#i think tommy finds him in the morning as wilbur is waking up and feels hsppy thst eilbur finally relaxed and got some sleep

[dotted-ink]

Pogburs posture through exile starts and remains perfect, when he knows eyes are watching. During his presidency, he practiced keeping his back straight and arms level and shoulders at perfect ease, and the habit carries through if only due to the fact that the reason he learned to stand like that was because that's what a 'good leader' does.

So he stands perfect and tall so no one thinks hes falling, because he has to be strong for the pogtopia rebellion, and for his friends still trapped in manberg.

And when his friends look away he slumps. Hes tired. He has no space to think about presentation with no one to present to, and he'll hardly be thinking about keeping himself looking nice just for his own happiness. There's too much else to do.

Pogbur slouches a lot, actually. He slouches in the farm, in the mine, when they're out on reconnaissance and when they come back late from exploring the forest above. When he forgets about the eyes always on him, he looks so much shorter. Smaller.

And, well, he knows that.

Its why he props his skeleton just so- looking broad and tall in posture whenever he realizes the eyes on him, from friend and foe alike. He has to be perfect and powerful, anything less would be pitiful.

He has to be perfect.

Eyes are on him.

He walks back to the underground ravine at night standing tall, cloak steadily following behind him as a stark black shadow. Tommy runs forward as they near, and Tubbo and Q follow if only to ensure he doesn't make off with the items their group scavenged.

Wilbur breathes slowly as they pass out of view among the trees. Its getting darker. He closes his eyes and allows his shoulders to fall, slowing his walk to an unfaltering limp at the dirt entrance of Pogtopia. When he makes his way down the spiralling stairs, his cloak drags on the steep, poorly carved steps behind him, indistinguishable from the leeching darkness surrounding him.

He limps out of the stairwell and into the main passage, where Tommy is probably yelling and Techno is probably snarking, and Niki is probably vigorously entrenching herself in any activity that will distract her from their circumstances, and then to the tunnels- those mad, crisscrossing, never-ending tunnels winding through the earth around them.

Wilbur finds himself, hours later, still moving through the sparsely lit tunnels. He notices his shoulder had been leaned against the jagged walls as he walked, so his jacket had torn through again. He'd get someone to mend that... later. Probably. His heels hurt. His spine hurts. His vertebrae wont stop pinching at the joint between neck and back.

Wilbur, of course, slowly makes his way back to Pogtopia, hoping that someone might still be up to help him make some food as a late night to early morning snack, and half-hoping everyone had left so he can let himself fall into a relaxed puddle somewhere deep within the dirt.

When he sees the faint flickering of light at the end of the tunnel, he feels a disappointment that adds another layer of rot to his bones. Someone is awake, still. He knows he can't handle anyone seei- Ex President and Rebellion Leader Wilbur Soot can't be seen dragging himself back to main base like a person in distress, so he straightens himself up like he's done some thousands of times and walks in with a confidence he's truly felt nearly twice in his life.

When he walks into the glorified hallway that is Pogtopia, his shoulders fall even farther than before when he realizes the light was from a furnace that had probably been running since before he left, fed by a continuous series of charcoal and potatos via hopper machine. There's not a single sound in the entire cavern, aside from his breathing and the crackles of the furnace. The hopper deposits a new potato to the furnace.

He takes a baked one from the chest below and nearly brings it to his teeth (what would be his first meal in 40 hours), but falters, hand shaking and setting the thing down somewhere solid before he drops it.

There's not a single sound around him. There are no eyes.

There's no one here right now to eat and talk with him, and help him cook food. He's really alone in this darkness now, so there is no point in keeping posture. There's no point in keeping health. He's safe from expectation.

Wilbur thinks he might cry if he thinks too long on that one, so he checks the hopper to see how many raw potatoes there are and clicks his tongue when he sees its nearly run out. Wilbur supposes it would probably be nice if someone actually got to work on fixing the automatic potato farm, and goes to do that for his friends. They're all out somewhere- wouldn't it be such a nice surprise, to come back to a repaired Pogtopia? A mended place, no cracks to be seen. No spiralling tunnels and mad decay. No damp corners or rotting, desolate dishes of food stacking up outside the room Wilbur never actually sleeps in.

He knows it should be an easy fix- he knows the problem, redstone dust never does well when exposed to constant damp, unchanging air. He just has to swap in dry dust and allow the wetter redstone to evaporate what it accumulated, so power can flow in an unblocked path across the machinery. Its simple, really.

So why can't he just do it? He knows the problem, the solution, and he even has a furnace already running that will help to dry the old dust. He steps into the farm and stops with his toes just in the soft soil at the edge. Why won't his body move further?

Hes tired. It's no excuse. He needs to do this, for his friends. He can't move. It's no excuse. Wilbur hurts, and can't stand only on two legs when he knows no eyes are watching. He drifts to the ground, it's no excuse. He has to clean up the wet redstone- else everyone will be disappointed by his shoddy leadership skills and terrible work ethic. He can't, he can't, he can't.

The room is dark, the furnace fire around a corner and a dozen meters down the hall. He knows the soil is damp, because his face has found its way to meet it. Its cold, here. Not as cold as he'd expect, but cold for a cave with no vents constantly lit by fire. He feels the wet of the dirt seep to his scalp and finds it comforting. Hes tired.

Its warm.

It is dark. There aren't any eyes here, so he sleeps in the comfortable soil, curled alone at the edge of the farm, as the furnace runs out of fuel and turns dark.

[heartofwritiing]

BksvajabJksbaja I love your Wilbur writing

Would you be able to do headcanons on random things Wilbur does that give you BUTTERFLIES or make you flustered (e.g. the sidewalk rule, leaning on you randomly etc.)

Totally alright if not.

Thankyou

AHHH TYSM IM GLAD PEOPLE ARE ENJOYING MY WRITING!

I love this so of course i will do it! I hope you like it!

this is cc!wilbur

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-early morning kisses before he has to go to the studio/or the office. You’re on the cusp of waking up and potentially falling back to sleep, cutie will kiss your cheeks and lips so softly to wake you up.

-when you’re hanging out with friends, whether it’s at dinner or when your sitting side by side he’ll put his arm around your shoulders. Sometimes laying his hand over your arm, or if he senses you’re uncomfortable he’ll rub his knuckles up and down your arm for comfort, letting you know he’s there.

-he definitely dose the side walk rule. he feels so protective of you to begin with You feel so safe with him wherever you go especially since he’s so tall, dude will probably scare off anyone who gets any ideas.

-Wilbur is chivalrous, he opens doors for you, gives you his sweaters when its cold, holding things for you, giving you flowers every date you go on. the list goes on.

-if you have hair in your eyes or he gets the urge to tuck your hair behind your ear get a better view of your face. You won’t notice it when he does it since you’re lost in conversation but when you do best believe you’ll be a blushing mess because he’ll admire you so lovingly when he sees more of you.

-if he’s out at the store and he sees your favorite snack or drink he’ll get it to surprise you. especially if he knows you’re having a bad day.

-sends you messages throughout the day to check in on you. and checking in when you guys are just hanging out together. if you’ve been suspiciously quiet for too long he might think something’s wrong and ask. “you okay darling?” you’d hum, nod your head and smile softly at him. “yes thank you for asking.” prompted by a kiss to his check.

- casually boops your nose at random moments. yes he makes the noise too.

-lays his head in your lap when he’s tired. (might write a little fic base on this ^)

-plays you songs that remind him of you and makes you playlists of songs he’ll think you would like.

- he’ll rest his arm on top of your head to annoy you. (i honestly hate when people do this to me because it does happen. but i would love it if wil ever did it to me lol)

-intense eye contact. you would be rambling about something totally random or telling him something funny that tommy did and he’ll just get lost looking into your eyes and listening to your voice. eyes so big and brown, so full of love. You know in these moments he’s listening to you so intently and it makes you feel so loved.

-taking your plate to the sink for you after dinner and helping you clean up.

-coming up behind you while you’re talking to someone else, wrap his arms around your waist and rest his chin on your shoulder indicating he wants attention from you. is 100% jealous of the other person you’re giving it too.

-tells you he loves you at random times during the day or night. sitting together quietly doing your own respective things, he nudges you and tells you; “i love you.” instant butterflies.

-kisses your knuckles when you or him have yo separate for whatever reason, even if its for a few minutes. like he has to go do soundcheck hell throw his head back with a groan and lift your hand up to his lips and leave a lingering kiss against them. all while making eye contact with you.

-when he goes on walks he will find random little things like, pebbles, acorns, flowers that make him think of you. you have a trinket box full of these kinds of things from him.

-gently squeezes your hand three times when he holds it.

i need to stop before i do too much lol

[poraphia]

"Morning Routines with Wilbur"

➵ PAIRING! cc!wilbur x gn!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.10.23 | 390 words

➵ CONTAINING! immense fluff, mornig spent with wilbur, making pancakes, domestic tingzz

➵ SAYING! really wanted to post something today, so heres an old draft i had in my notion yall can enjoy :)) i might make a little banner for my posts just to give it more personality hehe

My masterlist :)

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

both of you have busy schedules, so you two try to make the best of yall’s mornings

wilbur would hug you closely in bed for at least fifteen minutes. he specifically sets his alarm 15 mins before he actually does have to wake up just for those snuggles :)

“good morning, sunshine, how did you sleep?” he would ask in a grumbly voice that would always make you smile.

once you wake up, both of you head into the kitchen and decide what to have for breakfast together

wil would prepare the ingredients while you cooked on the stove. once he sets up all the plates and does any cleaning around the house, he wraps his arms around your torso as youre flipping pancakes

while eating, you and wil make small talk bringing up some past memories, talking about work, or just talking about some ideas to each other

“oh— by the way ash and I came up with this riff for this song we’re working on. I think it’s pretty cool!”

if either of you dont feel like talking, wil would take out his phone and set it against the kitchen’s flower vase so that the two of you can huddle close together and watch some youtube videos (yall try to avoid tommy’s videos in the morning. he could get loud!)

“don’t click on that tommy video.”

“but willll! it’s his survival series!”

“it’s too early for his gremlin voice.”

afterward, you would take wil’s dishes and wash them as he goes into the bathroom to shower and get changed

once done with all the cleaning, you pack up his lunch (that you prepared yesterday) and write down a little note that he could find under his food containers

by the time he’s out of the shower you’ve already packed all his bags to make sure he doesnt leave anything behind

he always makes sure to give you a kiss on the forehead before heading out the door

“ill text you during lunch, okay? i love you. drive safe!”

you would make sure to watch him until you see him get into his car to make sure he’s safe

once you know he securely made it to his car, you get yourself ready for the busy day ahead :)

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

a / n ~ really fluffy and sweet. hope yall enjoyed :D reblogs, replies, notes of all kind are super duper appreciated!

[athena-studios]

for your requests post

reader who loves stuffed animals x wilbur who’s jealous of the stuffed animals

like-

reader turns the stuffed animals so they aren’t facing them and wilbur when they kiss

feeling sad when one drops off the bed

must have room at night to let wilbur cuddle you but have you cuddling the stuffed animals

Reader who loves stuffed animals headcanons!

NOTES: this is too cute omfg. so ya here are some headcanons! sorry it's a bit short, this is my first time doing headcanons lol

PAIRING: wilbur x reader

you would definitely stop the kiss to turn the plushies around.

and he'll wait. he'll wait with a pout though.

you lean in as he copies the action. "wait!" you yell. you start turning around your plushies so they're facing away from you and wilbur. once you turn back and face the lanky boy, you see him pouting. "what?" you ask. "nothing." he says and quickly leans back in for a kiss.

when cuddling you always make sure you're hugging one of your bigger plushies.

he would be hugging you from behind and you would be hugging a large hamster plushie.

whenever you wake up in the morning and look for whatever animal plushie you were hugging the night before and find it on the floor, oh you will be babying that stuffed animal for the rest of the morning.

he would buy you ALOT of plushies.

like alot.

you would definitely have a shelf full of stuffed animals.

it's like the bookworms have shelves and shelves full of book, but instead its with plushies.

you name every single one of them. sometimes, you would quiz wilbur on their names. and when he gets one wrong, he has to say sorry to the stuffed animal.

"What's this one's name?" you ask as you pull out a dinosaur plushie. he thinks for a bit. "nelsey?" he asks, unsure. "You're wrong! this one is nelly, nelsey is her twin! you have to say sorry to both of them." you say with a smile.

would definitely take you to build-a-bear as a date.

i feel like you would bring one of your smaller animals with you whenever you guys go out. like at a picnic, a walk, a vlog with tommy, you would bring one sma stuffed animal with you.

taglist: @vibestillaxxx @rqvii (dm or ask if you wanna be added!)

[nomsfaultau]

18) Nightmares//”Watch over me?”

Disclaimer: this blurb is set in the SCP SBI AU I have called Fault, specifically mid Part 2. Explanation of AU; tldr. 

Tommy jolted up in the middle of the night. He didn’t scream anymore, when he could help it. He really didn’t want to wake his friends. Usually, it was alright, since The Blade managed to sleep through just about everything even though the restless Tommy nestled in his arms at night. 

But apparently, he’d failed tonight. In the dark, a silhouette framed by the moonlight, halfway out the door. Wilbur, by the features, or really the lack thereof. Tommy’s fingers curled around the fabric of his blanket. “Sorry for waking you,” he whispered. His shame swirled in with the dregs of fear and the feeling of hands around his throat. Maybe if they’d been a little tighter he wouldn’t have said anything at all. That would’ve been better than bothering Wilbur, but he was half asleep and scared. The excuse must offer him a little grace at least. 

“Hmm?” Wilbur softly approached, crouching down beside him. Strange shadows danced over his visage. “You didn’t wake me. I’m always up.” Slipping away once more so he wouldn’t be a threat to his loved ones. Wilbur was a man perpetually in a state of running away, but he always came back to them in the morning. That was the important part, that he came back. That he always would. 

“Oh. Really? I hadn’t noticed.” 

“I’ve sorta always run that way. I like the dark.” He laughed lightly. “Man, that sounded edgy, dinnit? But it’s peaceful, really.” Wilbur made to resume, slipping away from him, and sleepy panic jolted him suddenly, that Wilbur was abandoning him. That his nightmares were right. 

Before Tommy could even think it through, the words “Watch over me?” slipped out of his throat in a jumble. He was thankful at once for the dark hiding the way his ears went red. Were he not more than half asleep and scared, Tommy could’ve controlled that, stomped down on how clingy he sounded. It wasn’t his fault that his nightmares dragged him back to that cold and isolated year in the Foundation. He’d been so, so lonely, desperate for any type of human connection. Reaching out to the Handlers and Doctors and Soldiers for scraps of affection

They were manipulating him half the time, Tommy knew that, he wasn’t stupid. He just couldn’t care. He’d needed to feel friendship even if it was fake. Even if it was temporary. And it was always, always temporary, even if it was genuine. Assignments shifted. More often than not, Tommy was just a training dummy at the start of their fruitful careers as Foundation employees. And he was left grasping at ephemeral glimpses of kindness, hoarding scraps to himself and knowing it wasn’t ever going to last. 

The dreams liked to wonder how long his current friends would keep pretending to tolerate him. 

Tommy couldn’t help the anxiety spooling in his gut. In the morning he could always assure himself it wasn’t real. No matter how much he pushed at them, they stayed by his side. But that didn’t mean anything when he woke up from a nightmare to find Wilbur halfway out the door. 

“Why are you leaving me?” It came out before he could stop it (a stupid question, Tommy knew exactly why), an inquiry every inch as distraught and desperate as he felt. He really was pathetic. 

Wilbur didn’t say anything to his idiotic, clingy question, simply held still a moment before slipping down to sit side by side with him. Some of the panic in Tommy’s chest ebbed. “My memories catch up to me in a bad way at night, so I don’t sleep by you lot as a precaution. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Oh.” He’s not leaving. He’s not. And he never will. Stop being dense. Questions -accusations- like that aren’t going to make him like you. “That sounds, uh, responsible.” His eyes felt heavy. 

“Yeah. Well. You just happened to catch me leaving this time, that’s all, guess you fell asleep early. You, erm, get a lot of nightmares.” It was tentative, trailing up at the end like a question but not daring to be directly so. 

“Sorry, I didn’t meant to-”

“Already up, remember?” And he didn’t say anything further. He didn’t have to, the silent question hanging over the conversation. But Wilbur didn’t ask, and Tommy suspected he never would for all the curiosity he had. Wilbur didn’t talk about the Foundation, and he would never force anyone else to. Tommy was thankful for that. Sometimes Tubbo got pushy about it, convinced he needed to discuss it in order to feel better. Quite honestly, sometimes it just made him feel worse. He figured they were probably right in the long run, but it was exhausting. He didn’t know how to talk about it sometimes. Sorry my screaming woke you up. I was simply reliving one of the countless times the Foundation pushed me to the brink of death just to remind me that they could kill me at any moment. And obviously he couldn’t say that, he wasn’t some edgy brat trying to get attention. Tommy didn’t want to be interesting. It was a dangerous thing to be. “I think, sometimes, you’re braver than me,” Wilbur admitted. “Confronting things I’d never face.”

“Or ‘m too slow to outrun them,” Tommy mumbled, biting back a yawn. 

“You’re falling asleep sitting up,” Wilbur noted. 

“‘m talking to you. It can wait.”

“You can talk while lying down.” Tommy realized the worth of the statement, and decided to act upon it, falling against The Blade’s side. He and Wilbur chatted, though the conversation listed to the side, Tommy’s answers fading into mumbles. 

Reality dissolved into snatches, and at one point Tommy was lucid enough to realize the world was silent. He jolted awake, head twisting in search until he realized Wilbur was still there. Relief soothed the groggy worry. “Keep talkin’,” Tommy drowsily demanded. “It’s comfortin.”

Wilbur half laughed in the soft whispers they’d adopted. “I can’t carry a conversation all by myself.” Tommy fully intended to offer a solution, but found consciousness slipping away from him again. But in the odd moments where he drew back to the woken world, not quite breaching to the other side, he could hear the soothing murmurs of words that didn’t make sense. 

Later, Tommy once again touched upon lucidity only to realize Wilbur had stopped talking. Instead, his voice drifted out, low and sweet, in a song that settled over Tommy. The lullaby never broke a whisper, never dared to wake anyone else. He drifted back off, content. The lyrics held no meaning to Tommy, but they held affection, and that was enough. 

Wilbur himself almost nodded off. His fault, really, for singing the lullaby Philza had always lured him to sleep with when he was little. In the faint moonlight, a flash of a fond grin. He wanted to stay, to sing to Tommy so that the nightmares might be held at bay. 

But any longer and Wilbur too might drift off. He couldn’t risk it. 

The song petered out, and he waited to see if Tommy would wake. The boy shifted a little, but it was only to snuggle a little closer into The Blade. “Sweet dreams,” Wilbur murmured, then rose, stalking off into the night.

[desastre-fag]

I put a spell on you (and now you're mine) Chapter 8: Okay, a baby should not be able to look that angry

It’s morning again. Somehow. It’s morning again and Tommy is lying in a freshly built crib, wood painted a light blue. It’s morning again and he wished it wasn’t. 

‘I just want to go home. Even if Schlatt’s there.’ The last few days have been mentally exhausting, especially with his infant brain trying to comprehend his complex emotional states which have changed at the drop of a hat. 

“Phil, I can’t look after a baby!” The sound of voices arguing back and forth is muffled by the padded floor but can just be made out by the babe’s hyper aware senses. 

‘Waking up in unfamiliar places has got to stop.’ 

Shakily flipping onto his stomach, he listens closer to the argument. Both men involved sound irked, although one sounds distinctly more upset at what the other has to say. “What am I supposed to do, when the voices inevitably see him as a threat?” A stammering voice begins to interject before cutting themselves off with a deep sigh, filled with exhaustion.

“It’s a few hours, Tech.” He sounds exasperated in his rebuttal, as though he knows it won’t have an impact. “A few hours, and you can call if anything happens.” They’re on the verge of begging now. Tommy can almost visualise the scene in the following quiet, Technoblade reluctantly accepting the proposition with a sour face as Phil subtly celebrates his win. 

“When he wakes up he might be a bit fussy, just feed him and he should calm down.” Shuffling can be heard, probably Phil and Wilbur getting ready to leave, as well as stomping footsteps coming up the stairs. Two clicks follow, one from the front door and one from the door opposite the crib.

“Making me watch a baby, a literal child. I hate kids.” At the muttered words Tommy watches as a pale face peaks over the crib, pink hair falling into the baby’s face and tickling him, looking very uncomfortable. “Oh, you’re awake.” 

There’s a moment where nothing more is said, tense silence encasing the two as they stare at one another, studying and analysing what they can find. The tension reaches its peak as Techno reaches one of his scarred hands into the crib, making the babe back away as far as his chubby neck will allow him - which really isn’t that far. “Well, that’s just rude.” He advanced further and curled his fingers around a lock of Tommy’s golden curls, before letting it drop and grabbing the baby by his armpits. Said baby began to squirm, hoping it would deter the mountain of a man. 

“If I drop you, I will not be picking you up.” Immediately, the squirming stops and a calm babe seems to replace the once restless one. Seeing how he had settled, Technoblade situates the small child awkwardly against his chest and begins to navigate towards the staircase. It’s the first time Tommy has been able to see the hallway in daylight with no obstructions, and it seems homely, a little lived in due to the scratches and dents in the walls.

As the pink haired man begins to descend the stairs he feels a set of eyes on him, and so turns his neck downwards, becoming startled at the icy glare being sent his way.

‘Yeah, that’s right bastard, I'm looking at you.’ Tommy’s glare intensifies with his thoughts, harsh against his soft features.

“Okay, a baby should not be able to look that angry.” The older man mutters to himself as he turns into the kitchen, lowering the child into his high chair and buckling the straps. He stops as he straightens his back, hands lowering to his hips as he stares down at Theseus. “What am I supposed to feed you? I don’t think we have any baby food…” He trails off as he turns to glance at the cupboards and draws around the kitchen, although not making a move to open any. 

The slamming of tiny fists against plastic is what makes him spin around again, only to see the baby clearly expressing his frustration via destruction. ‘I’m fucking hungry man, come on. I’ve never had to wait this long - even back at the diner!’ As he raises his chubby fist once more, it’s grabbed on the downward swing and abruptly turned into his own mouth. In turn his baby brain tells his nervous system to chew on the offending limb.

“Why can’t you just be well behaved?” After a particularly long huff, he pulls a rough hand down his face in exasperation, pinching into the corners of his eyes as his nose scrunches. He gives himself a few seconds to collect himself, tuning many voices with no discernable origins back out, using a technique he developed many years ago. 

‘Well, excuse me for being a helpless baby that was also kidnapped . I’ll try to be a better victim next time.’ A few moments pass and the man is still strained, eyes shut tight and fingers gripping the top of his nose. Tommy notices this, along with his nostrils flaring in a non-discernable pattern, and becomes uncharacteristically concerned. 

'Uh… are you ok?’ He hesitantly reaches a short, chubby arm out towards the mountain of a man’s shoulder, however with his lack of bodily control ends up slapping it - as hard as an uncoordinated slap from a baby can be. Instantaneously, his tiny hand is shoved off and Technoblade spins with a fierce glare and frown set upon his face. 

Upon seeing the baby blues in front of him his gaze softens the slightest bit, before his walls rebuild themselves and his glare returns even stronger than before. He hasn’t even registered the fact he hears no voice but his own, for the first time in years . “Don’t touch me.” Tommy’s spine turns to ice as his arm snaps back into his chest, before looking elsewhere. 

He turns to the cupboards and shelves behind him, dismissing the child and pulling open a random cupboard - which turns out houses the plates and bowls - before slamming it closed in frustration. He huffs, opening the one next to it and pulling out a box of ready made oatmeal which he places gently on the counter. 

Sparks of golden magic flow from the tips of his fingers into the air, twirling and pulling along a pot and the kettle (boiled and ready). The pot is gracefully placed upon the hob, whilst the kettle is tilted by the golden sparks to allow boiling water to flow down into the pot. 

Meanwhile, Tommy is back to chewing his fingers with his gums, drool spilling onto the tray in front of him. He is completely zoned out, not even noticing when a child’s portion of oatmeal is placed on said tray, followed by a spoon held in front of his mouth. 

“Come on kid, I haven’t got all day.” Getting impatient, he pushes the spoon into the babe’s mouth, pulling it back and scraping it against his bottom lip to catch the spillage. The motions repeat for a few more minutes until Tommy notices a significant change to his own temperature, feeling it rise gradually to a spike, sweat dripping down his small forehead. When offered another spoonful he turns his head, rejecting it as the sickly feeling inside of him rears its head. 

“What now? Are you full?” Annoyance seeps through the man’s words as he tries and fails to feed the infant again and again. As he tries to turn the baby’s head he feels his fingers become wet with sweat and becomes confused, as well as slightly concerned. Turning his hand so his palm faces him, he places it upon Theseus’ forehead, yanking it away at the heat emitting from it. 

“What the…” He trails off, taking a closer look at the sweaty boy, flushed with a scrunched face and misty eyes, holding unshed tears. “Uhhhh…” After a brief pause he lifts Tommy by his armpits again and rushes up the stairs into his own bedroom, before walking into a corner and disappearing into his altar room. A spacious room, much more stable than Schlatt’s had been, littered in gold jewelleries and fineries. Jewels hang from the ceiling that hit the light just right for an iridescent cast to blanket the room. 

He lowers Tommy onto the small desk in the middle of the room, stuffing a blanket on either side of him so he doesn’t roll off, and summons his magic to pull various books from shelves and scatter them around the floor. He hesitates before also using it to open a drawer and carry vials of varying colours towards the desk, many hanging in the air awaiting use. 

Tommy is delirious by now, unable to comprehend where he is or who he’s with, nevermind what is happening to him - no matter how familiar the experience is. The room is spinning and nothing can stop it. Techno is only becoming more worried with every passing second that the babe’s temperature increases, frantically flipping pages and inspecting potion descriptions at the speed of light before throwing the useless ones away. 

A piercing wail echoes off of the walls, causing the pink haired man to turn all his attention back to the baby, who is now rolling around trying to move onto his back. Seeing the struggle he turns the babe over to try and offer the comfort he is clearly searching for, keeping his head turned to the side and rubbing his back soothingly.

“Please, I don’t know what’s wrong!” In order to try and reduce the heat coming from the babe he removes the top half of his onesie, spotting bruising along his shoulder blades towards the middle of his back. “Wait…” Before he can ponder any further another cry sounds from the infant, followed by a squirming shape beneath his skin, bulging and beginning to take form. Techno’s eyes follow the shape as it writhes, before breaking skin. 

Blood streams down from the incision steadily as white emerges from the cut, forming feathers as they reach out. The second shape bursts free, splattering red over the blankets and the man’s face. He reaches up to wipe away the blood and when his hand comes away, his sights are set on bright white wings , caked in blood and yet still beautiful and shimmering with the light. 

His hands come up shakily in awe, gently lowering to stroke just the tips of the smallest feathers, before reaching around and turning Tommy over. The babe is crashed out, snores echoing throughout the house with the exhaustion within him, and he doesn’t stir - even when Techno cradles him close to his chest, with his heart beating a mile a minute. He slowly slumps to the floor, back leaning against the desk behind him as he exhales a shaky breath, holding the infant close as if to protect him from non-existent danger.

[loversj0y]

More presidentbur ideas while i work up motivation to do the angsty part 3 (these hcs are not related to the political rival au)

Finding wilbur asleep at his presidential desk and carrying him to his chambers despite being a little over half his height. Maybe he wakes up halfway to the room, and he’s just being carried around like a doll. Imagine if he flails around in surprise and ends up knocking the both of you over. 

S c a l p.        m a s s a g e s.  during the stressful time of the election

Imagine coming in late at night to find him still working at his desk. The two of you start talking, and you end up on the floor, sitting across from each other, toes touching and knees brought up to your chests (his back against his desk and yours against the wall). At one point he starts talking about the war, and it turns to him holding out his hands, palms facing up. You meet him in the middle, reaching out your own hands to hold his, gently tracing the scars. Eyes soft and downcast, he stares at his hands as you pet them, murmuring some quiet thoughts about the effects of the war and the difficulty of being president— the distant look in his eyes almost suggesting that he’s talking to himself. But then he looks up at you, face grim and tired and so worn, yet relieved that there’s at least one person he can be human with, without the constant fear of accidentally ruining their image of a confident, silver tongued president and revolutionary (no matter how hard you try and assure him that nobody would think less of him if he showed weakness for once– especially not tommy. But it's like talking to a brick wall). You hold your arms out, open, and he just pitches forward slowly, head coming to rest on your chest as he slumps against you. His hair tickles your face and you scrunch up your nose, running a hand through the brown curls to flatten them away from his face… which makes him sigh happily at the feeling and go limp. Eventually he falls asleep. 

Offering a kiss for every hour he sleeps and abstains from work. He sleeps for eight hours? Eight kisses in the morning! He sleeps for only three? Only three. Good incentive, but you can hardly convince yourself to stick to the plan and always end up giving him more kisses than he had “earned”-- because in reality he deserves all of them.

That’s all for right now! I hope you get over your hangover, and I’m excited to hear about that gunpowder idea…..

my god these are all. just completely amazing holy shit man i fucking love president bur man hes such a stressed out guy he needs Love. i love the idea of just hauling him to bed and him being like. what the fuck how. and when he knocks you guys over hes just like

“holy fuck im so sorry fuck oh my god uhhh let me- i can carry you?” confused and half awake trying to figure out how to fix it.

i think scalp massages are his off button. he needs kindness and affection.

3 i am SO BIG ABOUT. he is so used to upholding his reputations that he forgets how to feel human!!!!! so being there and getting him to feel human again, process his own traumas, and feel okay and *real* is such a big thing (mental health awareness and treatment in cwilburs arc is something ive thought abt so much bc with the first piece i wrote EVER being abt cwilbur’s death, i thought a lot about how the insanity would fester and how. if someone had been there and treated him as human instead of a chess piece he couldve been better off)

also. yes. he needs sleep he is so sleep deprived so if this works itd be amazing and he’d love it (eventually. he’d be annoyed at first but once he starts feeling more rested…)

also hangover is almost totally passed now! as for the gunpowder thought, it might not be enough to inspire something alone, but it certainly will be enough to set up a motif in a work about c wilbur’s death, if i ever go on to write another (i could always reworkshop ‘i dont smoke’ now that im better at writing and understand cwilbur better)

[peninkwrites]

A Patchwork Powder Keg - Ch 3 of 14

Wilbur is locked out. Ranboo can't find his mask. Niki needs to wash her shoes.

crossposted to ao3

Ch 1

Ch 2

Ch 4

Mafia AU masterpost

~ Wilbur & Ranboo & Niki ~

Wilbur’s trip home is not quite as difficult.  Wilbur had, moronically, not factored in that he didn’t have a fucking key to Niki’s place.  He stares up at the City Bakery and the rickety wooden stairs along its side up to the front door of the apartment upstairs.  You’re an idiot.  You’re an asshole.  He hesitates for another moment, then he knocks.

No answer.

“Fuck…” Wilbur sighs.  He bangs on the door.  “Niki?  It’s, um.  It’s Wilbur.”

Another minute passes and Wilbur is considering just roughing it somewhere when the door opens, Ranboo staring blearily at him.

“Oh, shit, I’m really sorry, man, I don’t have a key,” Wilbur winces.

“‘s fine…” Ranboo mumbles.  “Surprised Niki didn’t wake up and open the door with her shotgun…”

“...her what?”

“Nothin’.” Ranboo shuts and locks the door.  He pauses.  “My… my mask’s gone, huh.”

“What?”

“My mask– well, the one I’ve been using right now, I have more than one obviously.  It’s supposed to go here,” he brushes against a coat hook just inside the door.  Ranboo blinks awake more.  “Niki’s keys too.”

“Maybe she left them in her pocket and they’re in her room?” Wilbur offers.

“Maybe…” Ranboo shuffles toward Niki’s door.

“Ah, shit, please don’t wake her up, I feel bad enough,” Wilbur winces.

“No, it’s…” Ranboo frowns.  “She should’ve woken up.  You definitely were loud enough.”  He hesitates and opens her door a crack.  “She’s gone.”

“She’s what?” Wilbur quickly joins him.  Niki’s bed is empty.

Ranboo looks frozen.  “Why… why wouldn’t she have told me?”

“Do you think she’s hurt?” Wilbur asks sharply.

“I don’t think so.  She… she was home all evening and went to bed like normal.  I guess she left after.  If it was dangerous… she would’ve told me,” Ranboo says again.  He doesn’t sound worried, he sounds hurt.

“Do you want to stay up and wait for her?  I’ll wait with you,” Wilbur says.

“Yeah…” Ranboo frowns, the scar tissue on his cheek making it lopsided and stiff.  “And where were you all night?”

“Oh, er,” Wilbur shoves his hands in his pockets to hide the paint.  “I… I got my wallet back!  Went and talked to Tommy.”

Ranboo gives him a suspicious look.  “And that took you til 1 in the morning, did it?”

“Well, no.  But we didn’t do anything terrible,” Wilbur says quickly.

“Uh huh,” Ranboo still eyes him doubtfully.  “How’d you get Tommy to give you your wallet?”

“He just did, by the end of the night he just… gave it back,” Wilbur shrugs.  “I mean, most of the cash was gone, but he did.”  Ranboo is still staring at him.  “I didn’t fucking hurt the kid, he gave it back, honestly.”

“No,” Ranboo still looks disapproving, “I wasn’t gonna assume you hurt him.”

“Oh,” Wilbur is relieved, fearing for a moment that Ranboo would really think so poorly of him.

“I don’t think you’d kill anyone, and if you hurt him, Tommy would’ve come straight here to warn us.”

That relief is replaced by disappointment.  “Oh.  Right.”

“What?” Ranboo asks.

“I wouldn’t…” Wilbur frowns.  “I wouldn’t hurt some kid.  Even if he did rob me.”

Ranboo doesn’t look apologetic.  “You’ve… you’ve been gone a long time, Wilbur.  The last time I saw you, I was ten.  With how much everything else has changed…”

“Got it, yeah, sure.  I get it, man,” Wilbur sits down on the couch heavily, suddenly exhausted.

“I don’t think Niki thinks that about you.  And she knew you better than I did,” Ranboo shrugs.

“And you have no idea where she might be?” Wilbur asks.

Ranboo returns to his own worries.  “No.  I don’t.”  He sits beside him.  “She doesn’t do this kind of thing.  If she was going to one of Eret’s parties, she would’ve told me.  If she was going to hang out with Puffy, she would’ve told me.  I don’t… I don’t know what this is.”

Wilbur nods gravely.  “If she doesn’t come home in a few hours, we go looking, alright?  You said she sees Captain Puffy sometimes?  Eret?  We go to them, we ask around, yeah?”

“Right,” Ranboo slumps back against the couch.  “I don’t understand why she wouldn’t have just told me,” he says again.

Wilbur paces to fend off the drowsiness.  Ranboo remains wide awake, grave and staring at the empty and darkened fireplace, looking lost in thought.

“And she wouldn’t be down in the speakeasy?”

“No, we’re closed tonight.”

Wilbur nods.  “I’m going to go check, alright?”

“Fine,” Ranboo shrugs.  “The flour rack is on a track.”

“...what?”

“You’ll figure it out.

Wilbur, slightly puzzled now, heads downstairs to the bakery and to the stairwell into the basement.  Here, he stops for a moment.  It looks like a tiny storage cellar.  There’s a set of shelves, bags of flour neatly laid out across them, the back of it has wood paneling.  Oh.  Got it.  Wilbur slides the shelves back, the unit moves seamlessly, and Wilbur dimly sees the track laid into the ceiling, but it could’ve just as easily been just oddly straight cracks in the wood.  Wilbur, despite his worries, is yet again impressed by Niki.

Wilbur opens the wooden door behind it and finds himself behind the bar.  Niki and another woman both look at him sharply.

“Wil!  You scared the shit out of me,” Niki puts a hand over her heart.  “What’re you doing down here?”

“Looking for you.  Had me and Ranboo scared as shit,” Wilbur says.

“Sorry, I was just having a drink.  With, um.  With Puffy, I don’t know if you two have met?” Niki is clearly uneasy.  Puffy gives a wave.  “I didn’t mean to scare you both, is Ranboo alright?”

“He’s awake.  Waiting for you,” Wilbur doesn’t know why he feels like a disapproving parent.

“Well!  Sounds like you’ve got things to do, Niki.  Thanks for the drink, but I should probably go too before I have the same trouble with Foolish,” Puffy stands, looking uncomfortable.  “Hey, uh, it was… good to see you tonight, Niki.”

“You too,” Niki hugs her and sees her out.

“You had Ranboo’s mask,” Wilbur stares at it on the table.

“Hm?  Oh, yeah, I… I must’ve grabbed it with my keys,” Niki says.

“Why’re you lying?”

Niki is no longer hesitant, she gives Wilbur a cold look.  “Why are you acting like you have the right to ask me that?”

Wilbur pulls back.  “Right, sorry, that’s fair.” Wilbur no longer looks her in the eye, and instead finds something else.  “There’s… there’s blood on your shoes, Niki.”

Niki doesn’t flinch.  “Maybe it’s just red paint.  I mean, it’s not blood on your hands, is it?”

“What?” Wilbur stares down at his fingertips, his index finger stained black and red.  “Yeah, yeah it’s paint, clearly, but Niki, that’s not–”

“It’s paint, Wilbur,” Niki repeats firmly.  She slips off her shoes.  “I am going to get up early tomorrow and wash them.  And I’m going to apologize to Ranboo, and you aren’t going to ask any more questions.”

Wilbur pauses for another moment.  She’s right.  He has no right to question her.  “Got it.”

They go upstairs and Ranboo is immediately on his feet, hugging his sister before pulling back and asking, “where the hell have you been?!”

Niki shrugs sheepishly.  “I had a drink with Puffy.  I didn’t think to tell you, we just came back here and had a drink down in the Secret City.  Sorry to scare you, Ranboo.”

Ranboo stares at her, something conflicting behind his eyes.  “You always tell me where you’re going.”

“I know.  And I’m sorry.”

Ranboo puts his hands on her shoulders, glancing at Wilbur, this conversation is one he’s not meant to be privy to.  “We don’t… we don’t do this, Niki,” he says softly.  “That’s how we keep ourselves safe, right?”  It’s all too clear he’s quoting her own words back at her.

Niki doesn’t get defensive.  She understands.  “I know, Ranboo,” her hand covers his on her shoulder.  “I’m okay.  And I promise you, I’m not getting involved in their mess.”

Ranboo wavers, like he can’t make up his mind.  “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?”  He sounds hurt, and for a moment Wilbur sees that ten year old boy he remembered always trailing after her.  He wishes he could leave the room, but even moving at all feels like a rude interruption.

“What, are you going to tell me to stop putting you first?” She smiles, maybe a little apologetic, but certainly not remorseful.  “You’re my little brother, Ranboo.  It’s sort of my job.”

Ranboo almost smiles.  “You’re impossible sometimes, you know that?”

Niki hugs him again.

Wilbur sees her get on her tiptoes to put her arms around him.  She’s only in her socks now, no blood to be had.  Wilbur doesn’t know what to make of it when Ranboo pulls back and doesn’t ask any more questions.  “I’m going to bed now… we’re opening late tomorrow, right?”

Niki sighs, still only fond.  “Fine, we’ll open late.”

“Yay…” Ranboo says weakly before shuffling towards his room, sparing Wilbur one last unsure glance, as if to push back against his presence for the last five minutes.

“I’m going to turn in too,” Niki says.

“Will you tell me where you were?”

Niki looks almost amused.  “You think I would tell you something I didn’t tell Ranboo?”

“Well, I assumed you didn’t tell him to… to protect him or something, yeah?” Wilbur frowns.

“And maybe I’m protecting you too,” she teases.

“And did you mean it?  What you said to Ranboo, you’re not in their mess?  And…” Wilbur hesitates, he knows all too well this isn’t his place, but his own thoughts are getting muddled with the rest of this conversation and he can’t help it.  “Was it worth it?”

There’s a pause, and for a moment Wilbur thinks he might get an answer.  “Go to bed, Wilbur.”

“Right, fair enough,” Wilbur mutters.  “Good night, Niki.”

Niki gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze as she passes by him, and Wilbur is reminded of how much he had missed her.

[dreamcatcherrs]

Hey! I just had a random idea I think would work good; a first date preference seems really cool :) (I hope you haven't done this already and I've just missed it) I love your writing <3

+ it seems very very cool indeed :)) hope you like it! <3

++ if you squint, a couple of nsfw references

first dates; mcyt x reader

dream:

restaurant

when it’s your first date, he won't go all out with a very fancy place

but generally likes spoiling you

a lot

but he’ll save that for later

as long as you feel comfortable, he’s happy

maybe you’d go to his place afterwards👀

to play video games of course🙄

he’s not shy at all on your frst date

and is pretty confident in himself that the date’s gonna go great

smooth pick-up lines

maybe a couple of touches here and there

compliments you the whole night

and really just wants a laugh with you

overall, he’s great at first dates

georgenotfound:

ice skating, his place

he likes for a first date to be pretty simple

just chilling

enjoying each other’s company like you usually would

but with some romantic undertones of course ;)

so going to an ice rink or hanging out at his place;

it would be perfect

I feel like george is definitely more nervous on a first date

just because the whole “first date” concept is very intimidating in his head

even though it isn't a lot different from when you hang out usually

… it’s just with a bit more feelings involved

he’d probably ask dream for advice before going on the date with you

he eases up once he gets comfortable with your presence

realising that it’s just you and he can always be comfortable with you :)

cute first date

sapnap:

concert

nick would definitely want to go to a concert with you

I’m sure anyone can vibe with his music taste

and even then, I don't think he cares which concert you go to

the experience is what matters to him

he’d slip in some pickup-lines every now and then

but his cheeks would be so red after every line he spoke

the whole night he just wants to kiss you

but resists, just because he is a little scared of rejection

puts his jacket around your shoulders when it gets colder

and maybe wraps an arm around your waist

as you just vibe to the songs

would kiss you when he walked you home if the date was good

and then text you the second he left

very nice first date

badboyhalo:

park

would bring rat along :D

you’d find a bench or similar to rest by after walking around for a while

and just sit there together

and eat some fresh foods you’d made before going there

and just chat for hours on end

playing around with rat every now and then

and also trying out the swing set nearby

where you’d push each other

you wouldn't have noticed how much time had passed before you both realised it was super dark

it’s a really comfortable and fun date

cause he’s just so easy to talk to

he’d definitely go for some hand-holding

and aim for a little peck on the cheek

technoblade:

escape room

this would literally be the perfect opportunity to get to know each other

and to see if you were worthy of the blood god

you’d help each other find the clues

he’d definitely tease you if he managed to find the key before you did

but then would gently pat your head

cause he couldn’t deny how cute you looked when you were all pouty

a great date

with lots and lots of fun

he’s very nervous to start off with

but manages to hide it behind his monotone voice

though he likes teasing you, he’s also very sweet

sometimes let’s you find the clues “first” even though he’d already spotted them

just to see the smile on your face

wilbur soot:

museum, café

of course wilbur would take you to one of these places

or even both

the museum first, then the café

why not get a learning experience out of the date?

and then get to know each other afterwards

on a more romantic level than usual

he would be really smooth with his movements

even if he was nervous

sneakily puts a hand on your waist

or goes to grab your hand

with no hesitation or shakiness

he’d sooo be the type to say “you’ve got something right here” pointing to your lip

and when you’d searched for the whipped cream on your lip to no avail, he’d lean over and wipe the non-existing cream away

very slowly

and then have a smirk on his face when he pulled away again

honestly, a big tease even for a first date

corpse husband:

dinner and movie

pretty classy, but very nice

he’d want a first date to not be too much

but still be enough to impress

he’d be pretty anxious of what you thought of him tbh

but those were mostly just the nerves talking

would spend a long time putting effort into making the dinner

after asking you what your favourite dish was

you’d eat it together, a candle lit in the middle of the table with some wine (all on my white tee)

and you’d just start up a conversation very naturally

getting to know each other on another level

and when you’d get to watching the movie, he’d definitely attempt to get closer to you

like by throwing an arm around your shoulders

pulling you closer to him

maybe a hand on your thigh

and a small make-out session

a very successful date to say the least

skeppy:

theme park

would want to do something really fun for a first date

so I feel like a theme park would be perfect for that

like, you’d just spend the whole say together

having the time of your life in the craziest rides

or the more chill ones

whatever you like

and in between you’d just take a break

and buy some waffles or churros to eat together

zak is veeery talkative

like, there would not be any worry about awkward silences

cause he would always have something to talk about with you

as for affection

he would probably go for holding your hand

and that’s probably his farthest goal for the day

he likes taking things slow

and just having a fun time with you

karl jacobs:

arcade

like skeppy, he would also wanna go someplace fun

yet not as crazy you know?

like, just hanging out and playing a range of different games with you

you bet he’d just be like “oh, I just wanna get this one prize.”

and when he finally won it, he’d hand it over to you

because he’d planned to give it to you from the start :]

he’s mostly just himself on your first date

giggly, cute, funny

he’s a little more nervous around you than ususal

but that's only natural

would leave a lot of affection on you

like, a supporting hand on your back when you're trying to win at a game

or hugging you tightly whenever either of you won

really just finds any excuse to give you affection

maybe you’ll end off the day with a little smooch😙

or spending the rest of the night playing video games at his or your place

fundy:

sight-seeing

he’d take you to so many buildings, statues, viewpoints etc.

he wants to explore the city with you

even if you both know it very well already

he’d want the memories of the sights to be with you

you’d take cute pre-couple photos by the sights

and grab some delicious lunch while sat right by one of the nicest sights

he’d be subtle with showing affection

like grabbing your hand when you’re about to go the wrong way

and then not let go of it for a while

or he’d let you borrow his sunglasses

to block out the sun in your face

he wouldn't lay heavy on showing affection on the first date

he’ll leave that for the second one ;)

quackity:

cooking together

chaotic but cute combo

I feel like he would really want to impress you

yet still be able to make you laugh

and this is just the perfect way to do just that

he’s surprisingly good at cooking when he tries

and remains his usual quackity alex funny self

he’d show you how to do different stuff

especially if you didn't know how to already

and would overall be very playful with you

throwing flour at you, splashing with water etc.

and then afterwards you would just chill on the couch and eat the dinner you’d just made

talking about the most random shit

and without realising it, the two of you would be cuddling

and you’d wake up in the morning to find you’d fallen asleep on each other🥺

punz:

laser tag

mans loves competition

and would definitely want to be a show-off to you

you'd have an room just for yourself

hiding behind walls and obstacles until you stumbled into each other

and he wouldn't hesitate to raise his laser gun at you

and shoot you right in the chest with a menacing laugh

after a while it’d just be a battle between two

tackling each other all the time

and at some point he’d have you up against the wall

and as you were about to kiss

you’d lift you gun at him and shoot him right in the chest

which won you the game

afterwards, he’d follow you home

and maybe give you that kiss he tried to give you before

he’d be very down to stay with you for the night if you wanted him to

awesamdude:

the beach

you’d bring a bunch of fun activities with you

like card games, a beach volley game, etc.

and maybe even join in on a game of mini golf near you

you could also just be chilling on your towels

under the sun or under the shade

whatever your preference is

and then go into the water eventually

playing around together and just having fun

splashing water at each other

he’d sneak his way over to you

and just lift you up from under the water and onto his shoudlers

just laughing at the way you were screaming for him to let you down

when you got on the shore again, it felt easier to be affectionate with each other

you’d definitely go for ice cream on the way home

holding hands👉👈

eret:

karaoke bar

it would literally be the funniest time with him

you’d gotten one of those private rooms

so it would just be the two of you in the room

and you’d have so much fun choosing your favourite songs

and sometimes you'd just sit there and chat

while karaoke music played in the background with none of you singing

he’d want to duet with you at some point

bringing you close to him just to see you get all flustered

I could definitely imagine a first kiss right then

if it had all gone right throughout the night

when you were on your way back home

he’d lend you his jacket

and just tell you to keep it

“I’ll just pick it up tomorrow.”

tommy:

the zoo

tommy would be walking around commenting on literally every animal

“y/n look. hey, y/n. look at this ones’ face.”

takes a lot of pictures of the animals

and of you with the animals

and when you suspiciously asked if he was taking pictures of you after you’d spotted him

he’d just brush it off, immediately hiding his phone away

“of you? obviously, it was of the giraffe behind you.”

“tommy, there is no giraffe behind me.”

doesn't show any affection

he’s super nervous about the whole “touch” thing

so he just stays away from it

but if you were to grab his hand

he wouldn't pull away

he’d just stand there with red ass fucking cheeks

and would be praying for the animals to save him from any awkward situations

tubbo:

picnic

you’d be picking flowers together

flowers for the flower boy :)

and even make flower crowns if you felt really creative

enjoying the delicious foods you'd brought with you

he’d also be quite intimidated by affection, like tommy

but would very very subtly show it

only a little bit though

like, it would be pretty obvious whenever he got caught up staring at you

just looking at you as you picked at the grass outside of the blanket you were sat on

and sometimes he’d place a hand on you without really realising that that was something more unusual than you were used to

you’d bring a bracelet kit

and make cute little matching bracelets for each other

a really enjoyable date overall

with lots of laughter and chatter

ranboo:

an aquarium

even though c!ranboo is clearly not the biggest fan of water

this ranboo finds it quite fascinating

a pretty chill and easy-going first date

exactly what he wants

you’d walk around the whole aquarium

and make fun of the fishes with funny-looking faces

and then proceed to take pictures of each other by the fishes with the funny-looking faces

he would find it so adorable whenever you would point at one of the sea-creatures

and just look so amazed by it

he would literally almost melt right beside you

the closest thing to affection he would do, is putting a hand on your waist

it doesn't really progress further than that unless you initiate it

a proud moment of his was when he almost fell into the penguin inclosure

and you couldn’t stop laughing at it

a successful date to his eyes

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[onecanonlife]

In which Tommy has a nightmare, and enderwalk!Ranboo is of the opinion that grass blocks make everything better.

(word count: 1,413)

----------

Tommy jolts out of a nightmare that he doesn’t want to remember, and a few seconds later, finds himself hyperventilating outside on the grass.

It’s not on, is what it is. He hardly asked for this, for these awful dreams and this inability to sleep for more than a few hours at a time at best, for this creeping certainty that Dream is breaking out, is going to come for him, and that it’s only a matter of time before something awful happens. He didn’t ask for any of this, but he has it, and he’s not moving out of his house, because that would feel like a concession, but on nights like these he wakes up and the dirt walls press in around him and he can’t breathe, and it is completely and utterly the worst.

So. Outside. Grass. Hyperventilating.

Calming himself down is old hat, by now. He figured out how to do it a long time ago, around the time when he realized that there wasn’t going to be anyone holding his hand anymore, that he was well and truly on his own, without a friend in the world. Other than—but no, he doesn’t go there. He knows better, now, even though his brain still tries to play tricks on him sometimes, tries to convince him that Dream is the only one who actually has his best interests at heart.

The point is, he knows how to do this. He’s used to it. And frankly, he’s glad that he is, glad that he can do this on his own, because he doesn’t want anyone else around him when he’s like this. Doesn’t want anyone else to see, doesn’t want anyone else to know that this happens, doesn’t want anyone else to be able to point at him and go, look, the great TommyInnit brought low.

So when he regulates his breaths and swipes the tears from his face and unclenches his fingers knuckle by knuckle, he looks up and most definitely does not expect anyone to be crouched in front of him. When he sees that there is, he scrabbles backward and lets out an incredibly manly scream, and he doesn’t think he can be blamed for it, because what the fuck?

“Holy shit,” he wheezes, “holy shit, you can’t just—” And has to stop, because it’s not just any weird crouching person. It’s his fucking—what’s the word for when a very irritating and terrible person marries your best friend? What’s the title for that? Annoyance-in-law?

In any case, it’s Ranboo.

“What,” he says, “the shit are you doing?”

Ranboo makes a sound that is not words at all. In fact, it sounds very similar to an enderman vwoop, which, alright, the guy’s half enderman, that checks out. Except, his eyes are also purple, and he looks rather taller than he normally does, even crouching down, so something is weird here. Something is very, very weird.

“Fuck off,” he says. “Go and, go and raise your shitty child or something. Sing ‘im a lullaby. Go on.”

He makes shooing noises with his hands, like one might do to a dog, or a persistent crow. Ranboo tilts his head very slowly, like a complete fucking weirdo, and then rises in one fluid motion, and goes walking off somewhere. Tommy stares after him, because he hadn’t really expected that to work. But alright, he’ll take it.

“That’s right,” he mutters. “Just fucking, fucking leave, go on.” He stares down at the grass, running a shaking hand through his hair. He is, maybe, not quite as recovered as he’d like. He’s usually not, after the initial panic, usually can’t make himself relax until the sun has crested the horizon and the sky has begun to lighten. He’s ruined for sleep tonight, that’s for sure.

But it’s alright. It’s alright, he’s used to it. He can do it. He can do this. He’s a big fucking man, and he can survive on a few hours of sleep a night, and he can avoid looking at himself in the mirror and remembering another face, eyebags just as dark, hair just as wild, eyes only slightly more desperate. He doesn’t have to remember things. Not if he doesn’t want to. He’s great at not remembering things, him.

Footsteps. He jerks, looks up again, and Ranboo is standing over him, and why is he so fucking tall?

Ranboo makes another vwooping sound. And then a little trill, almost like a bird, if a bird gargled gravel and then turned into an eldritch monstrosity. He crouches again, and then holds out his hands, and there is something in them, something that he is offering him, and—

Tommy squints. It’s a grass block.

“What am I supposed to do with that?” he asks.

Ranboo vwoops.

“Could you just stop being so fucking weird?” he demands. “For five minutes? I don’t think that’s too much to ask, really. God, you’re just. The worst.”

Ranboo shifts a bit closer, still holding out the grass block. Like he wants him to take it.

“I’m not taking your stupid block,” Tommy says, and accepts it.

Ranboo vwoops.

“Why would you even—” he says, burrowing his fingers into the dirt. A bit of it crumbles to the ground. He doesn’t understand how endermen manage to do this, keep these blocks in perfect shape, grass and all. “Why would you even give me this? What are you trying to pull on me, eh? It won’t work. You can’t pull the wool over my eyes, pal. You’re up to something. Why are your eyes all purple?”

Ranboo vwoops.

And then—Tommy remembers something. Something he wasn’t particularly trying to remember, and usually, that’s not such a great thing, but it’s not so bad this time. Because this memory is from just a couple of weeks ago, in Snowchester, one of those times that he was trying to hang out with Tubbo, but Ranboo was just there and wouldn’t leave, and Tubbo wouldn’t make him leave, so Tommy spent the entire time being vaguely pissed off. And he was trying not to pay attention to Ranboo, really, he was, except he remembers him saying something about how he gets anxious, and how holding blocks of things and putting them down places helps him. At the time, he made a point of not acknowledging him, because Tommy’s not an idiot. He knew what he was trying to do, and he didn’t appreciate it.

But—

He stares at the block in his hands. And then back at Ranboo.

He wants to be angry, at the idea, at the presumption, because who the fuck does Ranboo think he is, trying to patronize him like this? But Ranboo keeps up his soft warbles, and he finds his eyes filling with tears instead.

“Are you,” he says, and his voice is not choked, it’s not, “are you trying to help me?”

Ranboo vwoops. Chirps. And then reaches out, slowly enough that Tommy doesn’t feel the urge to flinch, and runs gentle clawed fingers through his hair.

“Oh,” Tommy says. And doesn’t lean into the touch. He doesn’t. But if, hypothetically, he does, that’s between him and Prime on high. Or at least, it would be, if all his muscles didn’t go lax a few seconds later, and if he didn’t accidentally on purpose tip forward against Ranboo’s chest.

The dirt slips through his fingers. But that’s alright, because one of Ranboo’s arms wraps around him, and the other keeps carding through his hair, like Wilbur used to do when they were younger and things were better and they were two halves of a whole rather than puzzle pieces that got bent out of shape. The way his head is, he can feel vibrations running though Ranboo’s chest, like the purr of a cat, and it’s going to lull him to sleep if he’s not careful.

He can’t let that happen. He has more dignity than that.

Except he’s very tired. And Ranboo is clearly—sleepwalking, or something. Not all there in the head at the moment. So maybe he won’t remember this in the morning, if Tommy makes sure to wake up first. And that would be alright.

“You’re still terrible,” he mumbles, but the words are slurred, and Ranboo’s arms are very warm and comforting, and he’s drifting. He can feel it.

So he lets himself. Ranboo’s warbles follow him into sleep, and he dreams of stars.

[manekicatwriter]

hellooo! i was wondering if i could make a request for an modern au sbi x gn sibling reader where they’re around 17-19, and they’ve got depression. they’ve had to go away for a few weeks after a bad episode ended in an attempt and they were hospitalized and sent somewhere for rehabilitation and now they’re coming home and they’re all anxious and quiet and stuff- so the boys do their best to like comfort them and reassure them that they’re loved and they belong there? i’m sorry if that’s an awkward request, i was just recently discharged after a similar situation and honestly the comfort would be great. it’s totally your call if you chose to write it tho, i understand that this is a difficult and triggering subject and not everyone is comfortable with writing things like it. if you aren’t comfy please feel free to just ignore my ask! <3

you’re here, and that’s what matters.

TW: mentions of attempted suicide. please proceed with caution.

hey! i just wanted to let you know that i’ve been through a similar situation and understand how you feel (though my case was not as severe). i wish you a safe road to recovery.

note, i think you asked for their characters but it leant itself towards their rl versions. i have a feeling the dsmp versions would be too chaotic for this sensitive subject.

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!! please do not be afraid to send in an ask. ANON IS ON!!

Phil:

- phil was very scared about you being so gravely hurt, it kept him up for some nights. thankfully, you pulled through.

- he visited whenever he could. if he couldn’t, he was busy making sure coming home felt as comfortable for you as possible while also educating himself on how to take care of you.

- phil would listen to how you felt, and be understanding of your feelings.

- “You don’t have to tell me why you did it, I’m just glad you’re here,” pulling you in for a warm hug.

- when you got back home, he made sure he and the boys had prepared your favorite dinner and desserts.

It was the day you had just got home from rehabilitation, and you two were sitting on the couch. You hadn’t said much, you felt like you had nothing to say. Phil had asked for you to sit down so you two could talk, one on one.

You couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m sorry,” your voice started to crack. “For making you guys worry about me.” Tears started to form from your eyes and you wept into your hands.

Phil immediately reached over to you to hug you, letting you cry on his shoulder. “We don’t blame you. We don’t blame anybody. I just want you to be here safe with us. Let it all out.” He pat and rubbed your back soothingly as you kept crying. But it was a good cry. He was just glad you came home.

Tommy:

- even though many see tommy as a loud and obnoxious boy with a general disregard for others, we all know deep down that’s a persona. he will go out of his way to make other comfortable in his presence if he truly cares for them. which he does, for you of course.

- he wants to make you happy! when the time is right, he’ll crack jokes and offer to play minecraft with you.

- would tone down the yelling. not because you asked, but he’s afraid of triggering you. treats you like glass. if you notice he’s being quieter than usual and you don’t care, you tell him you don’t.

- if you’re feeling it, he’ll take you out to fun places and to eat. nothing that’s too outlandish like a theme park, but just enough to have a reason to get out of bed that day instead of sleeping in.

It had been a week since you had gotten home and Phil had instructed you to maintain somewhat of a schedule to upkeep yourself. Right now was your nightly routine, washing yourself, brushing your teeth, and finally sliding under the covers. It felt nice. The blanket of sleep consumes you easily…

…

Until you bedroom door opens you’re being aggressively shaken awake. You groan, shying away, but they’re persistent.

“Ey, wake up, it’s morning!” Tommy shakes you again.

You realize you didn’t dream, but think nothing of it. “Tommy please, what do you want.”

Finally, Tommy pulled your warm sheets from over you, making you flinch. “I wanted to go out to the park today! Feed the ducks! Yeesss!”

You sighed. If you didn’t comply now, Tommy will refuse to stop nagging you for the rest of the day. You rolled out of bed and into the bathroom. You could very clearly hear Tommy’s cheers.

You two had gotten ready, eaten breakfast, and said goodbye to the rest of your family so you could head over to the park. It was close enough that it wasn’t unbearable to walk to. Even if you weren’t completely yourself yet, you were glad Tommy was.

After the short walk you two finally reached the park. Tommy immediately bolted toward the pond and you jogged behind. He had already started throwing the ducks some seeds, and even threw it on a duck. It didn’t seem too pleased.

You two sat at the edge of the pond as you watched the ducks eat. “Hey.” You hear Tommy call to you, and you turn your head to him.

“Can we talk about what happened? With you? Is it okay?” You could hear the uncertainty in his voice.

“Go ahead, what is it?”

“When Techno found out what happened to you, and told us the news, I was scared shitless.” He let out a sad huff. “I thought we were going to lose you.” Tommy kept his eyes fixed at the pond in front of him. “I’m sorry, I really shouldn’t have brought this up. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He sighed.

You put a hand on his shoulder. “Oh Tommy…” You started, “I’m sorry for making you worry. You shouldn’t have to feel like that because of my actions.”

Tommy was lost in thought for a moment, before finally speaking up, “No, please don’t apologize. It’s not anybody’s fault this happened, right?” You nodded.

Tommy stood up, dusting his pants off from the grass. “Come on now, let’s go get some ice cream!” He pulled you up from the ground.

“Last one to get to the shop has to pay!”

Immediately, Tommy bolts in the direction to the ice cream shop, and you catch up to him. No matter the circumstance is, he never seems to fail at putting a smile on your face.

Wilbur:

- i HC wilbur being the oldest, being older than techno by 3 years and older than tommy by 8, like IRL. :]

- i think out of all of your siblings, wilbur exudes the most “protective older brother” energy, yeah?

- remember when tommy lied about his mother being in trouble and how worried and anxious wilbur got? turn that up to 11 with what happened with you.

- with wilbur being the oldest, he of course had the responsibility of taking care of everyone. but somehow you and him didn’t spend as much 1 on 1 time as much as wilbur did with his other siblings

- wilbur definitely was going to change that, realizing that and not wanting to make that mistake again.

- he decided that finding a new hobby with you wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

You were sitting at the dinner table, being the last one there. You were poking at your food for the most part, and Wilbur got home late from… whatever Wilbur thing he was doing. Phil cooked pasta for dinner tonight. Wilbur put down his bags at the door connected to the garage. “I’m home! What’s for dinner?”

“Pasta.”

“Mmm, I love some good ol’ pasta.” He said, already taking a plate out to serve himself. “Also, hey, I bought something I wanted to build with you. Do you mind?”

You finally looked up from your very interesting pasta. “Build..?” You had no idea where this was going.

Wilbur placed his plate on the table and approached the bags of groceries, going through them to find the bag he was looking for. He pulled out a LEGO set. More specifically, a LEGO City set from the looks of the box? “Wilbur, how much was that?”

He blinked at you innocently. “It was only, like, £25. And look! It’s got a little submarine we can make with a rock and ugly sea monster—“

“But why?”

“Why not? It wouldn’t hurt for you to do something new, yeah?” He smiled at you, shaking the LEGO box in front of him to show it off. You sighed, but smiled. “Alright. But maybe you and I should eat this pasta first before we start building.” Wilbur nodded.

“Speaking of water, don’t you think I could teach you how to swim or something?”

“Oh, fuck off with that!”

Technoblade:

- i think out of everyone in the family, he understands you the most in terms of how you feel.

- not suicidal, but just generally having depressive episodes due to his ADHD.

- techno’s generally closed off, but started to really open up to you because he wanted to show he cares, even if it meant going out of his comfort zone.

- techno suggested journaling. once a day or once per week, it didn’t really matter. just as long as you could write down your feelings somewhere.

- he didn’t explicitly say it, but he also bought a book for himself so he could do it along with you. although, he more often than not just forgets to write in it until you mention your own journal.

- if you want to be sad and quiet, you can be sad and quiet with him. his room is a safe space for you if you ever need it and you’re always welcome to come in, just as long as you knock first.

With one hand on your mouse scrolling through the internet, and another resting your head on it, you were safe to admit you were utterly and completely bored. Honestly, you thought about taking another nap after your last one, but a knock on your door stopped you right before you pulled the covers over yourself. “Can I come in?”

You rose from your bed. “Come in. Oh hey Techno.”

He gave a simple wave and his signature “Halloo.” He walked right over to you and handed a journal and a ballpoint pen. “I got this. For you.” His stare was sharp but you could sort of tell he was nervous.

“What for?”

“I dunno. Writin’ your feelings down or drawin’ or somethin’. Whatever helps you vent.” He scratched the back of his neck.

“Oh Techno, thank you. That’s very sweet of you.” You gave a slight smile, but saw that he still had another journal in his hand. “You have two journals?”

Techno raised his eyebrow in confusion before looking down at his hand. “Oh this? It’s for me. So we could do it together, I guess.”

You let out a happy hum. “That’s nice. Say, why don’t we go to your room? I want to see your new lava lamp and stuff.”

Techno shrugged. “Sure. I’ve got more stationary too if you want.” He waved his hand before letting himself out the door, with you following not far behind.

hi hope u enjoyed reading as much as i did writing it. this format was new for me but very fun!

[anarchy-and-piglins]

Fundy angst headcanon time! Blame @kitsoot​

Fundy who is a shapeshifter and subconsciously changes his appearance based on the people around him. Most shapeshifters have a natural affinity for a particular animal (for Sally it was a salmon, for Fundy it’s foxes). In his ‘true’ appearance, Fundy’s hair is a dark auburn color and he has golden eyes.

During L’Manberg and Pogtopia however, Fundy notices the changes. He’s not doing it on purpose, but his hair has been getting lighter - more of a true ginger than what it’s supposed to be. He wakes up one morning and looks in the mirror to find teal eyes staring back at him.

(And maybe he doesn’t realize why it’s happening until Wilbur stops and looks at him, really looks for the first time in years, puts his hand on Fundy’s cheek and tells him in the softest, most tender voice how much he looks like his mother)

Fundy who has changed unwittingly to look more like Sally, because he’s looking for his father’s approval, his father’s affection.

New L’Manberg rolls around. Fundy is part of the cabinet. Tubbo won’t stop talking about Tommy, everybody won’t stop talking about Tommy - exiled and missed so much more dearly than Fundy knows he ever would be should he be gone.

His hair pales even further, his eyes darken until they’re deep blue. Nobody notices, nobody comments.

On the day Fundy burns the tree, he’s blond.

In Las Nevadas he starts mimicking Quackity, who looks up to himself more than anything. Fundy’s hair gets darker again, brown-black and longer than it has ever been. His eyes are dull now, colorless. Empty.

Still nobody notices, nobody comments

(Fundy has nightmares and he never knows what he looks like in them, who he’s trying to be)

After everything, he blows his house up and Phil gives him a new home. Takes him in after they’ve talked and reconciled. And all Fundy wants is for his grandfather to care for him. To love him.

Fundy wakes up to find a first pink streak in his hair and his eyes shifting to brilliant red. It makes perfect sense, he guesses, for him to mimic the one person Phil thinks the world of above anything else.

Except Technoblade sees and stops and kind of frowns and tells him “uh yeah that’s cringe.”

Not in an unkind way, but in a very Techno way. Where he’s gruff but honest and speaks his mind because why wouldn’t he? Fundy and Techno aren’t quite friends but they’re not enemies either and Techno has no reason to lie to him.

Techno is the first person who notices, who comments.

And he tells Fundy “don’t do that man, it’s really creepy. also I promise you Phil won’t be any happier for it either.”

Fundy who wakes up the next day and for the first time in a long while looks into the mirror and sees his own golden eyes staring back at him. Who doesn’t feel the pressing need to be something he’s not to please others.

When he goes downstairs, Phil is there. “I’m glad,” Phil says. “You look like you’re feeling a little better already.”

Fundy gets to become himself again.

[soft--dragon]

You'll Smile Again

Word Count: 2,699

Warnings: Beginnings of a panic attack, anxiety, and facial dysmorphia mention (stay safe guys <3)

All interactions are platonic, don't you dare start shipping

This is a SFW tickle fic, if you don’t like that then don’t read :)

It was going to be a bad day.

Ranboo knew the second he woke up, it was gonna be bad. His head was swimming and his body felt numb and cold despite the blankets thrown over him. The silence was suffocating, too loud and too quiet at the same time. He curled in on himself, wrapping his arms around his middle tightly. It somewhat helped his building nausea, but it was fruitless in an attempt to recreate the feeling of a comforting hug. One sounded nice round about now.

He dreaded the idea of having to get up and being forced to look at a reflective surface, so he stayed on the couch, curled tight and wishing he could fall back asleep and wake up tomorrow. Sleeping away the day until he felt like he could stand and wouldn't keel over. Unfortunately, his mind was far too aware of the morning light streaming through the windows and the hunger rumbling through his stomach. Ranboo let out a pained sound, squeezing his eyes shut and shoved down the need to cry.

It was fine. It was fine. He...he was fine…he...

He wanted Tubbo.

Ranboo swallowed back a sob and blindly scrabbled at the cushions for his phone. His Luca wallpaper greeted him in a painful sear of light. He squeezed his eyes shut against the brightness and quickly opened his phone with his finger print. His contact list had come up before he realized what he was doing, clicking on Tubbo’s name and soon enough, the dialing sound met his ear. Instead of hearing the ringtone through their shared home like he was used to, it remained horribly quiet.

“Boo?” Tubbo’s voice suddenly came through the speaker. “Hey, I was about to call you actually, I was thinking about the vlog Tommy’s wanting to do and I wanted to get your opinions on some stuff-”

“Tubbo- w-where are you?”

There was a long pause on the other line, Ranboo’s slightly keyed up voice catching the older boy’s attention immediately.

“On my way to Nottingham big man...remember?”

Ranboo’s heart sank and he wanted to kick himself for being such an idiot. Tubbo had warned him last night he was leaving early in the morning, saying he may be gone by the time Ranboo woke up. “O-Oh...right…”

There was a rustling noise, no doubt Tubbo sitting up in his seat. “Are you okay? Do you need me to come back?”

“N-No, no” Ranboo quickly replied, wishing he’d had enough sense to think before calling his best friend, now he was inconveniencing him with his stupid problems. He squeezed his eyes shut and released a breath before attempting to speak again. “I’m okay- and anyway, Tommy’s been planning this meet up for weeks, he’d be gutted if you cancelled, he spent so much time making your schedules line up, and you’re probably already there-”

“Ranboo.”

Tubbo’s firm, unwavering voice made Ranboo’s ramblings catch in his throat, he shut his mouth with a sharp click of his jaw, hand gripping the phone shaking slightly.

“Y-Yeah?” He mumbled.

Tubbo sighed, worried but fond. “You know I’d drop anything to make sure you’re okay, right? And Tommy would understand, he knows about your anxiety and facial dysmorphia.”

The need to cry returned hard and fast, Ranboo just managed to catch himself before releasing a whine. “I’ll be okay Tubbo,” he whispered, “promise, I’m...I just need to…”

He was silent for too long, Tubbo waiting worriedly on the other side. “Boo?”

“Don’t cancel on Tommy, I’ll just take a rest day” Ranboo answered, fighting to keep his voice level. “You don’t need to worry about me.”

“Ran-”

“Toby.”

The use of Tubbo’s real name made the older teen fall silent. Ranboo practically never said it.

“I said I’ll be okay.” Ranboo knew it was ironic to say that while on the verge of breaking down but he couldn’t do this to Tubbo, not today. “Just go enjoy your time with Tommy, alright? I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo was quiet. It made Ranboo’s stomach roll uncomfortably the longer the silence stretched out. Then there was a sigh.

“The second you feel worse, I want you to call me. And I don’t care-” Tubbo cut him off before he could even protest, “-if you’re worried about disrupting me, call me, got it?”

How on earth Tubbo could be a chaotic gremlin to a sincere steady presence on the go was still a mystery to the tall teen. Ranboo let out a long, shuddering sigh as he pressed himself close to the couch.

“Okay” he agreed quietly.

“Okay” Tubbo repeated, quiet and kind. “Do you want me to stay on the call for a bit boss man?”

His thoughts immediately hissed at him, heart clenching at the thought of Tubbo having to listen to his pathetic whining-

“Ranboo.”

Tubbo’s voice cut through the haze of his toxic thoughts like a knife, yanking him back to the present. He had to clear his throat, shaking himself to properly answer. “Y-Yeah?”

“Did you hear me?”

Ranboo hugged his middle tighter with his free arm and hummed non committedly.

Tubbo softened his voice again. “I can stay if you want me to, I’m still half an hour from Nottingham.”

Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut. “Please?”

Tubbo immediately started talking, switching the subject to something more light hearted, a story about the time he hung out with Tommy and Wilbur. It got a few smiles and even a soft laugh out of Ranboo which Tubbo silently counted as a victory. He kept up the stream of chatter, allowing Ranboo to relax further and further into the couch, the tight constrictions in his chest easing up a bit. Tubbo never ran out of stories to tell, keeping his voice quiet but not without the same level of excitement that kept Ranboo immersed. He could almost pretend Tubbo was sitting on the floor beside the couch like he always did when Ranboo was having a bad day, keeping his mind distracted and heart light.

It seemed cruel when Ranboo faintly heard a whistle blow in the background of Tubbo’s end.

“Oh, I’m here” Tubbo’s voice was surprised.

Ranboo’s stomach rolled at his words, brow creasing as he knew that meant Tubbo had to leave. Still, he steeled his voice and tried to sound as calm as possible. “Better go then huh?”

Tubbo made a soft noise. “It’s not too late to cancel you know? I can still come home Boo, I don’t mind.”

Ranboo wanted to say yes, he wanted to say yes but he couldn’t do that. No. He refused to let himself ruin this meet up when Tommy and Tubbo seemed so excited to plan it out. “I’ll be fine.”

Tubbo didn’t sound convinced. “You sure?”

Ranboo huffed an exasperatedly fond laugh. “Yeah, I’ll be good Tubs.”

It was quiet again, dragging out until Tubbo sighed heavily. “Alright, I’ll stop hover parenting, just remember what I said okay?”

“I’ll call you” Ranboo murmured.

“You better” Tubbo growled but it wasn’t mean, instead sounding protective. “I mean it boo.”

Ranboo let a small smile lift his lips. “I know you do, I promise.”

There was more shuffling then Tubbo sighed, grumbling about a bag being too heavy or something. “Okay good, I am gonna be texting you to check in just so you know, and I’ll call later if you feel up to it. Um, I’ll let my parents know it’s a bad day and not bother you unless you text them- wait they’re out, so is Lani and Teagan, okay uh- Rocky is home, you need a hug, get him, he’s good at comforting people-”

Ranboo chuckled despite himself. “What was that about not hover parenting anymore?”

“Oh shut up” Tubbo laughed, only making Ranboo’s grin widen. “I’m just looking out for one of my best mates.”

It was how easily he said it that made Ranboo feel warm from the platonic affection. “I know...thank you.”

There was a fond huff. “Anytime at all Ranboo.”

After another moment of silence, Ranboo sighed with a small smile. “Go, the gremlin child is waiting.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, I’ll talk to you later Boo, try not to let your head mess with you too bad, okay?”

“I can try.”

“Love you.”

Ranboo smiled, his heart warming at the words. “Love you too.”

The call ended, blanketing the warm room in a cold silence again. Ranboo dragged a hand over his face with a deep sigh. Tubbo really was good at making him feel better-

His stomach growled.

Ah right, breakfast was a thing.

Ranboo pointedly ignored looking at anything that could show him his face. Tubbo had managed to yank him out and over the hurdle this morning, so he was determined not to let the boy’s efforts go to waste. He grabbed what he needed from the kitchen before retreating back to the couch and crashing onto the plush surface. He had meant to stay and do work on his new video for YouTube and plan out a new stream idea, but with his current state, he decided to take on that rest day he promised Tubbo. He threw on Luca, finding it was quickly becoming one of his comfort films and chewed slowly on his breakfast, wrapped up in the blanket again and becoming one with the couch. He tried to ignore the quiet loneliness despite the film, he was used to hearing chaotic laughter and batshit ramblings throughout the house. He shoved down the need to call Tubbo, he was fine. He...he didn’t need his friend... not yet at least.

He could handle being alone for a few hours.

Luca and Alberto were testing out their Vespa when an old, grouchy meow came through the house. Ranboo lifted his head from where he was now lying on the couch to see Rocky, Tubbo’s family cat, sauntering over.

“Hey Rocks” Ranboo smiled at the feline.

With a greeting “mrrp”, Rocky leapt gracefully onto the couch, stepping onto his chest and immediately slammed his face directly into Ranboo’s. It startled a laugh from the teen as the cat continued to smudge against him happily, purrs rumbling from his throat. He had avoided touching his face that morning the best he could, the sudden affection towards it was surprising, but not unwelcome.

“Hi buhud” Ranboo tried to lean away but Rocky persisted, clearly attention starved after not seeing anyone for a few hours. His whiskers skimmed across Ranboo’s cheeks softly, making him giggle and try to turn his head away. However, Rocky was determined to give Ranboo affection and instead rubbed under his jaw, his ginger fur dragging under his chin.

“Ohoho noho- Rohocks!” Ranboo squealed, quickly turning his head down to keep his chin pressed to his chest, trying to block the cat from brushing against the area.

Rocky gave a happy meow and pressed his forehead into Ranboo’s own, purring deeply now that he had access to his full face again. Ranboo giggled quietly, basking in the affection.The soft fur and loving touches on his face was comforting in its own way. It also tickled a bit, he didn’t even know his face was ticklish but apparently Rocky seemed determined to show him it was.

“Rohocky h-hahang ohon” Ranboo squeaked as the cat rubbed against his cheek, his whiskers just tracing his ear and nose. He melted further into the couch, the light sensations made him want to squirm but he couldn’t move without jostling Rocky, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset the cat. His hands were confined to the inside of the blanket, making him unable to fend off the ticklish touches even if he wanted to. He simply lay there, shifting his head around a little but enjoying the affection nonetheless. It was a nice change from the cold loneliness that had settled over the room before.

Eventually, Rocky seemed satisfied with his work on Ranboo’s face and brought his head back, not without giving Ranboo’s nose a small lick. It made Ranboo snort, grinning up at the ginger cat that almost looked smug.

“You done?” Ranboo chuckled.

Rocky meowed, probably saying ‘yes’, then moved down Ranboo’s torso, sitting on his stomach. He sniffed the blanket then started pawing at it, rearranging the folds carefully. Unfortunately, with where he was sitting, Rocky was massaging into Ranboo’s stomach and ribs gently.

It caused the teen to melt into the cushions, pressing his cheek into the back of the couch and giggling wildly into the plush material. “Nohoho Rohocks- ehehehehe!”

Rocky dug his claws softly into Ranboo’s side, massaging his sides in a kneading motion. Ranboo squeezed his eyes shut, happy giggles spilling free. Laughing felt so nice after wallowing in misery for the whole day, the tickling soft and while unintentional, was still nice.

Ranboo suddenly squealed, curling in on himself slightly as one of Rocky’s paws lightly brushed over his lower belly. The cat paused, ears flicking as Ranboo broke into a fit of breathy titters. He then purred and focused on his lower belly, taking the laughter for a sound of joy.

Ranboo managed to wrench a hand free of the blankets, pressing it to the back of his mouth to muffle his squeaky giggles. “Rohohockehehey! Ohoho gohohosh- whihihiy?”

The cat only responded with a pleased meow, shifting his paws to the sides of Ranboo’s stomach. Ranboo’s hand suddenly dropped from his pink cheeks to gently cup Rocky’s back in an attempt to bear the sensations. His plan was flawed however, as Rocky turned his head and rubbed his cheek against Ranboo’s thumb, his whiskers dragging over the back of it and making Ranboo squeak in laughter. All the while, still kneading the blanket.

“Noho- cohohome ohohon Rohohocks-” Ranboo whined but his soft laughter was happy and Rocky seemed to understand that as he purred gaily.

Rocky’s paws went to knead at his lower ribs, slow and methodical and keeping Ranboo in a state of giggly hysteria. He squirmed lightly from the sensations, trying not to jostle Rocky too much. He was surprised at his own resolve to stay still, the most extreme reaction so far being lightly kicking his feet when Rocky stayed in a sensitive area for too long. Rocky was almost too good at pulling reactions from him though, listening to when he giggled quietly or loudly, what made him move more and what made him melt. It wasn’t long before Rocky was keeping his pawing at the middle of his stomach, slow and gentle, keeping Ranboo laughing softly, not uncontrollably.

A few minutes of the gentle massaging made Ranboo sleepy and warm, relaxing into the touch and releasing breathy giggles. He still craved a hug, he’d ask Tubbo when he got back, but Rocky’s repetitive, and slightly ticklish touch had soothed him into a blissful peace. It was so much better than the toxic battle in his head that kept him feeling weighed down. Cats were pog, what more needed to be said?

Rocky then slowed to a stop, sniffing at Ranboo’s hoodie for a moment before nuzzling the material adoringly. The feline waddled back up Ranboo’s chest and lay down, tucking his paws underneath his body. He then lowered his head and shoved it underneath Ranboo’s chin, purring happily. Ranboo giggled as the cat’s whiskers brushed across his neck and jaw again, finding himself relaxing into the affectionate touch easily. Tubbo was right, Rocky was good at comforting people. He owed the cat a lot of treats and hours of cuddles.

He gently pressed his chin into Rocky’s head affectionately. “Thanks Rocks” he murmured.

The feline gave a quiet ‘mrrp’, making Ranboo giggle again. He let his eyes slip closed, melting into the couch and sighing in contentment. The audio of Luca, and Rocky’s rhythmic purring made his drowsiness catch up to him, his sleep schedule was gonna be messed up tonight but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He felt lighter than he had that morning, and Rocky was warm and grounding, made him feel loved.

Ranboo fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[lonely-lost-soul]

Immortality and Nymphs Pt. II

(Philza x reader)

Kisses. God Phil missed your kisses against his skin most of all, you were always so warm and gentle. He couldn’t wait for you to be a constant in his life once again, he walked all three of you back to his home. Wilbur was eyeing you the entire time almost like he was trying to find the differences between himself and you, thinking, The boy looked much more like himself than he did you, but there were tiny similarities here and there. You didn’t seem to mind though when he asked you questions you answered them truthfully. Once they arrived back at his house Wilbur stood up a little straighter,

“As much as I’d like to stay and talk more, Fundy and I need to get going.” He trailed off a little looking at you, “I still have thousands of questions but I have a revolution to plan.” Wilbur continued as you raised a questioning eyebrow, Phil’s wings ruffled a little as he cleared his throat.

“You should come back next week with the others.” Phil gave a slight nod of his head, “I’ll send a crow to Techno.” Fundy was the one to whip his head and nod eagerly, Wilbur adjusted his glasses but eventually nodded.

“That should work.” Wilbur turned to face you taking a shaky breath, “I’ll see you then?” A tender smile spread across your lips as you reached out to cup Wilbur’s cheeks.

“I’m not going anywhere again baby boy,” You whispered as he flushed hesitantly leaning into your touch “I promise.” He pulled away, clearing his throat taking Fundy’s hand as he waved.

“Bye, grandpa! Bye, grandma!” The fox hybrid called and Phil watched as you flushed deeply. Phil wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, his wings spreading around your body like a cocoon. You giggled softly as he nuzzled his face into your neck, his beard prickled your skin, you missed the feeling.

“Fundy seems sweet,” You mused as the man behind you kissed the skin of your neck. Phil only hummed in agreement which caused you to laugh, “you’re so not paying attention to what I’m saying are you?”

“What?” You burst into laughter at his genuine confusion, “Come on now. I missed you, can you blame me? You’re distracting.” Phil let out a little huff as you pulled away to face him,

“Then show me how much you missed me my crow,” You purred running your fingers through his feathers, you felt his entire body shiver as his breathing hitched. His fingers dug into your hips,

“Careful. They’re sensitive and wouldn't want a pretty thing like you to get hurt.” Phil teased pressing his forehead against yours,

“Oh, I remember.” You winked teasingly as Phil leaned in to swallow your words with a blistering kiss. He felt you melt against his body as his wings fluffed up, both of you poured all your love and admiration for each other into one another. It was then Phil knew nothing changed between the two of you even after all these years apart, there was still the same amount of love and longing you always shared. Phil lifted you into the air and you hooked your legs around his waist, he felt young again, back in the forest by his old home. He felt you giggle against his lips and pull away to rest your forehead on his own, he chased your lips almost desperately. Your hand came up to cup his cheek and he closed his eyes to lean into his palm, “Take me inside first.” You murmured and his eyes lit up mischievously.

“If I remember correctly you never had a problem with making out in the woods before.” He watched your face turn beat red as he smirked proudly, he adored getting you flustered which way to Sunday.

“Yeah well, I’ve lived in the woods all my life. I think I’m ready to stay with my adoring lover in his house, is that really such a bad thing?”

“No. I’d never be opposed to something like that, not when I’ve missed you this much. It’s all I’ve ever wanted, living with you and raising Wilbur, being a family.” He watched you visibly wince and guilt ebbed at his heart, “Hey, hey you had to do what you needed to. I’d rather have you alive and here now than dead or worse.” Phil reassured and you seemed to relax a little bit in his arms,

“I wish I could’ve been here to raise Wilbur with you...I wish I could’ve seen him grow up.” Your voice wavered a little as Phil pulled you close, he hesitated slightly trying to find the right words to say.

“I wish you were there too. But you’re here now, you’re safe and that’s what matters. Plus…” His cheeks flushed a soft pink, “we could always try again.”

“Jesus Christ Phil,” you giggled covering your mouth with your hands and he looked embarrassed. “I just got home Crow, let's give it some time. But...I’m not opposed in the future.” Phil’s face lit up again and he nodded rapidly, he could agree with that, maybe once you built a better relationship with Wilbur and his other boys that’s when the both of you could try again.

Oh god, the other boys. When he invited them all here next week, he hoped they’d make a good impression if not Dadza was going to craft a belt.

“How long has it been since you’ve had an actual meal?”

“God decades!”

He chuckled deeply, kissing your cheek, and led you into his house to have a nice warm meal. Having you around definitely took some getting used to, his days suddenly shifted around as he accommodated for another person but he didn’t mind. Phil woke up happier than he'd felt in a long time, you were curled up against his chest, the top of your head was right under his chin. He ran a hand through your (h/c) hair, letting it run through his fingers, even though it’s been about a week he still felt like you weren’t really beside him.

Wait a week.

His eyes snapped open and he shot up like a rocket, feathers flying everywhere as you groaned, “Crow? Everything alright?” You asked adorably rubbing your eyes, his stress melted away momentarily as he watched you wake up. A few flowers bloomed in your hair as you came to your senses.

“Everythings fine! Just remembered it’s Sunday and the others don’t usually follow set times.” He pulled you from the bed giving you a quick good morning peck on the lips. “Get dressed, something nice I wanna show you off,” He kissed you again longer this time you giggled.

“To who? Our son and your friends?” He gave a happy little nod, as you rolled your eyes, he felt your fingers fix the hair on his face, Phil closed his eyes and leaned against your touch. “But I’ll do as you wish my Crow,” You stood up from the bed and stretched your arms above your head. Phil had managed to get some clothes for you from a nearby village, he still remembered your style, but tried to make it more modern so you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. You slid on the new clothes, they hung off you loosely. They clearly needed some tailoring, and you slid on the boots he got you the day before, as much as you like walking around barefoot it was pretty impractical.

“Shall we?” Phil held his arm out to you, you wrapped your arm around his own as he led you outside. You both stood on a hillside covered in soft green grass and a big willow tree. Phil looked down at you, his big wings gently covering your back from any danger, he was sure not feeling the grass between your feet was a foreign feeling to you but you didn’t seem to mind. The smile on your face said it all, you were peaceful and relaxed, letting the breeze flow through your hair. “You’re beautiful,” your eyes snapped up to him your cheeks turning light pink,

“Oh stop it old man.” He made an indignant sound as you laughed, your hands reached up and dragged him down to your level, kissing him tenderly. Phil felt his eyes flutter closed and his wings drop, he was snapped back to reality by loud whistling. You pulled back and he pushed you behind him, wings puffing up defensively, standing on the side of the hill were Wilbur, Tommy, Technoblade, and Fundy. Tommy was the one whistling eyes sparkling mischievously, Wilbur whacked him on the back of the head to get him to shut up.

“Dad! Wil’s being mean to me!”

“Don’t be mean to Tommy Wil,” Phil pressed his fingers to his nose with a sigh “Wilbur don’t antagonize your brother.” Fundy was cackling at their mischief, your eyebrows shot up on your forehead and Phil cleared his throat, face pink. Technoblade just stared seemingly eyeing you suspiciously, “(Y/n) these are my other sons. Boys this is (Y/n) Wilbur’s birth mother.” It was Technoblade’s turn for his eyebrows to raise and Tommy’s jaw dropped to the floor,

“No shit.” Tommy gawked, “You don’t look like her at all Wilbur! You’re so ugly, must’ve gotten that from Phil. Sad.” You burst into hysterical laughter watching Phil glare over at Tommy. Wilbur was seething at his sibling but ignored him in favor of giving you a light hug,

“Good to see you, mom.” He whispered,

“Good to see you too.” Phil heard you respond and hug him back, Wilbur whispered something to you and you made a little surprised face before nodding. Phil assumed he told you that the other boys were not in fact his biological children, but those he had adopted. Fundy soon joined in the hug snuggling into your stomach, you ruffled the young fox’s head and he chirped happily. Tommy walked over to introduce himself to you next, he proclaimed to be not only Phil’s favorite son but Wilbur’s favorite brother too. Which lead him to then boldly declare he’d be your favorite as well and Wilbur sent him a scathing look, ah yes, Phil knew that look rather well. Wilbur inherited that look from you, nose all scrunched up and eyes sharp. You shook the young boy's hand and happily told him you couldn't wait to see him fall into the number one spot. Wilbur shot you an offended look and Phil covered up a laugh with his hand, the offending look was sent to his father next,

“Dad.”

“What?” Phil laughed holding up his hands, “If he wants to win your mother’s attention I’m not gonna stop him. Every man for themselves.”

“Phil,” You nudged him with his elbow “be nice.” Tommy began to boast about how awesome he was in comparison to his brother, you sent a wink to Wilbur’s, and his shoulders visibly relaxed.

You were his number one, anyone with a brain could see that.

Phil noticed Technoblade had his eye on you the entire time, it took him much longer than the others to gain trust. He decided to walk away from you to stand by the hybrid's side, “Hey mate.” Technoblade only grunted in response, arms crossed over his broad chest protectively, “What’s crawled up your butt eh?”

“You didn’t tell me ‘bout her.” He motioned in your direction with his chin, “you tell me everything. Why not her?” Technoblade was trying to remain stoic but after all these years he could tell he was hurt. Phil sighed softly scratching the stubble on his chin as he watched Fundy run around you trying to fight for your attention.

“It was hard for me to talk about, she didn’t leave on her own free will. Her life was in danger and I didn’t know if I’d ever see her again. It was a shock when she came back last week, a good shock but a shock nonetheless. (Y/n) was my everything, is my everything. I kept it from everyone because I hoped it would keep her alive and safe from those who wished to harm her.” Phil looked over at Techno, for once Phil’s eyes showed his true age, “I’m sorry mate you know I would’ve told you if I could. Doesn’t take much for me to start gushing ‘bout her. I mean look at her.” Phil glanced back over at you, Fundy was on your shoulders, his hat on your head, meanwhile, Wilbur was wrestling with Tommy on the ground. You looked over at him desperate for his help and Phil only smiled over at you and shook his head. Your eyes screamed distressed as you tried to get the boys to stop fighting, Phil felt Techno’s eyes on him and he looked back at his son and friend.

“I understand I suppose,” Technoblade sighed rubbing the back of his neck, “You wanted to protect her. I can’t be mad at you for that, but no more secrets alright? Promise me?”

“Promise. Now go say hi to her before she gets upset and thinks you don’t like her,” Phil nudged him forward and his eyes widened a little,

“Heh? Phil hold on-”

“(Y/n)! This is Techno.” Phil clapped the man on the back, you looked up at him with a kind smile.

“Pleasure to meet you Technoblade, I like your cape.” Phil watched the man flush in embarrassment at the compliment,

“Eh...thanks. Like your flowers.” He motioned to the flowers blooming in your hair, you beamed brightly at him, always happy to talk about your flowers.

“Thank you, sweetie!” His ears turned red and he waved you off anxiously, he moved to peel Tommy away from Wilbur, wanting to get out of this conversation. Fundy hopped off your shoulders to tackle his father and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding in, “wow. They’re…”

“A lot?”

“Yes.” You laughed fondly, “but…”

“I wouldn’t trade them for the world.” Phil nodded kissing you on the apple of your cheek,

“Good. You better not. They’re all my sons now. I hope you know that” You leaned against his chest, he laughed and you felt his chest rise and fall.

“I’d expect nothing less from you.”

Letters. That’s how most of you communicated in the years to follow, Wilbur would send letters and you would beam in delight. It melted Phil’s heart, he knew his son was busy with the revolution and the now Presidency but he wished he’d visit his mother. You would write him back almost immediately after receiving a letter, you’d seal the letter with a kiss before sending it off with one of Phil’s crows. Afterward, Phil would take you in his arms and pepper you in tender kisses, you would giggle and snuggle into his arms. He told you he loved you, and you cooed and told you loved him back, then you both would share a kiss. Phil loved those days the most, seeing you truly happy made his heart swell. There were days where Phil taught you how to fight, days where you would garden, and days where he let you groom his feathers. He loved that, grooming was another one of the things he missed the most, you got out all the tangled feathers just perfectly. He would lean back against your hands head falling on your shoulder as he panted, his pupils were blown wide as you hummed fondly.

So, maybe Phil enjoyed it a little more than he remembered.

It was a cold autumn day when the letters stopped coming, you were heartbroken, always anxiously petting and feeding his crows. They could sense your disappointment in waves, it was almost choking Phil himself, his heart ached to see you so sad. He pets your hair gently as you both sat on the hill with the willow tree, he noticed the bags under your eyes were dark, Phil’s frown only deepened.

“My love please smile for me, I’ve missed it so much these past few weeks.”

“Somethings wrong,” Your voice was soft looking up at Phil “He wouldn’t just stop writing to us. He always writes to us.” He hated the way your voice quivered, “what if he changed his mind about me?” Phil shushed you softly with a kiss,

“First of all, there’s no way he changed his mind about you. The way the both of you bonded these past few years, Wilbur wouldn’t throw that all away for no good reason.” He tried to reassure you, “Although, I will admit this is strange. Wilbur isn’t one to not write to me, it’s something he’s always done ever since he was old enough to spell.”

“Crow…” You whispered, “can we visit him? Just to put my mind at ease...please.” Phil’s heart melted as soon as he saw your puppy dog eyes, he nodded and you smiled.

Good. He was going to keep that there as long as he was physically able.

The next day, Phil scooped you up in his arms and you headed towards the direction of his son's new nation.

It was called L’Manburg if Phil remembered correctly.

What the both of you didn’t expect to see was a war zone, “Phil…” You murmured eyes wide in fear, he held you to his chest, your brow furrowed in worry. He swore he could see Tommy and Techno looking up at them from below, it didn’t ease the anxiety prickling at his skin, the sky suddenly went black with crows.

A bad omen, something bad was going to happen, and they knew it.

“Phil they’re distressed. Somethings wrong.”

“I know hon,” Phil looked around worriedly, he spotted a glance of Wilbur walking into some sort of room. He landed just outside the entrance, he put you on your feet, “Stay behind me.” He instructed you, you nodded your head clutching onto his bicep. The both of you stepped into the dimly lit room, there were scrawlings etched into the wall, all scratched in by Wilbur. Your brow furrowed in concern, fingers dancing across the lettering, “what’re you doing?” Phil spoke, his tone flat and serious, looking dead at your son, wings spreading out behind him.

“Wilby?” You asked softly as he slowly turned around, his big brown eyes were wet and wide.

“Mom…” He whispered, “I didn’t want…” Wilbur looked away from you and grit his teeth, “Welcome to L’manburg. Sorry, you have to see it like this, war-torn and broken. I wanted you to see it in its prime, a shame you didn’t visit sooner.”

“Wilbur, don’t do this,” Phil said watching his son look longingly at the button in the middle of the wall, almost with longing. “This is your country, it can be fixed. Things can be rebuilt, it’s where you raised your son,” Phil continued his entire body tense and nervous he was too aware of the sword on Wilbur’s hip. Phil reached out his hand as you walked towards Wilbur,

“Baby boy…” You whispered tenderly, vines slowly growing out of the cracks in the floor. “Don’t do this I only just got you back, please think about what you’re doing.” Wilbur’s brow furrowed watching you smile softly holding out your arm, “Everything will be alright I promise you. We can help you.” He let out a wet laugh running a hand through his brown curls, his pointed ears visible.

“It’s not the same nation anymore. There was a special place where people could go but it’s not there. It’s no longer the nation it once was Mom.”

“It is there. You've just- You've just won it back, Wil!” Phil spoke up in opposition to his son.

“MOM, Dad, I’m ALWAYS SO CLOSE to pressing this button, Phil! I've BEEN HERE like seven or eight times, I've been here seven or eight times...Phil, I've been here so many times…” All of you jumped a little at the sound of crackling fireworks outside, “They're fighting. They're fighting!” Phil and you glanced at one another, there was a beat of silence.

“And you want to just blow it all up, You fought so hard to get this land back... So hard.” You argued reaching out to cup his cheeks, he melted into your palms, snuggling into them like they were his last lifeline.

“I don't even know if it works anymore, Mom, I don't even know if the button works, I could, I could... press it.”

“Do you really wanna take that risk?” Phil laughed, “There is a lot of TNT potentially connected to that button.”

“Phil... There was a saying, Phil. By a traitor. Once part of L'Manburg. A traitor- I don't know if you've heard of Eret? He had a saying...It was never meant to be!” He tossed his hand back and slammed it against the button, you let out a devastating shriek pulling Wilbur into your arms to try and protect him from the blast. Phil felt pure adrenaline enter his bloodstream as he flew towards you and his son. His wings wrapped around the both of you and you whimpered, some of his feathers caught fire and he squeezed his loved one’s harder. Wilbur meanwhile let out a roaring cry “MY L'MANBURG, PHIL! MY UNFINISHED SYMPHONY, FOREVER UNFINISHED! IF I CAN'T HAVE THIS, NO-ONE CAN, PHIL!”

“Oh, my god…” Phil spoke, his voice quivering with horror, Wilbur looked down at you, hurt and pride swam in his eyes,

“Are you proud of me mama?” He whispered softly as your thumb caressed his cheeks, Phil glanced down at you ignoring the pain in his wing, your eyes were wet but you were still smiling.

It didn’t reach your eyes.

“I’ll always be proud of you Wilbur. I’m your mother, and I love you, I’ll always love you.” He let out a little cry, you were so genuine with him, your love was smothering him. Wilbur looked up at his father and grabbed his wrist,

“Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me!” Wilbur broke away from his hold and tossed his sword Phil’s way. Phil caught it in his arms the lines in his forehead creasing with worry, “Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Killza, Killza, do it! Kill me, Phil! Murder me! Look, they all want you to! Do it, Phil! Kill me! Phil, kill me!”

“I- You're my SON!”

“Wilbur NO! PHIL DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!” You cried as Wilbur shoved you away from him, your growing distress caused vines to spill into the room, filling it with greenery, nature wanted to protect you.

“No matter what you- dude, no matter what you've done, I can't-” Phil’s voice cracked, his knuckles turning white against the hilt of the blade.

Wilbur slammed his fist against the wall, “Phil, it's- LOOK! LOOK! HOW MUCH WORK WENT INTO THIS, and it's GONE!” He grabbed Phil’s hand and shoved the point of the sword into his chest, “Do it. Do it.”

“PHIL!” You sobbed grabbing onto his other arm, eyes red and puffy, fat tears were running down your pink cheeks.

The man squeezed his eyes tightly, his throat closing up, he couldn’t look at you, he could feel the look of horror that was slowly spreading across your face.

“Phil. I’m begging you we can get him help, I can’t lose him. Not again, not when I’ve only just got him back.” You choked out, “he’s my baby. He’s our baby.” You were clinging to Phil desperately, your smile was gone, he failed you and he failed his own son.

“Do it, Dad.” Wilbur interrupted you, you let out a desperate cry and Wilbur shushed you softly, brushing away your tears. “It’s better this way,” Wilbur leaned down and kissed your forehead, “I love you and I forgive you.” He looked back at Phil and his disintegrating right-wing, guilt ate at him, “It’s time.”

Phil let out a deep breath, jaw tense and he felt you bury your head in his uninjured wing. He ran his sword through his son’s chest, Wilbur fell forward against the blade, he choked on the blood in his mouth, it flowed out of the corners and stained the front of his shirt. Phil felt you move to look but he covered your face with his wing once more, “Don’t look darlin’” He whispered as your sobs only increased, Wilbur slowly died in his arms with a smile on his face that would forever haunt Phil’s nightmares. He stroked Wilbur’s hair as he slowly faded out of existence, three lives completely snuffed out, Phil was part of giving him life and was the one to take his final one. Once Wilbur was gone you crumpled to the floor loud sobs echoing in the chamber, he fell beside you and wrapped you in his arms, you clutched his beanie to your chest.

“It’s alright. It’ll be okay.”

“Okay! Philza Minecraft how the FUCK is this gonna be okay!” You snarled in his arms but he only held you tighter, “Our son...our baby is dead.” You choked holding your hand to your mouth, the vines that had grown started dying feeding off your agony. “He’s gone…” You whimpered letting Phil caress your hair and plant kisses on the top of your head.

“We’ll get through this. I promise you.” He swore up to you cupping your cheeks within his hands, you sniffled a little and gave a small nod of your head. You were drained emotionally and physically, Phil’s heart ached in his chest.

“You’re hurt…”

“I’ll be alright,” He tried to stretch out his wings he flinched as pain shot up the right side of his body. Phil’s wing was charred to bits, you both knew the unspoken truth that he’d never fly like he once did, Wilbur wasn’t the only thing Phil would mourn.

“We need to set up a grave for him. Under the willow tree, I’ll plant yellow flowers. That way he can always be close to us so long as we live there,” You looked up at him eyebrows pinched so tight “Please.”

“You don’t need permission Darlin’.” He whispered to you resting his forehead against your own, “If that’s where you want it that’s where it’ll be.”

“Good.”

Phil slowly helped you to your feet, you weren’t injured, a few cuts and scrapes he took the majority of the damage from the explosion just like he had planned. He hissed as he tried to put pressure on his left ankle, “Fuck me. I’m too young to need a cane.”

“Eh,” You smiled weakly “Wouldn’t say that.”

“Shut the fuck up.” You giggled softly, your laughter significantly improved his mood, even if it was a minuscule adjustment. “We all can’t be as spry as you,”

“What can I say some of us have it and some of us don’t.” You smirked slightly hearing another loud explosion go off in the distance, “the Withers. Technoblade spawned them didn’t he?” Your eyebrows furrowed in thought and Phil gave a little nod,

“Most likely.”

“Our boys, they can’t do anything without explosions can they?” You shakily whispered and Phil couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh,

“Guess so,” He shrugged limply as you slipped Wilbur’s beanie on your head,

“What now?” You looked up at him through wet eyelashes, Phil caressed the back of your head,

“We go home, bury what’s left of Wilbur, and take a look at my wings to assess the damage.” Phil watched you nod numbly against him, “it’ll be a long walk back.” He groaned rubbing his eyes and you rubbed his back soothingly.

“Let me handle that,” You reassured and he raised an eyebrow the both of you moved to leave the structure neither one of you wanted to put up with anyone, you both had lost a son and wanted time to mourn. Plus, it seemed Tommy and Technoblade were busy fighting. Phil watched you with careful eyes allowing himself to lean against one of the trees that survived the explosion. You placed your fingers in your mouth and gently whistled, not only did a crow from a tree flutter by but a wandering horse as well, you really were an animal whisperer. The crow ruffled its feathers and cawed loudly at Phil, he shot the crow a look and flipped it off, meanwhile, you worked your magic taming the horse in a matter of moments. “Come here Crow,” You held as your hand and he fell into it, you helped him onto the horse and he shot you a look,

“I’m not riding on this horse with you walking on foot. Switch with me.” Phil tried to argue but you shushed him,

“You took an explosion to the back. Take a breather, relax, nature helps me heal anyway.” You hummed fondly as he slumped against the horse reluctantly, it took about an hour to get back home, Phil had lost all feeling in his wing and wanted nothing more than to curl up with you and go to sleep. As the looming willow tree came into view Phil heard you sniffle and clutch his son’s beanie on your head,

“(Y/n)?”

“I-I’m alright.” You cleared your throat shaking your head, “Let’s get you looked at before anything else, okay?” Phil too exhausted to argue only nodded limply, you helped him inside and set him down on a chair. “Spread your wings for me,” You commanded, helping him stretch out his wings. He cursed, only feeling pure agony shoot through his right side,

“Ow! Fuck me!”

“Sorry, sorry,” You whispered out tenderly rubbing the base of his left-wing. The mixture of pain and pleasure was foreign but not completely unwelcome. “Oh, Phil…” You trailed off hesitant to touch the damage that was inflicted, “I don’t...I don’t think-” You chewed the bottom of your lip, but Phil got the message, he wasn’t going to be able to fly as he once did, maybe ever again. His flight feathers were singed to hell, completely burned away, not to mention the patchiness of his other feathers. His shoulders slumped forward as he ran a hand down his face, he was exhausted, he felt the coolness on his wing as you spread some antibiotic on the injury. “I’m sorry,” You kissed the back of his neck and he shivered at the feeling. “We’ll bury what we have tomorrow, you need rest.”

“I’ll be fine-”

“Phil, I will force you into bed. Don’t fucking test me right now, I will force you if I have to.” You hissed out glaring daggers at him, he should be threatened but he just felt oddly aroused.

He decided to attribute that to how fucked up he felt today.

Phil allowed you to tuck him into bed as gentle as you were capable of doing, “I’m going to send out some letters. I’ll join you in a little bit.” He felt you remove his hat and run your fingers through his blonde hair, he leaned into your touch like a kitten. As soon as you shut the door, Phil was out like a light.

Phil found out the next day that you had sent a letter out to both Tommy and Technoblade, you wouldn’t specify what you sent but you seemed a bit more relaxed than you had the other day. You both didn’t get a chance to bury what was left of Wilbur until a week later, Phil’s healing process was slower than he could’ve imagined. Phil reluctantly had to use a cane to get around easily, his crows laughed at him but you were also so kind and careful.

You were an angel.

The two of you buried him under the willow tree on the hill where you’d met the other members of your odd family for the first time. Technoblade had shown up at your doorstep holding out a large box inside of it was a stone tombstone inscribed on the tombstone was Wilbur’s name and date of birth and death. It had surprised Phil that the hybrid even agreed to make this for you, but at the same time, he was Phil’s adoptive son and closest friend, he appreciated the gesture nonetheless. Phil had placed Wilbur’s coat and beanie into a box and placed it under the ground. You had kept your promise and had grown little yellow flowers around the site of the burial, and the two parents mourned the loss of their biological son. Technoblade stood close by a hand resting on Phil’s shoulder in hopes to soothe him at least a little bit, Phil would never admit it but he appreciated the gesture.

Little did the three of them know, a small smile spread across a young ghost’s face. He picked at the sleeves of his yellow sweater, maybe he could give both of them some blue sometime to help them heal.

He had a feeling they’d like that idea.

~~~

I usually don't tag people in my stories but I figured a lot of people wanted a part two:

@xx-smiley-xx @dreamsofficialwife @dirtydiavolo @thatguythatsshy

@shinyshimaagain @little-odd-dude @theultimatewifu32 @hee-hee-haw @thegeekishere

[anniebrainrots]

Family

In which you reflect upon yours and Technoblade’s shared past. 

=============

warnings: mentions of violence (nothing too graphic), slight gore, angst, SBI family dynamic, no y/n 

wc: 3.2k 

notes: i’m sorry if there are any grammatical errors, i really tried my best :,) 

===========

You can’t remember a time when you and Technoblade actually fought. You had always been attached at the hip, you had watched him grow up from a young boy full of ambition and fire to an accomplished man with strong ideals and a fierce personality. That’s one of the things that you had prided yourself in, well, that and your impeccable ability to calm the pink-haired piglin. 

You remember the first time the voices had appeared; he had come to you after he had gone hunting with Phil for the first time. He had mentioned his first kill, how it had awoken something in him, how it almost felt like he had been running on autopilot when he shot the arrow. You hadn’t known how to talk to him through his episodes then, though with years you had learned what to say to not set him off. 

The first time he had killed a man hadn’t been that long after his first hunt. A bandit had come to your small camp in the forest in the middle of the night. You couldn’t have been older than twelve at the time, Techno being thirteen. You had been held at knifepoint, held in front of Phil and Wilbur while the hybrid had gone out to get more firewood when your campfire dwindled. You remember seeing horror cross the two faces in front of you before the grip on your neck had loosened and a man had dropped right to the floor. You had tried your best to erase traces of that night from your memory, but the thin scar on your neck always made a point to remind you of it. 

He had changed since then, an insatiable thirst for bloodlust had festered deep within him, unable to be satisfied. He hadn’t been too good at controlling the voices at that time, and the first time he had lost control in your presence he couldn’t bear to look at you for a week out of shame. It had taken the help of Phil, Wilbur, and even Tommy to talk him out of separating himself from you. After that, your bond with him had only grown stronger. When you had left the family to pursue your own adventure with Techno, you had learned how to talk to him, to ease the voices that always screamed at him. 

The second time he had lost control around you it hadn’t been directed at you. The both of you had entered a tournament for money, and the result had been devastating for you. Techno had gotten his long hair cut short while your wings had ended up getting chopped off. It had been a foul play, ambushed from the back while you had fought another in front of you. Techno had seen nothing but red, finishing off both people before consoling you the best he could. You had mourned the loss of your flight and your precious wings for weeks, not eating and barely alive, according to Techno. He had half the mind to send you back to Phil, doubting his abilities to protect you but you had insisted to stay with him, that you would simply be too ashamed to look your father in the eyes and tell him why your wings had no longer been on your back. 

Years later, even though you still held the loss of your wings close to your heart, you had learned to move on with the help of your companion, finding solace in causing chaos and taking down unjust governments. Naturally, when Wilbur and Tommy had called upon you both to help them with their revolution against a tyrant who had taken charge of their old country, you had been more than happy to come. 

The first few weeks had been spent catching up with your brothers, and you had exchanges of your adventures and their experiences running their country. You couldn’t help but notice darkness festering deep within Wilbur’s eyes, and one night he broke, asking Tommy if they had been the bad guys all along. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell them you had followed them that night, eavesdropping on their conversation. You had confided in Technoblade, the piglin merely dismissing your concerns for your brother as he urged you to start preparing for the war. You had tried to ignore it, the way Wilbur’s tongue dripped with acid every time he had spoken of L’manburg, the way Tommy had flinched when Wilbur would walk into the same room, the way Wilbur constantly disappeared in the dead of the night when he had thought no one was watching. But you had been, you had always been watching him. 

The day he hid behind Dream, the man that had nearly killed Tommy twice in their war against the Dream SMP, you had nearly taken it upon yourself to incapacitate Wilbur. Technoblade, as war-hungry as he always had been, paid no attention to this, which had angered you greatly. Once you had learned of Wilbur’s planting of hundreds of TNT underneath L’manburg, you had tried to talk him out of it. 

“L’manburg is a fallen nation, birdie. It’s done nothing but cause pain for everyone, so why does it have to exist? You wouldn’t understand, you weren’t there when we built it, so stay out of our fucking business or leave.” The nickname that Wilbur had given you in your youth sounded like nothing but pure venom and ice, and his words had stung you far more than anything else. 

That night, you had approached Technoblade; you couldn’t help but notice how you had been falling apart due to how busy he had become with his preparations.  It had been obvious to you how stressed he was, spacing out more frequently while you had conversed. When you brought up your concern over Wilbur’s plans, he lashed out. 

“God, you’re so annoyin’, always havin’ concern over what Wilbur wants to do or not. The man ran the country way before we even got here so why do you care so much?” 

“I’m worried because everyone’s life is on the line here, Techno. You’re telling me you’d let your brothers fight in a war that will end up in explosions? What about Tommy, you’re gonna let him go through with this? Why can’t you see that Wilbur’s gone crazy, and he needs to be stopped?” 

“I can’t let you do that. No matter what you want, I promised to help Wilbur and if you don’t agree with his ideals, then just leave. We don’t want you here.” For the second time that night alone, you had been told to leave by some of the most important people in your lives. You choked back the rising sob in your throat, letting your sadness dissipate and anger take over. You had marched right out of his base, not a single call of your name from the man you had just spoken with, and you had concluded that that would be the last time you would talk to him. 

You had gone deep into the forest into your small cottage, taking all of your valuables and putting them in your ender chest, stuffing food and all of your weapons into your bags where they had fit. You had taken a few pieces of TNT, no one needed the rest of these items anyways. You had been deep enough in the forest that the explosion would not be heard from anywhere near PogTopia, so you had quickly ignited the TNT and watched as your house exploded onto tiny remnants. A small crater had been left in its place, small enough to pass off as a creeper explosion in the night. 

Your second stop had been to Tommy’s quarters, where you had found him sitting by his bed. 

He had looked up at you in slight confusion, noting your packed bags and outdoor attire. He had wondered if you were going to go scouting in L’manburg and almost wanted to ask if he could come, but you had cut him off before he could. 

You handed him a sword, the first one you had ever made with your own hands when you were barely his age. 

“What’s this for? And why are you dressed like that?” 

You gave him a watery smile, “this sword helped me survive all this time, so I hope it serves you well in the war. And I can’t fight alongside you anymore, Tommy. Technoblade and Wilbur had made that very clear tonight.” 

“What? Wilbur? I’ll go speak to him right now if he’s makin’ you leave. You can’t leave, you just can’t!” Tommy stood to his full height, arms wrapping themselves around your smaller form. You patted his back, offering words of comfort. 

That night, you had left with a heavy heart, and despite your rather unpleasant last experiences with Will and Techno, you couldn’t help but to think of them fondly from time to time. 

That led to where you are now, in the Tundra, in a humble cottage in the middle of a clearing. There’s a village nearby, with wonderful farmers offering you discounted golden carrots for all the help you provided for them in the past 6 months. 

You never did find out the outcome of that war, and something tells you that it didn’t end in celebrations. You traveled far enough that even news from L’manburg would be unlikely to reach all the way here. Still, though, you can’t help but wonder where Technoblade is, if he’s been taking care of himself, if he’s even still alive. You snort at that, of course he’s still alive; Technoblade never dies. 

One day, you wake up with a slightly more cheery attitude than most other mornings. You prance around your house, humming songs to yourself while you clean and cook. It’s quiet, like it always is, and sometimes you find yourself wishing you’re back to the old days, when everything was loud, chaotic, and bloody. The silence, however, is a luxury you never knew you needed. 

Your black cape and golden crown (one that Techno gave you in order to match with him), hangs in your closet, unused. 

You make sure to polish the crown once a week, it being a gift from a man you harbored feelings for since your youth, you couldn’t bear to leave it to collect dust. You sigh wistfully, placing the newly polished crown on your head while looking at your reflection in the mirror. 

You can’t help but notice the way your features have softened, given your lifestyle with Techno over the years, you were almost never given a break from all of the bloodshed. Your eyes are brighter, and your face gleamed with a newfound glow, one that had always been stained by dirt and grime from the battlefield. You note faint scars running down your arms, a brief moment of insecurity passing through you as you remember the perfectly clean complexion the village women had. 

You’re cut off by your thoughts by a rapid and harsh knock on your front door, and you rush to take off the crown and place it back in your closet and head back downstairs. It’s odd, almost no one visits the Tundra, so the very idea that someone is knocking on your door is already incredibly bizarre. You figure it’s probably a wandering trader, a very impatient one sounding from the hurried knocks. 

You open the door roughly and step back slightly in shock. Phil stares back at you with equal emotion in his eyes, he obviously wasn’t expecting you to answer the door. Your gaze shifts to the man by his shoulders, hanging limply with his head down. 

“Help,” is all Phil’s able to say before you quickly wrap your arms around Techno’s midsection and lead him to lay down on your couch. Blood pools around his waist staining your cushions, but you can’t even acknowledge that. He’s passed out and pale, so you make quick work to tend to his injuries, finding him improperly wrapped in loose bandages. 

After cleaning his injuries, the worst of which being a stab wound on his midsection and a large gash on the arm, you wrap him with bandages and give him healing potions to speed up the recovery. With the help of your adopted father, you move Techno to your bed, closing the door before joining Phil on the floor near the fireplace. 

Phil watches you sit down next to him, eyeing your bloody hands before blinking away to stare at the flickering flame. He also notices your wings, or lack thereof, but chooses to stay silent. 

“What happened? Why is Techno like that?” 

He’s silent for a moment before answering, “after the big battle, they reclaimed L’manburg but reinstituted Tubbo as the new president. Techno didn’t like that, so he fought back. It was him against everyone else. After that he fled to escape but someone was able to shoot him down with an arrow and stab him. I knocked the guy out and tried to fix Techno, but I couldn’t do that with everyone chasing us down. So, I took him on a boat and ended up here. Gave him enough healing potions to not die, but I barely had enough. Thank god we found you.” 

You go quiet at that, a question annoying you at the back of your mind. 

“Did he do it?” From your tone, the man realizes you’re referring to Wilbur, and his heart clenches at the fresh memory. 

“He did. I barely got there in time, mate. I tried to talk him out of it but…” he trails off, shoving his face into his hands to hide his tears, “I killed him.” 

Your shoulders slump in sympathy, about to comfort him, “Phil, it’s not your faul—” 

“No. I literally killed him. When he pressed the button, he gave me his sword and…” this time he lets out a weak laugh, “did I do the right thing, birdie? Was I right to kill my own son?” 

You can’t wrap your head around that. “Wilbur’s dead?” 

Phil cries quietly to himself, nodding his head to affirm your thoughts, making you let out a small ‘oh’. 

You’re at a loss for words. Sure, Wilbur had been nothing but toxic to you the last time you had seen him, but that didn’t overshadow the years of love and affection he had given you in your childhood. Deep down, you knew the Wilbur you had seen last had been nothing but the shell of the person that gave you piggy back rides when you were learning to fly so you can experience being off your feet, of the person that bandaged your knee when you had tripped and had been too scared to tell Phil you had gotten hurt, of the person that sang you songs on his guitar whenever you felt restless at night because he knew they helped you sleep. Wilbur is—was—your brother. 

“He went crazy, Phil. Too clouded by his emotions to think straight. He endangered the lives of everyone around him. He wasn’t Wilbur anymore at that time, Phil. He was just a man that had lost everything, too scared to rebuild from scratch that he just destroyed his work so no one else could have it. It was like watching a child who lost their favorite toy. Jesus, Phil, if you’d seen him then…” You watch the crackling fire, words caught in your throat, unable to finish the sentence, silence lying heavily in the air. “He needed to be stopped.” 

The man you saw as your father goes quiet, and from the corner of your eyes you see just how this man aged. Despite being immortal, Phil always had what you called ‘sleepy eyes’ referring to the way he seems to constantly have bags underneath his eyes that made him look sleep deprived despite being well-rested; a trait that Wilbur inherited, and Techno had purely because of his lack of a proper sleep schedule. Tommy used to tease them about it, despite having developed it slightly after his staying up with you, Wilbur, and Techno in the dead of the night to sneak out when Philza was asleep. 

“Guess we’re both flightless now, huh?” You ask after a moment, studying his burned feathers that would surely never heal properly enough for him to take flight. He let out a humorless chuckle, dull eyes closing for a moment. 

“I tried to shield him from the explosion but it resulted in quite some irreversible damage.” He stretches his wings out, barely even a quarter of its original length, black feathers singed and unrecognizable. He gives you a glance from the side, “you never told me about yours.” 

You hum, and your back burns with phantom pain. “I lost them in an arena. A couple years after we left, Techno and I participated in this free-for-all arena and some guy ambushed me from behind and cut them off.” Your left hand grips your sleeve, images of red and withering feathers flashing before your eyes. You feel a gentle hand on your back, and all of it stops. 

You and Phil sit together in well-appreciated silence, basking in each other’s presence after so many years of no contact. A shuffle from the other room catches your attention, you turn and see Techno stepping out of the room, one hand supporting himself on the wall and the other wrapped around his midsection, tight against his fresh wound. You and him make eye contact for a split second before you turn away and he redirects his gaze to Phil. 

From the corner of your eyes you see them staring at each other, having what seems to be a silent conversation before the older man sighs and gets up. He pats you on the head once and gives Techno a nod before stepping outside. Uh oh. You know what’s coming next and you don’t know if you’re ready for it. You say nothing when you hear approaching footsteps from behind you, staring at the dwindling flame in the fireplace. You say nothing when he sits behind you on the couch, unable to sit on the floor because of his injuries. You say nothing when you turn around from your sitting position on the floor to look up at him. 

Despite only being apart for 6 months, Techno sure looks older. Maybe it had been the effects of war, but both you and him have gone through countless battles before and you had never seen his face like this. Grim, serious, unapproachable. Something in his eyes flicker when he stares at you; pity, remorse. 

“I’m sorry.” Techno says after a moment, looking guilty as his facade slowly breaks. 

You don’t know what to say. The Blood God, infamous for his unyielding wrath and immeasurable power, for his countless victories in war, for his presence made to induce fear upon people, bowing his head to you in remorse. Was this the same Blood God that you hear countless stories of? No, this is Techno. Your best friend, your partner in crime, your person. 

“I know.” 

[rosesdrabbleblog]

A Warm Welcome

Pairing: Vilbur x fem!reader

Warnings: smut, 18+ content, Hamilton references, swearing.

Note: First story for the blog! Based off of an idea I had that I sent to @sallysimp a bit ago.

You had been in your room when Tubbo came by, letter in hand. You perked up seeing him, “hello Tubbo, is this for me?” The young boy nodded, a serious expression on his face. Without a word, he handed you the letter before running off.

It seemed like ages ago since everything had changed. You had gone from living in a nation called L’Manburg alongside some of your dearest friends, to living quietly and alone in the nation now called Manburg. Sure, you had Niki there for you from time to time, but it didn’t make you feel any less alone.

You missed him.

Wilbur Soot was L’Manburg’s president, and one of your dearest friends. You remember the day you fought by his side during the war against Dream, you remember hearing the strings of a guitar late at night, what his lips against your forehead felt like...it all seemed to just be a distant memory now. You remember watching in despair as he and Tommy were exiled after the election, trying to free yourself from Schlatts goons.

With a small sigh, you opened the letter, reading its contents with awe.

To my dearest,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. I know we haven’t spoken in a while, but I am in a better position to talk now. Me and Tommy have started a new nation called Pogtopia. This letter contains the coordinates to the location. Please come soon.

-Wilbur Soot

You hadn’t even noticed your eyes watering until a teardrop fell onto the letter. He was alive...Wilbur was okay. And Tommy too...they were both safe. You hugged the letter to yourself, reveling in the moment for just a bit...

“Hey! You were supposed to be downstairs five minutes ago!”

You jumped at the sound of Quackity’s voice. Damn, you had forgotten that Schlatt required everyone to be at tonight’s meeting. “Give me a second,” you muttered before grabbing your jacket, stuffing the letter under a pile of clothes, hidden from sight. You opened your door, smacking the man in the face. “Hey! What the hell, man?!” he cried out, rubbing his face. You walked past him without a word, eager to get this meeting over with.

“Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence?” Schlatt commented as you walked over to one of the seats in front of the podium. You frowned at him, but kept quiet despite the insults you wanted to hurl at him. You sat down next to Tubbo, who was fixing his tie, eyes focused on the podium as Schlatt started speaking again. You tuned out for the most part, thinking about the letter in your pocket, until you heard him speak to you.

“Hey doll, do you mind grabbing some wood for Tubbo? Great,” Schlatt commented before moving onto the next person.

You glanced at Tubbo and whispered, “wood?” The teen smiled, “for my builds I’m doing for the festival. It would help me out a lot!” You nodded, pretending as if you knew exactly what had been going on the entire time. The idea of visiting Pogtopia while getting wood sparked in your brain, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of seeing Wilbur again. Wilbur...

Your thoughts were interrupted by the meeting ending as everyone got up to start on the tasks assigned to them. You followed Tubbo for a moment before asking, “do you want me to start getting wood now? I can go grab and axe and start.” The teen yawned, “you don’t have to do that, it’s late. I wanna go to bed.” You smiled and ruffled his brown hair, “I insist. I want to help you as much as I can.” And you honestly meant that. After everything you two had been through, you looked after Tubbo like he was your son in a way. If anything were to happen to him, you didn’t know what you would do. He nodded sleepily, “okay, but don’t wake me until morning.” You patted his back as he went off to bed, and you went back to your shelter, grabbing an axe and a few other supplies. While walking out, you ran into Schlatt, who was smoking a cigarette.

“You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were sneaking off somewhere.”

You stiffened, “of course not, I’m going to start getting wood for Tubbo.” You held out your axe for proof.

Schlatts dark eyes bore into yours, “well then, don’t stay out too long. Wouldn’t want something to sneak up on you in the dark.” He gave his signature grin before walking off, continuing to smoke his cigarette as if the exchange never happened. You shook off the uncertainty before heading off, letter in hand as you tried to look for Pogtopia.

You had searched for maybe an hour or so before hearing a rustle in the bushes. You whipped around, axe in hand as you scanned through the trees. You were about to walk off before a voice rang out, “is that YOU y/n?!”

You turned and were face to face with Tommy, who you hadn’t seen in so long. His clothes were a bit torn and dirty, and he was no longer wearing his L’Manburg outfit, but one he had probably gotten from Wilbur in their exile. You dropped your axe and ran forward to hug him, and smiled as he hugged you back. “Of course it’s me, I came as soon as I heard,” you said softly. Tommy pulled away with a wide grin, “Wilbur is gonna be so happy to see you again! He never stops talking about you, madman. Imagine being obsessed with a woman, couldn’t be me.” You laughed at that, picking up your axe and putting it back into your satchel. Tommy pointed at a a section in the forest, “Pogtopia is behind those dirt blocks. I’ll show you!” And with that, Tommy scampered off to show you. As he removed the blocks, the dim forest was bright with light coming from the hole, and you followed Tommy inside. Tommy blocked the hole back up before brushing off his hands on his pants. “Well, welcome to Pogtopia! You’re the first woman to come here. And I doubt the last.”

You followed Tommy as he explained what had happened to him and Wilbur. You listened seriously, nodding and expressing your sympathy for the two. You both eventually came across Wilbur, who sat plucking at a guitar near a campfire. “Hey Wilbur! I found your favorite woman!” Tommy grinned at him. Wilbur looked up, his brown eyes tired and glassy, but they widened when he saw you. “You...you came,” he said, a bit shocked. You sat next to him, smiling gently, “of course I did. I promised I would always be there for my president.” His serious expression was replaced by a small cheeky grin at that, “it’s so good to see you again, love.” Tommy made a gagging noise before going into his room, disgusted with you two. You and Wilbur both chuckled at that before Wilbur began explaining what happened, and what Tommy had left out. “We’ve been down here for weeks, probably months even. It’s hard to keep track of time nowadays.” He glanced at your formal outfit, “and I’ve never seen you look so formal. When did that start?” You sighed softly, “since Schlatt took over.” Wilbur eyes narrowed a bit, “I hope you’ve been okay throughout all this. If he did anything to hurt you...” You patted his arm gently, “I’m fine dear, I’ve just...missed you so much.” Wilbur leaned forward a bit, nodding and softly saying, “I’ve missed you as well....so much.” And with that, he leaned forward and kissed you.

Ever since that night, you began sneaking away to Pogtopia and returning to Manburg with stacks of logs for Tubbo. The teen was delighted as how much you brought back, but didn’t have much time to chat anymore. He was in charge of putting together everything for the festival, after all. It seemed like maybe things weren’t so bad anymore. Tubbo was happy, you could see Wilbur and Tommy again...maybe things would be okay for now.

That is, until it became apparent how much Wilbur had changed. You almost hadn’t noticed the change. Sure, maybe something was different about his eyes and appearance, but that wasn’t anything bad. The part of your brain that loved the Wilbur before refused to see anything suspicious about him.

One night when you had snuck away to Pogtopia, you came back to the place quiet and empty. Tommy wasn’t bickering with Wilbur for once, in fact, the teen wasn’t even there. You found a note scrawled on a piece of paper.

Gone off to spy on Manburg. Will return soon.

- Tommy

You were a bit unerved by the silence, looking around the unsually dark Pogtopia. You let out a yelp as something grabbed you, pushing you against the wall roughly. In the dark, you could see it was Wilbur who grabbed you.

Without warning, he kissed you roughly, hands grabbing at you like he was starved for you. You were confused as to what was going on, but kissed him back after a moment. Your hands wandered to his curls, pulling them gently. The man let out a soft moan at that. “God, I need you now love. Needed you for so long...” he said as he took off your jacket. He stared at you for a moment before you realized and said “yes...please.” He practically tore off your buttoned shirt, hands and fingers quicker than you had ever seen. Wilbur kissed you again as he let his coat drop to the floor, now moving to take off his own shirt. He pressed into you, and you could feel him harden as he softly thrusted against you. You let out a gasp as his leg went between your thighs, pining you into the wall even more. You responded by thrusting against his leg, which made him nearly go insane as you let out soft gasps. Wilbur began unfastening your pants, depserate to touch you. You stepped out of them and threw them off to the side, letting out a moan as his fingers began to tease you through your panties. “Look at you, already soaked. You needed this, didn’t you? I know I did,” Wilbur said, his eyes dark and focused. He pushed past your panties and teased you again before slipping a finger inside you. You let out a moan and attempted to thrust against it, gaining a grin from Wilbur. He pulled it out before thrusting it in again, soon pushing another in impatiently. He fingered you deep and hard, drinking in your moans. Wilbur leaned down and nipped at your neck, leaving dark bruises that would be tricky to hide. You heard him mutter minemineminemine as he sped up his fingers even more. “Wilbur- I’m gonna...” “You gonna cum? Then do it. Cum for me, love.” And with that command, you came with a loud whimper, driving the man insane. He pulled his fingers out and licked at them while his other hand began to unfasten his own pants. “I can’t take it anymore. I need you now. God, I needed you so long ago. Should have taken you so long ago. Should have made you mine so long ago,” he said darkly, his pants falling to the floor. His boxers followed soon after. He began to stroke himself with one hand while the other turned you towards the wall. You could feel him at your entrance one moment, and he pushed inside you the next. You let out a loud moan as you adjusted to him inside you.

Wilbur, meanwhile, was battling his own dark thoughts as he began to thrust into you slowly. One part of him wanted to be gentle and sweet with you, wanted to take the moment slowly and lovingly. The other part wanted him to take you fast and tough, make you cry and whimper for him. To make you fully submit to him.

That side won.

Wilbur began pounding into you mercilessly, gripping your throat with one hand while the other gripped your hip. “That’s it, take my fucking cock. Such a good little slut,” he growled into your ear, letting out a moan with every few thrusts. You never felt so aroused before, finding this dark side of Wilbur alluring. All you could do was whimper and whine his name as you pushed back against his thrusts. After a bit, the hand that gripped your hip moved down to stroke you as he went even faster. “Wilbur...Wilbur! Fuck, I need to cum!” you moaned out, feeling your orgasm approaching at an alarming rate. “Yeah? You need to cum on my cock? Then do it. Fucking cum,” he growled as his thrusts went deeper into you. With another whine, you pulsed around him, panting as you came down from your high. He thrusted into you a couple more times, groaning, “you’re gonna take my fucking cum like the good little slut you are.” And with a growly moan, he came inside of you. You nearly collapsed back into him as he held you to him, both of you panting. After a moment, he helped you sit down and brought your clothes to you, his hair disheveled and his forehead gleaming with sweat. The two of you got dressed silently, before he grabbed your face lovingly, leaning in to whisper, “god, I love you.” He kissed you again, gently and sweetly. This is the Wilbur you remembered.

“Why are you wearing a turtleneck out in the sun?” Tubbo questioned you as you brought back the stacks of logs he needed. You stiffened before quickly saying, “I...I have a scratch on my neck. From the trees, when I was chopping them down. Kind of ugly, but it’ll be fine!” He nodded, accepting your answer without a question. In reality, your neck was bruising from the amount of hickies Wilbur left behind after last nights events. You hoped others would accept this answer as well.

And you knew you had to go back to Pogtopia soon.