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toiletwipes · 1 year ago

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Whenever I'm Alone (With You) | clinic!wilbur

MOUTH SO SWEETLY TELLING LIES — PART TWO

5k words. / [Two months after the festival you're left in the dust of what to do with yourself when you've been ghosted by a really cute guy. Depression hits and it's not a good mix.] [watch out for self-deprecation, slight suicidal ideation, kind of an unhealthy relationship brewing out of pain]

Part 1 — Masterlist

fic title from Lovesong by The Cure but the chapter title is from Cut by The Cure

thank you @drop-of-void for proof-reading!! and i'm tagging some lovely folks now. @sleeby-anon @loversj0y @struggling-with-delia @l0veb0mb1ng @boiled-onionrings

xxxx

After the first month, it’d been easy to slip into the same old routine. Wake up too early, stare at the wall until your alarm goes off, manage either the longest shower ever or brush your teeth, then go to work and come home exhausted. Maybe eat. Stare at the wall a little more, go to bed. Music was optional.

And Seff wasn’t having it after the second.

“If men do this to you, then they don’t deserve you.” You grunted, listening to him ramble as you sat on the couch, arms feeling like noodles as you fold towels that sat on your bed a little too long, with Seff mopping your floor, the rugs rolled up and against the wall. The room smelt like fabuloso. “I’m serious. They don’t get to have a great night, express that they want to get to know you more, exchange numbers and then do jackshit with it.” He stops mopping, opting to lean against the length of it, eyes staring straight at you. You don’t make contact.

“Well it’s not up to me what they do, remember?” It’s hard not to be mean about this, you’re all too aware that when men do this, it’s not your fault. (...Entirely.)

“Vividly.” He says, before finishing up the last corner and putting the mop back in the bucket and putting it off by the laundry room. When he joins you, you’re halfway done. He helps you with the rest of the towels, getting you off the couch and forcing you to tuck the towels into the cabinets. When you get back almost ten minutes later, you find the living room fan turned on high and the floor drying faster, Seff himself back on the couch with gummy candy. He offers some to you when you join him on the couch. You dig a hand into the bag and pop them into your mouth, chewing on them as you let the cleanliness of the place wash over you.

“Doing anything feels like I’m moving through- through a thick goo, like tar. And I can’t get out of it.” The words come out only a smidge louder than a whisper but it was so loud between the two of you. Seff doesn’t say anything. So you continue. “It wasn’t… just him. It was all of those guys. Like, how could all of them have one night and change their mind so fast, like it wasn’t real for any of them.” But it was him. He was the last straw. He made the choice to come up to you and spend the last of the festival with you, it was him that wanted your number. It was all him and then- and then- tears prick your eyes again.

And it was him again, ghosting you, just like the others. They were so different from each other, how could they all do the same thing? There had to be a reason and the only logical one is that it was you. They regretted what they did, what they said, and they regret you.

You feel the hazy feeling wash over you, the tar-like substance coating your limbs and mind as Seff hums, wrapping an arm around you. He knew you so well, you wondered why he stayed. “They’re jackasses, don’t forget that, no matter how nice they were or how they smiled at you, they decided that being a coward was easier, it had nothing to do with you.” You nod, not really listening… but still, it’s a little nice to hear the words. Even if they didn’t stick like they should’ve.

He rubs your shoulder, offering you more candy and letting it sit in his lap when you decline. “Here, let’s finish up cleaning and then you hop in the shower. Vick wants you over for dinner tonight, she’s making your favorite, okay?” You nod, Vick was always so nice and sweet to you, snarky towards her husband. And on good days it didn’t hurt to be around them, to see them in love like crazy people.

“How’d you do it?” You don’t recognize the words coming out of your mouth, foreign and sickly tasting. He hums, sighing as he breathes out while he looks around the apartment.

“How’d I do what?” He asks.

“How’d you know it was her, I mean, you guys moved so fast, how did you- just- how?” Words failed you and you wanted answers but even on autopilot, you’re unsure of what you want to know. Of what you want to hear.

Silence grows as he mulls over the answer. Then he starts standing, getting you up on your feet with him, speaking as he pushes you to the shower, “I’ll tell you when you’re done, how about that?” He smiles as you reach the middle of the tiled bathroom floor, turning to him helplessly as you shiver.

He’s about to close the door when you stop him, reaching out with a hand. He stands there, unmoving, eyes moving up to meet yours and you gulp.

“Thanks.”

He smiles and he shuts the door with a click.

You undress, making no attempts to look at the mirror as you step into the shower, closing the curtains. The water hits your scalp and you try to picture your ails being washed away with the oils in your hair. You try to follow your old routine as best as you can but when thirty minutes pass and all you have to show for it is clean hair and nothing else, you turn the shower off. You’ll take a win where you can. You don’t entirely know it’s been thirty minutes to be fair, but when the water turns from hot to cold you can take the hint it’s time to get out.

Getting dressed and drying your hair with a shirt, you exit your room to find Seff on the couch, finishing the bag of gummy candy off. The corner of your lips twitch up as you toss the shirt at his head, snorting when he shouts and somehow falls onto the ground. “And after all that I’ve done for you!” He says as he wrenches the shirt off his head, throwing it right back at you. “I’ve rolled the rugs out AND I’ve got your bag and keys, and this is the thanks I get?!” A small smile plays on your face, wrapping your arm around his neck in a limp headlock as he continues to mumble about how unfair it was.

“Come on, you big baby, let’s get you back home to Vick,” and at the mention of his wife, he perks right up, handing your things over as he rushes to the door. You follow after him but as you lock the bottom lock, you hear a banging on your window. Your head snaps to the living room, just barely catching the dimmed blue sky of the night, nothing to be seen in the glass. You’d check it out but then you hear Seff call for your name. Turning away, you finish locking your door, following your best friend down the stairs and breathing in and out as your thoughts try to race ahead of you. Despite the genuine fear of a burglar… you couldn’t be bothered to worry too hard about it. One, there wasn’t a thing you could do now, pulling the seat belt over you as Seff started the engine. Two, and you’re sure it’s a bad thought but your mental health has never been known to be particularly okay, but you almost hope there’s somebody waiting for you. Whether they’d kill you immediately or to kidnap you, you’re clueless to which you want more, both are fine options. Maybe torture. Maybe you’d come out of this haze your mind seems to be stuck in.

You hardly notice the car parking, only when the door unlocks and you, automatically, take your seat belt off, opening the door and watching with blinking eyes as Vick, the beautiful woman she is, finds the two of you and hugs both at the same time. It’s a nice hug. Her soap smells nice. Makes you feel sleepy again.

Dinner is filled with laughs and despite your small fears, she doesn’t bring up Wilbur and she doesn’t bring up anybody and she doesn’t say that you deserve better. She just finds ways to make you laugh, make you gasp with the drama she’s heard, helps you with setting the table as Seff finishes off the toasted bread.

Wine is poured in your glass and Vick’s, juice for Seff. You quirk an eyebrow at him and he raises both in return, “what?” he asks as he lifts the fancy glass to his nose, swirling the liquid and then smelling it, with a satisfied nod.

“Pregnant?” He hangs his head in shame as Vick snorts, getting the salt and pepper from the kitchen.

“We wanted to be sure it was hers,” he sends a wink your way before beaming at Vick, accepting the bowl being passed for bread.

The night passes fast and before you can soak the warmth and happiness in for the long run, Seff is already dropping you off, double-checking that you’ll be okay for the weekend. “We’ll be at her mom’s place and you know her mom, middle of nowhere. No signal and—” you cut him off with a tight hug. He doesn’t say anything else until you let go. Until you’re sure the wine isn’t the only thing warm in your chest and belly. You’re slow to pull away but when you do, you walk backwards into your apartment, hand tight around the doorknob. The fear from before is back and though you know he has to leave, you wished he would stay. But that would mean asking. And you can’t ask that of him, not when he’s done so much for you already.

“See you when you get back.” He nods, tight-lipped.

“See you.” He starts the walk back to his car when you call out to him.

The words choke up in your throat but you manage to force them out, tasting bitter like vomit, “love you, be safe.” He parrots it back and tears blur your vision as you wave, watching as he disappears down the steps and then out of sight when his car drives away.

You swallow the lump in your throat, hoping you wouldn’t throw up on the floor after he mopped it, the fear of a familiar pit in your stomach as the door closes behind you. It’s quiet.

Way too quiet.

You turn your TV on, just loud enough to cover the ringing silence in your ears as you sit on the couch, not daring to check your bedroom or the kitchen for any intruders. You’re not sure what you want to find.

Head falling to your lap, phone open, your hand trembles as you press the icon for Wilbur’s contact. Despite him not answering before, you kept texting him and everyday it would stay on delivered, nothing would change. It felt maddening. Lonely. Desperate. You start typing a message out, speaking as your fingers moved, “Seff came over… helped clean and everything. I don’t know… where I’d be without… him.” Tears dripped onto your cheeks as you felt stupid and pathetic and- and- you couldn’t breathe, not around the sobs that escaped your mouth, covering it with one hand as you sent the message. He was just a guy and he only spent one night with you. It wasn’t even that special- you weren’t that special- why would he ever think-

It’s hard to focus but when the tears stop falling and you can breathe, at least through your mouth, you wipe the snot off with your sleeve.

Burglar be damned, you walk into the kitchen, tearing a paper towel off the roll and blowing your nose. It’s loud and it’s warm when you pull it away, groaning at the sight. “Fucking hell,” you mumble, tossing it into the trash.

The floor is cold beneath your feet walking back to the couch and when you sniff, you catch a whiff of that fabuloso again, pressing a hand to your forehead as you reach down to grab your phone. Your breath catches in your throat.

They’re- the messages- they’re not delivered anymore. He’s opened them. Thousands of emotions run through you in the matter of seconds. Air lodges itself in your throat, leaving you dizzy and unable to breathe as you think about it. Shame, humiliation. He’s seeing this pathetic, sad and lonely person vomit in his messages. Shock. Did he- did he lose his phone? Briefly angry, why couldn’t he just open it that night why did he have to wait till now? Staring down the phone screen, you can hardly recognize your thumb pressing on the call button. Without question, the cold press against your ear brings you to the moment, your mind clears of the haze as you’re forced to think, in milliseconds of a game plan. You thought of one over the last two months, wondered what you’d say to him, given the chance, but with your self-deprecating ass it was hard to think at all right now. Taking him back so quickly definitely was wrong, as was assuming he wanted you at all. Oh what to say?

As the call goes through and rings, hearing a vibrating noise outside the window you stiffen up. The one where you heard a noise from-

And the phone picks up, the vibration stops and all you can hear is the distant city noises, and perhaps the quietest panting you’ve heard. You approach the window, holding both hands at your phone, clutching as you whisper, “Wilbur?” Turning around until your back meets the wall beside it, you try to see if looking out would do anything. It doesn’t. It’s just as dark as it is inside of your living room, the only thing disturbing that inky blanket of darkness is your TV. You’re almost scared to turn it off. “Wilbur, what- are you there?” You didn’t know if you meant in general or right outside your fucking window but you can only imagine the answer when you see a phone drop onto the fire escape, a body falling to its knees, you can barely make out the silhouette. You drop your own phone when a hand smacks against the glass, dragging down as it smacks again and again. The shake in your hands makes it hard for you to flip the locks and you slide it up, just barely asking the question: just what in the hell are you doing??

But the hand falls off and a head of fluffy brown hair sticks in and he falls in with as much grace as a limp noodle, groaning all the way. You move him enough only to reach out and grab his phone, looking around to make sure nobody caught him sneaking in. You hope that in the case they do, they assume you’re only sneaking in a boyfriend— even if the assumption hurts to ache for.

“Fuck, Wilbur, what happened to you?” You hiss as you close the window, crouching as you help him sit against the wall, trying to look over him as his head rolls back. His eyes stare up at the ceiling as you look back at the window, catching sight of the red tint dragging down in the shape of his hand. Picking his wrist up, you do see the drying blood coating his skin. Your chest coils tight, thinking the worst of the worst. You try asking him what happened, where’s he hurt before his eyes drift down and find you, his face softening and a deep sigh rattles out of him, interrupted by a hiss and an attempt to press against his ribs. You need to call the ambulance, hell, take him to the hospital yourself but the way he’s sitting on your floor, already adjusting himself seems a little too… relaxed. As one can be relaxed when, no doubt, pain is at the forefront of your mind. “Wilbur, say something,” you beg with gritted teeth. You need a reason to not kick him out, to not pull him into your arms and kiss the wounds away no matter how tempting and how useless it would be. “Say something before I kill you myself.” And then he passes out.

You groan out in frustration, having caught his head in a panic when his body slumped over again and making a dive for the tile. “I cannot be doing this, Seff will kill me-” and then the sudden reminder, of oh yes, as of right now, you cannot call him. Despite more than likely being in the city together, you didn’t want him worrying over you again. You cannot keep doing that to him, he has a life of his own, Vick needs her husband and they’re going to visit her mom— and in your panic, a minute has passed and his head is still in your hand. You, out of nerves, started carding your free fingers through his hair, finding it… wet. You sniff close to his head and nearly groan again, yeah, his hair is wet with sweat.

You push his head back and reach around him, mumbling to yourself about how you should do it. Picking him up by the waist doesn’t do you any favors, neither does pulling on his arms. Bad idea in the first place. Sighing, you make a note to apologize later if he doesn’t die on you when you drag him to your room. It’s no question that he lies on your bed- after a towel has been laid out for him. If he’s bleeding, you don't want too big of a stain. You had considered leaving him on the floor… but then you couldn’t do it.

You check his arms, pushing his sleeves up and finding none of that. You check his head, nothing bleeding there. You take his shoes off but… that’s about all you do besides getting the first aid kit and setting it next to you, along with water and painkillers. If he was bleeding in the legs or chest or hell, even his feet, you needed him awake for that. And despite him literally being on your fire escape, which raises all sorts of questions mind you, you couldn’t undress him. You couldn’t.

After a few minutes, you shake his shoulder, giving his face a few smacks when he wakes up with a jolt, looking around until he finds you and then he groans, clutching at his side again, eyes shut tight. Then he tries to sit up. “Hey slow down there,” you say, holding onto his shoulder when it seemed he would stand up.

“Please, I should-” he swallows and you despise yourself for looking at his throat move, “I should go.”

“You shouldn’t be moving at all, now where’s the blood?” You speak fast, hoping to hide the shake in your voice if you were mean about it. He tried to fight you on it but when you pushed on his chest, stepping between his legs, he couldn’t move, head flung back as he tried to reel the grunts of pain in, trying to be quiet. “If you needed the hospital- or- or a clinic, you should’ve gone there first. But you didn’t, so you’re gonna tell me what’s hurting so I can help you.” He lays limp on your bed, unable to look at you as his mouth dropped open and snapped shut several times. “If you don’t tell me where it hurts, I’m going to stab you and then stitch you up myself and then throw you out my window so fucking- say something.”

It’s silent. Until it wasn’t. “Everywhere,” he rasped, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. “It hurts everywhere. I can’t-” he gasps, hand coming up to where your own still processes, in the middle of his chest and over yours“-think.” You retract your hand immediately, backing up as you give him space. Space for yourself.

“Is there anything bleeding?” You ask and when he shakes his head, you think back to the clear blood on his hands, on your window. It doesn’t add up but taking it with a generous fistful of salt, you want to scream. “Okay- okay. Fuck.”

In the end, you have him sit up, half-apologizing for the pain and the other of you lets him have it, he can handle it just this once. He could’ve called, he could’ve texted, anything, but no, he had to wait until he was literally too hurt to move.

“Did you break anything?” You ask, digging through the first-aid kit while you waited for him to take his shirt off, “because with the way you’re bitching about these bruises—”

“—bitching?” He cuts you off, shirt halfway over his head.

“— yes, bitching, you’re not bleeding, if anything was broken you would’ve, surely, gone to a clinic. A healer, just, fucking anybody. No, you had to come to me.” You say, pulling out the self-adherent wrap and opening it up, unable to fault yourself in finding a battered, bare-chested Wilbur on your bed and losing your voice for it. The hair on his chest that leads down his stomach that leads further down into his pants… you breathe in as he himself is quiet. Starting at his ribs, you have him hold it down as you begin wrapping it around his torso, dedicated to ignoring the heat of his skin, how close you are to him. How you have to stand with one leg between his and lean into his space.

With each go-around, you make sure it’s not too tight, just enough to keep pressure and when you tape it down, you have him lay back down, gathering the first-aid kit to put on the nightstand. Heading into the kitchen for an ice-pack. In the middle of making one in a ziploc bag, you wonder what the fuck you’re doing. You’re patching up a guy who fell into your living room after having ghosted you for two months.

You want to be mad at yourself, you want to punish yourself so badly for letting him in so easily.

“Listen, I just wanted to say—” he says when you walk in and you couldn’t help yourself, you chucked it at the bed and snatched the throw blanket on your dresser, ignoring any other attempts at conversation.

“Get some rest, don’t call for me unless that bag is melted.” You say over your shoulder, closing your bedroom door shut and you can’t help the pathetic slide down against it. Tears try to fall but you wipe them furiously. He does not get to wander in and fuck everything up. For goodness’ sake, you’ve just mopped.

Setting up camp on your couch, you lie down with the knowledge that yeah your neck will be shit in the morning, but you don’t care. You don’t care. It won’t matter in the morning because in the morning, he’ll be okay enough to get up and stand somewhat straight and maybe without help and he’ll insist on leaving. That’s just how it’ll go. He’ll say he never meant to end up on your fire escape and in the morning, he’ll apologize for taking up your bed. Because that’s just how it’ll go. And then he’ll go. And you’ll never see him again.

That’s how it’s going to be. It’ll never be anything more. You sniffle, can’t even stop crying for a night. How fucking useless. You bury your head into the throw pillow and shiver under the thin blanket. It’ll be over soon. It’ll be over and he’ll be gone and you can pretend that you never intended on letting someone murder you. You can pretend that you’re normal and pretend everything is okay. Breathing out, you let sleep fall over you.

You rub the ache in your neck, grimacing as you flip another pancake, successfully burning it. It goes onto a stack of burnt pancakes. Turning off the stove, you don’t even pull butter or the syrup out of the fridge. Maybe your bitterness will fade away with time… maybe you’ll be able to look back in time and say, it’s okay. It just wasn’t meant to be. For right now, you get to be petty and serve your bruised guest burnt food.

Opening your bedroom door, you halt in your footsteps; finding him fast asleep. The ice-pack is nowhere to be found. A sigh falls out of your mouth, the sound of the plate that knocks against the dresser is almost as loud as your defeat. You take the blanket you’d slept with and drape it over him, tucking the edges under him. The idiot slept on top of the cover. Standing up straight, you look at him. This is the first time you’ve seen him in two months, and you feel hopeless. He looks so peaceful, so handsome, so pretty, so helpless you can’t help but want to stay. But he’s hurt you. No matter what he has to say.

You breathe in deep before turning to leave and you would’ve made it out the door had he not reached out for you, grasping your wrist with cold fingers. You shiver under his touch as his head falls to the side, his hair falling into his closed eyes. “What you do to me is cruel,” you whisper, sliding down to the floor and letting him hold your wrist. You don’t know how much I regret meeting you and you don’t know how much I cherish meeting you at all.

It takes twenty minutes for him to wake up, two minutes after that for him to let go. You stand up, throwing a new shirt at him. This one happened to be completely oversized and old for you, perfect for him. “Get dressed and eat, I’m either taking you to a hospital or a healer you know, fifteen minutes.” You don’t give yourself time to loiter in the room, you don’t give him time to explain himself. (You know that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t mean to ghost you but let’s be real, you’re you. And he’s Wilbur. The math isn’t adding up. He just wasn’t that interested.)

About ten minutes after you walk out of your room, he stumbles out, gripping onto the walls and he groans with his mouth closed. You don’t let him see your flustered face at the sound, just walking out and letting him follow you to the stairs. You pull one of his arms over your shoulders and make a point not to talk to him, even when he tries to get you to let go. Saying all about how he can walk on his own and stairs are no problem… you couldn’t resist it though, he was pretty insistent that he’d be okay and maybe you’re still upset. You let go and watch as he falls down one step, catching him before he scraped himself up even more.

“And you said you had it under control.” You mutter and you can see he wants to say more but you send him a look that has him clenching his jaw again.

“Look, you don’t need to take me to a hospital.” He begins after the two of you are settled in your car.

“So you know a healer?” You turn to him, giving him a blank stare.

“Well- maybe- I-” he stumbles over his words as you start the engine.

“You have very limited options right now. Either I take you to someone who will help you or I will dump your ass on the front step of the nearest doctor. Pick one.” His jaw sets and you make it a point to stare ahead as he gives you directions.

In no time, you find yourself in front of an apartment building, helping him get out of the car and into the lobby. You barely helped him into the elevator before turning to leave, watching as he leaned against the elevator doors. He stumbled over his words again.

“I couldn’t text you. I wanted to, so badly.” He says, with the wettest eyes known to man.

“So you’re telling me, you saw I was texting, couldn’t respond for some mysterious reason and you expect me to tell you it’s okay?”

“I’m not saying it was.”

“Two months, Wilbur, you left me alone for two months.” You say, throwing it out there and he wants to say more, you can see it so clearly. You can see he wants to say why, wants to tell you everything. His big, sad eyes stare you down, tears close to falling. You look behind you, holding onto the elevator doors as you lean closer into the enclosed space. “And we’re only talking because you showed up at my window, bruised to hell and back with someone’s blood on your hands. Talk to me when you’re healed. Because yeah, I have questions. And if you can’t answer them when you’ve healed up, just go back to ignoring me. It worked perfectly fine for the both of us, didn’t it?” You don’t know why you said any of that, bitterness and hurt chokes you up, your words coming out stilted or too fast. Because no way in any version of reality were you okay. You wanted the truth. You wanted to know exactly what went wrong that night for him to ignore you.

And if he’s being honest with you right now, you’re not sure what to make of it.

But you’ve said your piece and the first tear falls down his cheek. So you lean in, palm smacking the button for the doors to close. You don’t wait a second before turning around and heading back to your car. Breaking down right in front of it.

You were so far from being okay, so, so fucking far.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #c: wilbur #c: wilbur soot #eggplicit #<- i go a little nuts at the thought of chest hair my bad #and stomach hair..... a happy.. happy trail sjghsghs #ANYWAYS!#c: clinicbur #au: clinic #c: sirenbur #gender neutral reader

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bursonafied · 10 months ago

Note

Vampire simpbur would be most pathetic loser ever I think maybe

-🍡 anon !! :3

OHH MY GOSH YES!! He would be so pathetic and cold all the time… he would just want you to hold him so he could feel warm… and probably some of your blood too

I love him sm :(

ALSOOOO sorry it’s late! I got busy with classes and other things… I’m working on all requests! I have a doc with all of them on it and I’ll do my best to post one at least once a week. :)

Thank you soso much to my friend honey-with-tea for helping me come up with ideas and inpso for my piece :)

Warnings: blood, biting

Pairing: vamp!wilbur x gn!reader

Pronouns: you/yours

*not proofread*

"Please, y/n…” Wilbur begs, following you around the dim flat like a lost puppy. Ever since he’d revealed to you that he was a vampire, (crazy, right?), he would not stop pestering you. “Just a taste!” He would whine, wanting nothing more than a taste of you. your blood would be like liquid rubies to him. Like a fine wine of the highest cost.

The juxtaposition between his height and his intimidating energy was pretty comedic. Standing at a solid 5’4 seemingly made him even more pathetic. He looked like he should be taller, right?

“No! I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I swear to god, Wilbur. I had a long day at work. Someone’s dog threw up on me after waking up from surgery.” You complain, hurrying to your room to change out of your work clothes, putting on a pair of comfy pajama pants and a t-shirt. You shut the door behind you, and Wilbur just whines behind it. “Seriously?” He groans and you can her him stomp away. You step out of your room, running your fingers through your hair. your room was the only place you could get privacy in your shared place.

Wilbur is immediately beside you again.

“You’re.. pathetic.” You mumble to him. He rolls his eyes yet still follows you. He figured that bothering you would be the only way to get you to say yes. You go to the kitchen to start your dinner, and while Wilbur can eat things other than blood, but nothing could satiate his hunger for it. you start up a pot of water, taking out the pasta and sauce, then grab some frozen meatballs from the freezer. It was a simple meal and you were too tired to make something complicated. As you stir in the pasta, you feel Wilbur creep up behind you, his arms snaking around your waist. You freeze for a moment, but sigh loudly as you feel his breath on the side of your neck. He could practically hear the blood flowing through your veins. You shake your head.

“Wilbur.” You say sternly. “Don’t you dare bite me.” He listens to that much. Instead, he leans close and licks a stripe up your neck, stopping up by your ear. You shiver beneath his touch and turn your head.

“What? I listened.” He speaks in a low, snarky tone. You glance down to his mouth. his fangs. If he wasn’t a vampire that wanted to drain you of your life, maybe you’d be attracted to him. Maybe you already were, and just refused to believe it.

“You’re a pain.” “You love me.” You share a short exchange before it falls silent again. “Whatever.” You add before stirring the pasta, allowing it to boil. You cook the rest of your dinner and happily plate it, eager to dig in. You make a plate for Wilbur, just in case. You hear some light chuckles from Will before he turns to sit at the table.

Now, a few minutes later, you two sit silently at the table. You scroll through social media as you eat. Wilbur sort of pushes the food around on the plate and nibbles on a meatball, but his gaze is mostly on you.

He watches your neck, the way it moves when you swallow. The way your collarbones seemed so prominent and bite-able. He scratches at his hands, his nails scratching harshly along his skin to leave red marks. He was hungry, starving! He could barely contain it! He stares at you for a second before he stands up, the chair he sat in flies back and bangs against the wall.

“I’ll be back!” He shouts, hurrying to the bathroom. You watch him for a moment, then hesitantly turn back to your food. Suddenly, you’re not hungry. You dump the plate as well as Wilbur’s, since you know damn well he wouldn’t eat any of that. Meanwhile, Wilbur stares into the sink as his stomach cramps, he turns on the cold water and runs it over his pale hands, then splashes it over his face. He stands up and stares at himself. His hunger only increased. He would grow weaker if he continued to refuse to eat even mortal food. Would he have to resort to his vampiric tendencies and go out during the night, scouring the streets for any poor soul who happened to be alone and were weak and too nervous to fight back? Or, would you finally give in? It wasn't that hard! Was it? No! Wilbur groans. He shuts off the sink and takes a breath before slapping himself lightly to psych himself out. “Come on Wilbur. Be better, fuckin’ creep.” He mutters to himself before going back out to the living room, where you’re sat on the couch.

“Sorry! Had an emergency!” He smiles at you, but you only blink a few times out of confusion and stand up. “What happened…? You were fine five minutes ago.” “Oh! You know. Drank a lot of water today.” He lies, and you easily catch on. Curse you for paying such close attention to him. “You never drink water, you damn liar.” You cross your arms and shift your weight on your feet. Wilbur gulps, shaking his head. “I felt like it today.” “God you think I’m stupid.” You scoff with a disbelieving laugh. “What?? When did I ever say I thought you’re stupid?” Wilbur shakes his head, eyebrows furrowing with confusion. “You didn’t have to say it!” You retort, “You thinking your lie would work said enough.” You cross your arms over your chest and Wilbur puts his hands up in defense. “Okay, whatever. Sorry.” He mumbles. “It’s always sorry with you. Either sorry or, ‘can I please have some of your blood? Can I please have a taste? Just a bit?” Wilbur seems to shrink into himself and his face flushes, if that was even possible for him. Could vampires blush? “It’s pathetic and embarrassing! I don’t get it. Maybe the fact you—“ You pause and take a long breath.

“Wilbur.” You say after a long silence. There was only one way to get him to stop begging, and that was just to give him what he wanted. He looks up from his shameful slump and looks at you. “…yeah?” His voice is as small as his height. What a loser. “Shut the fuck up, and I’ll let you,, um, I’ll let you.. feed.” Wilbur’s eyes instantly light up. He nods rapidly and does his silly little hand-flaps he does when excited. “Yes! Really?? Oh, thank you!I’ll never ask again!!” He says, absolutely elated that you finally agreed. You take a deep breath and approach him, his eyes glimmering. “Just... don’t make it awkward.” You practically beg, not wanting it to be weird as he quite literally feeds of your blood. What am I saying,,, of course it would be weird! Your roommate would be just drinking your blood. “I’ll do my best,” He chuckles nervously and approaches you. “Are you sure this is okay?” He asks, nervously fidgeting with is hands. You shift your weight awkwardly on your feet before nodding. “As long as you leave me alone when you’re done.” “Of course.”

Another moment of awkward silence… it seemed like there were a lot of those lately.

“I…” he pauses, nervously tapping his fingers against your shirt. “Your wrist.” He says after a moment. “What?” You ask, tilting your head. “It— it’ll hurt less. And um, won’t be as much blood. Like, imagine just getting a blood sample at the doctor.” You could tell Wilbur was growing nervous. He never really expected you to say yes to… this. “Oh, right.” You whisper and nod, holding out your wrist. He grabs your arm and guides you to the couch, sitting you down, “Just incase you get.. dizzy.” He runs his thumb over the blue vein that ran along your arm, displaying the precious liquid he’s craved for so long.

His breathing picks up as he lifts your arm to his mouth. He shudders as he can feel the heat radiating off your body, and his mouth waters. He can’t take it anymore. You notice his grip tighten on your arm. “Go ahead.” You whisper after a second. Wilbur nods and then finds the perfect spot, the pulse of your wrist. He opens his mouth and without warning, sinks his fangs right into your vein. Making sure his teeth went deep enough to draw blood. You gasp at the pain, flinching slightly despite expecting it. Wilbur pulls his mouth away for a second and allows some of the blood to pool before sticking out his tongue and lapping up the blood, humming with contentment as he licks up each and every drop. You see the blood, the way it smears over his tongue and lips as he messily drinks it up. your breathing picks up, uneven. He slows down and looks up so his eyes meet yours. You two hold eye contact, Wilbur’s tongue slips out and slides along your skin, stopping the blood that beads up every time he pulls away. Your hand finds it was to his chin, light cupping it as he holds your forearm. “What’re you-“ he whispers, his face lifting from your arm so it was more level with yours. “I— I just..”you shake your head, not so sure what had taken over you. “Is this going to.. change me? You know… like..” You gesture to the bite marks on his neck that were poorly hidden with makeup, and he tilts his head. “Uh- um-“ he stutters out, shrugging. “I don’t know..” He whispers nervously. “I hope you do.” his voice is quiet. “Because I would love to spend the rest of time with you.”

Your eyes widen and your face seem to burn. The stinging in your wrist fades right before Will glances down at it once more. The blood was pooling, threatening to drip over your wrist and right onto the grey couch. You tilt his head back up to meet your gaze again. “You.. want to stay, with me?” Your voice is a bit shaky, head tilting. “Ye— yeah.” Wilbur’s gaze holds yours, he leans closer. And closer, and closer. “I don’t think I would want to spend my life with anyone else.” He adds. Just another inch, he thinks. You swallow the saliva filling your mouth, feeling slightly sick as the blood still spills from your wrist. You have no words for Will. Nothing to say in response to his sudden confession. Not that you had the chance to, because as soon as you went to speak, his lips collide with yours. You momentarily forget the feeling of blood running down toward your fingers as you feel his cold lips on yours. They’re cold, but soft. Softer than you expected. It’s slow at first but soon he scoots himself further, his lips part and his tongue hungrily presses to your lips. He’s practically begging to let him in. So, you do. You part your lips and are instantly met with the metallic taste of your own blood. Your hand moves from his chin to hold his cheek, your blood spreading across his face, in the shape of your hand. The kisses spread, his lips moving down your neck where he simply kisses your skin, but after a moment, his teeth graze your throat. his breath is hot and wet against your skin. You let out a quiet, choked sound at the feeling. Your stomach twists into knots and you can feel the emotions you’ve packed away rushing through your veins, almost at the same speed as your blood pumping through them.

“Do it,” you whisper, tilting your head back a bit. “Please..” You nearly beg, and he nods, smirking against your skin. It’s another second before you feel his fangs sink into your neck. he makes sure it’s higher up on your carotid artery so it bleeds less, hopeful you would turn, joining him in immortality. His teeth remain in your skin and your hands begin to tremble with the pain that’s followed by pleasure. Your eyes pinch shut tightly, ignoring the pain as best you can. He soon pulls away and sweetly licks away the blood before kissing the area.

You aren’t sure how long it’s been since the first bite, nor what time it was now. But Wilbur was fed and happy, so that’s what really mattered.

He comes back with a towel and glass of water for you, wiping up any of the left over blood that began to dry on your skin. You sip the water and lean back against the couch. As soon as he’s done, Wilbur sets down the towel and curls up next to you, looking up at you with loving eyes. “Thank you.” He whispers, running his fingers over the bite marks on your neck. “Hm?” You hum, looking over to him. “For.. letting me bite you and stuff.” You smile and nods, It wasn’t as big of a deal as you initially thought. “Anything to get you to stop whining.” You tease, and he just grins before rolling his eyes. “Whatever, you seemed to like it.” You couldn’t deny that so you remain silent. Wills arms snake around your waist and he pulls himself close to you. “You excited? Get to deal with me for all of eternity now.” He teases with an obnoxious kiss to the cheek. You nod.

“I can’t wait.”

#wilbur soot #argbur #simpbur #simpbur x you #bursonas #simpbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #bursonafied #wilbur x reader #wilbur x you #vampire #vampbur #gn reader #gender neutral reader #wilbur #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur x y/n #revivebur #argbur x you

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listenheresweaty · 1 year ago

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Ok uh here goes

Can I get revivedbur headcanons for a reader who was very hurt by his betrayal? Like all rev wants to do is be nice to reader and love them but they want nothing to do with him?

-roses 🥀

ohhh boy my first ask

first off i wanna say that i absolutely love this idea. perfect angst fodder mmm

im not that great at writing angst. when im not sure what to write i add a lot of insignificant details until i get motivation. so hopefully this is satisfying :) If not, i'll try to come up with some more concise headcanons for wilbur trying to regain the reader's affections.

-----

First off, I'd like to point out that Wilbur right after revival and Wilbur a couple days after revival (especially after the events of hitting on 16) are quite different

When he's freshly revived, Wilbur is ecstatic. He's alive, rejuvenated, and ready to cause mayhem in every conceivable corner of the server.

Ever the ambitious man, his first concerns are with gaining power--- or, rather, interfering with power. He wants to become relevant, involved in the incessant, political push-and-pull of mankind that has interested him since a young age.

Eventually, though, the adrenaline wears off and he starts thinking about the people in his life. Tommy, who he had immediately recruited for his expeditions to Las Nevadas. Phil and Technoblade, who he visited gladly. And you. You're there, just a short 5 minute walk from Technoblade's house.

Wilbur's sitting at the table with Phil, making small talk about the weather or something when you walk in, throwing open the door with a huff and brushing the snow out of your hair. You look a mess, hair wet and plastered to your cheeks and your nose red and sniffling.

God, how he's missed you.

You freeze when you see him, your voice dying in your throat.

Wilbur smiles oh so sweetly, opening his mouth to speak.

Phil accidentally interrupts him, standing up and explaining the situation to you--- yes, the rumors were true. Yes, Dream is on his necromancer arc. No, he's not Ghostbur.

Wilbur tries his best to speak with you, but it's hard with Phil and Techno there. And for some reason you won't speak to him directly, asking all questions about him to Phil, such as "When was he revived? Was it really dream who revived him?"

When you do address him, your answers are clipped, polite but distant.

He figures it's just because it's awkward with Phil around.

But even when he manages to catch you alone, you try to push him away, glaring at him before stalking off with your jaw clenched and your face hidden from his view.

ouch.

That doesn't deter him for long: Quackity had brushed him off with an eye roll and a dismissive wave of the hand, and yet their rivalry is still underlined by a vague sense of respect and friendliness. (keyword: vague). So, he'll just act the same as he does with Quackity!

But as soon as he starts pestering you too, popping up in your house to nick a few items and smirk at you, the look in your eyes stops him dead in his tracks.

"Get out of my house, Soot!" Your tone of voice catches him off guard. There isn't a trace of amusement or playful exasperation. Your annoyance is so profound it borders on disgust.

All the lighthearted mischievousness that had been previously dancing in his rib cage is extinguished in a heartbeat. His smirk fades, and he stands in silence.

"Didn't you fucking hear me? Get out!"

"Darling, I-I.. " He laughs nervously. "I was just joking, you can have your stuff back---"

"I don't care if you steal, leave or burn them. I want you out of my house."

"But--... I don't--"

"---And don't call me darling."

"I don't understand."

"What? What don't you understand?"

"I didn't.. I just want to talk." He raises his hands in surrender, exhaling slowly. "I just wanted to talk."

"I don't want to talk." You say, quiet and composed once more. "You aren't welcome here. Just--- get out. Please."

He wanted to stay and argue, but something about the way you were looking at him was almost more suffocating than Limbo. He turned tail and nearly bolted out of there.

---

He doesn't visit you for a while after that. It's even worse if you had been attached to Ghostbur--- because of course you were attached to Ghostbur.

And after hitting on 16? When he goes on his apology arc?

If people don't accept your apology, Phil had said, you need to let them go.

And so Wilbur does the same thing with you as he did with Tommy: avoiding you like the plague in fear of having to inevitably let you go.

He still spends his time thinking about you, of course. Whenever you two accidentally end up in the same area, he stands to the side, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

The only way he's going to end up talking to you is if Eret sets it up, not revealing it to either of you until you're face to face.

You've calmed down since your last encounter with Wilbur. Although your opinions haven't changed, you willingly sit down to talk with him.

He, too, is less insistent with his apology. "Listen, I-I.. I know this won't fix things. I don't expect them to."

Wilbur pauses, and you raise an eyebrow for him to continue.

"But you-- you mean a lot to me." He says, wincing at the immediate scoff from you. "You do. You mean the world to me."

"Months. Months you lied to me, in Pogtopia. Months we all spent slaving away to get L'Manburg back-- and I did it all for you! I fought for that country because you loved it like life itself. You watched us fight for it, you let us bleed and sweat and shed tears for it, all while knowing all our efforts would be in vain because you'd be blowing it to pieces regardless. And then you up and left! You left us all, left us to pick up your pieces and drag your body to be buried. "

" ______." Wilbur said your name, quietly.

"-- And you proposed to me! The day beforewe were about to fight to get back L'Manburg, you got down on one knee and proposed.--"

"______." Wilbur repeated.

"You promised we'd have a life after the war. You looked me in the eyes and promised me this, knowing damn well what would happen the next day."

Wilbur doesn't say anything. His shoulders sag, deflating.

You sigh too. "And then you're revived. Months go by, I don't hear a word from you--- not that I was asking to--- and now you're apologizing."

Wilbur falls silent. "I'm selfish."

You purse your lips and move to speak, but he cuts you off.

"I'm not saying that to provoke pity or fish for compliments or serve an excuse. I'm just stating the fact. I am, at heart, a selfish person. I-- that's why I proposed to you that day. I-I knew it would hurt. I thought it would.. keep you closer, wanting to avoid you leaving me. Even though I was the one leaving." He exhales, running a hand through his hair.

The brutal honesty has you dumbfounded, searching for any traces of trickery or manipulation-- but not finding any. He seems genuine. Incredibly self-depreciating, but genuine.

"..And that's the reason I haven't apologized to you until now." Wilbur continues, seeing that you weren't going to speak. "I didn't.. I couldn't bear to hear a formal rejection."

You don't know what to do, having exhausted yourself with your outburst earlier. So you just nod in understanding.

"I-I'm going to be honest. I really, really don't want to let you go. But I've promised myself that that's what I'll do if you don't accept my apology. If you want me to leave you alone, say the word. You won't have to see me again. But if there's anything I can do, anything to earn a second chance for myself--- I'll do it." He rambles on. "I don't need you to love me. I want you to--- I really want you too-- but I don't need you to. I just don't want you to hate me."

You chew on your bottom lip thoughtfully. "I don't hate you."

He looks relieved, hope lighting up his features.

"...But I don't know if I'll accept your apology."

His face falls.

"I know I don't accept it right now. And I think that's understandable. I want to accept it sometime in the future, Wilbur, I just.. I need time."

Wilbur nods, mouth twitching as he works up the nerve to speak. "Would you.. prefer if I stayed away, during that time?"

"I don't want you to outright avoid me." You admit. "If we happen to end up in the same place together, I´ll talk to you. But I think some distance would be helpful."

"Yeah." He manages, clearing his throat. "Yeah, I'll... I can wait."

Wilbur looks back up at you. "I'll wait for you." He promises.

and then he leaves for utah

#roses anon #anon ask #revivedbur x reader #c!wilbur x reader #dsmp wilbur #revived wilbur #c wilbur #c: wlbr #dsmp x reader #revivebur #wilbur soot angst #and for anyone who says that c!wilbur doesn't stutter: yes he does. it may be just an effect from his dialogue being mostly improvised #but he does stammer under pressure. not exactly in a shy way. in an excited #impassioned run-hands-through-hair kinda way #the reader is kind of a bitch in this my bad #“bitch” i say in a gender neutral fashion #and then he leaves for utah and you never see him again haha #sweaty “writes”

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justanormalfangirlx2 · 2 years ago

Text

Wilbur Soot x GN! Reader

summary: wilbur sees y/n in the crowd of one of his shows and falls in love. however, when she gets to meet wilbur, it’s with Jared, their best friend.

author notes: i’ve never been to a lovejoy concert so please bear with me lol and also this is all in wilbur’s pov

TW: Swears and Kissing

story:

“YEAH! SHE’S SCARED OF SLEEPING WITH THE LIGHTS ON, KNOW SHE’S NOT THERE I KNOW SHE’S GOING TO HIS FLAHATT!” I sing out, looking out into the crowd, grinning.

“A CAPRICORN, OH FUCK THAT! THEY SAY-“

As I’m looking out into the audience, I see them. Gorgeous h/c h/l hair. e/c so stunning they put everything in that color to shame. They look like they’re having a blast, at least. Singing and dancing to our songs. Feeling bold, I lock eyes with her and throw them a wink, grinning. It felt like love at first sight.

“YEAH, SEX SELLS YOU KNOW THAT!”

They were blushing and waved at me. I gave them a tiny wave back and let out a “WHOO!”They giggled.

I kept looking their way throughout the whole show, and giving them funny signals. Eventually, the end of the show came upon us and I pointed them out to security asking if they could get them backstage.

backstage, I saw them and smiled. “Hey! It’s a pleasure to meet you! I’m Wilbur, but you can call me Will.”

They gave me a smile and nodded. “Nice to meet you, Will! I’m y/n! I loved the concert, and thanks for inviting me backstage.”

I blushed and blinked. “Oh that? Yeah! I’m glad you liked it! However, I don’t think your friend over there is very happy at me.” I pointed over to where her friend was and grinned. He was scowling and looking like he wanted to punch the lights outta me. Interesting… I think he has a crush on y/n too. I waved, all friendly like.

She perked up and waved at him too. “That’s my friend Jared. He’s kinda pissed cause I said that this wasn’t a date when he thought that it was. I kinda had my eye on a guy.”

I scowled now and crossed my arms. “Oh really, y/n? Would you please enlighten me on them?”

They blushed and looked at the ground. I uncrossed my arms and used my hand to pulled her chin up with my hand. “It’s you, if you want to know.”

He blushed and giggled. “Really? I’ve seen you at almost all my concerts since the beginning and was trying to work up some courage to talk to you. It’s like fate.”

They nodded, blushing and asked. “Can I hug you? Or do you not like me like that?”

I reached down and whispered in her ear. “Darling, you can do anything to me.”

They squealed and gave me a hug. I hugged back, a huge red, flustered mess and put my hand on their cheek, looking into their eyes for permission and bent down to kiss them.

Now, I’ve kissed people before, but let me tell you, this was the one, it reached all the way to the tips of my toes and all the way to the messy hair on my head. I think they sighed into the kiss and I pulled them tighter, not getting enough of them.

We broke apart and I winked. “You’re pretty good at this thing, think you can come on tour with me to explore some more?”

They jumped up and down, grinning. “I’d love to! Ohmygosh Will! I love you!”

They paused.

I giggled and hugged them. “I love you too, y/n.”

The Enddd

#wilbur soot #dream smp #lovejoy #wilbur soot fic #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot x reader #gender neutral fanfic #fanfic

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americas1suiteheart · 1 year ago

Note

I need need NEED that second chapter of studio recordings pretty please😭

Of course, of course. I had already been working on the second chapter so I was able to get this done quicker.

Recording Two

[Part two of the Studio Recordings Wilbur Soot x Reader series]

[Warnings; None, except some swearing.]

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

I woke the next morning, slightly groggy as I hadn't had my coffee yet.

I get out of bed and prepare myself a pot of coffee, blankly staring at it as it slowly fills up, the strong and nutty aroma filling the kitchen of my flat.

I can't help but let my mind wander to the man from yesterday that came into the studio.

His voice and playing style was so pretty, I don't think I've ever worked with anyone that has a style that beautiful.

I mean, I didn't get many customers but the ones I did get were usually teenagers that thought they could sing and compose music. So this guy compared to listening to them was an absolute godsend.

Once my pot finishes brewing I grab my Star Trek mug and pour the hot liquid into it, then setting it down to cool for a little while.

Walking back into my room I begin to get ready, throwing on one of my band t-shirts and a pair of relaxed trousers, then lastly my favorite trainers.

I finish up freshening myself up and then chug my coffee before walking out of my flat, lastly locking it.

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

I make it to the studio in 5 minutes due to it being right across from the flat building I live in.

I open up and greet Eliot, once again doing the same thing to set up as I did every other day.

I sit down in my chair and look through the recordings of yesterday, labeling them with different take numbers of the song. As I listen to them I remember just how nice his voice was.

God I really need to get a hold on myself. Do other producers and studio recorders think this?.

What feels like a little while more passes by and soon Eliot knocks on my door before opening it.

"Yo, Y/n, it's lunchtime now, let's go get some food, I'm starving, man." Eliot groans as he leans on the doorframe.

"Is it really? Jeez I didn't realize, I must've lost track of time sorry. We'll go and eat now. Same place as always I'll assume, yes?" I say, pushing myself and my chair away from my computer, then standing up.

"Yep, same as always," Eliot said as he walked to the coat rack and grabbed his coat. Me doing the same afterwards and then walking out of the building, locking the doors.

Me and Eliot went to this small sandwich shop a few minutes away from the studio every day for lunch about a month or so after he started working with me. It was cheap but good and wasn't particularly crowded constantly.

We make it and walk into the building, ordering our usual food, then paying and leaving to walk back to the studio.

As we make it back to the studio we see the man from yesterday standing by the doors with his acoustic case in one hand and his phone in the other.

He looks up to see me and Eliot, putting his phone into his pocket and straightening his posture.

"Oh, uh sorry for just standing here. I came here around 15 minutes ago but the doors were locked so I assumed you guys were on your lunch break, hope you don't mind."

"Nah, it's alright mate. Sorry for making you wait though, you must be freezing, come on in now it's heated inside." Eliot says as he grabs the keys from his pocket and unlocks the doors, letting us in.

The three of us walk in, me and Eliot place our coats back onto the rack as Eliot goes back to his seat at the desk.

I look at the taller man to see he still had his coat on, "Do you want to hang your coat up there? I'm sure you don't wanna be playing with it on, gets pretty warm in the recording area." I say, motioning to the coat rack.

He nods and then places his case down to take his coat off and hang it, then walking behind me as I walk into my recording studio.

"So yesterday you said you wanted to re-record some of those songs and then go through the tracks to see which ones you wanted to keep, correct?" I say sitting down in my chair and starting the computer back up.

"Yeah, I just want to redo three of those songs and then after that we can pick through those tracks,"

"Alright then, let me set up that mic for you and then we can get onto it." The both of us walk into the recording room.

I do the same setup as yesterday, connecting the mic, leveling it, setting the amp up, and finally going back to the control room.

Same thing as yesterday, he puts his headphones on as I do mine, he messes with his strings for a while, clearing his throat and sending me a wink and cheeky smile to let me know he's ready.

'Wink? He didn't do that yesterday, did he just do that? Why am I freaking out? Do I send a wink back?' You frantically think to yourself.

You send back a small smile instead, counting down from 3 with your fingers before pressing the record button.

He began singing again, the third song he played and recorded yesterday. It sounds more practiced now than it had been yesterday, it looked like he was having a much easier time playing it now.

His fingers danced across the strings so smoothly, you find yourself in awe at his playing skills. You had played around with the guitar yourself but never could you ever so fluidly move your fingers across the strings like that. They were always so stiff and awkward when you tried. You were better with woodwind instruments, you knew how to play a couple of them in fact including some brass instruments, a piano, and a drum kit as well, instruments were your thing but the guitar definitely was not one of them.

He finishes the song and lets out a content sigh.

"How did that sound?" He asks, taking one hand off of his guitar to run it through his messy curls.

"Sounded brilliant, are you going to want to do another take of that one?" You reply.

"I think that one sounded pretty good, I might want to record it again when we listen back on it though,"

He played a few of the songs from yesterday and then played four new ones, each take sounding amazing.

He places his acoustic onto the stand and takes the headphones off, then exits the room to go into the control room where you were.

"Those sounded great, do you want to listen back to them now and see which ones you want to keep?" You say, taking off your headphones and leaning back on your chair to look up at him.

"Yeah, of course," He smiles and gives a small nod, his curls bouncing slightly.

You pull a swivel chair up from the corner next to yours and plug the extra pair of headphones into the splitter so that he can hear the audio. He sits down and places the headphones over his head.

"Alright, we'll start with the first recording from yesterday how does that sound?" You ask, going to the page you had up from yesterday of the different takes and recordings.

The man hums in acknowledgment. You click on the first take, listening to it with him. After finishing the first one you listen to the other takes of the same song that were recorded so he can choose if he wants to redo it again or pick one he likes.

"I think I want to keep take eight, sounds much more clear and has no mistakes." The man says, placing his forefinger on his cheek in a thinking manner.

"Alright, you got a name for it so I can put it as the track name?" You ask, Deleting the other tracks as they would no longer be of use.

"Oh, uh yeah, that one's gonna be Saline Solution I think," He says, fixing his posture and placing his hands onto his lap awkwardly.

"Okay great, love that title by the way," You say, glancing at him for a second to make eye contact before looking back at the computer to replace the title with his own.

"Thanks," He says softly.

You continue on with it for a few more hours before Eliot knocks on your door before opening it, "Hey, we've got to close up for the night in about 20 minutes,"

"Shit, alright thank you Eliot," You say, taking your headphones off and standing up to stretch. The man does the same and rolls the chair back into the corner it was in before.

"Sorry for being here so long, I hadn't realized how long we were sitting there," The man smiles sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"No, don't worry about it at all, I don't mind whatsoever. I'm actually quite glad you stayed so long, we never get anyone here and this has made my job more enjoyable instead of just sitting about doing nothing." You say, looking up at him.

"Oh, I'm Wilbur by the way. If I'm going to be working with you on this I might as well tell you my name, it'd make things much easier if we were at least a little more familiar with each other, yeah?" He holds his hand out, a smile on his face.

"Lovely name, my name's Y/n," You shake his hand and return the same smile.

You soon finish up and walk out of the control room with Wilbur behind you, entering the lobby of the studio where you could see Eliot on his phone wearing his coat waiting by the door.

You make your way to the desk and calculate how much it'll cost for his hours spent there, "Alright, that'll be £411.78. Choose your poison; Cash or card?" You grin at him.

"Card, please." Wilbur says, handing you his debit card.

Declined. The chip reader read in bright green letters.

"Fuck, um, I'm sorry about that hold on let me see what I have in pounds," He awkwardly grabs his wallet, searching through it.

"Hey, its fine you could always pay it back another time when you have it, I trust that you will," You hand Wilbur his card back.

"Thank you so much, I should have the money back in a couple of days, how about I come back around when I've got the rest?"

"Y'know, worst case if you don't come back it was more so a waste of your time than anything, we're still the ones with the music." Eliot butts in.

"You're not helping Eliot, terribly sorry about him Mr. Wilbur, sometimes he forgets his manners," You say, glaring at Eliot as you watch him stick out his tongue in a teasing manner.

"It's fine, I have a friend exactly like him, it's kind of funny in fact," Wilbur says in an amused tone.

You get out from behind the desk and walk Wilbur to the door, grabbing his coat to and it to him and grabbing yours, leading him outside so that Eliot can lock the doors up.

"Right, well thank you again. Do you suppose I can get your telephone number so I can let you know when I've gotten the rest of the money to pay?" Wilbur looks at you, standing awkwardly.

"Yeah sure, let me put the number into your phone," You say. Wilbur hands you his phone and you punch in your number to the keypad, putting your name in and handing his phone back to him.

"Thanks, ill keep in touch with you about it, bye now," Wilbur smiles and waves to you and Eliot as he walks off to his car and then drives off.

You walk with Eliot to where your cars were parked and dig into your pocket for your keys.

"What on earth happened in that recording room?" Eliot says, a cheeky grin on his face.

"What do you mean?" You say, still fishing in your pocket for the pesky keys.

"He just asked for your number, and on top of that you let him just leave without paying 400 pounds, something definitely happened in there," Eliot says, leaning on your car.

You suddenly realized what he meant and was implying at, your eyes widen and you can feel your face and ears quickly start to heat despite the freezing Brighton air.

"What! No! Jesus Eliot, do you seriously think I would do that with someone I'd just met and my client too for that matter? In my own studio too? Gross, man!" You exclaim in disgust, finally finding your keys and unlocking your car.

"I'm just saying, Y/n. I mean, he asked for your number for Christ's sake! there's no way that he doesn't at least fancy you a bit," Eliot says, playfully nudging your arm.

"God you're terrible, why'd it have to be you," You say playfully before getting into your car.

"Hey! Im great you just don't appreciate it! Anyways, see you Y/n, good luck with Wilbur," Eliot says drawing out the name as he walks away snickering.

Cheeky bellend' You think to yourself before starting up your car and turning the heat on. You check your phone before leaving to see you have a text from an unknown number.

"Hey, Y/n! Its Wilbur:) " The text wrote.

You smile and save him to your contacts, making a mental note to message him back when you wake up tomorrow.

Hopefully Eliot was right, hopefully he fancied you just as you had fancied him.

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

I'm really happy with how this chapter turned out. I wanted to make Eliot seem like Wallace Wells from SPVTW, and I'm fairly happy with how his character is coming out so far. Anyways, reblogs are of course appreciated, thank you for urging me to finish this chapter up anon!

#wilbur soot #william gold #wilbur soot x reader #gender neutral reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #original story

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unhonest-iago · 1 year ago

Text

You Promised!

Y/n knew that the end of the war was near and that their partner Wilbur had some crazy plan up his sleeve. They had noticed his mental state declining, his possessiveness over L’Manberg increasing. Occupying his dream, him muttering in his sleep. Even in the end, y/n knew that they’d stick by Wilbur’s side. Knowing that they were on the losing side of the war.

Y/n spotted Techno and his hounds, waiting until the right moment. Surprise attacks wouldn’t work but that’s all y/n had. Seeing most of their army killed by said hounds, y/n came out from their hiding spot. Directing their arm-crossbow at Techno, firing. ‘shit,’ Techno proceeding to strike it away with his sword. Y/n was glad they had taken the time to spare, training to match the blood god’s skill. Going blow for blow, it wasn’t until seeing Phil enter out of the corner of their eye that y/n faltered allowing Techno the upper hand.

‘My unfinished symphony, if I can't have this, no one can Phil!'

‘Wilbur, no’ both halting, seeing all of L’Manberg destroyed by the TNT planted beforehand. Techno knowing y/n would do anything to protect Wilbur, quickly held them in a choke hold, sword pressed to their neck. Forced to watch Phil kill WIlbur. 'Wilbur you promised!’ Letting go, y/n having already dropped their weapon sunk to the floor, sobbing. Techno slowly walked away, the voices screaming at him for more blood. But Techno defied the voices, unable to kill his grieving friend.

-- -- --

Y/n ended up leaving the L’Manburg crater, leaving everyone behind, not able to take seeing Ghostbur. Seeing him just reminded them of the day Wilbur promised to never abandon them like he had Sally or Fundy. The only reminder she kept was one of Wilbur’s beanies.

They figured someone would try to find them, thus they lived a nomadic life, never settling down in one place. Only the server’s historians knew their location.

#iago writes #wilbur soot x reader #x reader #x gn reader #x gender neutral reader #wilbur soot x gn reader #dsmp wilbur #mcyt wilbur #techno & reader #cw character death #dsmp #mcyt

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wilbursprincess · 10 months ago

Note

wilbur x trans / genderlfuid reader ?? or headcanons on how he’ll help!!

Wilbur With a Trans Partner

Wilbur Soot x Trans-masc/Trans-fem/Trans reader

Warnings: Mentions of transphobia/dysphoria

The ask didn’t specify trans-masc or trans-fem, so you get both as a treat, as well as some non-gendered trans ones too :) I got myself a coffee from my campus cafe and spent my lunch break on these haha, thank you sm to @loserconfirmed for sending in my very first ask! Sorry if these suck a bit, had to finish and post before sprinting across campus lol

Headcannons below cut :)

Trans Masc

~Would let you steal any and all of his clothes that you liked.

~If you like being called a boy, he’s dropping it into every pet name, calling you ‘his boy’ and ‘my boy’.

~Reminds you when to take off your binder if you wear one.

~If you bind your chest with tape, Wilbur would help you make sure it’s comfy and not too tight, pressing kisses onto your forehead while he wraps the tape around you

Trans Fem

~Mention you like skirts and dresses? You’re swimming in them as gifts from Wilbur.

~If you like being called a girl, he’s dropping it into every pet name, calling you ‘his girl’ and ‘my girl’.

~Learns to braid to surprise you when you hair grows long enough

~Also learns how to do makeup just to teach you how to do your own

Trans

~Would 100% punch a transphobe in the face for giving you so much as a dirty look.

~Found a piece of clothing that gives you gender euphoria? He’s buying it for you in every color.

~Will help you go shopping for gender affirming clothes at the drop of a hat.

~If dysphoria ever gets you down, he’ll always comfort you. Whether it’s affirming you or just snuggles, you can always count on Wilbur.

~When you mentioned your transition to him and still debating what your new name should be, he dropped 50$ on baby name books to make a list of names that fit you.

#princesswrites #wilbur x you #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x gender neutral reader #wilbur x gender neutral reader #wilbur soot x trans reader #wilbur x trans reader #trans #transgender #trans masc #trans fem #princesshcs

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candyxplaysssss · 2 years ago

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I wish he was mine.

Watching him from the sidelines, it always hurt to know he chose someone else to be his vice-president. I thought I was perfect for him, he though so too but changed his mind almost in an instant.

Life was good when you weren't heartbroken.

It was a day like any other, long boring speeches from him and his vice. I used to admire listening to him talk on stage but now it the worst part of my day. Watching them crack jokes together on stage was also the worst of it. Today seemed like nothing else but those boring days. Sighing, I stand up and start to leave the crowd of people, apoligising as I barge through each and every one of them. I didn't think Wilbur would care at this point, I mean why would he? He flaked on me for some random bitch and now completely pretends I am non-existent.

Entering my house, I hear someone call out to me, asking for me to hold on. "Wait wait, hold on." That voice sounded too familiar to forget. I turn around and to my surprise, he stood there. Wilbur was standing right there, actually acknowledging me for a change. "Why did you leave half way, you know you aren't allowed to leave half way." He asks, rather with a worried tone than anything else. "Oh and I was hoping you knew, that you can't leave half way through a relationship." I reply, hoping that would sting him and it did. I could see the guilt, crawling into him.

"I thought we made it clear that we weren't official, just for full filling each other's needs..." He cleared his throat and looked off to the side and I knew why.

Quackity was approaching the both of us, his vice-president was approaching the both of us. "What's going on here?" He rather demand than asked for the answer. "Can't I speak with a fellow citizen in peace?" Wilbur sighed, trying to dismiss any wrong thoughts. The other thought hard and shrugged. "I can't see why not." Quackity replies, trying to seem all slick and shit.

"Well, I better go inside my house now, without any annoying interruptions bothering me." With that, I open my door and slam it shut, hearing Wilbur trying to stop me again.

I know he did this because it wasn't professional nor was there real chemistry between us but it still hurts. Watching him fade away to someone else he doesn't even love.

A/N AIGHT SO. I TAKE REQUESTS AND SHIT. I made this at midnight because I am bored as hell. Take care!!!

#dsmp wilbur #wilbursoot #xreader #lmanburg #wilburxreader #angst #Wilbursootxreader #lmanburgbur #lmanburgburxreader #gender neutral reader #sfw #author is depressed #wilbur x you #wilbur dream smp #wilbur x reader #Wilbur soot #Wilbur soot x reader

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sunshine-on-marz · 1 year ago

Note

brainrot moment

musician!bur x reader with childhood friends to lovers trope

where its like after a rly good lovejoy show

FROM UR FAVE BIG SISTER

Oh my GODDDD

I cant help (falling in love with you)

“WILBUR!” You squeal as you run into his arms after he puts down his guitar. He was sweaty and out of breath but he didnt care as he picked you up and spun you around. “How’d you like the show?” He asks softly. You smile and boop his nose “it was amazing, you guys did so so so well”. The compliment made him blush as he hugged you tighter.

The other band mates walk in and come over to give you small hugs as you tell them how much you enjoyed the show. Wilbur can’t explain the pang in his heart as you let go of him to hug someone else but he knows he doesn’t like it. He wraps his arms around you and placed his chin on your head. “Hi Wilbur” you giggle. “Hello” he smiles. Joe, Mark, and Ash exchange knowing looks as Wilbur wraps himself around you.

—

It was only a matter of time before wilbur couldn’t bud his crush. You were at his flat after a band practice. He looked at you with stars in his eyes, he looked at you as if you were perfect in every way (and to him, you are).

“Y/n?” He said softly “yes?” You smile back, and his heart skips a beat. “I think I’m in love with you” he blurts out, almost immediately he back tracks but you’re already hugging him. “I think I love you too Wilbur.

He felt like he was in heaven.

———————

OMG MARZ POSTS FOR ONCE HOLY SHIT🤯🤯🤯🤯

Anyways thank you for the request Lana!!!

#dsmp #dsmpblr #dsmp x reader #dsmp x gender neutral reader #writing #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #will gold #lovejoy

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saccharinesunsetretired · 1 year ago

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Stress Relief | L’Manbur x Reader

This is my literal first smut ever, and it took me multiple days to work up the courage to post it lmao

Summary: You once told Wilbur that he was welcome to use you while you were asleep. After a particularly stressful day as president, he decides to take advantage.

Warnings: Somnophilia, rough sex, reader is afab but gender neutral

Word Count: 1.9k

MINORS DNI

It started when you caught him one night. You were asleep, resting your head in your and Wilbur’s new home in L’Manberg. Wilbur truly had tried his best not to wake you, keeping his moans and grunts to a minimum, but his attempts had failed. You caught him at three am, touching himself desperately, head tilted back and eyes closed.

“You know, if you ever need me at night, you can just use me,” you’d said once you were fully awake. He was mortified, at least until you kissed him and made it all better.

After that, there was an agreement between the two of you. Should Wilbur need any late-night stress relief, he was welcome to use you. Being the president of a new and growing nation was one hell of a task, after all, and Wilbur hadn’t even had time to think about sex during the war. Now, he had a bit more time on his hands and a lot of time to make up for. An interesting combination.

He got home late one night after a long and stressful day. The economic state of L’Manberg was…less than ideal, to say the least, and Wilbur had spent all day scribbling down numbers and figures and writing bill proposals. It was exhausting, and the only thing he wanted was your touch.

Unfortunately, he was too late. You were curled up in bed. Not that he could blame you; it was past midnight, and he’d been gone all day. You couldn’t wait around forever.

He remembered the agreement he had with you. He felt dirty, even thinking about doing that, but you had given him explicit consent. Maybe he could use you for this, just once.

He took off his boots and most of his clothing before perching on the edge of the bed. He gazed at you, so peaceful in sleep. He was in nothing but his boxers now, and he slowly stuck a hand down them, teasing his length with his fingers just as you would sometimes do. If he closed his eyes, he could imagine it was you touching him. He sucked in small breaths, running a thumb over the head of his cock, trying to be quiet so as not to wake you.

It didn’t take long for him to go from slightly firm to fully hard, and then he had to figure out the logistics of how he was going to do this. It was hot in the room, seeing as how it was late summer, and thus you weren’t under heavy blankets. That would make this slightly easier. The light blanket you had pulled over yourself was easy enough for Wilbur to push aside.

Your sleeping figure was oh so tempting, and Wilbur had to do his best to restrain himself. He couldn’t put his hands under your shirt, as that would be an unnecessary touch that could wake you. He focused instead on sliding your pajama pants and underwear down enough that he had access to you.

He couldn’t go in without prepping you at all either, so he very slowly and tentatively pressed two fingers against you, circling your clit. He could hear your breath hitch, and he paused, scared you would wake up. You didn’t, and he kept going. You let out a few soft moans, barely audible, which only made him harder. God, he wanted you awake, wanting you gripping his shoulders and crying out his name while he pounded into you with an intensity that would have made the devil clutch his pearls, but he couldn’t have that. Not now.

He opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out a bottle of lube, squirting some out onto his hand. He put some on his fingers, which he proceeded to use to very slowly stretch you out. He was shocked that he hadn’t woken you, but was pleased by it all the same. You deserved sleep.

He rolled on a condom. If you were awake, you would perhaps give an opinion, but considering you were asleep, he felt better being more cautious. He put some lube on his hardened length for good measure, then laid on his side. He rested a hand on your hip before slowly pushing into you, inch by blissful inch until he was all the way inside.

He bit back a moan, face buried in your shoulder, trying to stay quiet. He could hear your breath hitch, hear the soft whimper that left your lips as he buried himself inside of you. It took him a moment to feel comfortable moving at all, but when he did, he did so slowly. His thrusts were gentle and hesitant, as he still wanted you to get as much sleep as you could.

That is, until one accidentally rough jerk of his hips made you moan loud enough that Wilbur was sure he had woken you. Sure enough, he saw you tilt your head to the side to try and look at him. “…Wilbur?” you asked sleepily.

“Shit.” Wilbur slowly pulled out, hearing you gasp as he did so. “Sorry, darling. Didn’t mean to wake you.”

“When did you get back?” you asked. You rolled over to face him, and his hands went down your body once he realized that you were sliding your pants and underwear completely off.

“Ten-ish minutes ago,” Wilbur replied. “Sorry, I was just…”

“Needy?” you asked. Wilbur nodded, and you got on your back, slowly letting your legs fall apart.

Wilbur looked at you with an unmistakable hunger. “You sure? It’s late. I don’t want you to be tired tomorrow.”

“Worth it,” you said. “Come on, you’ve been so busy you’ve hardly touched me the past two weeks. Let out some of that pent-up stress, yeah?”

You didn’t need to tell him twice. Wilbur immediately got between your legs, kissing you hungrily, teeth almost clashing with yours. “How rough can I be?” he asked between desperate kisses.

“Rough as you want,” you replied easily. Wilbur let out a sigh of contentment before kissing you one last time.

“You sure you won’t regret saying that?” Wilbur’s hands gripped the underside of your thighs before gently pressing your legs up against your chest.

“I never do.” He saw your eyes flit to his dick, then his face. “Take the condom off.”

“Don’t mind if I do.” Wilbur immediately took it off, discarding it on the floor. He could clean that up later. Right now, he had better things to care about. “Ready for me?”

“More than ready, Mr President.” You had called him ‘Mr President’ in bed once just as a joke to tease him, at least until you’d immediately noticed how much he liked it. Since then, your use of it became more regular. Wilbur could never resist that.

He pressed himself against you before burying himself in you, entering in one quick thrust that left you both gasping. He wasted no time, setting a brutal pace, fucking you as if it were his last day on Earth. “Fucking—Prime, you feel so good,” he panted, hips moving rapidly against yours. What had only minutes before been a silent room became filled with the sounds of gasps, moans, and skin slapping against skin. “Needed you.”

“I’m yours, Wil,” you replied. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, just don’t stop.”

“Won’t.” He could already feel the sweat starting to form on his neck and back, but he didn’t care. All he could think about was fucking into you, the feeling of your soft skin, the way your lips parted as you moaned and whined. His country was beautiful, but it couldn’t hold a torch to you.

He watched as you tried to grasp at him, a plan foiled by your legs getting in the way. Instead, your hands went to the back of your thighs, making sure your legs stayed in place. He continued pounding into you, eyes fixed on your face so he could watch every shift in your expression. “Good?” he asked between thrusts. He was going far rougher than usual, and he wanted to make sure you were still comfortable.

He was met with an eager nod. “Please, Wil, please keep going.” Every plea was music to Wilbur’s ears, and your voice gave him some renewed energy to continue. The bed creaked and groaned underneath you, headboard tapping against the wall. Wilbur was grateful that nobody else lived in the house.

He kept going, spurred onward by your desperate pleas and moans. “Gonna fill you, darling,” Wilbur panted.

“Please! Please, Wil, fuck, I’m close.” He could see some tears gathering in your eyes from the intensity of it all, and he considered it a personal victory.

“I got you,” he said. “Cum for me, love, whenever you’re ready.” He did his best to grind his hips against yours with every thrust, giving you as much friction as possible in order to put you over the edge.

It was a success. You cried out his name in a half-moan, half-sob that rang wonderfully in Wilbur’s ears. Wilbur kept going, pounding into you relentlessly through your orgasm and into overstimulation before he came with a gasp and a shudder. He thrust a few more times to work himself through it before going still.

For a moment, Wilbur simply gasped for air and tried to catch his breath. His lips were parted as he panted, and the kiss you pressed at the corner of his mouth was a welcome feeling. It took him a moment to come back to reality enough to kiss you back.

“I needed that,” Wilbur said finally. “God, you were so fucking good for me. That was perfect.” He certainly felt less stressed after that, still in a post-orgasm haze. “Thank you for this.”

“Thank you,” you replied. “It was a nice way to be woken up.”

“Still sorry I woke you,” Wilbur says. You let go of your thighs, and Wilbur leaned back enough that you could let your legs rest instead of keeping them pressed to your chest. He slowly pulled out, his eyes lingering a bit too long on the sight of his cum leaking out of you. He got out from between your parted legs and rested beside you instead. “Feeling okay?”

“Better than okay,” you said. “You don’t need to be sorry.” You cupped his cheek, and he tilted his head to press a kiss to your palm.

“I won’t be sorry, then.” He sighed, letting his eyes close. Sweat clung to strands of his hair, sticking them to his forehead. He felt your gentle touch brushing his hair out of his face. “You’re so good to me,” he murmured.

“You deserve it.” You snuggled up against him, letting him bury his face in the crook of your neck. He inhaled your scent, earth and salt and sweat. “Now get some sleep. You’ve been working hard.”

“I should clean up first,” he says.

“It can wait until morning,” you reply. “Rest.”

Now that he’d had some much-needed stress relief, he felt like he could. It didn’t take long for him to drift off, nestled against you, the worries of tomorrow far from his mind.

#l’manbur x reader #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot x reader smut #wilbur soot smut #minors dni #sinful content #saccharine writes

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sootical · 1 year ago

Text

Permanence

->Wilbur Soot x Reader (hinted but never explicitly stated) ->No use of Y/n ->I tried to be as gender neutral as possible.

*Hurt, minimal comfort, hopeful ending TW: Su*cidal ideation, Self destructive thoughts and actions, SH mentions/references, depression, lots and lots of depression. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK Summary: You are stuck in a multi-month long depressive episode, and it's gotten so much worse. You're on your last leg, and you need someone to help you. Good thing best friend(?) Wilbur and his band are there to help :] Word Count - 2.4k

Wilbur Soot. Twitch streamer turned famous musician, heartthrob—you get it. He’s everything anyone could want in a partner. Trust me, I would know. He’s been my best friend since form. And since then, he’s only ever been kind and considerate and just overall an amazing person. What a guy right? With his stupid brown hair that covers one of his eyes when it’s outgrown. Stupid brown eyes that have just the right amount of dark and light brown in them. It’s stupid of me really, to ever hope for a future with him that involves us being more than friends. I can only hope though, right? He’s up there, in the states, singing his heart out on a stage. While I’m stuck, on the other side of paradise–more like purgatory–lamenting on how many people adore him. I’m feeling sorry for myself, rotting away in bed at 2 in the morning. It’s not like I have to work in three hours–whaaaat nooooo… A knot develops in my stomach at the mere thought of leaving my bed. Maybe losing my job isn’t so bad. Wilbur has told me time and time again he’d pay me to edit for him. But I could never make him do that. Never would I take advantage of him like that. I’d feel like more of a burden than I already do. The thought of him having to support me financially makes me want to vomit. It makes my skin crawl, so it’s okay if I waste away. If I end up rotting away in my bed. It’s fine. At least then I wouldn’t be able to consume too much of Wilbur’s time. Taking up too much of his time has always been my biggest fear. To me, it came true a long time ago and I’m finally reaping what I sowed. It sucks really, how I thought I'd have a shot. Just for it all to blow up in my face. Now he’s somewhere in America–having the time of his life. Good for him. Bad for me.

Reaching over, I grab my phone. My coworkers probably hate me. I keep asking them to cover my shifts so I can rot in bed for another day. It’s been like this since–September? It started off just once every few weeks. Now, it being almost December, I’ve not gone to work in over two weeks. What’s the point anymore anyways? I can’t do this. I can’t do anything. Deep down, when I started doing things for myself–I knew I wouldn’t be able to do this. That was two years ago. I guess I’m finally breaking.

Pulling the duvet over my head, I try not to think about how my breath smells, and the uncomfortable way the oil sticks to my face. I shove my head into the pillow. Trying to block out the sounds of people existing below my apartment. It’s so much easier to rot away when people don’t rely on you. When you have no reason for existence. I don’t want to die. But at the same time I don’t want to live. I’m too much of a coward to do anything about it, so I lay and wait. I wait for some omnipotent being to strike me down and judge me for how I’ve managed to mess up any and all relationships I’ve ever had with anyone. Me and Nikki haven’t spoken in almost a year. Me and Wilbur haven’t even seen each other in months My family doesn’t talk to me.

I wish I could say “The world is fucked and everyone hates me.” But that’s not the truth. The truth is I am my own undoing. I have destroyed everything I’ve worked for. Any relationships–platonic and romantic–have fallen through because of my own emotions and insecurities getting in the way. It’s not fair for anyone. Well, anyone except for me. I brought this upon myself. My phone is the only thing lighting up my face. I looked at the time. Suddenly it’s six in the morning, and I’m late for work. The thought makes me want to cry, but I can’t. I can’t tell if it’s apathy—or dehydration.

I call my boss. She answers. “Where are you?! I haven’t seen you in weeks! I’m worried about you hun, do you need me to call someone?” She opens, sounding both relieved and shocked I even called. I clear my throat the best I can, swallowing saliva feels like eating sandpaper. “I uh..I was calling to let you know I won’t be coming back. I’m quitting. And I’m sorry for not putting in my two weeks. It’s not–” Something foreign is bubbling up in my throat, I force myself to swallow it down. “-It’s not fair to you. And I’m sorry.” I whisper, hanging up shortly after.

I feel terrible for worrying her. I feel terrible for upsetting her. I feel terrible. I am terrible. I’m a parasite. I always have been. Mooching off of others in order to help myself get by. My thoughts fall back to Wilbur. I’ve been mooching off of him for however long we’ve been friends. I want him to be happy. I don’t want him to feel like he needs to be my friend to keep me alive. But at the same time–I can’t do this anymore. I can’t look myself in the mirror and tell myself it’s me. I can’t. I’m not the person I thought I’d become. I’m not the person I thought I was. I’m useless. My phone rings again. I go to decline it, I can’t.

Wilbur’s face greets me. His contact photo, the two of us at the amusement park I helped them film for Tommy’s vlog channel. We’re smiling. His arm over my shoulder, and my head on his arm. I remember that day. Wilbur held me for a bit while Tommy and Phil were off filming a different part of the vlog with Russ. I was overwhelmed and so was he, so we took the time to chill by the snack stands. He got tommy cotton candy, and we split popcorn even though he couldn’t really taste it. We spent a good time just taking funny pictures with each other. I remember that day, it was a great one.

Tears breach my eyes before I can stop them. A sob ripping through me, I force my face into the pillow to muffle it. The ringing stops. My tears don’t, and that makes me feel so much worse. My chest convulses as my sobs reverberate through the room. I’m a mess. I’m laying in my bed, rotting. Wasting away and feeling sorry for myself. Everything is terrifying, every breath I take reminds me of how I’m alive. Reminds me of how I can’t escape the feeling of impending doom that washes over me. I’m going to die here. I’m going to die. I was never permanent.

I knew I couldn’t do this. I’ve been lying to myself, little lies, white lies. To convince myself everything was okay. That it was fine for me to fall in love, it was fine for me to believe I wasn’t just taking up space. That I wasn’t slowly getting tired.

Contemplating whether or not cut myself some slack–but ending up just cutting myself loose. I lift the duvet from my head, staring at the ceiling. My eyes flick to the ground, clothes and food everywhere. Some of it’s moldy. It makes me feel worse about myself. Turning my head, I look to my PC. I should sell it. Someone else would be much happier with it. I haven’t used it in a while anyways. I can’t take care of any of the stuff I have can I?

My phone rings again, this time I do answer.

“Oh my god–” I hear multiple people take a sharp breath in. I can’t stop myself from making a small noise of confusion. “Hey..Your boss–called us.” I recognize the voice to be Joe. I lift the phone, checking the caller ID. It was Wilbur again. “Wil—?” It hurts so bad to talk, I haven’t used my voice this much since the end of October. I hear a choked noise and whispers. “We’re gonna—come over there okay? The tour ended last night, no gigs for a while. Wil’s been missing you y’know.” I can’t tell who said that, “I–no. Sorry.” I don’t know why I said that. I don’t know why I hung up either.

Maybe deep down I did want them to help, I do want their help. But logically–It’s for the best.

I swing my legs over the side of my bed, cringing at how my clothes hang off of me. My back hurts something awful. I’m so tired.

Yet I stand on two feet and walk to my bathroom. I look at myself in the mirror, I don’t recognize them. My hair–too long and too oily for it to be mine. My skin is pale and the bags under my eyes are so dark they could rival a racoon.

It’s then that my legs decide to give out. I can feel my knees split as I hit the tile. I’m so tired. I look down at the sweater I’m wearing. It’s one of Wil’s. I can’t remember when I put it on. I can’t remember a lot of things recently. Like when this got so bad. Or when my arms started to sting. My eyes are heavy, I can barely keep them open. Maybe a nap wouldn’t be so bad.

When I wake up it’s to voices around me. I’m laying on something warm–It’s moving. I can’t find it in myself to open my eyes. My breathing picks up, and I hear an intake of air accompanied by a hand on my forehead. My eyes are shooting open in fear before I’m trembling. He’s above me, looking down at me like I could break.

I look around, there's two other people. I can barely make them out. Joe and Ash. It’s hard to think. It’s so hard to think.

“There you are..” Wilbur whispers, his pointer finger gently stroking my cheekbone. “What happened to you love?” I can’t tell if it’s his tone, or the fact he looks so broken. But I can’t stop my eyes from watering and my body from turning into him, hiding myself away. Embarrassment filled me, they’d seen it all. The moldy food, the dirty clothes. They probably saw the abundance of mail I'd gotten as well. People are walking out the room. Not Wilbur, he stays. He stays and makes me look at him. “Here’s what’s gonna happen, I’m gonna help you shower, and they’re going to clean and get you food. Okay?” My eyes widened. I shake my head so quickly it hurts. His face falls, he looks down at what I’m wearing. His face falls even more. “Love…” He whispers. “I don’t–I can’t. Don’t make me.” I whisper. Wilbur wipes away my tears and shakes his head. “No. You’re going to get clean, eat, and then you will sleep for however long you need to.” He lifts me like I’m nothing.

He sets me on the toilet, turning to the tub and turning on the faucet. He waits for it to get warm before he’s plugging the drain and helping me get undressed. He brushes the hair from my face, he frowns at the sight of the back of my head. He looks down at my arms before I can see him clenching his jaw. “We’ll work on the matts too.” He picks me up again, placing me in the tub and going to shut the door. He grabs a towel from the cabinet, as well as a washcloth. He swipes the comb from the counter.

“I’m sorry.” I can’t help but whisper. He sighs. “I know. But it’s alright. We were worried about you.” Was all he said before he’s dousing my hair in water. He keeps a hand on my forehead, stopping the water from getting into my eyes. And with that, he applies conditioner and starts to de-matt my hair. An hour and countless tub refills later, my hair is de-matted and I’m clean. Feeling slightly better too. Wilbur gave me the crewneck he was wearing for comfort, before planting a kiss on my forehead and leaving the room to grab other clothes. The sounds from the outside are a lot less foggy now. I can hear the boys outside bickering and talking. “Are they okay Wil?” “What happened?” “From your face, I can tell it wasn’t good.”

I can’t help but stand weakly, the towel wrapped around me. I look in the mirror. I look a little more like myself. I touch my face, I look pale. I am pale. My hair is a bit longer now. I don’t smell bad anymore. I do feel better, but I can’t help but think I’m making Wilbur do this.

Wilbur reappears, he looks at me and smiles. He hands me the clothing he picked out before leaving the room once again, though he stands just outside the door.

I dress quickly. Slipping on Wilbur’s crewneck once I have my shirt on. I walk out, giving Wilbur a small smile. “You uh–You didn’t have to do this.” He takes my hand and leads me through my now clean apartment. “I did. Because if I didn’t–If we didn’t, you’d be dead right now, or you’d have killed yourself soon.” He says, sitting me down at the table that’s been cleared off. “Now, be honest. When is the last time you remember eating something?” He asks.

My face drops. That’s the thing–I can’t. “Uh–Tuesday?” I say, like I even know what day it is, his face falls. “It’s Friday.” He deadpans before going into the kitchen, he comes back with Ash, Mark, and Joe. They each have both in their hands. Wilbur has two.

“It’s just soup. Easy on the stomach.” Joe pipes up before sitting on my right, Wilbur sits on my left, and Ash and Mark sit across from me. “We don’t need to talk about things right now, no one is going to make you. But you need to talk to someone soon. Maybe not us, but someone.” Wilbur said, putting his hand on my knee. “Yeah. I think I can do that.” They smile, I eat my soup, and for the first time since September–I feel permanent.

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