that the soup wasn’t too hot. 

“This is really good,” you smiled softly at him, “thank you, Wilbur.”

He smiled, “you really don’t have to thank me. I want to take care of you.” 

You flushed lightly, looking down at your bowl and continuing to eat quietly. 

“Do you want me to put on a movie or something?” He asked softly.

You nodded, and he took the remote, putting on some random movie. It wasn’t long before you finished your soup, relieved at the feeling of having food in your stomach. Once he finished, he stood, taking both your bowl and his own to the kitchen. He walked back over with the medicine, holding it out for you.

You took the medicine easily, groaning at the taste. Wilbur was quick to hand you a glass of water before returning to the kitchen and cleaning up. When he got back, he sat next to you, placing a hand to your forehead.

“Your temperature feels better now.” He noted, letting his hand fall. 

You gently shifted, your head now leaning against his shoulder, “I still feel like shit.”

He chuckled, and an arm wrapped around you, causing you to lean into his warmth further, “The medicine should kick in soon. You should’ve told me sooner, and you shouldn’t have been working. It only makes it harder for your body to heal.” 

You groaned, “I thought I was fine. I never get sick like this.”

He hummed, gently rubbing your back and God, if it didn’t feel amazing, “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. You need rest.” 

You sighed and nodded, “I know.”

“Just relax, alright?” he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re better.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. You nodded before shifting and laying your head on his lap. “Is this okay?”

He nodded, a hand coming to gently thread through your hair, “Of course. You can sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be here.”

You smiled, eyes closing slowly. “Thank you, Wilbur,” you spoke softly, exhausting creeping into your bones and clear in your voice. 

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be okay.”

You fell asleep quickly, a soft smile on your face. 

five

Things were starting to look up. Your freelance work was bringing in good money, and even better, you had a date tonight. However, it had been a long while since you’d gone on a date. So, you frankly had no clue what to wear. 

You took a quick shower, putting on a robe and blowdrying your hair. Once you were at least semi-presentable, you walked across the hall, knocking on Wilbur’s door. 

He opened the door quickly, a smile on his face, “Hey, what’s going on?” He chuckled softly.

You just smiled, “I have no clue what to wear. Can you help me pick?” He nodded, grabbing his keys and locking his door before following you to your apartment. 

“Just, sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He sat down, smiling softly. Wilbur always looked good, and he happened to be cursed with either amazing or horrible fashion sense. Today was one of his amazing fashion sense days, a pair of nice jeans and a simple black button-up, plus a sweater over the top and the black Docs he always wore. He would definitely be able to help you choose. 

You walked into your closet, grabbing two options and walking back out to him, “Which one?”

He looked over the two options, thinking, “The black one. It’s a lot more date-night vibe, plus you’ve said that top makes you feel more confident.” 

You grinned, nodding quickly before going back to your room to change. You spent a bit more time getting ready, making sure your accessories were nice, fixing up your hair and your face a bit before taking a deep breath. You checked the time, only ten minutes until your date.

You walked back out, looking at him with a soft smile, “So? What do you think?”

He looked up from his phone, and a grin slowly spread across his face, “You look amazing. Seriously, you look absolutely fantastic.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, looking down a bit shyly, “Thank you, Wilbur. For your help, as well.”

He nodded, standing, “Of course. You know I’m always here if you need help,” he looked back down at his phone before he looked up at you, “So, you ready to go?” He grinned, holding his hand out towards you.

“I’m ready,” you smiled, taking his hand, “Where are we going, by the way?”

He chuckled, walking with you out the door, “It’s a surprise. It won’t be a long walk, though, don’t worry.” He smiled, and the two of you were off for your date. 

+1

Freelance work sometimes meant traveling. You hated being away from Wilbur, since you guys spent nearly every day seeing each other. However, there was a job a short flight away that was paying really well, so you took it and had spent four days on this trip. You were supposed to be there for a week, but you’d finished a lot faster than anticipated, so you were able to head home early. 

There was another reason you wanted to head home early too. Wilbur hadn’t responded to you in the past three days, aside from occasionally liking the messages you sent and sending the occasional heart. This wasn’t something new, there were days when Wilbur didn’t have the energy to leave his bed, let alone send a proper response. What worried you was that this was the first time you weren’t physically there to help him through it. So when you got the approval to head home early, you jumped at the opportunity and immediately booked your plane home. 

You stopped at your apartment first, dropping off your bags and changing into one of Wilbur’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants before walking over to his apartment. You unlocked his door, a normal thing for the two of you now, walking in slowly. There were takeout boxes cluttering the kitchen, along with empty and half-filled cups littered throughout the apartment. You walked over to his room.

The lights were off, but you could see the light from his phone on his bed. He was asleep, his phone left open on some random post he’d been scrolling on. You locked his phone and put it on the charger, leaning over and gently kissing his forehead. He didn’t react other than shifting a bit in his sleep. You looked over him quietly. There were bags under his eyes, so he clearly hadn’t been sleeping much, and you could tell from the pile of laundry that he hadn’t done much to take care of himself. You let him rest, returning to the living room to start cleaning up. 

You spent an hour throwing things away and taking out the trash, and after, you washed the dirty dishes and dried them, putting them all back in the specific place he’d always put them. You wiped down some of the surfaces as well, knowing how he got sometimes about germs. You went to his room next, picking up all the clothes from the floor and taking them to the washing machine. You organized his desk as well, moving cluttered papers and notes of song lyrics and stacking them into a nice pile. You had your back turned to him as you dusted his room a bit, and you heard his voice.

“Darling?” He spoke softly, voice a bit raw from lack of use.

You turned, walking over to him and smiling, “Hi, Will.” You leaned down, gently kissing him. 

He kissed you back lovingly, reaching a hand up to gently cup your cheek. When you’d pulled away, his thumb gently stroked over your cheek.

“What are you doing back already?”

You smiled softly, lightly brushing back some of his messy hair, “Finished the project early. Plus, I missed you.” 

He cracked a gentle smile, arms slowly coming and wrapping around you. You let him pull you into the bed, wrapping your arms around him as well. 

“I missed you too,” you murmured against your shoulder. 

You held him tightly, the both of you lying there quietly for a while.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking at him with concern. 

He looked ashamed for a moment, head falling a bit, “Not great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He nodded after a while, taking a deep breath, “Just one of those times, I guess. I- I don’t really know what triggered it, I think my heartbeat was just a bit too fast the other night, and I was just so sure that this was it for me. And I just got so scared that I couldn’t do anything. It just ended up getting worse, and even if I don’t think I’m dying anymore, it just triggered a lot of bad thoughts, I guess. After a day, even standing felt exhausting. I felt paralyzed.” He sighed, and you gently kissed his forehead. 

“Well, you’re not dead. You’re right here with me. You’re okay,” you spoke softly, staring at him lovingly. It wasn’t often that his hypochondria overtook him so much, but you knew how hard it was when it did, even if you didn’t fully understand it. 

He nodded. “I know, I am. It just all got a bit overwhelming.” 

“That’s okay. It happens to all of us sometimes. You don’t have to feel bad for it, alright?”

He nodded, hugging you tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered out. 

You kissed the top of his head, “You don’t have to thank me, okay? I’m here for you, throughout everything.”

He squeezed you tighter for a second before relaxing, just holding you gently as he nodded. 

“How long have you been back?” He asked softly.

“A few hours,” you shrugged.

He frowned, “I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. Plus, I made good use of my time.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You smiled, gently playing with his hair, “I just cleaned up a bit. I wanted you to rest, and I wanted you to wake up to a clean place. I know that mess stresses you out, and I didn’t want it to add to the bad feelings.”

He looked up at you, and he looked around the room after, processing the lack of clothes on the floor and trash. When he looked back at you, he had tears in his eyes, “thank you,” he whispered, biting his lip and holding you close again, “you’re the fucking best.”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t worry about it, really. I want to take care of you the same way you take care of me.” 

He sniffled a bit, and you pulled him forward while he cried into your shoulder for a moment. 

You let him cry as much as he needed to, rubbing his back. When he’d stopped crying, you pulled away, looking down at him. “When’s the last time you showered?” You asked softly, no judgement to be found anywhere in your tone. 

He thought for a moment, “Three days ago, I think. I don’t remember, if I’m being honest.”

You nodded, smiling softly, “Well, I just got off a plane, so I’m pretty gross myself. Let’s shower, and then we can change your sheets? And I can make us some dinner?”

He nodded as well, sitting up slowly, “Okay.”

You sat up with him, holding his hand the entire time, “Rooftop dinner tonight?”

He smiled, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing it gently, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

[sleepyrights]

Three Minutes.

pairing: cc!wilbur soot / reader (gender neutral)

summary: while wilbur is hours away with friends, you end up in the hospital. When you're finally heading home, Wilbur seems... withdrawn.

author's note: i wrote this all on and off in 4 hours (which is impressive to me!adhd go brrr). But yeah I wanted to write something like this for a while. sorry if some of the medical stuff doesn't make sense! idk what I'm talking about! i also didn't really edit at all ahh

warnings: hospital, major surgery, mention of death

word count: 2.2k

[masterlist]

Wilbur hated hospitals. 

Maybe it was another layer of his hypochondria, maybe it was an extent of the worry he had for both his and your health, but this was the last place he wanted to be right now. The monotony of pristine white walls and ceilings, the hallways that just seemed endless, the sterilized equipment, the starchy hospital bedsheets you were lying in, the uncomfortable chair he was sitting in that had him slumped over, and the machines beeping. God, the beeping. Wilbur’s eyes were set on the bedside, where his hand held your limp one tenderly as if you were made of glass. It felt like you were. He ignored how it felt to hold a limp hand that wasn’t holding his back, and snuck a glance at your face again. 

You looked dead. 

You looked so peaceful, so serene, with no visible injuries on your body, but you looked so utterly and completely dead, and Wilbur couldn’t even bring himself to look at you without tears threatening to spill from his eyes. This time a few days ago- he’d lost track of time- he didn’t think he’d ever be here. He had known you weren’t feeling well, you were practically bedridden with a fever before he had to travel to do a vlog with friends, but you had insisted you’d be fine. You said you’d be fine. The next day, though, Wilbur woke up to see multiple missed calls from the same unknown number, something he’d usually ignore, but there was a bad feeling in his gut and he called back. He couldn’t remember much of the call. Hospital, ambulance, (Y/N), appendix, emergency surgery. His whole trip back home was a blur- he wasn’t even sure if the rest of his friends were still there, or if they had come back too-, he felt numb to the core, and everything was static until the moment he sat down next to your hospital bed with the Visitor sticker on his chest after your surgery. Fuck, it was all his fault. 

He looked away again. God, there was nowhere he could look that wouldn’t hurt. He closed his eyes and simmered in guilt, waiting for you to wake again. 

—

When you finally opened your eyes, the sight of your boyfriend sitting right next to your hospital bed brought an immediate smile to your face, despite how he was sitting, his head ducked and eyes screwed tight, his leg bouncing, his hand trembling in yours. 

“Hey, Wil.” You knew he’d be worried about you, so you expected him to jump at the sight of you finally awake, maybe lean over and hug you, shed a few happy tears, let out a nervous laugh, and scold you for worrying him. But when he looked up to you, all he did was run his thumb across the top of your hand and give the smallest, most half-hearted smile he could offer. 

“Shall I get the nurse?” 

He barely spoke for the next few hours, sitting quietly while the doctors made sure you were safe to leave, listening intently to the advice for healing in the next couple of weeks, and helping sign the discharge papers. Only when he was finally rolling your wheelchair out to the car did you try to make small talk.

“I’m definitely feeling better than a few days ago.” 

Wilbur seemed to let out a tense breath. “You- you’ve had surgery. I’d hope you’re feeling better.”

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Here, lemme help you in.” He came around to help you stand up and got you carefully situated in the car, before disappearing to the other side to slide into the driver’s seat. Still, he was barely speaking. As you began the drive home, he looked so… far away. Like he was somewhere in his head, and you wished you could reach out and pull him back. You held his free hand, and he held back so gently. 

You yawned. “Man, I feel like I’ve been sleeping for days, but I’m still exhausted. Maybe falling into a coma wouldn’t be so bad.”

“Don’t!” His words were sharp and cutting. “Don’t you dare joke like that.” 

You fell quiet. You’d never heard him that upset. Was he upset that you made him come all the way back from his vlog just cause you were a little sick? You could’ve easily done this all yourself, couldn’t you? Signed the papers, called yourself an Uber home… you could’ve done it without him. But instead, you bothered him. There was no noise in the car- the radio was down, the AC was turned off, and neither of you was talking. It was tense. 

“I’m sorry for raising my voice, (Y/N).” His words came in a gentle whisper. “I just want to get home, okay?” He stopped at a red light and looked over at you, giving you the same soft, forced smile as earlier. “We’ve had a rough couple of days, haven’t we? Let’s just get home and get cozy before we talk, alright?” 

“Okay.” 

You sat in silence a few more minutes before he finally parked the car in front of your shared apartment building and came over to help you out. “There’s a lot of steps to get up there, how about I carry you?” 

“It’s not too bad, Wil, I’m sure I can-”

“No, love. Your doctor said to avoid anything that might strain your abdomen. Please, let me carry you, alright?” I wasn’t here when I needed to be, so please let me do at least this for you. He hoisted you gently into his arms and closed the car door, before starting up the floors of stairs to their apartment. Just as Wilbur stepped into the apartment and was about to lay you down on the couch, you couldn’t hold in your thoughts anymore.

“I’m sorry. You’re upset, aren’t you? I’m sorry you had to come get me. You must have been having fun and I-”

“Woah, no, stop, love. Stop right now.” He laid you down gently against the arm of the couch, propping a pillow beneath your head, his hands on your back and sad eyes watching you carefully. “You think I’m upset with you? Of course not! Why would I be upset with you for hurting and needing to go to the hospital? What type of person do you think I am?”

“Well, you were with your friends, I could’ve just dealt with this alone…” 

“Alone?” Wilbur looked as if he were on the edge of tears. He sat down on the couch next to you, his hand rubbing circles on your leg. “Sweetheart, you never have to do anything alone, as long as I’m here, okay? I never want you to hesitate to call me for anything. And I have honestly not thought of my friends since I got those calls.” 

“Okay.” 

“Why would you think I’m mad?” 

“You’re just… withdrawn.”

“Of course I am!” He reached out and took your hand again, his eyes wild and wet. “Darling… you were in surgery. I was hours away and got a call that you were in emergency surgery. Do you know how terrifying that was to hear? Do you know what I was thinking? I was thinking ‘oh my God, I left them there to die’. You were dying, love.”

“I’m okay now, though. I’m fine now, you don’t have to worry.” 

“Don’t say that. You came so close to-” His words stopped there, and he ran a hand over his face. His eyes were full of tears again, and you wanted to sit up and hold him, but your abdomen was sore from the stitches that held you together. “I don’t know what they told you before your surgery if they even told you anything. Your appendix burst. You were in such horrible pain, and had such a high fever… you were delirious. You called an ambulance for yourself, they could barely make out what you were saying. They told me-” His voice cracked and shook, and he looked down at his hands. “They told me you were crying out for them to call me. You were in such horrible pain you were barely making sense, but you were crying my name... over and over again...” He trailed off, sniffling quietly and balling his fists in his eyes. “And I was hours away fucking off with my friends. You needed me and I wasn’t there.” Finally, you found the strength to sit up and rub your hand along the expanse of Wilbur’s long back. 

“Wil, it’s not your fault, I-”

“No, I should’ve stayed here with you. I knew you were sick, and if I would’ve stayed, I would’ve taken you to the hospital and we would’ve gotten you there-”

“And they would’ve done exactly the same thing they did when I went myself.” 

Wilbur shook his head, tears streaking down his face. Then, with his voice choked up, he muttered. “Three minutes.” 

“Three minutes..?” 

The… the doctor told me…I-If you had gotten to the hospital even three minutes later, things… I mean… you were already so messed up inside, but…Three minutes, love. I almost lost you. You were almost gone. This might sound selfish but I… I was that close to losing everything I love. I-” He stopped, his tears began coming out stronger than before, but you were too frozen in your seat to do anything comforting. You hadn’t thought about that. You hadn’t stopped for a moment to think about just how close that had been. You had been unconscious for most of the last few days and hadn’t considered how scared Wilbur must have been. "Our future… our love… it was almost all gone. I was three minutes from just.... Losing you. Being without you for the rest of my life. Just like that. I don't... I can't lose you, sweetheart. God, that-" As he broke down in front of you, you reached in to pull him into a hug, letting him lay his head against your neck and shoulder, feeling the hot tears drip off of his face. When you brought a hand up to rub your own face, you noticed the same hot, wet feeling, and you suddenly weren’t sure what were his tears and what was yours. 

“There was- there was nothing I could do.” He whimpered from your shoulder. “When I got there, they were cutting you open, love. You were…. You were open. God, I almost… I was nearly sick, thinking about it. I couldn’t come to see you, I couldn’t ask if you were alright, they wouldn’t tell me anything until you were done. I didn’t know what had happened, I didn’t know what to think, I didn’t know what the outcome would be… I just had to hope… hope that I would be able to… to at least say goodbye…”

It hit you there, that, along with Wilbur’s worry about you and his love for you in general, his health anxiety must have really been at play big-time here. He worried he was going to die, every time he got even slightly ill, so of course, knowing that you were in there, lying on a table with your insides on the outside, he must have assumed the worst. Of course, he thought you would die. Of course, he was withdrawn and anxious. You couldn’t blame him. “Wilbur… Look at me.” You took his face between your hands and lifted him to look him in the eyes. His deep, beautiful eyes, were filled with tears and red and puffy. His hair was a mess, he hadn’t shaved or showered in days, too busy sitting by your bedside and watching your heart monitor beep over and over for hours on end. “Wilbur, I can understand how you’re feeling. I get it. I was scared too. But look. Look at me.” You took one of his hands and lifted it to your heart, pressing it close so he could feel every beat. “I’m alive. You feel that? You’re holding me. I’m in your arms, I’m safe. There’s nothing to worry about. I’m here. And you’re here. And I’m not upset that you weren’t there at first. Because you were the first thing I saw when I woke up. I love you, okay?” 

Wilbur nodded, wiping the tears of his face and finally seeming to calm down. “I love you, (Y/N).” 

“You can cry. You can let it out, but don’t blame yourself, please. None of this was your fault.”

Wilbur looked up at you again, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Please just let me take care of you to make up for not being there. Please.”

You stroked his cheeks tenderly, wiping away the wetness, before pressing a kiss to each one. “Well, we have all week, love.” 

He finally cracked a real smile as you planted a kiss square on his lips. ”Do your stitches hurt? Do you need your pain meds? How about something to eat? You must be starving.” 

“Can we just start with a nap?” 

“Of course.” He smiled and pressed another love-filled kiss to your cheek as he pulled you into his lap gingerly, making sure not to irritate your stitches as he laid back against the couch with you on his chest. He closed his eyes, as he pulled a blanket up over the two of you, his hand gentle on you lower back as you snuggled against him, but before either of you could fall asleep, one more soft sentence left his lips.

 “Please, don’t leave my sight ever again.”

You smiled, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing your face into the cotton of his sweater. 

“I don’t plan on it.”

[sleepyrights]

a much needed haircut

cc!wil x reader

IN WHICH

╰┈➤ you have to convince wil to take care of himself

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - none

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 - not mentioned

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 - fluff + blurb

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - used wil gold for this because its more centered on his music!

wil looks at you with half lidded eyes from the spot on your chest in which he lays. a small smile forming on his dimly lit face. the movie idly playing is the only thing illuminating his features, yet you can still spot the glint in his eyes as he looks at you. you can't help but reflect his smile.

his favorite cuddling position- laying on the couch with you sitting and his arm slung across your torso, his head resting on your chest. all of this accompanied with his legs trapping you in a warm embrace under a blanket. its the perfect figure for him to just melt in a soft, warm puddle on top of you after a long day. you found that something else helps him relax; petting his hair.

your hand glides through his soft hair, an automatic interaction to do. once you started doing it, it felt impossible to stop. you always loved his reaction to it. the small groan of satisfaction that he'd let out upon feeling your fingers dancing throughout his scalp, occasionally feeling your hand get caught. he never minded, though.

except this time, your hand keeps getting caught in his longer, wavier hair. too many times to count. you're afraid its pulling out more than brushing.

you stop, fishing your fingers off his head entirely. he lets out an involuntary noise of confusion before he feels your hands instead finding refuge on his cheeks. you force him to look at you.

now, you can barely see his face. the back of his head is toward the tv screen. he could see you just fine though, how your eyes scanned his face, still being held up by your hands.

"you. need. a. haircut." you punctuate each word with a kiss, each one covering a different part of his face. his nose, under his eye, his cheek, and lastly, his forehead. or at least, what you could kiss. the rest of it was covered with his hair.

"i know," his voice is a soft whisper, his vocal chords tired. his entire being must be tired too, because he lets his eyes fully closed. as much as he wants to keep looking at you, he just cant will himself to fully do it. "ill get it cut once im done with the ep. i promise."

yet another time he's letting work interfere with his every day thoughts and actions. you frown. "i keep getting my hand stuck in your hair. i don't wanna hurt you."

his smile grows wider at your remark, his hands finding themselves at your side. he gently rubs from your waist, to your hips, and finally leaving himself on your upper thigh. the whole interaction sets your blood ablaze, feeling your pulse in your cheeks.

"thank you," he finally whispers out and you feel his neck lose its strength as he depends fully on your palm to keep him up. he enjoys the feeling of you rubbing circles at his jawline and behind his ears. "but i promise, ill be fine."

you take your free hand, the one not holding up his soft face, and rake it through his hair. you do it so quickly that it snags another knot of wavy brown. he lets out a small wince and you give him a look.

"see?" your voice breaks from tiredness. you can tell he noticed because he pulls the blanket up higher. you snake your fingers out of his hair, now proven a point, and rest it this time on the crook of his neck. right where his shoulder meets his collarbone. you can feel his gentle pulse on the padding of your thumb. a soft little drum beat.

his lips crease downward in a frown. he forces your wrist closer to his parted lips, lazily kissing at the space on your palm. his eyes are open now and he's staring into the features of your face. the tv screen flashes a little bit more. "after the ep," he groans out. "ill get it cut after the ep is finished."

"wil. gold," you blink at him. careful to make sure your voice is stern enough to grab his attention. "dont you dare subject your hygiene to your work. not on my watch."

"but the people are waiting, dear!" he whines like a little toddler trying to convince his parents that the toy he wants is beneficial at all. "i can't let them down and you know that."

"you haven't let them down," your tone is softer now that you know the root of his gradually building stress. he's been so tired lately, spending more hours in the recording studio daily than originally planned. in fact, this was the first night you could actually, properly, spend with him. "baby, you haven't let them down. at all. is this why you've been so stressed?"

he lets out a weak nod of defeat. its such a small movement that if your hand hadn't been holding up his head, you probably wouldn't have even noticed it. "i.. i didnt want you to worry," he mumbles sheepishly.

you maneuver his head to lay on your chest, wrapping your arms efficiently around him to keep him in a warm hug. he seems to liquefy under your welcoming touch. his ears lay right above your heart, and he nearly falls asleep to the music that is your pulse. he feels your nose dig into the top of his head, laying gentle kisses in that area.

"don't worry about worrying me," you give him soft affirmations and he receives them happily. "no matter what, i'll still go through hell and back just to make sure you're okay. do you hear me?"

"i'm so in love with you," he mutters out. his voice is quiet and fragile, but you can tell that his words are genuine. "love.. you so.. much."

and with that, you feel his breathing go deeper, slower, and calmer. he's asleep right there in your arms. it doesn't take much longer until you're dozing off with him.

needless to say, he woke up feeling like the happiest man on earth.

11-21-22

this was supposed to be a hundred word blurb or so but i got carried away </3

wilbur soot masterlist here!

taglist (send an ask or dm me if you would like to be added!) — @sixofshadowandbone @theoneandonlyyeti @harbingerofheartbreak @pebblebrainlovejoy @mcr-pr-fob @sapphic-soot @flynn-thebin @puppyburbites @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx

[sleepyrights]

IN THE RAIN — wilbur x reader

- pairing : highschool!wilbur x gn!reader

- genre : fluff

- summary : in which wilbur lends you his jacket through the rain

- warnings : none! mentions of tubbo’s real name

a/n : first post on this acc! wilbur will be the same age as tommy and tubbo in this!

not my gif!

It seemed like such a good day not too long ago, but all of that was replaced with the gloomy grey skies, and clouds so full they were threatening to spill over. Eventually, they did, and just in time for your arrival back at the school. You had been out with your grade for the annual school field trip. This year, it was to the zoo… again. And you had no problem with it! Being face to face with exotic animals of all sorts was something you preferred over being at a desk for the next 8 hours, anyways.

It was quite sunny earlier; sun beating on you till you were fanning yourself to keep cool, type of sunny. So it was odd how the weather suddenly did a 180 on everybody. The rain was beating down and as you and your peers glanced out the window, complaints rang through the bus. While some were prepared than others, you were part of the many that weren’t. You frowned before turning towards Tommy, who was deep in thought, carefully strategizing his route. “Did you bring an umbrella?” You questioned, causing the boy to face you. 

“Hell no. But! Toby’s got me, don’t you buddy?” The blonde smirked, wrapping an arm around the shorter boy who was minding his own business with his headphones in.

The said boy, simply hummed and nodded, unaware of anything his friend just said. You groaned, merely accepting the fact that you were going to get wet. Eventually, the bus came to a complete stop. The teachers were quite prepared, a small umbrella in hand as they began to get up. “Students, because it’s raining we must be careful. We’ll all head to the gym and have free time there. In the meantime try not to slip and fall.” Your English teacher spoke, earning an inharmonious ‘okay’ from the students. The doors opened, and one by one, students and teachers poured out. You let the others leave first, watching them as they booked it through the downpour, getting completely and utterly drenched.

The majority of your classmates didn’t seem to mind the weather, in fact, they seemed to be enjoying it as they were seen dancing under the rain. The other bunch hurriedly sprinted to the gym, which was an unbelievably long walk to try to avoid being showered upon. You belonged to the latter group, trying your best to not get as soaked as the others; you hated getting sick.

Tommy who was previously next to you was already out and about with his “buddy,” hopping around in the puddles to stir up a reaction from the poor boy.

Eventually, you decided it was your time to go. After all, you would get wet regardless.

As you thanked the bus driver and began to climb down the few stairs, you paused in hesitation. However, as you were about to step down from the bus, you felt a small nudge on your bag. You were quite surprised and looked to whoever was trying to get your attention but were suddenly met with a school jacket draped around your head and firm arms gripping both your shoulders.

The smell of men’s cologne filled your nose. Who could this be?

“On the count of three, we run, okay?” A sudden voice murmured into your ear. You had no time to look back and as shocked as you were, you still managed a small nod.

“3…2…1…Run!”

It all happened at once as you and the mysterious figure sprinted towards the sheltered hallway. The boy’s arms never left your shoulders as you bolted towards the gym.

Eventually stopping in front of the entrance, the both of you halted to take a breather. At this point, you were finally able to turn around and see who your savior was.

Lifting the jacket to see in front of you, fluffy brown hair greeted you first as the boy was slightly hunched over to catch his breath. Soon, he peeked up, his warm brown eyes greeting you as he gave you a sheepish smile.

It was Wilbur, the “gentle giant” of the school as many of your peers would put him.

You had never directly interacted with him. Mainly, you knew him as being a mutual friend of Tommy’s, and one of his closest ones at that. And though he’s in a few of your classes, you were never really able to get close with him.

“Are you alright?” he asked, running his hand through his soaked hair simultaneously. You were caught off guard with the action but you nodded quickly with no words escaping your mouth. He was definitely attractive, and had the personality deserving of the popularity he had at your school. The brunette then motioned towards the gym with a small nod, “Let’s head inside before you get sick.” With that, you followed behind him meekly.

Once inside the gym, the sound of the rain was drowned out by the screeching of sneakers against the floor and the bouncing of basketballs flying everywhere. It was dark since the power had somehow gone out, leaving only the gloomy light from outside to illuminate what it could through the large windows overseeing the room. The two of you found a spot on the bleachers and sat down. Wilbur carefully took the now soggy jacket he had put over you and folded it before messily setting it off to the side. Wilbur himself was still quite wet as his hair lost all the volume it had before, and it was safe to say that you were definitely drier than he was.

“You and your jacket seem to be in the same condition.” You spoke to bring down any lingering tension, “Sorry about that.”

Wilbur, who was looking at the courts, twisted his head to your direction and chuckled. “No, it’s no need. My jacket was bound to get wet either way. I might as well put it to good use.” he shrugged. “Yeah but you could’ve used it for yourself.”

“Well from what I saw on the bus, I think you needed it more than me!” You rolled your eyes at his remark and smiled.

“Whatever. Thanks anyway. But I wanna repay you somehow.” You said with genuine eyes. Wilbur tilted his head to the side like a puppy as you suddenly pointed at his jacket. “I can wash this for you! Really!” you exclaimed, though the boy only scoffed and shook his head. “Y/N don’t worry, it’s really not a big deal.”

“If it’s ‘not a big deal’ then I’m sure you wouldn’t mind me taking this home and washing it for you.” You retorted, reaching past his lap and grabbing the jacket. Wilbur looked off to the side, as if he was thinking about it and held his hands up, “You know what, by all means go for it. It’ll give me a reason to see you again anyway.”

You froze, speechless with the soggy jacket still in your grasp, “Wait what-”

“Wilbur! Come play!”

The both of you snapped your heads at Tommy with a basketball, and Wilbur tilted his head up, letting his friend know he’ll be there in a bit.

“I think that’s my cue to play with the boys.” Wilbur said, standing up from his spot. You nodded, looking up at his full length. God was he tall.

You could never admit it but you were a bit disappointed that he wouldn’t be staying a little longer.

“You can guarantee that your jacket will be as good as new when I see you!” You beamed. He gave you a warm smile, and naturally patted your head and it was as if butterflies erupted in your stomach.

“Then I’ll see you until then, Y/N.”

And with that, the tall boy jumped down from the bleachers and headed towards his friend group, who was waiting for him in anticipation. He turned around to make eye contact with you and gave you an ecstatic wave, to which you responded with a lighthearted giggle.

Safe to say, Wilbur’s jacket wasn’t a match against the rain as the both of you didn’t show up to school the next day. Though this time, instead of dreading the fact that you were sick, you were quite happy since you spent the day texting your new friend who was in the same situation as you.

[sleepyrights]

wake up and turn it off.

cc!wilbur x reader

warnings: none

summary: wilbur holding you in his arms gently, or is he?

genre: angst

pronouns: not mentioned

short little thingy but i thought it was cool or somethingngjfhfcjtx

You smiled, holding his face in your palms. "You're so pretty."

He smiled, whispering slightly. "No, you are."

Warmth filled your stomach. He adjusted the blanket to fit better on your back.

The both of you had just finished a movie. Laughing fits of tickles, kisses, and cuddles for the past couple hours wore the both of you out. You both were laying on the sofa. The only thing illuminating your faces was the TV scrolling through the credits. The sun no where to be seen through the curtains. The clock read 1:43 AM.

"It's so late." You muttered, rubbing the side of your face into his shoulder.

His arm rubbed your back. His voice low and raspy. "I know. But I like this."

You smiled, inhaling his beautiful scent. You felt like you could cry at how soft he was.

"I like it to. We need to have more of this.."

He hummed a response, scratching your scalp softly.

It was silent, but a good silent. It wasn't uncomfortable or irritating. It was heartfelt and gentle. It felt like the gentle breeze in the midst of fall.

Your arms circled his neck, and your head rested on his shoulder. Your legs intertwined like a puzzle with his. Wilbur's hand was in your hair, and his other gently petting your whole body.

It felt like a fantasy, it was perfect. That's all you could use to describe it.

You lifted your head to look at him. His beautiful features reflecting into your irises. Wilbur took his hand and began tracing it all over your face, explaining the things that he loved about each part.

You smiled, face flushing immensely. You put your head back onto his chest where you heard a soft, muffled heartbeat.

He let out a slight groan. "God.. I love you so much. Please, just never leave me.."

You laughed, butterflies filling your stomach. It didn't feel real. "I'm not going anywhere. Wherever you go, I'll be right behind you, Wil. I love you a lot"

He nuzzled his nose into your hair, slowly shifting his face so that he could give you light forehead kisses.

"You're the best thing I could ever ask for.." He said, his voice breaking from how tired he was.

You smiled, closing your eyes. You could stay forever in his arms, with him.

But, you couldn't.

Something began vibrating, a loud and obnoxious ringing came with it too.

Your head lifted and you looked around in a confused manner. "Wilbur? Who's calling you at this hour?"

"No one's calling me." Your heart dropped as his tone suddenly changed. He was serious, no longer heartfelt or gentle.

"What.. do you mean?" You spoke, looking at his face.

His soft features no longer displayed comfort, no. Quite the opposite. "You know exactly what I mean, Y/N."

You were left speechless.

"Fucks sake.. You know this is a dream." He spoke, every syllable thumping into your head harshly, the echoes bouncing off the walls of your brain without mercy. "What's ringing is your alarm. Go turn it off."

Your face dropped as you could feel the butterflies in your stomach dying off. "I..I don't want to leave you."

"Y/N, I don't even exist. The real Wilbur you know doesn't love you, and you know that. Go turn off your alarm." He said firmly.

You felt tears start to poke through your eyes, and your throat tightened. "Wilbur, please. I-"

"Wake up, and turn it off."

You sprung from your bedsheets. Eyes blurred when hot tears ran down your cheeks, onto your chin, and onto the bed. Your heart pounded throughout your chest, so violently that you could hear it out loud. Your cheeks became warm and stained with wet tracks of tears as you began to hyperventilate.

You looked around through your blurry tear-filled vision. There was no TV playing, no sofa to lay on, and no Wilbur to cuddle.

It hurt.

The blanket was now sopping wet as you dug your face into it. You could barely even hear your alarm because your heart was beating so fast. Your hand reached over to the phone to turn the obnoxiously loud alarm off.

Hitting the snooze button on your screen, you decided to distract yourself from your stupid dream by scrolling through social media.

Until your scrolled to see him with a picture of her, looking so happy together. Happier than you could ever make him.

A sob passed through your throat. All you wished for was to go back into that dream, you'd give up anything for it to be a reality.

But you knew your dream was only ever going to be that. A dream.

And what to do with your thoughts and feelings about Wilbur?

Just as he said.

"Wake up, and turn it off."

6-20-22

it's literally 12 oclock why do i have motivation at the worst times ever i hate it

wilbur soot masterlist here!

there's much more happy stuff in there i promise!!

[sleepyrights]

- I'll put down my roots when I'm dead -(SBI) I

hey i haven't posted anything in like 3 years but I'm back baby! this is a series, I'm thinking 8-9 parts. I posted it on Ao3 but i want attention so it's here now too! enjoy.

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

Wilbur’s heavy panting rustled the leaves that scratched his face, and he could feel the wet grass soak his shoes as he peered through the underbrush, staring. He knows this forest in and out - he’d been hiding here long enough. He knew he was invisible to the untrained eye.

The man doesn’t suspect a thing.

Wilburs wings shift in anticipation, ruffling as cold water drips on them from the trees above. He can see the man clearly - dressed in green, large sword, green and white hat with charms on it - not even looking where he was going, Wilbur chuckles. Like taking candy from a baby.

A basket - bread sticking out of the top - was the prize. His eyes don’t waver from it as the man walked around, staring at an old map. Wilbur followed him, step-for-step, silently behind the underbrush. A low rumble sets in his stomach, and he ducks behind a tree to hold a fist over his middle, trying to stifle the noise. God what he wouldn’t give for some fish right now, but he knows he can’t be picky. Food is food. He peeks back around, watching.

He's considered letting himself be caught - his wanted posters christen every inch of town boards and he knows the townsfolk would be happy to see him rot in a cell. He might even go quietly, if not to just get a portioned meal and a dry place to sleep - but he knows they would probably kill him. No parents, some hybrid from the jungle known for stealing. What would stop them.

The man is alone.

Wilbur doesn’t wait - his stomach he’s starving - and before the green man can get his hand on his sword, Wilbur rushes him from the bushes, barely making a sound. The man shouts, and is already falling back out of shock when Wilbur puts his hand on the ground and uses his body to turn and sweep the man's legs out from under him. The man lands heavily on his back with a noise and yells something out, but Wilbur can’t really understand the human screeching. He pulls the man's hat over his eyes and yanks the basket off it’s straps, pulling it from the man and immediately pelting off.

He almost cries - his first real meal in days is in his hands!

His wings unfurl, ready for takeoff but one look up proves that useless - he hates dark oak forests - thin, spiky branches of trees that don’t want you to touch them weave through dense leaves above his head. The undergrowth is dark, and with no openings in the trees above, he hops logs and bushes and uses his wings to push him forward, looking for a break that he can fly through and away with his basket, and looks back for only a moment to look for the green man. There’s no sign, but then he trips - his foot caught under roots - and he falls-

Head-first, right into a tree.

He hits it, full-force, knocking the basket from his hands and the wind from his body, and lands on his back, the soggy, mossy ground cushioning him slightly. Catching his breath and sitting up slightly, his left eye closed in blistering pain - that was going to leave a fuckin mark. He gently holds his hand over it, and looks with his good eye to try to keep moving away from the victim but…

He looks up.

It isn’t a tree.

The tip of a sword is centimeters from his nose.

His breath falters again, and he feels sick to his guts. Following the glowing iron weapon, a tall boy with pink hair and floppy ears stares down at him. His gaze is piercing, more so than the sword, and the white eyes of his mask glow like the dust on witches fingers. Wilbur opens his mouth to speak, but says nothing - he can't even blink.

He knows what it is - he’s never seen one so close. A piglin, oh so far from home, with pointy tusks and a golden crown, stared down at him.

The basket of bread is not forgotten.

Suddenly, there’s yelling in the distance - he can’t decipher it - but the pink haired teen finally breaks Wilburs gaze. Sword still pointed at Wilbur's eyes, Wilbur hatched a split second, awful plan as the other boy looked away.

He shouldn’t have gone for it - he knows he should’ve just ran - but he was so, so hungry. Wilbur had to move now.

It all goes too fast.

The pig just starts to turn his head as Wilbur makes his move, kicking up like a horse - putting his boot right in the piglins stomach. He earns a horrible pig-like squeal, and a grunt from the creature - his wings get in the way as he stumbles to get up, catching a glimpse of the basket.

He’s panting, tripping, with just enough room to grab the basket - his hand lands on the rough wicker as he tries to pull himself up, but a blinding pain courses through his back, and the basket is kicked far away by a hoofed foot.

The pig moves to pounce on him after stepping on his spine, but he opens his wings wide, scaring the beast, and flounders to get up and to get the hell out of here - not even worried about the basket and the bread anymore. He’s up, his wings are open, his feet are off the ground-

He screeches as he’s pulled back into the ground by the wing.

The piglin wastes no time, pulls him to the floor and stomps a hoof right on his wing bones. Wilbur thrashes - cries out loudly, but the pigs other foot lands right on his trachea- he screams a hoarse scream, trying to pull the leg off his throat as the piglin slowly increases pressure, flapping wildly with his one free wing.

But the other teen is well fed and healthy, much stronger than Wilbur.

The piglin pulls out his sword again, and holds it over Wilbur, white eyes watching with an unbreaking gaze.

Wilbur screeches another broken, grating scream, still pulling up at the leg that’s on his throat and thrashing like a fish out of water.

The sword rips his sweater, right above his heart, and he can’t breathe.

He’s going to die, this is where he dies, the sword tip is burrowing into his skin just slightly, and he screeches like he’s never screamed before. It draws blood above his thundering heart, and the hoof digging into his throat forces tears to roll down his cheeks as he chokes out pleas and apologies. He pulls harder at the leg on his neck - trying to get the piglin off - but his white gaze never wavers from the bead of blood forming where the sword is.

This isn’t about the bread anymore. Wilbur had finally picked the wrong fight.

He hears a loud noise, and can just barely look over - to call for help - to see the green man burst from the bushes. This is where Wilbur dies. The piglin doesn’t look away.

“Techno, you-” The man’s head swivels to see the boys, and suddenly he’s pelting towards them, shouting. “Get off him! Don’t hurt him, don’t kill him! Techno, please!”

The pink haired boy is unfazed as he lets his father pull him off Wilbur, like the piglin is a feather and not the brick that Wilbur could feel on his wing and throat.

Wilbur coughs hard - tries not to throw up as he wipes burning tears from his cheeks - turning to hack onto the ground and try to steady himself. He knew that after that boy had stood on his wing he wouldn’t be able to fly out immediately and he couldn’t run very far on his weak legs.

He wouldn’t get far at all.

He was on all fours now, rubbing his neck and hacking to try and get his breathing back to normal, shooting daggers at the man and the pig. He’s panting and shaking and he knows this is the end - he wants to kill the pig and, just for good measure, the man too.

He rubbed his throat, his vocal chords aching, and snarled up at the man, getting onto wobbly knees, supported by a tree, and putting a hand on the new injury over his heart.

All is quiet for a moment, save for Wilbur’s ragged breathing. They just watch him, still holding that sword that had torn Will’s flesh. Then-

“if you’re going to kill me.” Will rasps out, bloody hand clutching his aching neck. Fresh, hot tears begin to fall. “Just do it quickly. P- please.”

The man's eyes shine, and his face falls. That brutish, horrifying piglin probably doesn’t even speak overworld, and doesn’t change his stance. Slowly, the green man reaches to push the piglins sword down, and the piglin huffs, keeping the sword low at his side and standing taller. Wilbur can’t take his eyes off him for one moment.

“No ones going to hurt you.” The green man says softly, putting his hands out for Will to see.

Wilbur says nothing, but he knows this is a trap.

His eye throbs, his throat aches, and his wing is most likely dislocated.

He wants his mother. He wants to go home. He wants to fucking kill that stupid, violent pig.

The green man looks at the basket with the food that had spilled out, and Wilburs stomach growls unintentionally. He bares his teeth, watching it.

“You get more gold if you take me in alive.” That's not true in the slightest, they’d be renowned as hero’s if they lopped off his wings and brought them to the village - he prays they haven’t read the warning posters all that carefully. “I’ll come quietly. Please.”

He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore - his life or his imprisonment. Either way, he wants to stay breathing.

The man shakes his head, blonde hair swaying.

“We’re not going to take you in.” Wilbur’s heart drops - were their spies all around? What kind of trick was this??? What kind of sick game- “However-“

The man picks up the food and puts it back in the basket, dusting it off slightly. Wilbur doesn’t know what’s happening. Why wasn’t the pig charging him? Were there others?

“You really shouldn’t steal.” He knew he was done for. This is the moment the village had been waiting for - to catch the food thief. He hung his head, not for the sadness of stealing, but of being caught. He was so stupid. “You could just ask.”

He looks, the basket is being held out to him at a distance - the man trying not to get too close. The man puts it down on the floor, smiles at Wilbur, and pulls the pink-haired boy away by the shoulder gently.

Wilburs head spins.

He watches as the man and pig disappear down the path, the pig keeps looking over his shoulder at him, his grip on his sword is tight. Wilbur doesn’t understand.

He hated this feeling. His stomach was gnawing at his bones, hunger clawed at every inch of his mind... but what if it was a trap? What if this is how he was framed - this man gives him the basket and calls for the police, the pig jumps out and holds his wings down and he’s taken to a prison to starve and rot?

He looked up at the empty path slowly - the last time he’d been offered food was probably back when... A stick broke somewhere behind him, and he froze.

Lightning fast, he grabbed the basket and took off, groaning as his injured wing made him falter in the sky.

[sleepyrights]

TRACES OF A PRINCE.

chapter one: mischief

wilbur soot x gn!reader

summary : 4 years after the three young princes of Sleepy Hollow died, the castle they once inhabited seemed grey and empty. Though the garden keepers would say different.

written by : @sleepyred + @acidtabletz

The golden hues of the setting sun shined on the flower petals, making the most beautiful gradient. It was times like these when Y/N felt most proud of their work, standing up and wiping the sweat from their forehead as they gazed upon the nearly finished flower patch in the courtyard. Almost done for the day, and just in time as well. As they shifted towards the last patch of the garden, a light breeze blew past, jostling locks of their hair. It was strange, it hasn’t been windy at all, none of the trees rustled or any leaves shifting to indicate there was even a wind. In fact, the air was quite still.

“Am I going insane..?” They muttered to themselves, kneeling in the dirt as they stared towards the sky. Just as they were about to get back to work, another small gust of wind blew across their face. This time, like a whisper in their ear.

“Not quite yet.”

The cold against their cheeks left as quickly as it came, shivers crawling up their spine. That was strange, really strange. Abnormal, even. Y/N whipped their head around, trying to search for someone that could’ve said something, anything. But there was nothing. Only the feeling of someone watching them, like a small child curiously hiding behind a pillar not too far away.

Letting out a sigh, Y/N turned towards their flowers. Maybe if they just finished and got home, they could sleep this off. Hanging out alone can do things to a person. Though the anomalies kept piling, this time more strange than the last.

There was a spot of blue stained on some of the petals of one of their white daisies. Like someone had gently taken the flower to look at it and feel its petals. But it was.. blue. None of their flowers were blue, in fact they were pretty sure flowers rarely came in such a vibrant colour.

They sat on their dirt stained knees, a hand snaking close to the vibrant flower. Surely they hadn’t created a new breed, there’s no way.

Y/N ran their fingertips over the blue plant. It felt cold, and damp almost. That wouldn’t be a cause for concern, considering where they are of course. But, it hadn’t rained in 2 days. There shouldn't be any reason the flower would be so damp. Nor.. blue. At least, not these daisy’s.

A sigh left their lips. Maybe instead of finishing, they could return in the early morning.

They began their trek back to their room, carrying only the important things they didn’t want stolen back with them. It was a nice 5 minutes of peace as the sun set, the sky turning from the bright vibrant orange hues to a darker purple and eventually a light blue. It felt phantom, almost. Relaxing and nice.

The mischievous ghost gave a giggle to himself, hidden playfully behind a pillar. He was messing with the gardener, and god did he love it. The confusion, the way their head turned like they were being watched. But his joy was cut short. They began packing up and leaving, he wasn't satisfied. He huffed to himself as this stranger walked down the halls. He was going to follow.

He fell in stride, just a few steps behind the other. He mimicked their posture, all fun and games until-

Y/N stopped. This felt so strange. Someone was definitely following them. Just as they went to turn, a cold shiver ran through their whole body as if they were being walked through, and them stood a ghost. Strangely familiar, but terrifying. They yelped, dropping what was in their hands and tripping back to the ground. "Wh- ah! Please spare me, I didn't do anything wrong!"

The ghost paused, looking back. He seemed to be holding back a laugh. He was quite opaque for a ghost, it looked. Just a step away from seeming touchable. And.. very familiar.

"..Prince Wilbur?"

The ghost stiffened suddenly. "Been a bit since I've heard that name."

"But you.. died-" Y/N hesitated, unsure if they should point out such an obvious.

"Well, yes. So I guess that makes me.. Ghostbur, yeah?" The ghost seemed so playful for a dead guy, a smile always finding its way to the corner of his lips. If he needed to stand he'd seem light on his toes. This was surreal. His expression suddenly became a bit worried. "Are you alright?"

Y/N straightened, realising they were still quite literally floored. "Yes! Yes, just.. never really seen a ghost before. Not what I expected today-" The mumbled, standing themselves upright and dusting themself off. "Have you um.. always just been around? Since you died?" Admittedly, stranger things have happened in the castle.

Ghostbur smiled, giving a light nod. "Yes! Well, I think there was a bit between my death and my ghost. I never saw the death of my brothers.." He grew sad quite quickly, looking down. He shook his head, plucking a nearby flower from a bush. The petals of the flower quickly turned blue, and he relaxed. "Regardless! Aside from that, I'm sorry for messing with you. It's been a bit boring lately with all the gloom everywhere." He smiled, offering the small simple flower.

Y/N flicked their eyes from the flower, to the ghost, then back. They took the flower softly, unable to help themselves but smile a bit. It was kind of adorable, admittedly. "It's okay. Though you're gonna need to repay me for such tomfoolery with more than just a blue flower."

"So, a whole bouquet of them? I thought flowers were your thing!"

Y/N broke out into laughter, holding their stomach. It was contagious, making Ghostbur giggle in return. "I don't know if I've ever met such an optimistic ghost! Geez.. it's getting late. I should head to bed soon."

Ghostbur's giggles subsided, in place a bit of loneliness in his eyes. "Are you sure? I mean, you're right. A lot of people don't stay up that late anymore." The fact made him rather sad, turning his head to look off towards the empty courtyard. "I'll walk you to your room, yeah? Then I'll give you your repayment tomorrow!"

Y/N smiled lightly. "I have a feeling I can't say no, even if I asked for it." They sighed, giving a nod and starting back towards their room. "If you insist."

A feeling loomed between them. Perhaps a spark, a desire to find out more about the strange situation, and a strange fascination with one another. Y/N almost didn't want to sleep, too many questions in the back of their mind.

[sleepyrights]

:) im proud of this

also ill be posting any series i do to this account ! go follow !

Traces of a Prince.

prologue.

wilbur soot x gn!reader

summary : 4 years after the three young princes of Sleepy Hollow died, the castle they once inhabited seemed grey and empty. Though the garden keepers would say different.

written by : @sleepyred + @acidtabletz

It had been four gruesome years since it happened. King Philza had been grieving for four years since that incident. It left him in shambles, a husk of the king he once was. The kingdom of Sleepy Hollow hasn’t been the same since that fateful day.

The day a young prince wandered too far into the woods searching for a good hunt. Too far it got him killed. The day the youngest heir had followed, in hopes of finding his brother, saving him from fate. And the day a prince had taken his own life at the edge of the castle grounds. That’s when Phil knew he would be forever in a state of grief, the distress carving a hole deep into his chest, one that would never be filled.

The current state of the kingdom was, to the best of his ability, not that bad. The air felt a bit thicker, the weather felt gloomier, the trees seemed to decay faster. Maybe it was worse for wear, but the tragedy devastated the nation, after all. Though despite the tragedy, there was a sense of peace. A sense of community.

Gardens thrived best they could, taking deep care by their gardeners. The castle was kept as spotless as it could, looking shiny and polished. For what the King lacked in heart, the rest picked up in work of their own accord. Despite a group effort in an attempt to fill the void. It didn’t work. Their efforts fell short, and the dead look in the King’s eyes never wavered.

Y/N was a pioneer in such attempts, a castle groundskeeper. They thought perhaps a few brighter colours around would make at least someone a bit happier. So they took it upon themselves, a few months after grieving the princes, to begin their project. Re-doing all of the castle’s gardens, pulling in brighter colours and more vibrant flowers. Communicating through the knowledge they knew. Lilies, daisies, tulips, hydrangeas, daffodils, anything bright so life could finally re-enter the castle.

Though one day, something seemed a bit peculiar.

One of their flowers seemed to be stained blue.

wc : 353

[sleepyrights]

𝐁𝐄𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐃

𝘗𝘈𝘐𝘙𝘐𝘕𝘎 : c!technoblade x gn!reader, howl's moving castle au! alternatively, wizard!techno x enchanter!reader

𝘚𝘠𝘕𝘖𝘗𝘚𝘐𝘚 : a love potion gone wrong reveals some... hidden feelings a certain wizard has for you. 3.3k words, fluff with a lil angst </3

𝘞𝘈𝘙𝘕𝘐𝘕𝘎𝘚 : mentions of kissing, one suggestive joke but it's not explicit at all, love potions... yah!

𝘈𝘜𝘛𝘏𝘖𝘙 ‘𝘚 𝘕𝘖𝘛𝘌𝘚 : this is my present for my beautiful @blxux's birthday!! i'm sorry to say that this definitely isn't my best work,,, but i did have a lot of fun writing it! (i’ve been working on this since the crack of dawn blux and i'm still not happy with it, i'm so sorry 😭) a lot of this story will be based on howl's moving castle, aspects from the movie and the book! ofc it will still make sense without knowledge of the media but hey, i won't stop anyone! enjoy <3 this isn't the last you'll see of technohowl ;)

the marketplace was bustling with many individuals, the voices of merchants booming over the chatter of the curious crowds who eagerly seek the stalls for their desired products.

you were included in those who keenly scanned the displayed items, looking out for a specific ingredient; for a potion you'd been wanting to brew for the longest time.

however, fortunately for you, you managed to beat the busiest hour, and was now eager to return back to your abode, with new ingredients sat snug in your basket.

but just as you enter a small, less bustling avenue, you crash into someone who turns the corner the same time as you. thankfully, a hand grips your wrist just in time and you recover rather quickly.

"i'm sorry i wasn't looking where i was-" you begin to splutter out before meeting the familiar face of a pink-haired wizard you know too well. he flashes you an extravagant smile. "technoblade?"

"are you alright?" his concerned voice asks as he fixed the blue and pink diamond patterned jacket that draped over his shoulders.

"i'm okay, thanks to you. i didn't beat you up too badly, did i?"

"no damage, no bruises, i'm okay."

"what are you doing here?"

"i could ask you the same thing. i see cherry blossom honey and sweet elixir in that basket of yours. just what are you up to?"

"if you must know," you weaved the handle of your basket through your arm, "i'm making a love potion-"

technoblade raises his eyebrows curiously, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile and you know he's not going to let you off the hook. you silence him.

"no. it's not for anyone. don't give me that look. besides, you know how dangerous love potions can be, i'm brewing them for practice sakes."

"what do you need practice for? you graduated madame sullivan's school ages ago."

"yes, unlike you, mr runaway."

"touche."

you laughed, "so, what're you up to?"

"i was going to the markets for a stroll, maybe grocery shopping, but now that you've caught my attention with a love potion, i can't help but be intrigued with tagging along."

"fine, but once we get back to my place, don't be stupid."

"am i ever?"

you gave him a pointed look, "like the one time you swallowed a star and gave up your heart in exchange?"

"yes, but," technoblade's hand hovers over where your sternum is, "you gave it back to me, did you not? besides, who are you without steve?"

"literally, yes i gave it back to you. what can i say? got tired of mister-eats-helpless-girl's-hearts here and had enough of angry grandmas chasing after you in the street," you shrugged nonchalantly, making a reference to the old days when technoblade was... quite the character.

he practically devoured the bachelor's lifestyle, living as a restless young man who couldn't help but want to make someone fall in love with him before briefly leaving their lives. before that, techno was a promising wizard who trained beside you as an apprentice with madame sullivan but one day he left without a trace, no note, no letter. next you heard of him, he was charming anyone and everyone.

apparently he also dyed his hair pink and bedazzled himself in ridiculous amounts of jewellery. you didn't believe it until you saw him sext.

it wouldn't be two years later until you reunited with him, in a crazy 'castle' that he calls home. steve was the very personable fire that kept the whole machine running, you later found out that steve was the star technoblade had saved from death by merging his heart. the rest is history.

the walk back to your home is short. you make small conversation with the wizard, often filling the silence in between as people rushed past you in the streets. the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, painting the sky in lovely hues of orange, pink and yellow.

once you arrive at your home, you're quick to drop off your goods near your brewing table, where the book you discovered earlier today printed with countless recipes laid open on the exact page. techno takes off his cardigan and hangs it on a coat hanger nearby, rolling up the sleeves of his loose, white shirt.

"would you like some tea first?"

"i can make it, that way you can set up whatever it is you need."

with that, he slips away into your kitchen, familiar with the layout of your home. you hear the clanking noises of him preparing tea and soon enough, the teapot begins to whistle it's shrill song. just as you finished your alchemy stand.

"now, i need you to take a seat and don't mess around. love potions can be very dangerous, even inhaling its fumes has consequences and we don't want that for you now, do we?" you instructed. techno obliges, taking a seat in an antique chair in the corner of the room, crossing his legs.

"what about you?" he asks.

"it won't have any effects on the user."

"i won't take the risk then."

you gather all the required ingredients as described by the book, measuring the exact amounts for everything. as dangerous as a love potion was, it wasn't technically difficult to make. truthfully, that was the most alarming part, that even reckless enchanters could create this and it would have the most dangerous effects on whoever they intended it for.

around half an hour later, the potion nears done. you drop in the final sprinkles of dying stardust and the luxurious red of the concoction fades into a soft, glossy pink. when a pink smoke begins to emit from the bottle, you immediately screw the cap over it and open a window to let the fumes that managed to escape out, before they could effect technoblade.

"i think i'm done," you muttered, holding up the glass vial to eye level and inspecting it.

it was beautiful, you had to admit. no other brew you could think of had the same, alluring pink mixture, swirling with seductive danger. it was as if you were looking into aphrodite's soul.

you bring it up to technoblade's face and he makes a face of pleasant surprise, inspecting the vial closer. you notice that the pink was the same colour as his pink hair, all you had to do was add glitter to his locks and the wizard would become a love potion himself.

not that he needed one at all to assist with making people fall in love with him.

you're never going to let him down for that.

"it's beautiful," he comments, observing you as you secure the vial in a rack, "what're you going to do with it now?"

"honestly? i have no idea. i don't have a use for it, probably keep it in my storage of forbidden potions-"

comically, just as fate would have it, you didn't register anything that happened next until it was too late because how on earth could this happen to you? it was ridiculous enough that you wanted to laugh but it was too late to do so, because without giving you any time to register that it happened, a shrill 'sqwauk' came from outside and the sound of a collision with your glass beakers filled your senses.

shatters of the dainty material reverberate through the room and your heart drops immediately when you see the pink substance on the floor, its dangerous fumes rising from the puddle into a large cloud that fills the room. you look at technoblade who is just as shocked as you and you know that it's too late to try and prevent him.

there's no time to fret over your destroyed alchemy set and the feathers that the menacing bird left behind as evidence to its crimes as you shove technoblade back into the arm chair and he simply obliges without complaints.

"i'm sorry, but i need to do this," you muttered guiltily, retrieving a bundle of rope from a nearby supply closet. they weren't supposed to be used to tie... a man... down but hey, they were the best you had.

"there's nothing to be ashamed of," techno mutters in a tone far too lucrative for your liking. you smack him on the head as you use your magic to tie him to the chair with tight knots.

you've heard about many messy experiences with love potions. most commonly, it could end with obsession, dangerous attachment or reckless passion and you did not need to experience that with technoblade. no matter how attractive he was to you, you would never ever consider something as scandalous as a love potion.

not only because the brew could never replicate true love and intimacy, for it was impossible, but you hated forcing him to act against his will.

however, for a man that just inhaled a love potion, he's rather calm about it as technoblade's ruby red eyes watch you frantically pace around the room, trying to figure out a cure.

"what's got you so worked up?" he asks light-heartedly, attempting to ease the tension in the room.

you weren't having any of it though, "shut up. just, shut up."

flicking through every page possible in the book, you were desperate to find some sort of remedy but only despairing further when you couldn't find anything, not even close and you want to cry.

"y/n, please calm down. i can feel your stress all the way here."

"how are you okay right now? you know the effects a love potion can have! they're dangerous and not to be meddled with- oh goodness, i shouldn't have ever let you come back with me."

"if it makes you feel any better," he begins, only continuing when you turn around to meet his eyes, "you're not the worst person to fall in love with."

ignoring the way his sentence made butterflies erupt in your stomach, you groan in frustration. "the potion is already kicking in. i might be too late."

"no, i'm speakin' from the heart. we've been friends for a long time and i trust you."

technoblade looks at you with sincerity swimming in his irises, his lips coaxing a gentle smile to appear on his expression and you fear you might lose this side of him forever. so, you'll spend your last, valuable minutes with him before who knows what.

you sit down on a smaller stool beside him with your alchemy book in your arms.

"i'm sorry," you muttered and he shakes his head.

"you have nothin' to be sorry for."

an hour passes and the time is filled with a nice, casual conversation between the two of you, discussing things that weren't the predicament you've found yourselves in. it was nice. he always had that ability to distract you from whatever it was that was working you up and as the time passes and the moon crawls higher into the sky, you almost forget about the situation you were in.

almost.

because it's been a long time since the effects should've started kicking in and he had yet to show any symptoms of lovesickness.

"maybe you brewed it incorrectly?" techno suggests.

"impossible! i followed it perfectly and got the end result that i was looking for!" you exclaimed, opening the book again and finding the page in no time.

you read through it once more, the description, the required ingredients and the instructions- everything that you followed to the utmost precision! then a smaller passage of text on the next page catches your eye.

the love potion will have no effects if the consumer is already in love with the brewer.

it's silent. so silent, a needle could drop and it would be heard. you look up at technoblade slowly, with a racing heart that refused to believe that perhaps, he was already in love with you? no, no, that was a ridiculous notion, right?

his awkward laugh tells you otherwise.

"so... am i safe to come out of this chair now?" the pink-haired wizard asks, avoiding eye contact.

you untie all the knots, working in a torturous silence as you desperately scavenged your mind for the right words to say to him. there were none.

the second he stands up from the chair, finally free of his confinements, technoblade turns to face you with a look of distraught and devastation as he rubs his now sensitive skin. there's an electric tension in the air and it sparks the both of you alive. neither do something about it though.

he raises his hand towards you, as if wanting to touch you but technoblade stops himself halfway there, retracting his limb and returning it to his side, where it laid dormant. useless.

"goodnight, y/n," he whispers in a quick breath before making a bolt for the door.

you react a second too late, chasing after him but he had already grabbed his coat off the hanger, now opening the door.

"don't run away from this!" you begged, following him into the streets.

the pink-haired wizard spares you one last glance before he flicks his cardigan, disappearing into a cloud of smoke. just like that, he was gone.

you were going to give him a piece of your mind next time you saw him.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚*ੈ✩‧₊˚

it was almost sundown the next day when you finally mustered the courage to face technoblade. the events of yesterday replayed in your mind constantly and you memorised the way his face contorted into one of

that slimy, little bastard, of course he'd leave you in this kind of predicament and not even bother to answer the door when you knocked, despite the fact that you knew he was on the other side.

"i know you're there, techno. come on out, we need to talk about this sooner or later," you said sternly to the door and a breath later, you heard the trademark clicking sound, signifying that his door was now unlocked.

the technoblade that greets you is a mess. he still tries to present himself, as he always does since he's big on appearance, but his hair is slightly dishevelled and he's missing a few of his piercings, an indication of how little effort he's put into himself today. you feel terrible, especially for the lack of glimmer there was in his eyes.

he still tries to smile though.

"hi," you greeted.

"come inside?"

"no, i much prefer standing outside whilst having this discussion with you," you sarcastically mentioned as you entered his cluttered abode. he shuts the door promptly behind you.

"could i get you something to drink, maybe?" he weakly asks, trying to keep up his perfect manners but techno doesn't need to keep the facade up for you.

"y'know what, fine. i'll have some tea, thank you but after that, we stop avoiding it."

the pink-haired nods, reluctantly albeit, but he agrees and his word is his word.

you take a seat in his living room, glancing around the place- as if you hadn't memorised it years ago- whilst trying to keep yourself occupied. it felt like technoblade was taking his time making your tea but nevertheless, it arrives and there' two humble cups and a teapot with intricate designs painted on.

he's always been a mean collector.

"when?" your voice is small, nothing like the demanded assertiveness you kept up when you arrived at his door a few minutes ago.

"oh, we're really starting it off-"

"-stop dodging the question."

the wizard sighs, "a while ago, started when i first saw you again after the academy."

"really?"

"yeah. forgot about how much i missed you until then and you were... you were lovely. lovely is nowhere near good enough to describe you."

your cheeks heat up at his compliment and he notices how you become slightly flustered. it's in the way you refuse to make eye contact with him and how you slightly press your lips together. he's adored you for the longest time. he had grown affections for you when you were young children and a few years later, welcomed back the lovely burn he felt in his heart whenever he thought you. it seems as though nothing had changed.

"yesterday when i saw you, the only reason i wanted to come back to your home with you was to see what you were going to do with the love potion."

"what do you mean?"

"i knew you were brewing a love potion long before you told me and i was admittedly jealous. i wanted to find out who it was meant for."

you sit in silence for a little, as if unable to process his claims.

"what you said yesterday about trusting me. is that still true, even now?" you asked and technoblade blinks once, then twice before giving you his answer.

"of course."

"then tell me the honest truth."

the truth was that he'd fallen in love with you countless moons ago, and his affections have only doubled in size, never relenting to the sheer comfort that was your love.

lovesickness was a illness he'll never recover from, but he doesn't really want to either, because it's you and he couldn't ever hate anything about you.

he has to tell you that now. he can't let some stupid love potion outshine him in extravagance.

standing up from the couch with newfound confidence, technoblade offers you his hand to take and his heart soars when your touch creeps into his. it's a balm to the scab that had infected his ego as a result of yesterday's events.

he leads you up the many flights of stairs, through countless corridors that you both have memorised, and finally arrived at a balcony area which overlooked acres of free, natural plains that no one has dared to touch and honestly, you hoped the fields would remain that way.

you had fond memories of walking along these trails with techno, talking about nothing and everything as flowers begun to bloom around you, decorating your path. you remember the giddiness you felt being with him, how your heart would increase whenever your hands subtly brushed against each other's or the way you couldn't help but smile widely whenever he offered you a rose.

perhaps, just like the flowers around you, the love you had for each other began to blossom into something more.

the sun was beginning to set and the orange, pink and yellow hues of the sunset sky took over. it  reminded you of yesterday.

"the sky is beautiful," you muttered off-handedly, smiling widely as you looked up at the natural phenomenon that painted the clouds.

"nothing compared to you," technoblade says. you glance up at him, admiring at the way the golden sun glowed on his skin because somehow, it made him look softer and more alive. technoblade truly was a masterpiece and how desperately you wished to be an artist so you could capture at least a fraction of his beauty.

alas, you weren't an artist who could paint, no, you were an alchemist who severely messed up.

you hear the pink-haired inhale deeply beside you before spluttering out, "surely you must know by now."

his words are rushed and unintelligible, yet when you meet his gaze, he looks at you with such wonder and fondness in eyes. it strikes your heart in its softest places and steals your breath away, all whilst techno looks at you as if you're the only thing that mattered in this world.

"how you have bewitched me by casting an unending love spell on me that has bound my heart to you forever. although my heart is a fickle, unwanted thing, it is something i am willing to give up once more and gift it to you to do whatever you wish," technoblade confesses. "destroy it, stomp it, kiss it, it is yours. all i want is to know how you feel."

you looked away with a fond smile, gazing back at the skyline as the pink-haired anxiously awaited your answer after graciously pouring all of himself to you. he hates every second that is silent and curiously observes your every move.

"i don't want your heart," you finally said before intertwining your hand with his. "i just want you, and that is all that matters to me."

technoblade's chest bursts with affection and adoration, "i was yours long ago."

"how come i didn't know?"

"all you had to do was ask."

"ask you say? how would you feel about kissing me?"

"it would be my honour."

i'm gonna regret posting this so much when i look at this later,,, still don't think it's my best work,,, but i hope you enjoyed nonetheless! like i said, hopefully i get a chance at redemption with the later technohowl fics ;) yes there's more coming.

so uh, reblogs, likes, comments, thoughts r appreciated! and if you enjoy my writing, consider giving me a follow! until then, i'll see you next time <3

- earth

[sleepyrights]

adoration -

prince!wilbur x commoner!gn!reader

royal au

you can find more info on the series here (x)

a/n ; so happy to finally post this, i’ve been working pretty hard on it <3 also @sleepyrights was a big help in making this!!! go read his fics they’re fuckin amazing

edited by : @jschllatt

cw : swearing, that’s about it for now

previous | next

Wilbur looked in his mirror with tensed eyebrows. Brushing down the suit he had been given to smooth out any wrinkles in it. "Why me?" He wondered aloud, looking away from the mirror with burning eyes.

'You're being dramatic, Will. Suck it up. So many people would kill to even have a fraction of what you have" He told himself, tapping his foot quickly.

He avoided looking at his mirror. Wilbur never liked celebrating his birthday, what's the big deal with getting older? Maybe when he was 6 or 7, yeah, those were the best days of his life. He was the center of attention-- well him and Techno. Being a twin has it's downs when you're 7.

He sighed, hanging his head silently. 'Why is dad like this?' He thought, eyes crossing over to his door. Phil would be down to force him out in a couple of seconds, he was sure. This banquet was a terrible idea.

The Love Banquet as Phil had dubbed it. Wilbur felt like a show animal, his feelings being used as a toy. All this banquet meant was that mediocre royals would be tripping over themselves to win his praise. His and Techno's at least.

It felt weird to be put against his brother in such a way, all because of love. The betrayal feeling he got when he read the paper headline still was singed into his memory. Phil only brought up the ideas with him and Techno at a random dinner a month ago, it was never fully okay with him.

Yet, here he was. Dressed up, about to be used for his love.

His head whipped towards the door when he heard a pair of small, quick-paced, footsteps. ‘Why can’t Tommy leave me alone..’ Wilbur thought with a small sigh as the footsteps neared.

He jumped when the door finally flew open, being met with Tommy’s shining face. “Wilbur!! I’m gonna find a wife!!” He giggled, going over to join him in the mirror.

Wilbur ruffled his hair, looking down at Tommy with an endearing look. “Tom, you’re 13.” He smiled.

Wilbur always seemed to be jealous of Tommy. Only for one thing though.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “And maybe I could find my future wife! I think i’ll find one before you and Techno being honest.” He smirked. “I’m more of a charm.”

Wilbur nodded silently, placing a hand on Tommy's back to push him out of his room. "C'mon, let's go downstairs now, yeah?" He smiled, looking down at the younger brother.

Tommy reluctantly nodded, picking up his pace to lead in front of Wilbur. "Have you seen Techno around?" He hummed, now walking backwards. Watching Wilbur shrug as he stared out of the castle windows. "Somewhere, y'know how him and dad have always been."

Old Soul. Though that just meant Phil having an obvious favourite to the two other Brothers.

"Oh well." Wilbur looked down at his shoes.

"Oh well? What do you mean?"

"It's been like that since we were born. Even mum...."

Wilbur cut himself off. Tommy never really knew about their mum, and he wasn't allowed to.

Tommy perked up, "Mum?" He was excited. "What about mum?" He looked up at him with big guilt-trip eyes.

"Nothing, it's not important right now Tommy." He hissed, Wilbur hated to be mean with him. But to keep him away from asking questions, it was necessary.

Tommy's mood quickly changed, looking down at the ground silently. “Sorry… I just..”

“No. I’m not answering any questions. Conversation ended.” Wilbur quickly cut off the younger, his pace started speeding up to go in front of the younger boy as he neared the ball room.

Techno was happy they weren’t in there yet, basking in the spotlight of everyone there. He told one of his many stories of his adventures, making it seem just a little more dramatic than what it actually was.

Small cooes like ‘He’s so hot..’ and ‘I can’t believe I liked Wilbur more..’ boosted his ego, he was never given attention by the people. Only Phil seemed to care.

Wilbur always seemed to be everything he wasn’t. Pretty, loved, sweet, selfless, confident. It was an understatement to say Techno was jealous of him.

Maybe if he was like Wilbur, people would like him more. But that was the only thing he couldn’t be.

Wilbur.

“Do you know where Wilbur could be?” One girl piped up, making Techno pause in his movements. “He’s on his way down here.” He gave a small, somewhat fake looking, smile.

As if right on time, Wilbur pushed open the door silently, his eyes scanning slowly over the room. Nothing seemed to stand out to him.

The room was floored with glossy wood, with a tall marble ceiling. Bright windows also decorated the wall, they faced towards the sun without any trees surrounding them. Unlike the rest of the castle.

Wilbur never liked the ball room when he was younger, he always thought the cracked ceiling would fall in at any moment. Even now, it wasn’t exactly his favourite.

His eyes continued to gloss over everyone in the room. Looking at darkly coloured suits that only looked good with shiny gold draped over it. Cinched waists with fluffy dresses. Young royals failing to be the beauty standard. Young royals who only wanted validation and attention from pretty boys.

The room reeked of greed.

Techno quickly went over to Wilbur, tapping his shoulder silently. “They’ve been waiting for you.”

“They?”

“Everyone here, all I heard was stuff about you while I was talking.”

“Oh..”

Wilbur fluffed up his hair, it was a messy collection of curly brown hairs that almost covered his eyes. “I didn’t think…” His arm dropped down, “I didn’t think people would be that excited for me.” He smiled, eyes still wandering around the room.

“Well I'm not interested in love..” Techno plainly stated. “Go crazy, find someone. I’ll support you.” He smirked, pushing Wilbur ahead and watching as he stumbled over his feet.

“Ou.. fuck you for that..” He cussed under his breath once he caught himself. All eyes on him, just how he hated it.

He sighed, taking a second— and closer —look at all of the suits and dresses. It was the same as before. Except, this time a dress finally stood out.

If someone asked Wilbur to describe what stood out about it he wouldn’t be able to tell them. There was just something about it that made him so drawn to it. Almost like déjà vu.

He looked back at Techno for just a second, he still hadn’t wiped that stupid smirk off of his face.

“Now or never..” Wilbur whispered on a breath in. Taking small, slightly shaky steps towards the person with the dress. A small flower coming within his vision.

“Hello, uh.. Love.” He giggled, bowing slightly as the person jumped.

“Woah..” They whispered slightly, watching how the boy's hair fell so elegantly. Not to mention how his suit seemed to fit him so perfectly without a line or wrinkle.

It almost made their heart skip a beat. The prince, coming up to meet them, out of everyone in the room. At the Love Banquet. Out of everyone in the room? They wanted to squeal like a little girl, the butterflies in their stomach threatening to become soft giggles.

They shook their head silently, recollecting their thoughts. “Apologises! I didn’t mean to act like that in front of you!” They bit the inside of their cheek. ‘Good one.’

Wilbur smiled, cheeks tinting a rose pink. “Wonderful to meet you too. I’m Prince Wilbur.” He felt oddly at ease with them. Around royals he felt the need to be stuck up, almost perfect. “But, uh- You can just call me Will.”

“I’m Y/N.” They smiled. Watching Wilbur take their hand and place a soft kiss onto it.

“I think Y/N is a lovely name. It fits you well.”

Y/N’s cheeks started to hurt. Even then- was he really that pretty or was it just euphoria? Or both.

“Ah- why did you-“

“It’s a common royal gesture.” Wilbur shrugged. “Oh does your family-“

Their face dropped, taking a sharp breath in. “No, I knew! We don’t uhm..” They watched as Wilbur’s soft expression changed to a slight state of concern. “We don’t get out much.” They nodded to agree with themself. “Yeah.”

“We don't do much either! Don’t worry.” Wilbur rubbed his thumb up and down Y/N’s soft hand. It felt so smooth, no bumps or scratches. Almost perfect.

Thinking about Y/N as a whole they were perfect, everything about them made Wilbur want to squeal. He almost felt like flying as he held their hand so softly, almost like they were porcelain in his grip.

What came unanswered with how it felt was, did he fall in love with Y/N? Or just the idea of loving them?

tagging : @mlqcool @ahmya-4 @willow404 @skarlletthepig @b3rrysoda @beaniedoodz @hungoverhellhound @reverse-iak @bergandysam @joyfullymulti @queennightsetz @aremie @afamous-simp @augustine-is-joy @moonpawss @boyleanti @basilly @disastrousdream @luluwinchester @forutheworld @mayasimagines @losingvienna @tuluyan @luvjoyed @dreamzluvrr @sleepysoupi-deactivated20210630 @bugthegremlin @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc @boiled-onionrings @lmfaosoph @m0oshrooms

word count : 1,496

[sleepyrights]

Yes, I've heard of Her

art by @/luckybunii on twitter! half the time i write fic its in acids dms,,, but this one turned out like ridiculously good so-

based off the idea of wilbur never knowing his mum, kristen, since she died in child birth. she since then became an angel of death- and this is her sort of visiting her kids? i dont know, its sad but i hope yall enjoy! :D

Familiar. Another train speeding past and leaving another gust of wind to blow at Wilbur’s cloak. He stood at the edge of the platform, on the yellow bit they told you never to stand on. He didn’t fear the wisp of metal so close to his skin. It let him feel something. He stared off, curly hair rustling as the train sped off. Only something was different.

He blinked, his eyes going from the tunnel to the figure next to him. It took him a moment to register that there was even someone there, letting out a short yell as he jumped, slipping to his butt.

The figure turned towards him, a large brimmed hat that had translucent black fabric hanging down. A black dress that seemed like a night sky, covered by a purple robe, tied by a golden rope at her waist and hung off her shoulders. She looked beautiful, long brown curly hair that seemed to resemble his own.

“Oh, sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to scare you.” She spoke, her voice strangely delicate. Once she turned, Wilbur could see the all too familiar heart motif on her chest, golden and shimmering. She was like a small bit of light in the ever darkness he’d been in.

“Who.. are you?” Wilbur questioned, his voice shaking. “I’m already dead. Damned to these fucking trains. I-” His voice faded a bit. “Why are you here?”

The woman had a sorrowful look on her face, one only a mother could have for her child. True distress.

And it clicked.

“..Mum?”

“I’m so sorry.. you poor thing.” She whispered, coming closer. She crouched down, taking off her hat to set on the ground. “I’m.. so sorry. It must have been so hard for you-”

Wilbur didn’t realise there were tears streaming down his face, not that it wasn’t familiar here. It’d been a while, though. He pulled his lips tight, nodding. He opened his mouth to respond, only to choke out a sob.

“C’mere, sweetie. Let me love you.” She opened her arms, and without a moment of hesitation, Wilbur crashed himself into them. His hold was tight and desperate, and hers was careful and loving. A hand rubbing along his back, more sobs that wet her shoulder.

Just as quickly as she came, she was gone, his arms closing into himself, his sobs even harder as he cradled forward, curling into a ball.

The train was loud, but it never drowned out his cries for help. His cries for his mother.

All that was left was a hat. Long brimmed, with translucent decoration.

A breath left her mouth, fixing the way her robe sat at the bend in her arms. She stood just a distance away from a crater in which life seemed to find a way to thrive. Buildings steadily above the rising waters that filled a tragedy, and a man in a green robe and broken feathers making his way back to his home.

It was peculiar though, seeing a ghost travel not far behind, holding the lead of a blue sheep. He seemed to pause, then look directly at her. Their eyes connected, wide and jarred. They both seemed surprised, and he seemed so familiar to her.

It was different. His sweater such a bright yellow yet his skin such a pale grey. Yet he was happy. A smile spreading across his face as it lit up. He made the short trip her way, waving.

“Hello! Do you live here? In L’Manburg with everyone? I haven’t seen you around before.” The ghost seemed so polite, enthusiastic even. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Ghostbur! I’m dead.”

A giggle left the woman, almost pained. She reached out, taking his hand, and it surprised him that she was able to grasp onto it properly. “Ghostbur.. An interesting name.”

“The people here say I’m interesting.” He nods. “They also say I’m quite forgetful. Um.. what was your name again?”

“Kristen. Though.. I suppose you can call me Mumza.” She smiled softly, nodding at her decision. “If you see Phil around, tell him he’s raised such lovely boys.” She placed her other hand on his, grasping his hand tightly.

Ghostbur blinked, eyes a bit wide. His grip on Friend’s lead tightened a bit, though he nodded, his chipper smile back once more. “I will! Thank you, Mumza. Oh! And- do you.. mind?” He seemed to inch closer, gesturing for something.

Like an unspoken language between them, she nodded. Opening her arms, they hugged. Firm and tight, yet comforting. Ghostbur felt his breath caught in his throat, it’d been so long since he could remember being able to hug someone. It lingered for a moment, before he let go, hearing Phil call his name from a distance.

“Coming! I’m sorry, I have to go- It was nice meeting you, Mumza! Thank you again!” Ghostbur waved enthusiastically, turning and quickly running off.

“Yeah, meeting you. I love you-!” She spoke up a bit, waving as she saw the ghost off. She let her shoulders fall a bit. “L’manburg.. What a ridiculous name for a country.” She chuckled weakly, turning in the other direction to wander off.

“Phil! Phiiil!” Ghostbur called out, making his way down to see the other. He smiled, letting Friend in the house and securing his lead to a nearby fence post. “Phil, you’ll never guess who I saw.”

“Oh? Was it Tubbo again? Mate, you see him all the time.”

“No, no. I saw someone new. Actually new this time. She was beautiful- and she had hair like mine when I was alive! Though she looked quite sad when she saw me-” Ghostbur rambled a bit, toying with his sleeves.

Phil paused what he was doing, slowly closing the chest he was looking in. He looked towards Ghostbur, gulping a bit. “O-oh? What um.. what was this woman’s name?”

“She asked me to call her Mumza! But she said her name was Kristen. Why, do you know her?”

Phil felt an ache in his heart. Such an ache that he hadn’t felt since that day. He placed a hand on his chest, making his way to sit on the chest for something to catch him. He nodded, closing his eyes.

“Yeah.. I remember a Kristen.”

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“The most beautiful I’ve ever seen.” Phil paused once more, looking down to the ground. His broken wings fluttered the smallest bit. “Come.. why don’t you help me out in the basement? We have some things to talk about.”

[sleepyrights]

━‎ tape recorder

synopsis; wilbur turns on the camera and, while his family is out, decides to begin the story

contains; awkward wilbur, one(1) mention of sexual assault (hand on readers ass), swearing, unedited

prolouge, 1k words

note; so glad to start this !! :)) hope you enjoy <3

m.list : next part

   scraping against the wooden floor was the first thing to hear along with incoherent muttering. the camera shifted, and then shifted again, to reveal wilbur soot. he sat on a red cover, the brunette clearing his throat as he took his hands away from the camera.

   "uh, so," he started. "i'm wilbur. wilbur soot. and this is the start of the recordings of me trying to date my best friend, who i've known practically since birth. they're ... god, how do i even explain someone so perfect?" he paused, a smile spreading across his face, before he realized how lovesick he sounded.

   he ran a hand over his face, groaning. "i am down so bad." he paused, sighing before he gave the camera a small chuckle. "but maybe because it's them, it's okay. but anyways, back to them. [name] is ... wonderful. they're just ... i don't even know how to describe it without sounding like an idiot in love."

   his knee bounced rapidly as he looked for the right words, chuckling once more. "i sound so awkward and weird, but i swear, if you met them, it'd be like meeting an angel. and i usually mess with them, just because their reactions are cute, but i'll tell them one day how much they mean to me. one day."

   wilbur clapped and, with a grin, looked straight at the camera. "but that's why you're here! because maybe this will help me work up the courage to ask them out, like a diary or something. techno has a diary, but it's pretty lame. but - but anyways! if i'm gonna talk to you like this, then you should know the whole story."

   he leaned back on his hands, staring up at the ceiling before looking back at the camera. "so, i met them when i was little. i don't remember meeting them, since i was like two, but dad says we got along really well. like, we were attached to the hip by three. i think dad and their dad are still friends ... but besides that, yeah. that's how we met.

   "it's not the most grand story, but it's us. and i like us," he grinned. "but i think i started like them, as far back as i can remember, when i was six or seven. we were having a playdate, over at my house or theirs i can't rmemeber, but we were playing with something; dolls or dinosaurs, i can't remember.

   "and then we - we were just playing, when they picked up a flower. or it was a weed, now that i look back on it, but it's the thought that counts. but they handed me the flower, weed or whatever, and asked if we could get married when we got older. and, of course, i took the flower and said yes. it's no wonder why i remember that day so clearly."

   wilbur sat in thought for a moment, sighing as he stared up at the ceiling. he shifted to lay back on his elbows, humming. "one of the most memorable moments was last year, back in our junior year. we were fighting about something, i'll always remember how upset they looked when i was being a dick, but i can't remember what.

   "and at this party, we had both went but had stayed away from each other, this guy was being a douchebag to [name]. like, wouldn't leave them alone and kept making sexual comments. and, when i had heard about it, i was pissed. like, man, i was seeing red. i just got so mad, and when i saw the guy with his hand on [name]'s ass, i got even more pissed.

   "like, i ran up to them and just punched the guy square in his jaw. i think i broke it. no one ever went to the cops, probably out of fear, but it was really fortunate for me. [name] had brought me outside and was scolding me for punching that asshole while i was just trying to calm down. and then they just ... hugged me."

   wilbur ran a hand through his hair, getting somewhat agitated just thinking about that night again. "sorry, that guy really pissed me off. but they just hugged me, and i think we hugged for maybe like ten minutes. i wasn't mad anymore when we let go, and they weren't mad at me either. it was one of those nights where i was so lucky to have them."

   he smiled, clapping his hands once more. "and everyday they prove that i'm so lucky to have them. and i love them more and more everyday. i just hope they share the same feelings for me." he laughed, scratching the back of his neck. "or else this will just be something tommy and techno will use to tease me when he's older."

   he shook his head at his siblings, a small smile on his face. wilbur smiled, and with another sigh, he ran his hands through his hair. "maybe i'm being crazy, but this could be something to show [name] when we're older. whether we're dating or not."

   silence filled the room, the camera going in and out of focus for a moment. wilbur stared at something that laid at the back of his bed, a canvas. it was a drawing of two stick figures, one with messy brown hair and the other with [color] hair. the one with [color] hair held a flower, smiling as it handed it to the messy haired one.

   "[name] drew that when we were kids," he commented, a fond smile stretching across his face as he admired the drawing. "it sounds weird, but i've kept it ever since she gave it to me. maybe since we were eight or nine. weird how two stick figures can hold so much meaning to me."

   wilbur looked back towards the camera and, with a lazy smile, spoke. "well, that's it. the beginning of how i'm going to get [name] to be my partner, despite how cheesy it sounds. i have to end this now or else tommy will come in and ask what i'm doing. bloody kid."

   the brunette got up from his bed, waving at the camera as he stopped the recording and turned it off. he tucked it into his desk, sighing. "let's see how this will work out," he muttered, leaning back in his chair. the front door opened and wilbur chuckled.

   "just on time."

TAGLIST: (open)

@bokunovas ; @alyssathesoftie ; @bi-narystars

[sleepyrights]

Elf Ears

CC!Wilbur X GN!Reader

they/them

info : this fic is based off the clip where wilbur said his ears get red when he gets sleepy <3

Wilbur groaned, resting his hand against his hand. Struggling to keep his eyes open.

“Will..” Y/N chirped up, going over to massage his shoulders slightly. Making Wilbur give a small hum in response.

They leaned down over his shoulder, taking note of his reddening ears. “You’re tired aren’t you?” They questioned with an eyebrow raise, going to place a kiss on his cheek.

“Why would I be tired? I’m fine, Love.” He responded, straightening up his back as his eyes met Y/N’s own. He swore he could get lost in them.

“You’re ears look like a pair of roses. I know you’re tired.” They quickly said, locking their arms around his neck.

“You’re using my mums tactic, huh?”

“It’s a pretty good way to tell if you’re lying.”

“Mm, true..” Wilbur grumbled, stretching out his arms slightly.

“Come cuddle with me in bed, you’ve been up late working a lot recently. You deserve it.” They said, placing a kiss onto his rosy ear as they lifted up.

Wilbur gave a tired smile, getting up to quickly follow them to bed. “You keep me in check some days..”

“I think if i came in there any later you would be asleep at your desk.” Y/N joked, grabbing into his veiny hand, tracing over them silently with a soft finger.

“You’re hands are always very soft..” They hummed, grabbing into it fully with a squeeze.

“Really? I’m always worried they feel like sandpaper..”

“Sandpaper or not, i’ll always hold your hand.”

taglist : @basilly @disastrousdream @luluwinchester @forutheworld @mayasimagines @losingvienna @xyanduck @luvjoyed @w1lbursu1t @sleepysoupi i @bugthegremlin

a/n : aaaaaaa

[sleepyrights]

car ride simp

once more i post a blurb i post in acids dms. based on us talking about sleepy bois inc + tubbo on a road trip! i should just start posting more stuff i write in his dms-

pronouns used: they/them

Wilbur blinked as he felt a weight on his shoulder, glancing over to see what it was. Y/N seemed to be lulling to sleep, finally given in enough to lay their head on Wilbur's shoulder. His eyes were a bit wide, face heated up a bit. This was relatively unsuspected, but it was getting rather late. Even Tubbo's head seemed to be bobbing and half asleep. The car quiet enough aside from the music and the chatter of Phil and Techno. Someone had to keep the driver awake. Wilbur's attention fell back onto Y/N, a smile spreading to his lips. He carefully reached an arm up, combing through their hair. "Love, you can sleep. I'll wake you when we get there." He whispered, trying to make sure no one else would hear it. Y/N gave a small noise, unsure if it was approval, but it was one of understanding. They nodded their head softly, getting more comfortable against Wilbur. The smallest hop in the road before they settled. He could feel his heart flutter, his smile growing even wider. Wilbur couldn't help but cuddle into them too, placing a small kiss in their hair before relaxing himself as a comfortable pillow. This was his fate for the foreseeable few hours. Though he could feel eyes burning in his skull, looking up and seeing Tommy turned in his seat staring straight at him. "Tommy, don't you dare-" "Siii-" "Tommy.." Wilbur tried so hard not to speak above a whisper. "-imp. Simp. You're a total simp." Tommy smirked, the largest shit eating grin on his face. "Woman liker, can't believe my own brother likes women."

Wilbur felt dread come over his chest, glaring right back at Tommy. "You fucking child-" "Phiiiil-!" Tommy turned, leaning towards the front of the car. He was still somewhat considerate, his voice not as loud or whiney as usual. "Do you think Wilbur is a simp? He's cuddling with Y/N in the back." "Tommy I'm about to call you a simp for Y/N too if you don't shut the fuck up-" Phil teased a bit, glancing in the rear view mirror. The glimpse he caught of Wilbur and Y/N made him smile, though, looking back at the road. "Leave them alone, get some sleep for now." "Fiiine." Tommy huffed, sitting back. He looked back to Wilbur, giving a huff. "Fuckin' simp." "Tommy!" Wilbur spoke a bit too loud, quickly recoiling and making sure he didn't wake Y/N. He mumbled the softest "sorry," leaning his head softly against theirs. He gave a small sigh, watching the lights shine across their hands on their lap. He reached his other hand down, softly playing with their fingers, a smile stained on his lips. He eventually managed to lace their fingers together before eventually promptly taking his own nap.

[sleepyrights]

💌 Send this to twelve of the nicest people you know or seem to have a good heart and if you get five back you must be pretty awesome 💌💖

mgsngso awww this is so sweet 💙💙💙 im sobbing oml thank you !!!

[sleepyrights]

hi hi!

i just wanted to stop in really quick to say that i am working on new fics! i just worked overtime this past week so im a little tired;; imagine being employed, jeebus lordie

anyways !! i want to thank everyone for the recent follows! i should have basilly's event fic up, a song fic that im making Completely Self Indulgent (c!wilbur x masc!reader, in case youre wondering). i also want to try and branch out a bit, so i might do something with quackity? dunno! but if you lot have any ideas id always love to hear them! my ask box is definitely open :D

thank you all again, i appreciate all the support !! <3

[sleepyrights]

NFBSOF BASIL MY BELOVED !!!! 💙💙💙❤️❤️💙❤️💙❤️💙

— shoutout!!

i wanted to make a small shoutout post to these blogs ive found in the past week that ive been LOVING

@ttakinou and her karl fic

@jacobsbrainrot and their karl fic

@viseralantlers and her techno fic

@k3rm1e and his wilbur cuddling piece

@sleepyrights and their wilbur fic

theres sm more talented writers out there and i want to continue doing these so i can continually shed more light on small writers!

for more recs go to @mcytwriters !