#wilford x yn

[fictionalsownme]

More Than A Woman | wilford warfstache x gn!viewer / reader |

chapter one - "I've known you very well"

A/N: hi everyone!! I'm so excited to post this! Usually I spend a long time on the stuff I write but I wrote a good chunk of this in a feverish burst haha, I've been wanting to write for Wil and had such a clear idea of how I see him in my head for so long :)) This fic will probably be around 10 chapters~ish and progress will probably be a little slow but I'm also trying to get faster at my writing so I guess we'll see! Getting it down is always the hardest, then you spend a bit of time hating it, then the fixing can start! Anyway, I hope you guys like this, I love this dorky weirdo a lot for whatever reason, and I'd love to write for other egos too :) ((there might be a guest appearance or two in here in the last few chapters if plans don't change 👀)) hope you guys enjoy the first chapter at least! lmk 🥰! word count: 2.9k notes: reader is gender-neutral, similar to all of mark's stuff :) -- the title is just after the song! no pronouns or descriptors are used other than the occasional they/them. reader is the viewer (& district attorney) from wkm, adwm, ahwm, iswm, etc, but that won't come up until later. wmlw wilford. story will be mostly fluff, some hurt/comfort & angst, lots of romance and flirting! story is adapted from an idea I had for my self insert. we will get into some lore stuff (or at least my understanding of the lore 👀) and filling in gaps with headcannons, but it's mostly about wilford & reader and I'll try to explain as we go so don't worry about it too much if you don't know all of it. especially since I don't know if my understanding is always 100% accurate 👉👈 let's have fun yall! 💞

masterlist | AO3

The music playing softly over the convenience store speakers was pleasant, if slightly boring. Like elevator music— there only to help ease the passing of time. Your night shift would end soon, and the sky could be seen as it lightened more every minute through the windowed front of the building.

Other than that, the old store was quiet. Dusty. Pink and orange neon strips lined the walls near the ceiling. They overpowered the dated fluorescent lights, casting everything in a slightly peach haze. Like a dream. 

Different sections of the store were marked with neon too, the letters glowed against the wall denoting the drinks, the snacks, the hot food… You liked your little store. Even if the unyielding isolation of your work made you a bit… complacent. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d truly talked with someone.

The ice creams chilled your fingers through the wrappers as you pulled them from their box and slotted them into place. Even with the cold air of the freezer wafting over you, you could smell the cool summer air coming in the sliding front doors.

You liked to prop them open on dawns like these. The convenience store lights did draw in the occasional pestering bug, but they usually found their way out again before long. You did get a bat once. Albeit a little crazed and frantic, you were surprised to find it harmless. Maybe a little lost. Now that thing seemed like it would never leave. 

Refocusing on your task, you brushed your condensation-soaked fingers on your work apron, tied tight behind your neck and around your back, and shut the freezer door. 

The motion alert chimed a pleasant tune through the staticky old speakers as a customer entered the open doors from the street.

You called an automatic, “Welcome in~,” and went about straightening a shelf of snack bars and chocolate. You didn’t bother to look in their direction as you heard them make their way through the aisles.

“Pardon me,” said their strange, nearly British accent from beside you now. You turned to the source of the voice, the man who’d just walked in, and your eyes went to his outfit first. 

A silky-- almost sparkly in how it caught the light-- lavender shirt with mismatched buttons revealed expanses of his bare chest. It was paired with white bell-bottoms and a fake pink afro hanging half-off his head, about to fall off. He had olive skin and dark hair-- nearly black--, fluffy and sticking up every which way like hands had been running through it. Scruffy facial hair framed a thick mustache that tinted slightly pink where it turned up at the ends.

He looked… honestly, he looked ridiculous. But the 70s getup was fun, you supposed. And his eyes-- dark brown and monolid-- were handsome. Underneath all the… extra mess. You blinked, slowly, in a way that felt like waking up.

“Uh, hi. Are you coming from a costume party or something?” It was August, but you supposed it was never too early to start the spooky season. 

“Oh! Do you know of one? I do love a good costume. But no. Just the regular-sort. Just woke up from one.” He scanned the products near his head, grabbed a protein bar, sniffed the wrapper, guffawed, and put it back.

“You just woke up? Are you alright?”

“Oh, worry not, friend, this is normal for my level of reverie! I’m not even hungover!” He laughed, his hands going to his hips.

You stared at him.

“I was just looking for something to gnaw on! To nourish myself before I’m on my way.” His eyes were still traveling all over, not really seeing you.

Now in theory, a strange man coming in at this hour, acting even stranger, with his clothes disheveled? You knew you should be on your way to your safe space behind the counter to get him checked out and exiting the store as fast as possible. But there was something about him… 

Something you couldn’t place…

Instead you raised your eyebrows and relaxed against the cooler door. “Uh, I guess that depends on what kind of food you like,” You offered. After a moment, his gaze landed on you and he seemed to finally take you in. Your uniform, your crossed arms, your patient expression, your features. His face scrunched into confusion.

A moment passed, staring at each other like that. “Your shirt’s looking a little rough, you know.”

“Have we met, friend?” He asked as he began to fix his buttons. 

You watched passively as more of his chest came into view. He either didn’t notice or didn’t mind your blatant staring. You weren’t sure why you were staring, or what you were feeling as you did so. 

You weren’t gawking at his abs or anything-- well,-- not that he didn’t have abs. He did, sort of. The expanse of his chest and abdomen were tight with toned muscle. He definitely wasn’t lacking abs, anyway. Either way… this was about something different. 

You wondered for a moment if a vague familiarity was what you were picking up on, but quickly dismissed it.

“I feel like I’d remember meeting you.” 

You realized with a start that your comment could be seen as flirtatious, and added quickly, “Just, you know-- generally.”

But he just hummed and spun on his heels, turning away. You sighed and found yourself in-step behind him, hands in your uniform pockets. Like it was the most natural thing in the world. 

“Well, either way!” He started, his energy returning tenfold. “Let's see what this cute little shop has to eat!” 

For some reason, you asked, “Do you have money?” 

He froze. “Er, no~. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind what?”

“Well, spotting me of course! Let’s just say I owe you one, eh friend?”

You rolled your eyes, smiling. “Thought so.” 

Thought so? Maybe you did know him… 

It was your turn to squint in displaced confusion. “What’s your name?”

His voice came from behind you and you spun around, your shoes squeaking on the tile floor. When did he sneak around you? 

He bent over and twirled his hand, a flamboyant bow finally knocking the afro off his head. “Wilford Warfstache, at your service.”

“That’s your name?” 

He righted himself. “For now.” It suited him well enough, but for some reason it sounded misplaced.

… But no, either way, you definitely hadn’t met him before. You didn’t know many people in the first place, let alone someone so eccentric.

Still, you were curious about him. Curious about his personality and who he was. He felt sort of like a puzzle waiting to be solved. And so far, despite his quirks, despite how admittedly weird you’d also been acting, he’d been friendly. You couldn’t say the staring and prodding questions were too in-character for you. At least not when it came to customers. 

His hair looked softer without the wig to weigh it down-- parted at his brow and long enough to fluff over the tips of his ears and end where his neck met his spine. You reached down to scoop the curly mop of synthetic hair up off the floor.

“Where did you get this thing?”

He hummed something like ‘I don’t know’, his eyes sort of wide like a clueless puppy’s. 

“What, you just kind of have it?”

“Yea’p.”

You squinted at him, a smirk forming on your lips. “How about I do you a favor and throw this away?”

He shrugged, hummed an ‘alright’ sound, and turned away. 

“Oh no, I was kidding! God, here--!” You had to grab his wrist to stop him from wandering off further and placed the pink afro in his hand.

You had just been trying to tease him, but now you just felt bad. “Look, Wilford, you want something to eat? We have to throw the hot food out every night. You can have a taquito or a slice of pizza or something if you want.”

Then he was frozen again-- staring down at where your fingers wrapped around his wrist. Your eyes followed his gaze down and then you were staring too.

A moment passed. Then two. Finally, you let go and crossed your arms again, tucking your hands away where they couldn’t embarrass you again.

“... Fuck, I’m sorry. I-I don’t know why I did that.” You did your best to clear your throat.

But he was still stuck there. He blinked a few times and his gaze met your eyes, his brows gathering together. 

“Wh-What did you say your name was, friend?” He seemed so… serious all of sudden. So dire.

You hadn’t mentioned it yet, but told him with a hesitant voice. 

His expression blanked, eyes widening. He brought his arm, the offending afro in tow, to his chest, touching his wrist where you’d held it.

“Oh…” 

You raised your brows and asked softly, “Sorry, do you know me, then?”

“Hm?” And he blinked like his mind was clearing, like he’d forgotten you were there. 

He cleared his throat, smiled-- ear to ear-- his mustache lopsided like a cartoon. “Oh-- nevermind about that! Some food would be lovely, if you don’t mind.”

His eyes were sparkling. 

“Sure. I mean, it’s nothing fancy. Here,” And you walked over towards the front counter. Wilford trailed close behind you-- holding onto the wig in his hands like a school kid holding a lunch box-- his gaze wandering over the store again like he hadn’t seen it the first time.

You arrived at the hot foods section, a glassed-off section of day-old food over heated rods. You shrugged. “If you have a sensitive stomach, maybe don’t,” you started, “but it’s mostly fine to be honest. I eat it if I’m in a pinch, you know.”

You hopped up to sit on the counter, your legs facing Wilford, and leaned back to reach around and grab the tongs waiting there. You straightened and clapped them together twice. You offered him a smile. “What’ll it be, Mr. Warfstache?” Then a quieter, “--that was your last name right?”

“Do you gravitate towards anything yourself?”

“Can’t go wrong with a slice of pizza, I guess. Even here.”

His smile grew sort of soft. “Then that. If you please.”

“You got it.”

You leaned over again and served up the slice of moderately warm and slightly greasy pizza on a brown napkin and passed it off to him. 

“Much obliged.”

You got one for yourself too, and when you righted and your eyes found Wilford again, he was sitting in a retro-style diner chair you’d never seen before-- his feet against the edge of the counter beside you.

You couldn’t help the surprised laughter that choked out of you. “Wha-- where did you even find that?”

The chair teetered on its two legs as he leaned precariously back, tilting his head at your question. The pink wig sat in his lap and you couldn’t help thinking it looked like some weird dog.

“Well, there’s no need to worry! I’m only borrowing it, I’m not a barbarian.”

And you just knew you weren’t getting more of an answer than that.

“So who even are you?” You asked as he took a bite of the pizza, somehow pulling all the cheese right off the top in one piece. He pouted down at the offending mozzarella, slurping it into his mouth and swallowing it. “Do you live around here?”

“Mm. I don’t really live anywhere. Much more the exploring-- ever on the move-- type.”

He was so expressive. It really felt like talking to an old cartoon come-to-life or something. You turned to lean against the side of the glass cover, swinging your legs so your feet rested on the counter, not far from his still against the edge. You weren’t touching at all, but you were surprised at how quickly the two of you fell into a casual-- albeit timidly curious-- rhythm. 

“So what do you do?” And you began to eat too.

He beamed, his smile reaching all the way to his eyes. “I’m an interviewer! Warfstache Tonight, that’s what my show is called! It’s quite a professional endeavor!”

You smiled and hummed around your bite of pizza, impressed. That actually explained a lot. And it suited him nicely enough. “Sounds pretty glamorous.”

“And what about you? You can’t just be a convenience store clerk!” He seemed so affronted by the idea. Crinkling his nose, dropping his voice an octave. “How dreadfully boring.”

You winced. “‘Just a convenience store clerk?’ Ouch, Wilford…” You couldn’t help frowning down at your slice. 

 “Oh! No no, pardon me!” He let the chair fall back to four legs, waving the idea way with a panicked hand. “I only meant that… this isn't what truly stirs your passions, is it? Do you do anything at your leisure? For work or just… something you enjoy?”

You squinted at him. But you didn’t really think he was trying to insult you. And he wasn’t wrong. It just… wasn’t always the most fun when someone pointed it out. Especially like that. 

You sighed, fidgeting as you considered his question. “Not right now… This job keeps me pretty occupied. But you know, it’s not too bad. It keeps me, I don’t know, grounded I guess.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded, taking another bite. “I do hope you get more opportunities soon, then.” He said, surprisingly grounded.

You looked at him. “... Thanks.” And you meant it.

“And… my apologies for the earlier, uh, miswording.”

 “That’s fine… I’d be curious to hear more about your show, though! Have you interviewed anyone interesting or anything?”

A beat. A sort of tiredness settled into his shoulders and he peered up at you. “The odd gold-star guest did wander in from time to time. I’m not sure if my skills were quite deserving of them at the time.”

Was that… shame?

“The truth is, I couldn’t quite live up to the role. I--” He laughed, pained. He cleared his throat. “I’m taking a bit of a break from show business for the moment.”

Ah. So that’s what happened. You offered him a sympathetic smile. “To party? That’s probably why you don’t have any money, Wilford. And why you have to rely on shitty convenience store food?” You held up your greasy napkin like it was evidence.

“Now don’t underestimate the power of a good party! And this food is fine, I’m grateful for it,” He crumpled the now empty napkin and gestured wildly with it. “The truth is I get by just fine. I’m just not sure what else I should be doing.”

You looked out the front windows. The sky was getting lighter. The timer marking the end of your shift would go off any minute.

So maybe that’s why he’d been asking you about your passions. You felt bad for him. He was strange, to be sure. And a little hard to follow. But he was also… sweet. He had a softness about him.

And still… there was that feeling that hadn’t disappeared since meeting him. Like… like your soul recognized him. Maybe not deeply. But distantly. Like you’d met him in a dream. It was a ridiculous notion. Ridiculous didn’t seem beyond his territory.

You turned, legs coming down from the counter once again. You leaned forward, your hand landing at the junction of his shoulder and neck. His silk shirt was soft under your fingers. His eyes jumped up to yours and you looked down at him with a smile. 

“You liked doing your show right? You want to be an interviewer?”

He nodded slowly. His lashes fluttered. 

“Then that’s what you should be doing! You just have to try again!” You shrugged with one shoulder. “It might suck a lot. And you might fail again. But pick yourself back up. Keep going. I’m sure you can do it if you keep at it and think outside the box, you know. Failing only means failing if you stop.”

You leaned back, your hand sliding away. He stared at you.

“That’s what the rest of us do, anyway. Honestly, maybe you should do your show online! You know, livestream it or something. I’m sure you’d find your own way to it.”

Slowly, a smile crept back in, the corners of his eyes creasing. 

“What a wonderful idea…” 

God, his eyes… 

You looked down at your own napkin, laughing a little at yourself. “Wilford, I promise, the advice I just gave you was nothing crazy.”

“Well, perhaps it’s just a little too rare that I get a pick-me-up.”

You hopped down from the counter. “Swing by whenever, I’ll hand them out for free. Though, if you’re always on the move, I guess you’re probably not in town for long, huh?”

He quickly followed your lead and stood, his chair nearly falling in his haste. “Uh— w-well I, I don’t know, I could always… linger for a day or two. Hard to say really.” 

“Uh huh.” You smirked at him, raising your brows. “Well, if that constant partying you have going on brings you back here, feel free stop in, okay? … It’d be nice to have someone in here every once in a while. Well, someone friendly, anyway.” 

“Right. Will do. Of course.”

You gave him two solid pats on the chest and turned to throw the napkins away behind the counter. When you turned to face him again, he was gone.  Only slightly confused, you quickly recovered and yelled a quick, “bye~!” to the now empty store.

[rat-that-writes]

The Egos’ Search Histories

a/n: i am a GENIUS.

tw: mentions of drugs, murder, violence, sex, erections, swearing, guns, burying bodies

Dark

➭ alright first of all

- every time he searches something on google or youtube he uses perfect grammar and sentence structure he cannot bring himself to just type “how big is the biggest lizard” he has to type “How big is the largest lizard ever found?” like a fucking old man

➭ also u bet he searches about the worlds biggest lizards. he doesn’t have much free time but when he does it’s filled with the weirdest thoughts; e.g.

• “How long would it take to suck all the blood out of the average adult?”

• “How to get rid of someone’s soul?”

• “Does the law apply to the void?”

for some reason he doesn’t get a lot of answers

actor

➭ unlike Dark he does not care about grammar

- well,, neither do any of the other egos lol

➭ oh god

- its just pickup lines and romance/sex tips and the odd concerning question about either his dick or like… murder maybe

• “is it normal to have an erection that lasts 2 days”

• “does my s/o really love me quiz” (he seeks reassurance in some Not Great™️ ways oops)

• “how to ask your s/o to paint you nude”

• “how to ask you s/o to let you paint them nude”

yancy

➭ sweet boy doesn’t know how modern tech works

• “howtoaskforahug” (after getting no results he had to be told he needs to use the space bar)

• “h o w t o a s k f o r a h u g” (after getting no results AGAIN he had to be told how to actually type)

• “where is my shirt” (after not getting the results he needed he had to be told that you cant ask google about something google wouldn’t know)

➭ that’s basically the extent of his search history because he finds it too confusing

➭ he just gets you to google it for him

- when he asks he says “baby can youse search on the globble about where i can buy a pocket knife?”

- other things he calls google:

• gooble

• gomble

• gobble

• goob

• joojul

• god damn search thingy

illinois

➭ illi’s is boring because its just like research about artefacts hes found and shit

➭ but there are a few things in there which you would take note of

• “is there a tent specifically designed to have sex in”

• “where can i find an aphrodisiac”

• “tiny cowboy hat on amazon”

• “cowboy hats for dogs amazon”

damien

➭ you would think his is just political and business shit

- and it is

- well, it is on his work laptop.

➭ his personal laptop?

• “doja cat concert tickets”

• “megan thee stallion concert tickets”

• “full version of the cpr song on tiktok”

• “hello kitty plushies bulk”

wilford

➭ oh jesus.

• “where to buy shotguns in bulk”

• “where to buy iguanas in bulk”

• “how to bury 12 bodies in one day”

• “where to buy an alligator”

• “how many alligators would it take to overthrow the country”

• “where to buy ketamine in bulk”

[beybaldes]

The Prying Hands Of Choice

detective abe x gn!reader

summary : "y/n and Abe reunite at Wilford's roller rink disco and fate does not seem to care."

Word count : 2.9k

~*~

Part 1 - The Prying Hands Of Choice

Part 2 - A Love Never Flourished

Part 3 - Somewhere, Somehow

~*~

Pushing past the pink haired man, despite his insistence that you shouldn't, you slipped through the rainbow of streamers and out into a dance floor. Not the most unusual place you had been dropped off at so far, but definitely the most fun: the bright, strobe lights and the funky 70s themed outfits all were a welcome change.

The broad shoulders entrenched in a suave leather jacket was an even more welcome one.

"Stop stalling! You're under arrest for the deaths of way too many people to even count." Abe. You hadn't heard that voice in what felt like eons - not since the manor, and however many years you had spent falling through wormhole after wormhole.

Your eyes filtered over to the other William, or Wilford as he had referred to himself as, that stood before him - near identical to the one who stood next to you now, bar the cocktail that he sipped from occasionally- boring down the barrel of his gun.

"Well that's just ridiculous I would never kill anybody." Wilford drawled, his speaking slurred as he tried to get the straw of his drink into his mouth; struggling severely besides the simplicity of the task.

Turning to ask the Wilford that stood beside you what was going on, you found him to have disappeared - like magic. Maybe there had only been one Will after all.

Were all those wormholes making you lose your mind?

Probably. You were seeing Abe after all. Abe who you'd watched die at the hands of the Colonel, shortly followed by yourself, after he'd spent so long, and tried so hard to solve Marks murder.

Although, if this is what losing your mind allowed you'd gladly embrace every twist of your imagination and echo of your past.

"Is that right?" Abe asked the pink haired man who stood in front of him, slowly lowering his gun with a twinge of anger in his voice. How long had he been so bitter?

Gently lifting your heavy helmet from your head, you lowered it to your side, holding it loosely between your fingers. You suddenly felt underdressed in your Captains coveralls - as though you'd have ever had time to change - that the outfit was too odd, too unlike the you Abe knew.

That wasn't you anymore.

The District Attorney who had worked hard in Damien's office, who tried to help solve their friends murder, who died trying to protect the people they loved, was long gone. Yet, was your new role of Captain much different from that?

How many times had you jumped into the wormhole? Jumped out of the airlock? Let yourself be consumed by the vastness of space? - to try and save your crew? To try and save Mark? Too many to count.

Perhaps Abe would love you, and your silly, little beret, all the same. Besides, you deserved to be a little selfish for once.

"Well..." Abe pulled a small, grey taser out of his holster, slowly stepping closer and closer to Wilford: who was still entirely focused on the straw in his Martini. "Whatever you say buddy."

The way Abe had spat out the words - as though they had soured on his tongue - did not befall you. Had he been through so much hurt since you saw him last? More than you knew.

Abe's heart ached for you; longed for you to still be by his side, be his partner (in every sense of the word). He kept himself awake at night in anguish, thinking and thinking about what he could've done to save you. After all, he had survived a bullet to the heart hadn't he? Yet, like always, he couldn't save the one who mattered most, his partner - you.

Was it his fault? Probably. Every partner he'd ever had at his side had left, been left behind, died - and he supposed by giving you the title, he had doomed you to such a fate.

He often wished he'd told you to run far away from that goddamn manor at the first sight of danger - but he hadn't, and he would have to live with that.

As Abe stalked towards Wilford, taser in hand, you let out a ghost of a sound - something between gasp and a whine - hoping to stop Abe before he took it too far, but not knowing the words to say, where to begin.

"Abe." You mustered out, hushed words coming out barely above a whisper, though it halted the detective in his tracks all the same.

Lowering the taser, Abe looked to the floor, tears welling in his eyes at the sound. Many times he had heard you calling his name, usually a whisper in the night - a comforting presence when he struggled to sleep - but this time felt too real. As though you were actually stood mere feet behind him and not 6ft below him.

He knew he shouldn't look - knew he would just be getting his hopes up over nothing. You were long, long gone. And a voice in his head is all you would be: yet like every other time he turned his head.

Though this time you were there. Standing, living, breathing mere feet away from him. At least he thought. He'd never seen the ghost of you before, only heard the echos of his past - but if this was him finally going crazy from your haunting presence, then crazy he would be.

"Abe." You chocked out, tears beginning to well in your eyes at the sight of the man before you. A hand came up to clamp over your mouth, to keep the pathetic whimpers in, letting your helmet clatter to the floor - the sound resounding around the near-empty roller rink.

Now Abe turned to fully face you, his eyebrows creasing together as he attempted to keep up his stoic appearance - this wasn't real, and he knew it. You were but a figment of his imagination; his own little secret only he had the joy of being privy too.

"You're not meant to be here!" Wilford slurred, his straw now loosely held between his lips and his martini almost gone. "I thought I told you to stay put y/n."

Will could see you too. Fuck.

Tears begin to rapidly fill Abes waterline as his eye raked up and down your figure - clad in a beige coverall, a little red beret resting disheveled atop your head and a discarded, cracked helmet on the floor. He doubted that it was in such condition minutes ago.

"I just couldn't help myself." You whisper breathlessly, your gaze never breaking away from Abes as you spoke. Finally getting to see him again, you doubted you'd ever be able to look away - not that you'd want to in the first place.

"Well, I guess I can it allow it for the mean time." William huffed folding his arms tightly across his chest, a sulk forming on his face. With a snap of his finger his martini began to refill. "But don't take too long, we've got to get back to our regularly scheduled programming soon."

You let out a teary laugh at Wilford's outlandish wording - ever the dramatic - a trait he and the him you knew seemed to share. Taking a few, small steps closer to Abe, you didn't speak, not wanting to get too close, or say the wrong thing, and startle him into disbelief.

This whole thing felt unreal enough to you, you couldn't imagine how it felt for him. Not only to see you now: but to wake up after being shot and finding you dead, and to spend years dedicating his life to finding your killer only to have you standing before him now.

"Partner?" Abe finally asked, his taser slowly being sheafed into his pocket as he finally took a step in your direction, not moving too fast as though that would make you disappear from his vision - gone like a wisp of smoke.

"Partner." You repeated, somewhat confirming his notion and somewhat using the term of endearment on him too. Talking larger and larger steps across the roller rinks wooden floor, you met each other in the middle, neither touching the other and both heaving in air.

"Are you- are you real?" Abe chocked out, his eyes flickering over every part of you he had been blessed with seeing again - free of blood and injury, filled with life and soul.

"I hope." Not the reply he has wanted, but it suited well enough. It was true, honest at the least - after falling through a myriad of wormholes you didn't quite know yourself, though you hoped now more then ever you were.

Taking another step forward, you were now chest to chest - close enough to feel the other breathe but far enough it could still be a dream.

A twisted dream at that.

Abe raised his hand to ghost above your cheek; almost too scared to touch you, to have you melt away under his finger tips. Though you didn't give him long to worry, leaning into the heat of his palm - skin meeting skin. Abe stilled at the contact, unnerved by the warmth that pooled in his fingertips and sent shivers up his arm and down his spine. You were once again in his arms - or were you?

Abe wasn't going to allow the prying hands of choice to drag you away from him again - in his arms, you would be safe this time. So, his hand swiftly moved to the back of your neck, pulling you against him and tucking your head into the crook of his neck; his free hand snaking around your waist and keeping you tight against him. Twisting his fingers into the fabric of your coveralls, he pressed you as tight against himself as he could.

You couldn't feel the beating of Abe's heart, but you hoped he could feel yours, assure himself you were real. He couldn't. Whatever resemblance of a heartbeat either of you had, had left you as you hit the floor of the manor many moons ago.

"Oh God, I missed you Partner." Abe's voice cracked as he spoke, the flood of emotion overtaking each of his senses. He pulled away slightly from you, enough that he could now clearly see your face - meet your eyes. Slowly, his hand moved from the back of your neck, coming to caress the side of your face. "But what's with the outfit?"

The two of you let out bittersweet, teary laughs, neither surprised by the capability to find such humour in the moment of upset and turmoil. It felt right to laugh in the others arms after all you'd been through.

You gently rested your forehead against Abe's, relishing in the moment and committing every detail of his face to memory - not knowing when you'd get to see it next. Though you hoped you'd see it today and tomorrow, and every day for the rest of your life - you couldn't exactly trust that would be the case.

Not when the crystal in your palm could start burning against you and whisk you away down another wormhole at any moment.

"I have so much I want to say." You spluttered, leaning into Abe's hand as you hiccuped out a sob. Abe's thumb brushed gently across your cheek, wiping away the escaped tears, hushing you soothingly. "I don't even know where to begin."

"Take your time gorgeous, we've got worlds of time." You didn't. Abe didn't know, you couldn't blame him for the way his words made you sob harder then before. Dropping your head into the crook of his neck, you grabbed fistfuls of his leather jacket, hoping a tight hold on him would keep him there with you.

"A captain doesn't leave their ship when it's sinking; now do they?" Wilford asked, his Martini once again empty and the straw still evading his tongue. "I believe our little y/n's time here is up. No?"

The warm-burning sensation in your palm only confirmed Williams words. Fate was not on your side; though when had it ever been?

"No." You commanded, though Will was right: you couldn't leave your crew to die by your lack of attention, because you were selfish enough to let the wormhole fester for your own peace of mind. "It's not fair."

"When is life ever fair?" William near spat - anger of a life he had once lived consuming him and leaving him just as quick. "When has life ever been fair to any of us? You're not special! You need to do what's right."

"Don't listen to him partner." Abe pleaded, his hands holding onto the fabric of the our coveralls tighter then he had previously; as though you'd slip through his fingers at the mention of going anywhere but with him. "I just got you back, I- I can't lose you again."

It was selfish of you, to want to heed to his words. To stay in his arms now you'd found them. And in all your lifetimes you'd never put yourself first, at least that you could remember. You'd given up your life, your body, your soul for the sake of your friends, for the sake of making things right - why couldn't you be selfish for once?

You had a job to do.

"He's right." You sombrely answered, removing yourself from Abe's hold with little struggle. His arms didn't chase after you, hold you close to him so you couldn't go - be taken away by things out of your control. He didn't fight this, didn't fight for you. "I have no choice in the matter."

"Life is ours to choose." Abe spat, the words bitter on his tongue. How many time a had you heard that phrase? In how many bodies? Tears welled in your eyes once more at the wave of grief that washed over you; grieving the life you'd never get to live with Abe, a life long taken from you. "Choose to stay."

Choose me.

"I would, if I could. I would over and over again." Your voice trembled as you spoke, leaning down to pick up your discarded helmet, not breaking eye contact as you did.

"Don't make them leave." Abe begged, turning towards Wilford - William, the colonel - pleading with the man he had spent the last decade, decades, chasing after. As though he had any control over the matter. "It's the least you could do."

Wilford didn't answer the man, instead he fiddled with the straw inside of his drink, idly sipping the liquid.

"Abe, it's okay." You soothed, taking a step closer to your lover, in some lifetime or other, though not daring to touch him. You'd already let go of him twice, and to do so again might kill you. "I'll find you. Somehow, somewhere."

"You promise?" You couldn't promise, that would be cruel. To have him lead his life in hope, in wait. You loved the detective far too much to subject him to such heartbreak.

"No. But I'll try my hardest." A bitter laugh left your sore and scratched throat, tired of the crying. "It's the best I can give you."

A hot white burn flooded your senses, the crystal that was buried deep into your palm glowing brightly.

"Ive seen so much more than you know, and it's means I know things. Like somewhere out there I've already found you; I can do it again. I will do it again." You reassured, wincing as the pain in your palm became unbearable, fighting against leaving becoming harder and harder. It was futile to resist.

"I hope you know I don't like this, not one bit." Abe seethed through his teeth, his eyes red and raw from both the tears he'd let flow and the ones he was trying to keep within.

Taking a step back from you, Abe stood closer to Wilford, giving you one last look over - relishing in the sight of you alive and breathing for what well could be the last time.

"Be safe, partner."

"I will, partner." A swirl of blue and white began to form behind you, the wind picking up inside the roller rink despite all the windows being closed. This was goodbye. Turning to face it, you had just about accepted your fate: but you knew you needed to be selfish for once. To have some peace of mind to get you through whatever mayhem was to come.

"Wait, Abe, I-" With a flash of bright light you were gone. Gone from Abe's grasp once again, slipped through his fingers like grains of sand.

"I know," Abe whispered, his glazed-over expression fixed on the spot where you had just stood. "I know."

"Well, better get back to our 'regularly scheduled programming.'" Abe sardonically spat, turning to Wilford and slipping the taser out of his pocket. "I have a job to do after all."

Abe would return to the roller rink before he knew, before he was ready to really. Though this time he wouldn't feel the heartbreak, dazed by the flashing lights and groovy music, he'd become entranced by the disco-loving Warfstache's antics and join in.

He'd dance to the upbeat music, moving in  slow circles with Wilford and his mask-covered friends; deluded by the knowledge that you couldn't survive a bullet to the heart.

And he'd constantly find himself looking over his shoulder, a whisper in the wind calling his name, and a strange feeling that one day, he'd turn around and a person would be waiting at the other end of the call.

a/n : There's not enough Abe content so I decided to make my own.

If one single person wants a part 2 I'll make one because I already have ideas lol.

I hope you enjoyed! <3

[elithequeenbee]

Who can guess who this gonna be? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Working on another request lol

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Dark is the Me on the inside vs me on the Inside meme with the goth boots and pushers socks. He’s an edge lord on the outside but he’s not an actual bad guy. Just in Actors story he is. // Also, Dark x YN x Wilford is kinda perfect romantic or platonic cause all of them have been through so much together and are the only ones who could understand each other 🥥

YEAH THIS IS WHAT WE'RE TALKING ABOUT 👌👌💕💕

[pawpadsalad]

dark o plier

I might have misspelled or not worded some things properly, but here u go (Lowkey want someone to ask for Actor and Celine t b h bc this is just a peace to a thought puzzle of mine and any of them alone misrepresents said thoughts but this is about Dark and not them so)

First impression

Fannon/OG two vids only

The first real soiild image I had of Dark was HitTower (If thats their url) and some fics people made about Dark/other ego concepts and for me he was just a hot face to day dream about but that slowly morphed into me wanting more content for him/to see him fleshed out as I grew older

Cannon/ADWM

I hated him and was very vocal about it on an old main, I did not trust him and didn’t think people should like him bc he was “evil” (Due to tumblr constantly saying you can’t like villains or you’re an abuse apologist) but within a month or so I leaned heavily into the romance angle due to me adoring “Villain is soft for only their S/O” and wanting to see content where Dark was more genuine and kind to YN, while still being evil, which lead me to create a side blog for him (@Softdarkiplierimagines) but I always accepted that cannon Dark would likely be a Total Bastard and I eventually made an au for the blog

Current Impression

The often large gaps between ego content has dampened my interest greatly, but he’s still in the back of my mind and I want to see what Mark does next with him, if anything. I’d kinda sad Damien didn’t turn my spark back to a flame, but that may be bc that’s not a Dark video, that was Damien and Celine and while I enjoyed it I think I just want more Dark interacting with the viewer bc I just miss him and his attitude but if Mark wants to move away from that format/Dark and others story, then I guess I’ll stay missing him (Def a me just wanting more of the sake for inelegance rather than story progression, which is fully on me as a person, which is an okay thing as long as you don’t confuse your personal desires not being catered to as bad writing, bc Damien is very well written and I think that and WMLW show that Mark is taking time to plan and understand his story which makes me proud and happy), but all in all, hes still my fave ego and will always have a place in my heart/some fond memories and a influence on certain aspects of my style/aesthetic (Much like HS)

Favorite moment

When he kinda purses his lips in ADWM/Gives the viewer a kiss and then smiles like he thinks he’s slick

Idea for a story

Dark meeting Wilford and having an WMLW Chair Abe moment with him

Actor Mark confronting Dark after he, Mark, realizes this will never end and them talking about everything

Dark dealing with some fan hcs issues, body pain, gender dysphoria

Dark being pissed/heart broken that Willford still sleeps around (Be it in Celine form or other wise)

Darks shell cracking again to see what happens/Does he switch to Celine mode

Unpopular opinion

The fandom suddenly rushing to Dark side and labeling Actor Mark “Asshole”/”The True Villain” after the most recent video irks me and I think it’s mostly due to not really seeing Actor Mark as a villain but my thoughts on him are changing slightly (Mostly due to him insulting Abe) but this isn’t about him, bc I firmly believe their are no traditional heroes in this story just protags and trying to label anyone as better or worse doesn’t seem right to me, it’s just an escalation of revenge until any justice intended is outweighed by the wrongs committed

Don't like when ppl used to hc Dark and Will as hating eachother/Used Will to write fics where Dark got humiliated

Don't like when ppl write Dark as abusive to the other egos, especially Host who was at one point his right hand man (Mostly due to Host being blind and people infantilizing him to ship him with Doc I.)

Favorite relationship

Romantic healthy Dark x YN quickly followed by romantic healthily Dark x Host (On the note of Dark x YN, it was never really me shipping myself with him, but the viewer character from the videos)

Favorite headcanon

Darks fave food is chocolate // He has a chocolate lab named Choco and thats “Dark Chica”

[rat-that-writes]

Kisses HCs (Dark + Wilford)

a/n: hello i wrote these on paper at work lol enjoy. there are two more posts to come including other egos, i just wanted hc posts to be only 1-2 egos each post 

tw: mentions of horniness 

Dark

➭ top of head kisses

- when he feels he needs to protect you

- hes way taller than you so its easy 

- if someone tries flirting w/ you he comes up behind you and kisses your head and just smiles at the other person

➭ n e ck area

- hrrng yes

- when hes horny or youre horny 

- very slow 

➭ hand kisses <3

- when your upset he holds your hand and kisses all over it

- its also his way of apologising 

➭ mOUth

- all the time he loves it he loves it he loves he l-

- when hes happy, or horny, or bursting with rage

- but especially when hes been missing you

- he likes to make out for hours

Wilford

➭ ALL THE KISSES ALL OF THE TIME

- i mean. need i say more..??

- just kidding i absolutely do

➭ cheek kisses 

- when hes rushing about he mostly only kisses your cheeks because once his lips are on yours he just cant stay away

➭ neck area

- usually when hes horny

- and during aftercare

- he likes to press lil kisses to your shoulder when he spoons u

➭ top of head kisses are less common

- really just when hes half alseep and cant tell the difference between your head and anything else

➭ lips mouth yes

- all the time all the time all the time all the time

- he uses various lip balms all having different flavours so you have a small game where you guess which flavour hes wearing when he kisses you 

- (you always guess wrong so you can get more kisses though)

- ((he knows this))

- (((and he loves you for it)))

[rat-that-writes]

OKIE DOKEY YOU SAY UR STILL HUNGRY EH?????? How about.... wilford and/or illinois hc's on them dating a short reader👀👀

a/n: hahA HAHA YOU HAVE FUELLED ME thank u <3 also sorry this took so long lol 

tw: mention of fighting a random stranger, a lot of keyboard smashing bc im going feral at this, mentions of making out

illinois:

THIS BITCH will tease you so. much.

not in a mean way, just a "you are so insanely cute and the only way i can express my feelings towards you is through humour because you give me crazy ass butterflies but i will never admit that out loud" kind of way

you being short is detrimental to his career because he can't focus on the adventure or the treasure because oh my god you are adorable please let him hold you PLEASE

if you don't like being called cute/adorable/etc he will cease but it won't stop him thinkin about it

if you are a badass and know how to fight and shit, he wouldn't be surprised or anything he'd just be even more attracted to you than before. he likes a feisty one grrhjfdvjf

ok an amazing image just popped into my head: you trying to fight some bitch and illinois holding you back and picking you up by the waist while you throw punches im sCREAJNHDUGjb

when you guys make out he lifts you up and puts you on a counter top or something so you can reach his face sdfkvhjdfkbv

wilford:

PREPARE TO BE PICKED UP AT ANY MOMENT

he LOVES holding you!!!! so much!!! he will drop any conversation, any task he's doing if you walk into the room he's in just to grab you and spin around in a lil circle

i personally hc wil to be one tall mf, like 6'4 or something

which means if you are <5'3 then your head reaches his chest area which is PERFECT for head kisses!

BUT, like with illi, when you make out with him he likes to lift you up by your thighs and press you against wall hhhkfjhkdj 

PETNAMES!!! cupcake, angel, shortcake, babydoll, sweetpea, “my armrest” is a common one

the cuddles. are. immaculate. he has his big strong arms around you and will not let go for anything (unless you ask him to)

he is so protective. if you can handle yourself, he respects that, but he also has a gun so uhh 

[rat-that-writes]

Wilford puts you in a group chat with Dark

wilford is such a little whippersnapper

[beybaldes]

Somewhere, Somehow

Abe x gn!Reader

“Out of the confines of fate, the detective and the DA be at last.”

Word count: 2.4k

As encouraged by @crazy-obsessed-enby and @enderman-ezra​‘s love especially, for the first and second parts. Thank you <3

————————————————————————

Part 1 - The Prying Hands Of Choice

Part 2 -  A Love Never Flourished

Part 3 - Somewhere, Somehow

————————————————————————

Night comes quick in the city; too quick. The days run away from you, sunlight slips through your fingers and the veil of night covers the sky. Breakfast becomes lunch and lunch becomes dinner and you've just woken up and are already going back to sleep.

Time doesn't wait for the bustling and busy ways of the city: it's easy to loose track of the days and the nights. But you've never felt so alive.

Not since before the cold, wooden floor of the manor was firm against your back, blood splattered across the oak and your shirt. Wilford's disheartened look and the detectives body the last thing you'd seen.

Space doesn't have time, always too dark to know what's night and what's morning or when lunchtime truly is. It's unnerving in a way, how quickly you lose ingrained routine for the vastness of space. But how different is the inner city from space? Times comes and goes and you wake and you sleep and the world moves on with or without you.

A too-loud rumble of a car startles you from low murmur of the TV - some rerun of an old show you've never seen before yet have seen a million times - and the coldness of the seat next to you. An army of throw blankets swarm around your waist, disregarded by their other - better - half, and missing the warmth he provided.

Abe.

Pushing the comfort of the blankets away from you, you stood from the worn, leather couch. The deep brown reminding you of the jacket Abe had been wearing when you'd found him again; the reason you'd insisted you just had to have it.

Many a night had been spent curled on that couch: a book, a movie, a shitty rerun of a tv show and some good snacks and company. Not tonight though, Abe's smell withdrawn from the blankets and his warmth gone from your hold.

Padding through the kitchen, past the small island littered with unopened letters, house keys and empty takeout boxes, you pull your sleeves down and the window up. Slipping through the cracked open window, you closed it behind you - not wanting the crisp air to invade the warmth of the apartment that you had been so preciously holding onto.

Rain drips over the ledge of the roof, splashing against the metal of the fire-escape balcony and beginning to soak through Abe's shirt. How long had you let him be out here?

Sneaking closer to the broad-shouldered man, you wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head against the back of his shoulder.

"You shouldn't smoke; it'll kill you, you know." Abe looked down at his shirt-clad chest, his trembling hands coming to rest against and smooth out the fabric.

"Too late for that." He snarled, immediately apologising for his bitter tone and moving away from you. What was going on?

You often struggled to come to grips with the reality you found yourself in: the warped perception of life a side effect of falling through wormhole after wormhole. You'd awake from a dream that felt too real, just another reality you'd been briefly trapped in, sweating and screaming and crying out for Abe. Who was at your side, thankfully.

Night after night you dreaded the day would come where you'd awake to no Abe by your side, back in that cryopod with a glowing crystal in your hand. And Abe did everything he could on those nights to assure you it wasn't real.

He'd hold you, sooth you until you were fast asleep once again; promise he was here and not going anywhere while consumed with guilt at the white lie. Abe could not guarantee you that he'd come home each night, the work of a detective hard and demanding, so when he was there he made it count.

Except for on nights like these.

Abe constantly worried about you; worried you'd disappear again, die again, wake up alone and panicked because of his job. Fully driven by the idea it was all his fault, he'd made a point to tell you all of his partner had died, gone, been left behind - and yet he'd given you the title as though he was okay with that.

Letting out a deep sigh, he sat down on the steps of the fire escape that lead up to the next floor, taking a long drag from his cigarette before turning to face the sky, white smoke puffed into the black night.

Though your eyes had not left him, you now turned to face him, taking small almost meek steps towards your beloved detective. Taking one of his hands in your own, you caress the side of his face; a silent plea to talk to you.

Abe placed his other hand atop the two connected ones, giving them a gentle squeeze. The lit cigarette balanced between rosy lips, chapped by the cold and wind.

Slowly, he lowers his hands, his firm grip coming to rest on your hips. Gently he pulls you down onto his knee; your legs slotting between his own and an arm coming to rest across his broad shoulders. Resting your hand at the nape of his neck you begin to lightly scratch at the stubble there.

Abe's long-lost look dissolves from his face, his forehead knocking lovingly against your temple as he turns to face you, faces far too close for friendship.

But were you more then friends? You'd been friends when you met, and he held you like a lover. Looked at you as though you were his reason to go on and joked with you like a friend. You'd been everything and nothing entirely - something too complicated to put labels on; labels you'd love to see. But knowing Abe was yours was what mattered, and that he was.

"A penny for your thoughts dear?" Abe shakes his head, taking another drag from his cigarette then harshly blowing it out. "Don't give me that, I know something is wrong."

Taking his lit cigarette from where it was loosely held between his fingers, you took a long drag - holding the fumes in for a brief moment before teasingly blowing it in Abe's face. You move the cig back up to his lips and allow him to take a drag, then swiftly move it away from his face. Shuffling closer, you lean down; almost too close, a hairs length separating the two of you. You knock your nose against his, waiting for him to meet your eyes before you clumsily slot your lips against his own.

Abe instantly melts into the kiss, the smoke leaving his lungs as he brushes chapped lips against soft ones.

"Talk to me." You plead, wanting to know what was going on in his head. One hundred thoughts at once and you were ninety-nine of them; that one unused was reserved for whatever case he had been working on in that moment.

"Do you ever wish we were just the detective and the district attorney? And nothing more."

A daunting question. Life had been simpler then, sure, but the whirlwind of emotions Abe maybe you feel you wouldn't change for the world. Sometimes you don't think you were ever truly alive until you walked into the manor; Abe leaning against the doorframe of Mark's house while you were lounged across once of his many loveseats. It was like you were living for the first time meeting his eyes; as though you'd been born just in the doorway and he was the first thing you ever truly saw.

"What about less?" You asked, hoping and pleading that Abe got the sentiment behind your words: you didn't want less with him, you wanted security.

That's what Abe and you both lacked in this lifetime; knowledge that you would wake up beside the other everyday and that everything would be okay, safe and the same.

You would try and give him that, no matter the cost.

"Less is fine; good even. It's safe." Running your fingers along the back of Abe's neck lovingly, you lulled him into your touch, letting him really feel the heat radiating from your palm and know you were there. Right now. With him. Safe and sound.

The murmur of whatever you had been watching on the tv fades away and in its place is some 70s song - slow and relaxing - it's tune instantly making sleep sink into your bones and fill you with comfort.

"Dance with me?" You asked, barely above a whisper, Abe's head still resting against your own. "While I'm awake enough to."

Abe grunts displeasingly, and you think for a moment he's going to say no, then pushes you from his lap and the idea is almost confirmed. Though he pulls you close to him as he stands; you resting your head against his soft shirt and muscular chest beneath it. The brisk night air was harsh against your exposed skin eliciting a shiver - the cold quickly soothed from your skin by Abe's arms atop your own. Keeping you close and keeping the cold away.

Abe's hand snake away from yours: one reaching for your hand and pulling the intertwined pair up to the side of you, the other curling around your lower back and trying to pull you impossibly closer. Your own free arm is tucked under his, laying flat up against his back, allowing you to tuck yourself into his side slightly, hiding you away from the cold night air.

The pair of you move slow, in sync with the other and simply stepping from side to side, relishing in the moment of simplicity with the other.

"I'm glad it was you - this version of you - I found." You admitted, sheepish blush hidden by the dark of the sky and the way your head was tucked beneath Abe's. "All the other you's I encountered, they didn't have your eyes. Sure, they had your face, your smile or your charm; but they never had your eyes."

"I'm glad it was me too sweetheart." Abe chuckled, voice becoming raspy with need for sleep, night slipping further and further into day under the lights of the city. Rain became drizzle, the occasional pitter patter against the metal staircase reminding you it had rained at all.

You continued to sway to the lull of the song, recognising it to be the same that had played when you returned to Wilford's roller-rink , but choosing to keep that a secret for only yourself to indulge in. The only two times you had slow-danced with Abe were to this song, and you hoped it would be the only one you'd ever slow-dance to and he'd be the only one you'd ever slow-dance with.

As the song came to a sullen end, Abe pulled away from you, but only enough to look at your face. His eyes scoured across your features, taking across your face from your lips to your eyes and back: whatever he was thinking he settles for a chaste kiss against your forehead that makes you crinkle your eyebrows up at the ticklish sensation.

"You know, I'm glad that - even in another life - I got to travel the stars with you." Abe whispered his admission, something shy about it. You'd never mentioned how Gunther specifically looked like Abe; the ADS lead having you wrapped around his finger in ways you didn't even realise.

You'd almost called him Abe the first time you met him; everything about him all to similar to someone else. However, the first time he took off those sunglasses in front of you, you knew he wasn't your Abe, just some lookalike.

Though Abe had recalled your words at the roller-rink, in fact he thought of them often. About how somewhere out there you'd already found him; and somewhere out there you'd do it again. Somewhere, somehow - just like you'd half promised him before your forced departure from the disco.

"You'd have hated it up there. It's lonely."

"Not when I'm with you; never when I'm with you." Abe had always had a way with words; from your first meeting till now, he never failed to make you turn red at his sweet sentences.

"Whatever you say, pretty boy." You teased, pushing away from your detective and heading back towards the window, sliding it open enough to creep back inside and turning to face Abe. Palm outstretched you waited for him to take your hand, moving deeper inside the warmth of the apartment with Abe now in tow.

Pulling him by your connected hands, you led him through the messy room; ignoring the coat that had fallen from the hanger and the mess of blankets and pillows you had left on the couch, deciding they were all things that could be dealt with come morning or sunshine, whatever came first.

Arriving in your shared bedroom, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, his tie already hung loose enough to slip over his head and onto the desk, ready to use tomorrow. Abe stood there, looking at you in complete admiration as you took him through the motions: helping him get out of his work clothes and into his pyjamas as though it was routine.

Falling back into the mattress and mess of a duvet, still unmade from the morning before, you pulled Abe with you, shuffling up the bed to meet the pillow and letting out a deep sigh; sleep seeping into your bones once again as you finally, truly, relaxed. Shuffling about you made yourself comfortable, leaning into Abe's warmth though giving him enough space to get comfy himself.

It didn't take long for sleep to overcome you, time warped and unusual under the bright, city lights. But Abe watched until gentle snores left your chest, scratching his fingers against your scalp lovingly as he waited for you to fall fast asleep, dream of lands far away. Though not far away enough that you'd wake with a start worried he was long gone and this was all a dream.

Abe often found it hard to come to terms with the fact you were actually here, next to him once again, and that you wouldn't be gone the next time he woke up like the you he saw in his deluded drunken stupors and after a particularly shitty nights sleep.

And though Abe had never been a religious man, he thanked any God out there that you had been returned to his side.

————————————————————————

Hello my lovies!! This brings us to the end of this little Abe series I had planned. I love Abe and there's so little about him so I decided to be the change I wanted to see in the world.

Thank you for all the love. I am very happy to take Abe/Gunther requests so please send any in you may have!!

[beybaldes]

A Love Never Flourished

Abe x gn!Reader

“Fate is cruel but Wilford is kind.”

Word count: 2.5k

As encouraged by @crazy-obsessed-enby and @enderman-ezra​‘s love for the first part <3

————————————————————————

Part 1 - The Prying Hands Of Choice

Part 2 -  A Love Never Flourished

Part 3 - Somewhere, Somehow

————————————————————————

"And, uh, thank you..." Mark sounded unsure of himself, as though he meant more then he could ever say, as though thank you wasn't enough. "...for, uh, not giving up on me."

Giving him a short nod and a small smile, you let him know you understood - it was so much more then just a thank you for being a good captain to a slightly out of it head engineer.

"Just, thank you." Mark would never, ever truly thank you enough, nor would he ever believe you forgave him for what he did. But at the end of the day, you think you would've done the same in his shoes.

You were upset with him, in a way. But instead of letting him catch a glimpse of your frown, you turned back to look out the window at the expanse of the new planet. Taking a long sip from your 'no.1 captain' mug, filled with coffee just the way you liked it.

Easing out of cryosleep, you'd heard, was difficult. And you hoped that the steaming liquid would help ease that process.

It wouldn't help ease your racing thoughts.

You wished you could go back, stop mark from pulling the glowing crystal from your palm. You can remember the searing pain of the objects being pulled from flesh; a part of you taken. Both in the physical and emotional.

With the removal, and later destruction, of the crystal, you lost all hopes of ever finding Abe again.

It was a good thing you hadn't promised your safe return. Or your return at all for that matter.

"Thank you." You finally spoke, letting Mark hear your voice for the first time. You were well known for your choice to stay quiet upon the ship - talking could build an attachment that would be ripped from your hands before you knew it.

It wasn't a risk you often sought to take after the events of the manor.

"Thank you for sticking by my side, believing in me; even when I didn't." Mark's eyes widened, then softened at your gentle tone and soothing words - more and more in awe of the beloved captain. "You're the best head engineer I could've asked for."

"Friend." You quickly corrected, turning and placing the cup of coffee on the ledge of the bridges console. "The best friend I could've asked for."

"Why captain-" Raising your hand, you silence Mark, placing your hand on his shoulder and squeezing it gently.

Removing yourself from him, you nodded a goodbye - one that felt more of a permanent then it should have - walking away from the bridge and into the bowels of the ship, hoping to find something to distract your aching heart with.

You'd left Abe behind yet again. How many years had he spent fighting to avenge you? Keep your memory alive? To find any remainder of you that there was out there? And how quickly had you given up on finding again him in return?

Wondering the corridors of the ship, you trailed your finger along the raw flesh of your palm, one bound to scar - a slight reminder that this was real. Not another wormhole you'd fallen through and would inevitably leave. Not a reality you could so easily escape and potentially find Abe again.

Sometimes you felt as though you missed the ever-falling wormholes; the limitless edge it gave to life. There had been no permanence in your torment - every gunshot, explosion, death being undone just as quickly as it had occurred. Though you supposed, after all, it was still torment you were going through; limitless or not.

You wince at the notion; an echo of an old saying about things seeming better once long lost rather then in the moment. Maybe it was true.

In all your memories Abe was encased in glimmers of gold; a spectre of a person. A sight to be seen. He encapsulated every thought he was a part of, every room he walked into. However, you knew Abe was equally as good in the past as you knew he would be in the present and future - if you could ever find him again.

The halls of the Invincible had never seemed so lonely - so quiet and lifeless. Even when you'd first stepped on the ship it'd been full on from the get go and roaring with life, but now it was so, so quiet. So many members of your crew were already bound for the new planet, pretty much only you and Mark remaining.

Sometimes you pitied the man you would call your closest friend; he appeared to fawn over you often, though you knew his affections would never be returned: your heart too concerned with the likes of another.

Bitter and broken by a love never flourished, never allowed to live in the sunlight, breath in the crisp, spring air.

So when you noticed the flashing of lights from underneath the door separating you from the tunnel to the warp core, you were very surprised. Maybe even slightly scared.

Thoughts raced through you mind; maybe this was all, indeed, another trick of of a shimmer and swirl of hues of blue. Rubbing your finger against the flesh of your palm, you assured yourself that wasn't true.

Approaching the door with caution, you leant into it, listening Intently for any sign of who - or what - would be waiting for you on the other side. When your ears were met with the melodic beats of some random 70's song, you pressed your hand against the scanner opening the door as quickly as you could.

"You're not supposed to be here yet!" Wilford. You had never been happier to see the man before you; clad in a bright orange shirt and swaying from side to side in time with the music. The same as when you'd left him, though missing the bubble-gum pink curls from his head. "Or are you?"

Wilford's dancing came to a sudden stop, questioning the thought seeming to take up all of his focus and energy. Tapping his forefinger against his chin, he took occasional sips from whatever fruity cocktail he held loosely in his grasp. "Time is a tedious thing isn't it."

That was the biggest understatement you'd ever heard. Tears began to well in your eyes at the notion - terrified that this was just your mind playing tricks on you, and scared for what his appearance could truly mean.

It was always hard to tell; your old friend filled with tricks up his sleeve you swore not even he knew of.

"Will? What are you-"

"I've heard I owe you a favour." He groaned, throwing his hands up into the air in defeat, a frown settling on his face. Always the dramatic; something you finally came to appreciate as you stood before him in the warp core tunnel. "From me - or someone else; perhaps even you, my dear. I was told it was the least I could do."

Abe.

You remembered the moment as clear as day; though how could you forget? Falling through universe after universe, you couldn't stop thinking about the devastated look that creased Abe's brow when he pleaded - begged - Wilford to do something, anything, to keep you with him.

The man who he hated more then anything, the man who he blamed for your death - his own death too - had had Abe at his complete and utter mercy. If only he had been able to do something.

God, how you wished you had done anything, tried anything, to stay by his side while you had the chance. A certain, honest chance.

But you had a duty to your crew: to get them to the new planet safely.

Now though, your duty was done, colonists and crew alike headed for the safety of ground. A new planet, that you weren't needed on; one that could easily be governed by Mark or Celci. One you hoped you wouldn't be joining them on, especially if Wilford had given himself the chance to intervene.

"Well, come on!" Wilford whined, stomping his foot against the ground as he gestured for you to come closer. "I don't have all the time in the world."

You let out a short laugh at Wilford's words. Almost ironic from him. Though you doubted that he had as much time as you liked to think, he certainly had more then you - him seeming to come and go as he pleased.

Taking off your red beret, you placed it against the door to the corridor, rubbing the soft material with the tips of your fingers. You had been through so much together; you and Mark, you and the Invincible II, you and that silly little beret.

It was time to let go: it was okay to let go. And so you did, with a whisper of an apology to Mark you stood and faced Wilford. It was okay to be selfish for once, just this once.

Wasting no more time, you sprinted to the other end of the corridor, right before the entrance to the finally calm warp core and into Wilford's open arms. Colliding into the taller man, you wrapped him in a hug, standing on the tips of your toes to throw your arms over his shoulders.

He pulled you in tightly to his side, an arm snaking around your waist. Wrapping your own arms around him tighter in return, you braced yourself, not knowing what would come next. At a cry to 'hold on' you squeezed the tipsy man even tighter, buzzing with a mix of fear and excitement.

As you tightly closed your eyes, you didn't see the swirls of pink, white and sparkles open beneath you, however you did feel the wind sweep through your hair as you fell downwards at an alarming and increasing rate.

Even as you came to a standstill, you held tightly onto Wilford. Allowing yourself to slowly become adjusted to the flashing lights and streamers that filled the corridor you'd landed in.

"It still- it looks the exact same as last time." You muttered, slowly pulling away from Will and looking at the four walls of the white corridor.

"It's not been long since you've gone; maybe for you, but not here." Wilford explained another fruity drink appearing in his hand at the click of his fingers. "He's been dancing, taking a break. Though he looks for you in everything."

Your heart warmed at the thought you'd have such an effect on the handsome detective; you'd have never imagined you would. He knew you loved him, as you knew he loved you. Never having said the words out loud don't change that fact.

"The wind would blow and he'd hear your call, the song would change and he'd swear it sounded like someone he knew. You're all he thinks about. It seems as though you’ve completely and utterly consumed him."

Even in the daze of disco, he kept looking for you in everything, everywhere. Fuck. How could you have ever been so willing to give up on finding him?

Though willing wasn't a good word, how else could you explain it? You had believed it wasn't achievable and you had resigned to that fact.

"What if I'm not what-"

"No time for doubtful thoughts." Wilford mused, stepping closer to you and putting a gentle, guiding hand on the small of your back. "You've done your duty, as a good captain should: a mighty fine duty if I might say. Take this moment."

Wilford slowly moved you closer to the streamers, wherein you could push through at any moment and make your presence know to Abe; find him once again. Will never pushed you through, knowing this was not something to rush, you'd already served your time apart and he wouldn't be one to force you back together.

This was a choice you needed to make alone. Braving the unknown of the roller rink behind the multicoloured streamers. For who knew what really rested behind their shroud?

After all, life was now yours to choose.

With a deep intake of breath, you pushed through the streamers, running out into the midst of the roller-rink disco dancers. Scanning the room, you finally made eye contact with the back of a suave leather jacket, clad on broad shoulders. Opposite him was the pink-haired Wilford you'd recognised from your last visit to the disco, a wide smile on his face and a cocktail in his hand.

This was it.

Standing firm in your place, you called out to the charming detective, your voice a whisper in the wind amongst the volume of the music and the chatter of the crowd. Abe still heard by some magic, and turned as he always did when he thought he'd heard any kind of resemblance of you: though this time there you were, at the other end of the call.

The detective whispered out your name, a crooked smile curling onto his face as he stopped dancing for the first time since returning back to the disco.

You'd come back for him - to him - and in that moment he can't imagine that you didn't promise your return. Even when you weren't sure yourself he knew, that somehow, somewhere, you would come back to him. You had ensured that to him after all. And God, was he thankful you’d chose this time, this place, this Abe to come back to.

Closing the distance between the two of you, you crashed into your lovers arm, your hands twisting into the leather jacket and holding him tight against you. At the momentum of your impact, Abe lifted you off of your feet and into the air, twirling the two of you around as a boisterous laugh came from the caverns of his chest.

A wide smile settled on the detectives face as he caressed your cheek, his hands guiding both body and face closer to him. He drunk in the sight of you; forehead pressed so close to his own that he could only see the reflection of the strobe lights in your eyes and feel the outline of you against himself. Breathing, heaving, alive enough.

Placing your hand on top of Abe's, you leaned deeper into his touch, closing your eyes and absorbing the feel of him - the blaring music of the disco drowning out and away as you relished in his touch at last.

Slowly the two of you began to sway to the music, it becoming more slow and sensual since your arrival at the roller rink disco. Wrapped in each other's arms, you let yourself get lost in the song and each other; the warmth, the smell, everything.

When had you last seen him so happy? You couldn't quite place a time - maybe at the manor, before things went down how they did, or maybe as he died right in front of you thankful it was him who'd been caught in the crossfire, not you.

That didn't matter now though, what mattered what that he was safe, in your arms and alive enough. And that you'd found him again; somewhere, somehow.

————————————————————————

Hey guys!! Thank you for all the love on part 1. part 3 will be coming soon!!

I hope you enjoyed!! <33

[rat-that-writes]

RAT AND SOFTIE’S RAMBLINGS

a masterlist of all the hcs and shit me and @softladyhours come up with about the egos :) i was gonna put em on the main masterlist but theres way too many lol

going “pspspspspsps” at egos headcanons egos reading + writing smut headcanons actor wants to draw you nude while you eat chicken nuggies egos favourite kinds of cake shirtless illinois making pancakes damien seeing your legs makes him flustered oblivious yancy and y/n (two images) yancy is there for you yancy is so in love yancy is very clingy and we love him yancy has african wild dog plushies wearing illi’s hat illinois is touch-starved illinois and the wolf boxers yancy loves nature documentaries illinois brings you an iguana put yancy on a leash actor nervous about asking you out sleepy actor actor misses you actor lays on you when he’s sad actor wants to marry you

[elithequeenbee]

Alright so we have a winner lol

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Big brain moment: Abe x YN/DA x Wilford akdjs jk jk.. unless? 🥥

Real shit?

[softladyhours]

🥰

RAT AND SOFTIE’S RAMBLINGS

a masterlist of all the hcs and shit me and @softladyhours come up with about the egos :) i was gonna put em on the main masterlist but theres way too many lol

Keep reading