#wilbur soot fanfic

[yawnzzznnn]

😭😭

[heartofwritiing]

We could make such a pretty picture

Paring: musicianbur x photographer!reader

Summary: you are lovejoy’s tour photographer and wilbur likes to tease you.

authors note: this is so rushed and unedited mostly just my stream of consciousness that popped into my head while i finish up the zombur fic! its almost done!!

warnings: fluff, short, flirting, a little suggestive maybe, i use a cringey (?) line idk take it as you will lmao, unedited!

“Make sure you get my good side darling.”

Before every show backstage, Wilbur would always tell you to quote: “get my good side” whatever that meant. It was impossible to get his bad side. Every angle Wilbur Soot always looked ethereal, and that had nothing to do with your photography skills.

You would gaze up at him from the pits, readily pointing your camera to capture any shot of him playing his heart out to the screaming fans behind you. Rightfully so, you couldn’t deny how good he looked up on that stage.

Skin glistened with sweat, hair sticking to his forehead, and the light eyeliner slightly smudged in the corners of his eyes. His lips pulled up in a smirk as he flipped his hair in a certain way when a beat dropped. It was undeniable now, that he was doing this on purpose. He was goddamn attractive and he knew it.

After the show you would always sit in one of the green room chairs, keeping to yourself and letting the excitement of the after-show buzz from the band fill the room. You were scrolling through the photos, admiring your work on a picture of Ash with the lightning just right when you felt a presence creep up behind you.

“That ones quiet good,” Wilbur’s voice made you jump out of your skin, and he laughed at your startled state.

“Thanks,” you replied, returning to scrolling through your pictures but Wilbur stayed right by your shoulder. Sounds of his bandmates laughter filled the space, he couldn’t care to jump into their conversation. Too entranced by your photography. Wilbur had never truly seen your work before. Of course there was pictures the band used for the instagram account, but those were taken by their previous photographer.

You were new, and Wilbur had briefly seen your work before. Only two shows into the tour, you didn’t have the time to sit with the lead singer and exhibit your entire portfolio to hkm. But seeing how you captured his presence on stage so well, with the white strobe light hitting him at just the right angle, caused his interest to be peaked even further. It made him want to get to know you better.

“you know, we make such a pretty picture,” you can hear the deviousness in his voice and the underlying meaning behind his own lyrics he was using towards you. It warms your cheeks and you avoid his eyes that are burning into the side of your face.

You cleared your throat and repositioned yourself in your seat. “whatever you say, its all you up there on that stage,”

The next night, standing once more in the pits, camera ready as the first chords of 'Portrait of a Blank Slate' blasted through the venue speakers, and screams exploded around you. As the color lights switch from dark blue to deep red, Wilbur saunters to the microphone and begins singing the first lyrics.

You lift your camera up to your face and look through the viewfinder to be met with an up-close Wilbur, who is pressing his lips right into the microphone. A smirk pulled the corner of his mouth when he peeked open his eye to catch you pointing your camera at him. Cheeky bastard.

As he sang the next few lyrics, his hands lift up to the top part of his shirt where it was unbuttoned. Running his index finger from from his collar down to his chest, he sang; ‘shes an artist, paints across my chest,’ while sending you a quick wink.

Your mouth parted in utter shock and felt your heart beating in your ears. How does this man do this to you? You hadn’t even known him that long, but he was making you feel dizzy with the slightest little actions. You quickly shook away any thoughts popping into your mind and took a couple more photos of him. The last one was of him leaning back while strumming the next chords, then you moved on to capture more of the other band members. You just had to force yourself away from him before you got carried away.

That same night later on the tour bus, you were going through your photos again. One in particular caught your eye, it was of Wilbur with the red lights behind him casting him in a dark glow, and his guitar lifted into the air while he threw his head back. Infamous rockstar pose, you decide to call it. You chose a couple more to post to your professional instagram account, tagging the band members each in their respective photos.

About an hour later a notification came up on your phone that a mutual had commented on your photo. You checked it and immediately felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach at the words on your screen.

@/WilburSoot: Told you we make such a pretty picture ;)

taglist: @trashcanduck @merakiwi @addxms @ax-y10 @scenefaez @highstonedcat

if you want to be added or removed from the taglist let me know!

[nikaizkool]

As much as I’d like to believe Wilbur is a non kinky person (idk why) I saw this edit and it was like “you like that” “Hmmm” like those edits and oml so here is some ppl choking you 😉😉😉

•Wilbur

He’d wrap his hands around your throat lightly but firmly, like blocking your airways a bit. He’d probs be topping while doing this so I’d imagine him taking a hand off your throat to move hair out of his eyes so he can see the look on your face or to move your hair off your neck/chest so he can leave hickeys he doesn’t make them to noticeable just to spare the teasing of his friends. Speaking of teasing I’d feel like he’d tease you in the beginning by edging you

•quackity

He’d wrap one hand around your neck lightly while fucking you, hed sloppily kiss you and like leave very VERY noticeable hickeys on your neck, like wil he’d also tease you but instead of edging before actually putting it in he’d pull out mid “coitus” and make you beg.

•schlatt

Fucking daddy dom dude he’d be spitting in your mouth and using both hands each to choke you with while fucking pounding you. He’d definitely degrade you and maybe? Maybe knife play if he knows your ok with it.

[deejayrockz]

PAIRING — cc!wilbur x reader

SUMMARY — neck bites.

NOTES — fluff, the neck biting is sfw !! fem reader in mind, but it's not really specified,, lowercase is intended, small small little drabble

EXTRA — i have a job interview tomorrow and decided to write this instead ..

it had just hit 1am before wilbur finally came to join you in bed, his eyes closing automatically, as he took off his clothes to change into some pyjamas (joggers and a black t-shirt).

he flopped onto the bed beside you, placing one arm above his head to cover his eyes, the other resting on his stomach. you happily made yourself comfortable on his chest, eyes closing to the sound of his heartbeat.

"d'you have a good day?" you asked, tracing small swirls into his chest, as you moved your head to look up at him. a small smile was now on his features, as light kisses were placed on his jawline.

"yeah, didn't do much, but ive got sound checks with the band tomorrow," he groaned, hating the thought of having to ever get out of bed.

you just hummed, placing one last kiss to his jaw, before suddenly getting the urge to bite. was it normal? probably not. are you going to do it anyway? definitely.

"ow!" he laughed, facing his head to the left of him, just out of your reach. however, you had sat up by now, a smile on your face.

you held his jaw, facing him to you again, seeing the soft smile on his face as he looked at you, eyes flickering between your lips and your eyes.

"what are you saying ow at?" you played dumb, smiling innocently as he rolled his eyes.

"you bit me!" he argued, rubbing the bitten jaw slightly, before moving his arm to trace doodles on your back.

"i didnt do such a thing," you smirked, before leaning in and biting his neck, feeling him giggle and try to move away.

"you're such a little gremlin," he laughed, before pulling you down, holding you tight against his chest so you couldn't move. finally, you relaxed, your head tucked into the crook of his neck.

"goodnight, love," he whispered, kissing your hairline.

"goodnight," you bit his neck once more, kissing it, then drifted to sleep, a smile on both yours and wilburs face.

[gizmo-writes]

Going to a haunted house with Wilbur

- You're definitely going first. He has his hands on your shoulders but he's definitely making you go first.

- He screams for sure, he does not like scary stuff, especially when they jump out at him.

- He'll grab your hips out of fear and pull you back into him. It's his way of protecting you.

- He talks. A lot. It's his way of getting through it. Talking and making jokes to hopefully get you to laugh or talk to him.

- If he could, he'd pick you up and throw you over his shoulder and run out of there but he can't since you're in front and you wanted to come so badly

- This is also your idea, he would never have this idea on his own. He hates haunted houses but you looked so excited so he was happy to go... until he got there.

- he may have a panic attack.. but not one so severe he breaks down, just one that makes him short of breath. You're able to calm him down pretty quickly though

- he definitely demands tons of kisses and cuddles afterwards.

- he may have nightmares though.

[ghostiexe]

Teacher!Wilbur x Teacher!Reader Part 2

hello friends & merry christmas to those who celebrate! my gift is chapter two of this haha. i might start doing a taglist, so please let me know if you want added!! cw: lots of awkward conversation (not uncomfortable topics wilbur is just shy), wilbur spills boiling hot coffee on his hand, i think that's it!

words: 3,831

also, welcome tommy to the stage everybody :)

part one here

On Monday, you find yourself waking up to the realization that your alarm never went off. A panicked sound slips past your lips, and you practically throw yourself out of bed. 

Okay, yes, a bit dramatic. However, you really don’t want to have to rush to get ready. You ended up having to go home before you were able to finish decorating your room, so you had been hoping to get to the school as early as possible and get it done. 

You start to root through all your clothes, still mildly panicked. You finally find something suitable to wear, shoving it on and glancing yourself up and down in your full length mirror on your closet door. You sigh softly and nod at yourself, a weak attempt to hype yourself up. Then you drag yourself to the bathroom and start to brush your teeth, staring at yourself blankly in the mirror before you lean down, spit out the toothpaste, and hurry to finish the rest of your routine. 

On your way out the front door several minutes later, you adjust your shoulder bag and sigh as you check the time on your phone. You don’t live too far away from the school, only a couple blocks, so you opt to walk. You don’t have a car, anyway– it had broken months ago, and you didn’t have the energy or money to get it looked at. 

So, walking it is. 

It only takes you about five minutes to get to the school, and when you arrive, you rush through the building to your room, shivering slightly from the walk. The school was mostly barren outside of a couple kids who were waiting outside and a few teachers you passed, though you didn’t know them. As you finally make it to your room, you reach for the door until you notice the sound of arguing a couple doors down. 

You probably shouldnt pry, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you slip down to the door, peeking inside to discover Wilbur bickering with some tall blonde kid with curly hair and bright blue eyes. Wilbur is standing with his back turned to the door, trying to hang up a map, while the (presumably) teen boy sits on his dark oak desk and chastises Wilbur on his “horrible placement skills”. You clear your throat and they both turn their attention to you.

The blonde kid just stares at you, but Wilbur smiles. “Oh, hello!” He greets you. You nod, eyes slightly furrowed as you take in his outfit. It’s quite old looking, but it goes perfectly well with his large glasses. 

“You look like you came straight out of the ‘90s.” You say instead of greeting him back, leaning on his doorframe. His face goes a bit pink and the blonde kid laughs loudly. 

“That’s what I told him!” He says gleefully, like he’s just won an argument. Maybe he has. 

Wilbur groans. “Tommy, go find your classes or something.” He grumbles, and you feel a flicker of confusion at the way the two of them interact. “Uh, and who is this, again, Wilbur?” You ask, pushing yourself upright instead of leaning and wandering further into his room. It’s a bit dark, the overhead lights are turned off. Instead, the room is lit by several lamps. You quite like it. 

“Oh.” Wilbur says, gesturing to the blonde kid. “This is my brother, Tommy. He’s 17, I’m technically his legal guardian.” He says, and you nod, not pressing for further information. Tommy chimes in. “I’m actually a very strong man.” He informs you. 

“Oh, I don’t doubt it.” You say with a laugh, starting to take in the rest of Wilbur’s classroom. “It looks nice in here, you’ve done a nice job.” You say, looking over at him. A playful grin spreads across your face. “Mr. Soot.” You add. Wilbur smiles bashfully. 

“Thank you. Tommy hates it.” He says, running a hand through his brown curls. You laugh. 

“Well, I don’t. It’s very cozy.” You say. Tommy groans. “Ugh, who cares about cozy? It needs some spice. Some danger.” Tommy insists, hopping off of Wilbur’s desk and sauntering towards the door. He salutes lazily to the two of you. “Anyway, have fun talking about boring teacher stuff, I’m going to go see if they have breakfast yet.” He says, then promptly walks away, sneakers squeaking as he goes. You and WIlbur both wince at the noise. 

“He does it just to annoy me.” Wilbur informs you as the two of you both stare at where he just walked away. Wilbur’s gaze flickers over to you, and you nod. 

“Little brothers.” You say, looking over and meeting his gaze. Wilbur cracks a small smile. 

“Little brothers.” He agrees. 

– 

Four short (or painfully long, you can’t decide) hours later, it’s finally lunch break, and you immediately slump down onto your desk, groaning as you rest your head against it. Your kids were pretty good, and it was pretty relaxed since it was only the first day, but you’ve already got an itch on which kids will be causing trouble. 

Tommy had ended up in your second period, and to your pleasant surprise, he was actually very enthusiastic about the topics you discussed teaching that year when you went through the class modules and he had very smugly told you to watch out for when he came back for your creative writing class later today. 

You actually quite like Tommy, and his friends. He told you he’s friends with everybody, but you can tell by the way that most kids avoid him that he was just saying that. He does have these two kids that he was talking to, though, a short brown-haired boy and a really (ridiculously) tall boy with a mask. You don’t remember most of the names of the kids in your class, which– yeah, you should probably work on that– but Tommy’s group seemed mostly pleasant, if a bit chaotic. 

Back to the present, you lift your head off of your desk and sigh as you reach for your tupperware with your lunch in it, dragging yourself to the teacher’s lounge to heat up your leftovers from dinner last night. When you get there, you see Wilbur hovering awkwardly by the microwave, posture a bit hunched as a small group of random teachers talk on the other side of the room. 

You walk up to Wilbur and almost tap on his shoulder, but you refrain. You don’t know much about him, after all, he might not be okay with casual touch. Instead, you stand next to him. 

“Hey.” You greet him, and he startles slightly, then his body languish shifts into something softer and less tense when he sees you. He offers you a stilted smile. 

“Oh, hello.” He says, reaching to open the microwave when it beeps. “How has your first day been so far?” He asks, pulling his food out and pushing his glasses up with his opposite hand. You hum as you think of how to word your answer. 

“Good, but exhausting.” You say after a moment, and he laughs softly, looking down at his food. 

“That’s fair. At least you’ve got the upperclassman, yeah?” He asks, stepping away from the microwave and gesturing for you to go ahead. You pop your food in and start it, then turn back to him, clearing your throat. 

“You’re right. Uh, how’s your day going?” You ask, and he cringes. 

“Uhh, I think okay? The kids certainly haven’t forgotten that I’m the boring teacher, though. Um, hopefully I’ll be able to get them interested, though.” He says, tapping his fingers against his food container. Your eyes drift down to them and you notice how calloused they are, but don’t mention it. 

“I’ll manifest it for you.” You say, smiling a little bit, and he laughs a bit breathlessly. 

“Thank you, I appreciate it.” He says, shaking his head and shuffling awkwardly. 

The microwave beeps and you pull your food out, looking up at Wilbur, who’s staring down at his shoes. 

“...Do you want to eat with me?” You ask, breaking the awkward silence. “Okay.” He agrees, looking back at you, then glancing around the teacher’s lounge. “Um, we can eat in my room.” He decides, then his gaze flickers back to you. “If that’s okay.” 

You nod, cracking a smile. “That sounds nice. Thank you.” You tell him, holding your food close to your chest. He smiles back, this time a little less awkwardly, and nods. 

“Okay, then. Um, it should be pretty quiet there. The only kid that really drops by is one of my brother’s friends, but I don’t know if he’ll be doing that a bunch this year.” He explains, and the two of you start the walk to his classroom, holding your respective tupperware containers. 

“Oh? The tall one with the mask, or the really short one? Or are there some other secret friends hiding around the school somewhere?” You ask, since it’s wholly possible that Tommy has more than just two friends. 

“Ah, the tall one.” Wilbur tells you, unlocking his door and holding it open for you. “Thank you.” You say, stepping inside and then letting him usher you over to his desk. He pulls over a comfy looking chair for you and gestures for you to sit, pulling over his own spinny chair to face you. 

The two of you sit, and you tap your fingers awkwardly on the lid of your container. He looks at you, then down to your hands, then he clears his throat and starts to tap his blunt nails against his desk. 

“Well.” He says, like he has something to say, but he doesn’t add anything after that, looking up to stare at you blankly. 

You blink slowly. “Well…” You agree, sitting back in the chair and crossing your legs. 

Wilbur takes the lid off his food and starts to poke at it with a black plastic fork. You set your food down in your lap. 

“The Front Bottoms.” You say, trying to break the silence. He looks up at you, looking mildly bewildered, then huffs out a breathless laugh. 

“What?” He asks, a bit of the tension melting away. You laugh too. 

“Sorry. I just meant… Um, you like The Front Bottoms. What else do you listen to?” You ask, and he smiles shyly, looking down at his food. 

“Oh, well, I like a little bit of everything.” He says, sounding a bit bashful. 

“Come on, lay it on me.” You say, waving your hand as if to brush off his shyness. “Okay…” He says slowly, clearly trying to think. “Well… My favorite band is called Los Campesinos!, they’re a seven piece Welsh band.” He explains, pushing his glasses up with one finger. You think it’s adorable. “But I also like Crywank, Arctic Monkeys, um… The Strokes, american poetry club, Modern Baseball…” He cuts himself off. “Sorry, I’m talking a lot.” He apologizes. 

“No, no, it’s okay! I asked, after all.” You reassure him, reaching over to pat his hand before pulling away and starting to poke at your food with your fork. “I know a couple of those bands, we have similar music tastes.” You say, lifting your fork and covering your mouth with your hand as you chew. 

He smiles at that. “Oh, yay!” He says, clapping his hands lightly. You swallow and smile. “What music do you listen to?” He asks, looking genuinely intrigued. You think for a moment, genuinely drawing a blank. 

“Oh, well, um…” You say, furrowing your eyebrows. He takes a bite of his food. “I- Uh, sorry, I’m not good on the spot.” You apologize, and he shakes his head. 

“No, it’s okay. We can talk about music another time.” He says, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right.” You agree, setting your food down again in your lap. “By the way, what’s with the outfit?” You ask, immediately regretting the way you worded it when he frowns. “I love it! Seriously.” You add hurriedly, reaching over and patting his knee. “Just curious.” 

He shifts slightly when you pat his knee and he crosses his legs, scratching his jaw as he thinks. “Uh, well… I’m not sure, I just like how it looks.” He says, gesturing to his outfit. “It reminds me of my favorite teacher from when I was in middle school. He was quite old, honestly, but he’s sort of my inspiration for becoming a teacher.” Wilbur explains, a light blush on his face. The soft ‘awww’ slips past your lips before you can stop yourself. “That’s… actually really sweet.” You say, smiling at him gently. “I kinda just assumed you were into the vintage fashion scene.” You say with a soft giggle. 

“Well,” he says with a short laugh, “that’s also true. I mean, the glasses should make that obvious.” He says, gesturing to his face. 

“Well, it suits you!” You say, smiling. “Seriously, I think you look very handsome.” You tell him, taking another few bites of your food before closing the tupperware and wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. He smiles. “Thank you. I’m glad you like it, usually the students just make fun of me and call me old.” He says with a soft laugh. “Well, clearly they have no culture.” You joke, gaze wandering from him to the bookshelf in the corner of his room. “Oh, do you mind if I take a look?” You ask, pointing at it. 

“No, of course I don’t mind.” He says, putting his hands on his knees and standing up. You follow the action, walking with him to the back of the room. “This side is all textbooks,” he explains, gesturing to the right side, “but the other is all books I’ve brought from home for students to borrow.” He says. You nod and trace your finger over the spines of some of the books, glancing across them. 

“I should do that, too.” You say, tilting your head to the side to read some of the titles. He hums. 

“Yeah, you are the English teacher after all. Don’t want to get caught lacking.” He says, and you roll your eyes fondly. 

After a few moments of comfortable silence, he speaks again. “You look nice, too, by the way.” He says. 

You’re confused for a moment. “Huh?” His face goes a bit pink. “You said I look handsome. Um, you look great too. Your style suits you well.” He explains, and it’s suddenly your turn to blush. “Thank you.” You say bashfully, brushing a bit of hair out of your face. “Yeah, of course.” He tells you, reaching to pull a book out of the shelf, but suddenly the bell is ringing. You jump slightly and huff, placing a hand on your chest as your heart races. 

“Fuck, I need to get used to the bell.” You complain under your breath, standing up straight. “Thanks for letting me eat with you, Wilbur, I seriously appreciate it.” You tell him. He nods. “No problem. I wouldn’t mind making it a habit.” He says, smiling at you. “Let me walk you to your classroom.” He tells you.

“And I wouldn’t mind that either.” You agree. “It’s only a few doors down.” You remind him. A couple kids start filing into his class. 

“I know.” He says. “Please?” He gives you his best puppydog eyes and you roll your eyes. 

“Okay, fine.” You relent, and he beams. 

The two of you walk out of his room and he walks on the left side of you as you make your way down the hallway. Once you make it to your door, he opens it for you and you shoot him a grateful smile. 

“Why, thank you, Mr. Soot.” You say, bowing clumsily at him. He giggles. 

“Yeah, yeah. See you later.” He says. 

“See you later.” You agree, nodding and stepping into your class. You sigh as you walk over to your desk, watching the student pile inside. 

Time for your first creative writing class of the semester. 

– 

By the end of the day, you’re absolutely exhausted, and you feel like a mess. You probably look the part, too, seeing as Tommy gives you a weird look when he walks past you later in the hallway on your way to the teacher’s lounge on your prep period. You’ve been in there for probably twenty minutes now, just holding a mug of herbal tea and staring blankly at the floor. The ceramic mug is hot under your hands, a pleasant burn on the pads of your fingers as you space out. 

All in all, not an awful first day, just… wow, you need to decompress. You’re so thankful that you didn’t assign anything for the first day, God knows you can’t grade right now. You’re mostly alone there until about fifteen minutes until school ends, when Wilbur happens to walk in, bee-lining toward the coffee machine. His sudden entrance makes you snap out of it, and you look up at him, walking as he sighs and waits for the coffee, having not yet noticed you. 

After a minute of watching him in silence, he finally turns, holding his mug of coffee in his hands. Apparently he was not at all expecting anyone else to be in here, because he jolts slightly and a bit of coffee splashes out and all over his hand. He hisses in pain and sets the mug down, and you stand up. 

“Oh, shit.” You say, setting down your own mug and walking over to him, lifting his hand and examining it. You drag him over to the sink and turn on the cold water, guiding his hand under it and holding it there, your own hand also under the water. 

“This is embarrassing.” He mumbles after a moment, then laughs softly. “It’s fine. I’ve spilt boiling water on myself too many times.” You say, trying to console him. He hums in acknowledgement and you blink when you realize that you don’t need to be holding his hand anymore, pulling it away and wiping it off on your shirt. “Uh, you can take your hand out when it feels a bit better.” You tell him, walking over to the small table and grabbing some napkins. After a moment, the water turns off and you turn to hand the napkins to him. He dries off his hand and looks down, crumpling the napkins and tossing them into the trash. “Kobe!” You whisper shout, a habit ingrained into you from hearing teen boys do the exact same thing for years. He giggles and shakes his head, and you gesture for him to show you his hand. He lifts it obediently for you and you examine it before humming thoughtfully to yourself. “It doesn’t look bad, it’s only a first degree burn.” You tell him, letting go of his hand. “I have some lotion, it’ll help.” You say, looking up into his eyes. He nods, smiling shyly. 

“It’s okay, you don’t need to.” He says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “Are you sure? It’ll soothe the burn.” You insist. He relents after a moment. 

“Okay. Thank you, I appreciate it.” He tells you, letting you lead him back to your classroom. You hum as you unlock the door and beckon him inside, taking his hand again as you lift your lotion from your desk and take a little bit of it, spreading it gently across his hand. He hums softly as you do so, and after a moment, you let go of his hand and spread the remaining lotion across your own hands. 

“Does that feel any better?” You ask him, and he just looks down at his hand before glancing at you again. “Um, yes, thank you.” He says, smiling shyly. “You’re too kind, really.” 

You both laugh softly and then you brush a bit of hair out of your face. “It’s no problem, Wilbur.” You assure him, smiling softly. “...we’re friends, right?” You ask, a little bit cautious now.

He seems surprised, but nods eagerly. “Yes! Yes, we’re friends.” He says, reaching a hand out to awkwardly pat your shoulder, but it is a bit comforting. You relax. “Okay, cool.” You say. “Cool.” He mimics. “Coooool.” You say, leaning forward slightly and smiling up at him. 

He giggles and tentatively pushes your face away. “No more cool.” He says, trying to sound firm, and you return his giggle. 

“Sorry.” You apologize, straightening up. “I’m glad that you’re my friend.” You say. “You’re pretty cool.” 

“I’m hardly cool.” He scoffs, but he’s smiling widely. “I’m glad you’re my friend, too.” He agrees. 

After you lock up your classroom and the two of you start going back to the teacher’s lounge to take care of both of your mugs. You both work in relative silence, only speaking again once both of you have finished. 

“I hope you don’t mind…” Wilbur says, breaking the silence and glancing over at you. “But is it okay if I could get your phone number or something? Just so we don’t have to only talk at lunch and during our prep periods.” He explains, running a hand through his messy curls. 

You ignore the way you have instant butterflies in your stomach, nodding. “Yeah! Yeah, of course, here, let me get my information pulled up.” You agree, pulling out your phone and smiling giddily to yourself before handing your phone to him. 

“Thank you.” He says, looking a bit flustered as he puts your contact in his phone, then hands your phone back. “Text me so I can save your number, too.” You instruct him, looking down at your phone expectantly. After a moment, a text comes in that simply says ‘hi :)’. 

You smile and send back an enthusiastic ‘hi!!!’ before saving his number as “Mr Soot >:)” 

He giggles when he gets your text, shutting his phone off and putting it in his pocket. The bell rings, and you both look at the door. 

“Well…” WIlbur says. “I look forward to talking to you.” He says, awkwardly extending his arm for a fist bump. You smack your fist against his and then unfurl your fingers as you 

pull your arm away, making an attempt at an exploding sound as you do so. 

“Text me whenever you want.” You tell him with a soft smile as you look up into his eyes. He nods and stuffs his hands into his pockets, smiling back at you. 

“Okay, I will. Thank you again.” He says. “You seem very nice, I’m glad that our rooms are so close.” He says, face tinged a bit pink. 

“I’m glad, too.” You say. 

You definitely don’t spend the rest of your evening at home waiting (im)patiently for him to text you, and you definitely don’t kick your feet and shove your face in a pillow when he finally does.

[cathers-world]

Ok my thoughts on the Wilbur and Shelby thing.

So there is a lot of evidence pointing to Wilbur, but they never dated and Wilbur is super respectful to women it would be absolutely shocking if he did that.

I do feel we should not be focusing on who did it and more on what she went through.

I’m not really on a side because there really isn’t and shouldn’t. but until Wilbur is proven guilty by Shelby or himself I believe he is innocent.

I will not be writing for him until that happens and in the chance we find out he did do that I will not continue to write for him.

Love, Cathers

(P.S. if any on you are going through abuse or anything like that please tell someone, and if you need to say anything to someone you don’t actually know, feel free to DM or send in a submission talking to me, stay safe!)

[ax-y10]

"dad!"

in which; wilbur and ted as dads

about; it is feminine anatomy but everything else is gender neutral, sorta, wilbur is a girl dad, ted is a boy dad, giving birth/pregnancy, crying, mentions of fighting, so so so fluffy, they're so sweet

word count; 696

taglist; @phxntomsdusk, @pheliiaa, @average-vibe

wilbur;

- an absolute sweetheart in the hospital.

- making sure that you’re comfortable and safe with what’s happening.

- he would hold your hand when you’re pushing and when you’re not doing anything, letting you squeeze as hard as you need.

- advocates for you!!

“we can’t give you an epidural. you don’t fit the criteria”

“but i’d like to have it-”

“they need the epidural! give it to them!”

- he definitely had to step out at a point to gather his thoughts and calm himself down because you were in pain! you were pushing a new human out of you! and it was hurting you!

- as much as he wanted to be in there with you during then, he couldn’t handle seeing you in pain.

- but as soon as the baby has had snuggles with you, he’s immediately scooping the baby up and swaddling it against his chest, keeping it warm.

- he spent weeks hiding away in the nursery with a rolled up towel and teaching himself how to hold a baby.

- you’d walked in one day and he was holding it so wrong so you had to help him

“as cute as this is, you are basically suspending the baby in the air. you can’t have their legs dangling”

“oh so like this?”

“wil, that’s better but you need to- okay let me show you”

“ohhh, that’s how you hold them. got it!”

- he’s such a girl dad!

- when your daughter gets a little older, he always says to you late at night that the day is getting closer and closer to where he needs to fight guys who try to hurt her.

- he supports her in everything she chooses to do.

- if she wants to move across the world? “okay sure! go for it! but please call me. i can’t deal with being away from my baby”

- if she likes girls and not boys? “i’ll need to meet the lucky girl!”

- definitely cries when she moves out

“we’re gonna miss you, pumpkin!”

“i’ll miss you too dad! i love you so much!”

“i love you too, sunshine! visit us all the time. we will be thinking of you”

- definitely adores the interactions between his daughter and you. from you doing her hair for the first day of school to going dress shopping for her formal/prom. loves all of it!

ted;

- ted is a boy dad. no doubt about that.

- when he found out you were having a boy, he immediately pulled you into a warm kiss.

“i can’t believe we’re having a boy!”

“ted, you sorta made him-”

“damn right i did!”

-ted would definitely want to name it after schlatt or eddie, his reasoning being "they're my bestfriends and i include them in everything i do!"

-and then you shoot back, "ted. i told you months ago. this is our thing to cherish and take care of, not jonathan's or eddie's."

-when it's just you, ted and the baby in bed at night, he's always snapping candid photos of you and the baby. one of you curled around the baby, another of you smiling fondly at the sleeping baby.

-he will watch when you're breastfeeding your son. not in a creepy way but more of a "that's my life partner and that's my son and they look so beautiful together."

-admires you and his son when he's on your hip, when you're walking down the street and pushing the pram, when you're changing his diapers. he loves everything about the domesticity of it all.

-cries when the baby cries but then immediately recollecting himself and comforting him as well as he can.

-when his son moves away for college or moves out, tears are shed and ted sends him off with a warm, fatherly hug, and a new set of whatever cheesy dad gifts he can find. (your son definitely comes back a week later to visit because he felt bad for his parents)

-he makes sure to meet his girlfriend, and his wife, and always has a good impression on all of his son's partner's families.

-goes to every event that his son is at. he can't help being away from his boy.

[overlordinavoid]

Psst

Hey, you wanna good fanfic that will make your silly heart cry?

No?

Too bad

Ok enough with that, there is this fic, thst i LOVE and one of my friendos made it and i love it so so much

I made some art of it and i wanted to share it, because i reread the fic and holy fuck i just love it

IMAGINE CONTAINS SPOILERS

Ok, here is the fic, if you like angst and having your heart weep, then you will like this!

[baby-grayson]

Your New (Fake) Boyfriend|| Wilbur Soot x Reader

Blurb: When some jerk starts hitting on you at a coffee shop, you lean on Wilbur, the nearest kind looking face, for assistance. (a/n: catcalling)

“Could I have a medium cappa-” 

“OH MY GOD!” a voice cried out from outside the door to the coffee shop. You whipped your head around to see a tall, gangly blonde boy talking into a camera and walking into the coffee shop. He was accompanied by a statuesque, older boy with floppy brown hair and wireframe glasses. With them, was a fair-skinned older man who was shushing the blonde boy as they passed through the threshold. 

You turned back to the cashier, “Sorry- urm, medium cappuccino with oat milk, to go please?”

You paid and then moved aside to wait for your order as the raucous trio behind you moved up to the counter. 

You found a place to park yourself, listening to the sound of milk steamers and teapots go off in the kitchen while the rambunctious blonde boy was once again scolded by his companies for asking for ‘cum’ in his coffee. 

“looking good tday” the voice was low and grumbly, you nearly didn’t register it. “i said looking good today,” a rather rotund man took a step toward you. 

You looked up to see a pair of beady eyes peeking through from under a bushy set of eyebrows on a bright red face. 

You nodded in acknowledgment and went back to your phone.  

“Bitch,” he grumbled, taking a step toward you.

It was at this point you noticed that most of the other coffee shop patrons had made an effort to distance themselves from the episode. 

You started cussing in your head. He stepped toward you again, “y’know i’m a bitch tamer baby.” 

Your eyes flickered in front of you, landing on the tall older boy with the wireframe glasses. You silently wished for fortune and reached out a hand, grabbing at his elbow. He immediately looked down, startled at the gesture.  “Hey, baby, what time did we have to be at the train...babe?” Your words ran together in a nervous blunder. You looked up to catch his eyes, hoping he could see the worry and desperation in yours. It was then you realized how tall and and grand his presence was. 

The man behind you started murmuring things under your breath. Your eyes widened at the boy as your fingers gripped at his forearm. 

Through a miracle, he used his other arm to shuffle in towards him, between him and his other two friends. “I think a half an hour, but we should get there early.....sweetie.” The last was slow and coaxed out of his mouth in a way that made you want to laugh.

Hearing him speak to man must have convinced your unwanted caller that his attempts were futile, as the sulked into the corner of the room and stopped bothering you. 

When you felt sure that he was gone, you sighed deeply, “I’m so sorry,” you started, “I didn’t want to bother you, I didn’t mean to-” 

“It’s alright,” his voice started calmly, “glad I could help.”

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him and was glad to see him sharing the expression, looking at your with kind eyes. 

“Do you want to have your coffee with us? You can stay if you’d like.” 

“Oh no, I shouldn’t, but thank you.” You then realized you were still holding onto his wrist, “Oh, sorry,” you let go. “Is that,” you bit at your lip, “is that normal? Sorry again, I just moved here.” 

He shook his head, “It’s not, proper weird actually. Sorry if you just arrived, that’s not normal.”

You nodded, feeling somewhat reassured that your new friend quelled some of your nerves. 

“Where are you from?” he asked curiously, “I’m Will by the way.” 

“I’m Y/N. I’m from the States, just moved in down the road.”

The rude man stepped up to get his coffee order from the counter, eyeing you and Will closely. You responded but shuffling in closer to Will, to the point where there was nearly no space between your chests. 

“Will?” you mewed.

He looked down at your sweetly, “yes.” 

“Can you walk me to my door? It’s just down the block.” 

“Of course, I will.” 

As Will escorted you out of the coffee shop and down the street, you kept your eyes glued to the floor in some parts fear and some parts embarrassment. Will hovered close to you, trying to keep a respectful but protective presence. He opened the door for you and you smiled up at him as you walked through it. 

When you both were out of earshot, Tommy looked at Phil and spoke with his mouth full of croissant, “why’d will look like a tomato?”

Phil chuckled, “I’ll tell you when you’re older.” 

[yawnzzznnn]

Fuck wilbur soot

[kaz-oooo]

Going back to my roots for today’s Novem-bur fic and doing some classic DSMP :)

In short Revivebur (begrudgingly) babysits Michael… it goes better than you’d expect.

(Tags under cut)

[nikaizkool]

Wilbur and/or quackity as husbands?? Separate

Wilbur would be so sweet bro, taking care of you and literally loving you so much. After you two got married you moved in together and he bought you a gift everyday for a year, “happy one day being married to me!” He’d squeal and hug you so tightly and cuddle with you the rest of the day. And he’d still be in disbelief “are we seriously married? Wow…” he’d always take you out shopping and buy you everything you glance at, it dosent matter what, a pocket knife? Sure. A expensive dress? Sure. Everything in sephora? Anything for you fr.

Quackity and you argued for a day and then cuddled the next. (Angry sex 🫣) he’d be nonstop giggling and bragging to his friends and chat that he got married. Literally inlove with you, actually SWOONING bro that’s how much he loves you. He’d be sneaking up behind you and hugging you, pressing kisses to your neck smiling and telling you how much he loves you. He’d smile every day and renew your vows.

[deejayrockz]

PAIRING — sickbur x reader

SUMMARY — wilbur gets sick and wants nothing except from your cuddles, despite his fever

NOTES — fluff, mentions of illness (nothing serious, but may mention being sick, coughing, etc). slight angst, if you count wilbur being ill as angst. lowercase is on purpose. mentions of being shirtless, however you can pretend you're not if you wish !!

EXTRA — i'm currently i'll and watching matpats fnaf lore, really wanting cuddles 💔💔

he woke up, around 3am, in a coughing fit. his head felt heavy, and his vision disappeared for a good 2 minutes when he stood up to get water. once he regained his vision, he slowly went to the kitchen, making sure to not let the door creak, as to not wake you.

"will?" he jumped, almost dropping his glass of water. he turned, seeing you in your pyjamas, turning the kitchen light on.

"sorry, did i wake you?" he whispered, his voice croaky, causing him to clear his throat, which then led to another small coughing fit.

"are you alright?" you asked, your previous tiredness soon disappearing out of worry. you walked over, rubbing a hand up and down his back, leaning your head on the back of his shoulder.

he soon relaxed, leaning his head into your shoulder, placing his glass down, and wrapping his arms around your waist.

"what's the matter?" you asked, kissing his head, feeling the heat radiate off his skin.

"i feel like shit.." he whispered,his body practically fully slumped onto yours.

"okay, you head to bed, i'll find something for you," you cradled his cheek, as he lifted his head and nodded. he soon kissed your cheek and headed back to the bedroom.

the minute you came back, orange juice (for Vitamin C) and some biscuits (simply for his probably empty stomach) in your hand, he waited impatiently as you placed the glass down, before dragging you next to him and clinging onto you tightly.

you giggled, running a hand through his slightly sweaty hair, "can you drink some of the juice for me?"

he nodded and obliged, taking small sips of the drink, leaving the biscuits, claiming he wasn't hungry right now.

he placed the glass down, wrapping his arms around your waist, head tucked into your neck.

"will, sweetheart, you're burning up, atleast take some of your layers off". you sighed, pushing him off of you, and pulling on his jumper.

"only if you do," he said, however had already started taking his jumper off. you laughed, taking off your top as well, leaving you in a vest and him with nothing on his upper half.

"come here, let's get you to sleep."

he happily jumped back into your arms, his head snuggled into your chest, hands drawing small circles on your hips.

being shirtless infront of your partner was one thing, but being naked was another. the intimate, yet not quite sexual, feeling of being skin to skin while cuddling, warmed up his heart like no other.

he knew you were the one, when he didn't feel uncomfortable being vulnerable around you. when he could change infront of you, without feeling judgemental eyes. he had fully let his guard down, let all his insecurities be on display for you to kiss and cherish for the rest of your life.

[gizmo-writes]

angel shot | wilbur soot

I saw a tiktok about angels shots then came up with this idea lol

You stood in the crowded bar, heart racing. You pushed through the crowd making your way to the bar. You stood besides a tall man, you noted his curly brown hair and glasses. He was smiling, drink in hand as he talked to who you were assuming was his friend. You tried to flag down the bartender, a bald man covered in tattoos. "Hello?" You called out, trying to get his attention but you were waved off. The tall man besides you looked down at you, "everything okay?" He asked, British accent evident in his voice. "I-I need the bartender," you said, voice shaking as you looked around the bar. "What'd you need? I Can order it for you," he said.

You didn't know this man but he seemed genuinely nice so you told him, "I need an angel shot," part of you hoped he had no idea what it was so you could keep what was happening on the down low, but the way his face fell.. he knew what an angel shot meant. He sat down his drink, "okay, okay. I'll get the bartender. Is whoever it is close?" He asked, looking around the bar. You nodded, "the guy with the yellow hat.. he's been following me around all night and I-I want to leave but when I headed towards the door he followed me." You explained. The tall man nodded, staring down the other man in the yellow cap. "Okay, my names Wil by the way. Just stay close alright?" Wilbur said, placing a hand on the small of your back and moving you to stand in front of him. With any other man you would've felt trapped, stuck between the bar and him, but he seemed so nice, so gentle that you didn't mind. He flagged down the bartender, immediately getting his attention. "Hey man, can we get an angel shot," he said, motioning towards you. The bartender nodded, "who is it wil?" He asked. Oh, so he knew the bartender. "Guy in the yellow cap, been following her around all night." Wilbur explained. "I'll get it handled, anything else?" He asked and Wilbur looked down at you. "Can- can you call me a cab?" You asked. "A cab? No no, let me take you home. Cabs aren't safe. Listen, i have a driver i Can call up." Wilbur explained to you. You looked at him confused, a driver? What the hell did ge mean? Was he famous? Rich? "A driver?" You asked. "Yeah, yeah.. so I'm part of this band. We have a driver we can call up to get us places. I Can call him, make sure you get home safe." He offered. Well, might as well.

Wilbur called up his driver, walking you out of the bar once he pulled up. He helped you into the car, "okay, the driver has your address. Here's my number, call me when you get home, okay?" Wilbur said handing you a piece of paper with his number on it. "Oh, thank you so much. Do you need- do i pay you?" You asked. Wilbur chuckled, "no need, it's on me. Just call me when you're home. Okay?" He said. "Okay," you smiled. And with that you went home.

[ghostiexe]

Teacher AU!Wilbur x Reader

hello fellas i'm back with another wilbur fic he has been all i can think about for the past several days. take this

wordcount: 1,461 (part 1/?)

as always this is not proof read sorry lads

part 2 here

Being a teacher is not the job you thought you’d end up with when you were doing career planning in 12th grade, but here you stand. 

Back in the same high school you swore never to return to. 

Oh, well, then. At least you have mediocre pay and little to no benefits, right?

You sigh and drop a box onto the desk in your mostly empty classroom. It’s bare and almost liminal in a sense, and you can't help but feel creeped out. 

You step back from the desk and examine the room with your hands on your hips for a moment before shaking your head. This setup is awful, you decide. Time to change it up a bit. 

You get to work pushing desks across the room, trying to ignore the screeching of metal against linoleum. You’re already sweating and it’s only been a couple minutes since you made the decision to completely change the room. 

You huff softly as you drag another desk, having two of the legs lifted slightly off the ground. Suddenly, you lose your grip on it, and it falls directly onto your foot. 

“Fuck!” You exclaim, yanking your foot out from under it and pulling your leg up protectively, bouncing slightly as you try to keep your balance with your one foot on the ground. Suddenly, you hear a soft knock on your doorframe and you whip your head around to see who it is. 

You’re met with the sight of a concerned looking, very, very tall man. He has a mess of curly brown hair and glasses that are too big for his face, though you can’t help but think they suit him. “Um… Are you alright?” He asks, gesturing to your foot, which you realize you’re still holding. Your face flushes and you put your foot back down on the ground, tucking your hair, embarrassed. 

“Yes, I’m okay.” You assure him, laughing awkwardly. “Sorry, uh, for my language.” You apologize, and he cracks a small smile. 

“It’s okay.” He assures you, leaning against the doorframe. “Is this your first year teaching?” He asks, sounding genuinely curious as he looks you up and down. You nod. 

“Yeah, it is.” You admit, starting to drag the desk again. The man winces at the sound. “Do you need help?” He asks, and you nod instantly. 

“Yes please.” You say, sighing in relief. He walks over and lifts the other side of the desk, following your lead when you take it to the corner of the room. He clears his throat as the both of you work. 

“So, I assume you’re the new English teacher, then…?” He asks, and you nod, stepping back to look at your now rearranged room. You hum softly in approval of the sight. 

“Uh, yeah, I am.” You say, realizing you haven’t introduced yourself. You wipe your palms on your pants and reach out, offering your name and a handshake. He accepts. 

“I’m Wilbur.” He introduces himself. “Though you’ll have to refer to me as Mr. Soot in front of the kids, I suppose.” He says, shrugging. You smile gently. 

“Well, Mr. Soot, I appreciate the help.” You tell him, and he nods, glancing away and then back to you, looking a little shy. 

“It’s no problem, really.” He mumbles, scratching the back of his head. Your attention is drawn toward his outfit, then, and you let out a startled laugh. 

“Is that The Front Bottoms? No way, I love them.” You say. He looks a little surprised, but nods eagerly. 

“It is! You like them?” He asks, the nervousness slipping away slightly. “Yeah, of course!” You say, beaming up at him. “I’ve seen them in concert twice.” Wilbur groans at the news. 

“Unfair, I’ve been wanting to see them for forever.” He says with a small pout. You giggle. “Well, I wish you luck on getting tickets.” You say, lazily saluting. He laughs softly. 

“Well, now I’m glad I wore this shirt today.” He says. “You’ll probably not see me in it again for a while, I don’t dress casually on school days.” He says, crossing his arms and leaning against your wall. You hum. 

“Oh? And what do you teach, again?” You ask, and he sighs. “Oh, God, good question. Well, I’m supposed to be the History and Geography teacher, but the board found out I can play instruments, so now I’m supposed to be teaching a combined history-slash-music class. I had to plan the whole class in a month.” He complains, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation. You wince. 

“Yikes. That sounds interesting, though. How did you manage that? Is it, like, just exploring the history of music?” You ask, and he nods.

“Yeah, pretty much.” He admits, rubbing his arm. “It’s probably gonna be a shit class, since I barely had time to put anything together.” He says with a sigh. “But I’m supposedly the ‘boring’ teacher anyway, so it’s not like I have a reputation to uphold anyway.” He says sarcastically. You frown. 

“Boring? You don’t seem boring to me, why do they think you’re boring?” You ask, genuinely bewildered. He winces. 

“Ah, well, I was a new teacher last year, so my lessons were very, uh, by the book, I guess you could say. I didn’t really put any of my own spins on the lessons or anything because I was too focused on trying to drill information into their brains.” He says, sounding a little embarrassed. “Ahh, I see.” You say sympathetically, nodding. “Well, what do you have planned for this year?” You ask, gesturing for him to come sit at your desk with you. You grab one of the plastic chairs for yourself and let him sit in your spinning chair. 

“Well, I’ve been trying to think of ways to spice geography up, so I found a couple games I thought might be interesting to have them play in class.” He says, tapping on his chin thoughtfully as he sits back in your chair, looking up at the ceiling. “I might have them playing Geoguessr.” He says, resting his hands on his lap. “Oh, that sounds fun!” You say, clapping your hands lightly. “I wish I could do something like that for my class.” You say. 

He turns his gaze back to you. “Well, what grade are you teaching English for?” He asks. “Because if you’ve got freshmen and sophomores, I’d say it’s probably not the best idea, but if you’ve got the juniors and seniors, you could definitely do something with them.” You nod. “I’m teaching for juniors and seniors, actually. But I have a senior creative writing class, too.” Wilbur looks pleased at the news. “Oh, really? What’ve you got planned for creative writing?” He asks, smiling softly. “I always like seeing what the students come up with, some of the kids from last year were actually really good.” He says. You smile back. 

“Well, I’ve planned a unit on the butterfly effect, but I also want to do some poetry next term.” You say, tucking your hair behind your ear and gently tapping your fingers on the desk. Wilbur hums thoughtfully. 

“Well, poetry could be fun. I’m a shit poet, honestly, but I mean, at least they make for good song lyrics?” He says, wincing slightly before waving his hand to dismiss the topic. “That will be fun, though, I think. Is it an elective or required class?”

“Just an elective.” You respond, tucking away the comment about song lyrics for later. You still your hands and place them flat on the desk. “Thankfully. I don’t know if I could force a bunch of uninterested kids into actually doing the work if it was required.” You say, shaking your head. He makes a sympathetic sound. “Yeah, I understand. Sometimes I wish that I taught more elective classes, but there’s not really many history or geography related electives I would be eligible to teach, anyway.” He says, chuckling to himself. “Maybe if the kids drive me crazy enough I’ll just give up and have ‘em watch Crash Course videos for the whole class.” He jokes, and you giggle softly. 

“If only, if only.” You say, sighing dramatically. After a pause �� a few moments of comfortable silence – you speak up again, clearing your throat. 

“So how’s the cafeteria food here? Any good? I mean, when I went to school here it sucked, any developments?” You ask. “Oh, you went here for high school?” He asks, before shaking his head. “Unfortunately no, by the way. What year did you graduate? I graduated in ‘18.” He says, pushing his large glasses up. 

“Oh, I graduated in 2019. We’re only a year apart, that’s cool.” You say, then glance at the time. “Shit, it’s nearly five.” You say, frowning. “I need to finish setting up my room.” You say, standing up and sighing. He nods in understanding. “That’s alright, I’ll leave you to it.” He says, standing up too. “Unless you need help, still?” You shoot him a grateful smile but shake your head. “No, it’s alright. Thank you, though. For helping, and for keeping me company. I’ll, uh, see you around?” You ask, and he nods. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll make sure to drop by your classroom.” He says, running a hand through his curls. “And, um, don’t hesitate to reach out if you need anything.” He adds, sounding a bit shy. 

“Of course, thank you so much, Wilbur.” You say, grateful you’ve got someone to talk to now. You smile at him, though it looks a bit exhausted. “I’ll see you Monday.” 

“I’ll see you Monday.” He agrees, waving at you before stepping out and walking down the hall to his own room. The second he walks away you have to take a moment to breath. 

What the fuck, he was cute.