#ID MEET YOU WHERE THE SPIRIT MEETS THE BONES | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

loversj0y · 1 year

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id meet you where the spirit meets the bones

inspired by @lillylvjy's ghost au! go give it a read and give lilly some love!!

wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: death, lots of talks about death, reader cries a few times, nightmares, reader nearly dies, stalking, body horror, slightly suggestive stuff (wilbur is flirty af)

word count: 13k. i am not sorry

note: this has not been edited/beta read at all. also i know jack shit about ghosts tbh aside from the light pagan/spirit work i used to do so. dont take any of the ghostly advice here seriously its all for spooky vibes and ambiance. also if anyone can notice the red flags i include at a Specific Section i will give u a smooch, title taken from ivy by taylor swift

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng, @core-queen

You didn’t believe in ghosts. You weren't strong in this opinion, it was just a matter of not believing everything you saw on the internet. You never had any personal experiences with ghosts yourself, so you had no reason to actually believe in them.

While this didn’t mean a lot, it did mean that the house everyone avoided on the corner was about to be yours.

You knew the stories and the warnings:

Be careful! You know they say those boys haunt those walls!

It was brutal what happened here, are you sure it’s safe?

Good luck! They say those who move in there either leave dead or never leave!

Honestly, it didn’t deter you. A brutal murder of two brothers in the 90s should have scared you. However, you went in for a showing, and the place seemed perfectly fine. It was the cheapest place you could buy, and you couldn’t stand having a landlord anymore. Ghosts are miles better than landlords, at least they live in the place and don’t just act like they do.

You took the deal. The move in process was pretty easy, too. You borrowed a work friend’s truck, and you and her brought in some of your heavier furniture (your old mattress, the couch you bought on Facebook, the TV you got from a friend who couldn’t take it with him), and the rest of the boxes you and her just piled into the living room. You thanked her, paying her for her help as well, and then it was just you, standing in your new, box-filled living room.

You took a deep breath as you looked around, almost stunned by the stillness of the room. You’d never actually lived on your own before, always some family or roommate with you, so it was… almost uncomfortable to see an empty room with no sound.

The silence was broken after a moment, though, your phone ringing loudly from the kitchen counter. You walked over and answered, starting to unpack as you spoke on the phone.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sweetie, how’s the move going?” It was your mum, voice kind and welcoming.

“It’s good, mum,” you chuckled, opening up your first box of kitchenware, “Working on boxes now.”

“That’s good, I’m glad to hear it.” You could hear her smile through the phone. “The place is nice?”

“Yeah, the house is really nice,” you carefully shifted some pots into the back of the cabinet, “it’s an older house, but it’s lovely. The backyard is really pretty too, I think you’d love it. Really peaceful.”

“Oh, love, not to be rude, but I don’t imagine I’ll be coming there anytime soon.”

“I know, I know, you don’t like the drive.”

“Well, yes, but…” you could hear the apprehension in her voice, “sweetie, you’ve heard about this… place you’re living in, of course. I’m not sure how safe it is.”

You chuckled, standing up fully and leaning against the kitchen counter, “Never took you for a believer in ghosts, mum.”

The air felt a bit tense around you.

“Well, when you’re my age, sweetheart, you’d rather not test your luck.”

That brought a laugh out of you, “Mum, you don’t look a day over thirty.” You smiled, looking around the house a bit. “Besides, have you even heard the full story?”

“I’ve heard about the brutal murder part, but I suppose not much else.”

“It was two boys,” you sighed softly, “Eighteen and twenty-six. If ghosts are even real, I don’t imagine they’d want to cause much trouble. If anything, they’d probably be scared.”

A rattling sound came from your left, causing you to falter in your words. You walked to see the source of the noise, quickly noticing a few of the pots still in the box had shifted, presumably having fallen over.

You continued speaking easily, “I mean, god, mum, imagine dying and being forced to live in the place you were killed while seeing tens of people move into your home. I’d be confused and scared too.”

“I suppose,” you heard your mother reply, and it felt like some of the tension left the room. “Either way, just promise me, you’ll be safe? If anything seems amiss, I can call my sister-“

“Oh, god, mum, Aunt Cate couldn’t tell a ghost from a sock, I’d rather not have her in here spewing her Catholic bullshit.”

Your mother laughed, and it made some of the homesickness fade a bit, “Fair enough, dearie. Listen, I’ve got to run, but call me tomorrow, please?”

“I will, mum. I love you.”

“Love you too, dear.”

The line hung up, and you sighed softly, hanging your head for a moment. It felt too quiet already. You opened up Spotify, choosing some random playlist and continuing your work with unpacking. You played some soft indie music, gentle but upbeat guitar flowing from your phone's speaker as you finished unpacking your kitchen. You started working on the living room items, small knick knacks and photos being arranged carefully.

As you cleaned, the playlist took a bit of a wild turn. Instead of the soft plucking of a guitar, the next song starts, and you’re immediately stunned by the sound of some electronic-sounding music. You walked over to your phone which — you didn’t remember leaving it unlocked — was playing a song called “Able Sisters”. From Animal Crossing. Very odd choice. It wasn’t bad though, so you pretty much just shrugged it off, going back to unpacking.

Nothing else weird really occurred that night, and you wouldn’t even consider the music thing that weird. It just was technology being weird. You ordered food, sitting cross-legged on the couch and watching a movie while you ate. After you ate, you cleaned up after yourself and became acutely aware of how you felt far more Adult than you ever had before. You sat back down and relaxed for the first time all day. You were curled into the side of the couch, and to your surprise, you actually didn’t feel very alone. You figured by now you’d be going through your contacts, calling anyone just to feel like there was another person with you. It wasn’t long before you’d fallen asleep, and if you woke up with a blanket around you that certainly hadn’t been near you the night before, you didn’t notice.

You finished your move-in process with little hassle. By the end of the week, you were pretty much completely moved in, save for a few boxes that you had to bring up to the attic. You began to understand why people thought the house was creepy, especially with the amount of creaks and noises you’d hear throughout the day, but given the age of the house, it didn’t bother you.

You carried the boxes upstairs, opening the door to the attic and stacking them up in the corner. You looked around at the attic, smiling softly. There were signs that the attic was lived in, and it was actually kind of nice to see. There were a few things that had been left behind from past owners, and you walked around, taking a look at some of the items. There were a few boxes with things like old clothes, and from looking at them, it hit you that these weren’t any items that had been left behind, but rather the items left behind by the two dead boys’ family. It sent a shiver down your back, but it made you more sad than scared. You went back to one of your boxes, pulling out an old candle and a spare box of matches. There was a small table in the corner of the room, and you set the candle down, lighting it.

Even though you didn’t think there was anyone here, you still spoke outloud, “it’s not much, but I hope it’s something.”

You went back to looking through some of their items, trying to find anything that seemed important to add to the corner table. It relieved you to see that most of the items were non-sentimental items. There were no photos or family heirlooms that had been left behind, just normal items. You did find some smaller objects that you could add to the small table, though, like a red beanie and two CDs. You walked around the small attic a bit more, smiling at an acoustic guitar you found stashed behind some of the boxes. You were shocked by the lack of dust, but it was even more shocking that the guitar was in tune. You didn’t know how to play much except for a few simple chords, so it was at least nice to know there was one up here.

The next object you found was also hidden. It was stashed in the very corner, hidden in a small crevice between paneling in the wall. It was a small compass. You held it up to the light, gently trying to clean some debris off of it. The weird thing happened when you turned the compass over, noticing a small engraving on the back. Before you could read it, though, the compass flew out of your hand, hitting the wall before rolling back into the crevice that you’d found it.

Okay. Definitely weird. You felt your opinion of whether or not ghosts existed being swayed.

“Okay,” you said, backing up a bit, “Sorry. I won’t touch it again.”

You spoke simply. If ghosts were real, you still did believe that they’d probably be more scared than anything, especially if someone was touching their things. And there wasn’t a problem until you’d touched the compass, so you figured that must’ve been something important. If it was something important, you didn’t want to mess with it. It wasn’t yours, point-blank. So, instead, you went back to cleaning up the attic, sorting through boxes and neatly arranging them, and adding small things you’d find to the table in the corner. By the time you finished it was nearly dinner, so you carefully put out the candle (not wanting it to be burning unsupervised) and went downstairs to make dinner.

The few days past that went by with pretty much no weirdness. You truly weren’t sure what to believe now. You almost thought yourself crazy, but it was probably just a side effect of not having left the house since you’d moved in. You had work today, though. It was your first day back, and for whatever reason, you felt nervous. You definitely seemed it too. You nearly burnt your breakfast, cursing and fretting around the kitchen, a slight shake to your hands. You chose an outfit for the day, setting it on the bed. You rushed to take a shower, leaving the bathroom humid and steamy. You got dressed and finished making yourself look presentable before making some coffee to bring with you to work. You kept fretting with your hair and fidgeting. You walked back to the bathroom, trying to double check your hair. The mirror was still fogged up, causing you to groan.

Instead, though, you felt your brain short-circuit as you leaned back and words started slowly appearing on the foggy of the mirror.

‘Don’t worry. You look amazing.’

A blush rose to your cheeks as you took a moment to process.

Ghosts?

Yeah. Ghosts.

Nice one, though, at the very least. You weren’t exactly going to scream and run when the compliment did actually help relax you a bit.

“Thank you,” you smiled softly, focusing on the matter at hand a bit more.

“Can you write your name, if you don’t mind? I’d like to know who I’m living with.” The question felt a bit risky, especially since this was the first time you’d gotten proper confirmation that he existed.

‘Wilbur. And the other one is Tommy.’

You nodded, “Well, thank you, Wilbur.” You thought for a moment before your phone alarm went off, letting you know you had to leave for work. You cursed, sighing, “Okay, I have to go, but I’d like to talk more when I get back. Is that possible?”

You awaited a response, and you got one after a moment.

‘:)’

Okay. That’s good. At least you think it is.

You nodded, pulling your bag up on your shoulder before walking to the door. You paused at the door, turning back,

“Bye, Wilbur. Bye, Tommy. I’ll be home later!” you spoke out into the empty room, hoping they were there to hear it, before rushing out the door to work.

Work was uneventful for the most part. A few coworkers asked about your new place, asking if you’d heard any ghosts or creepy things. You decided to lie, telling them that you hadn’t experienced anything. The last thing you’d wanted was people somehow confirming the existence of ghosts and either considering you crazy or trying to make a spectacle of the boys. It was bad enough that they weren’t allowed to move on in the afterlife, you didn’t want to make things worse for them.

You did spend quite a bit of your freetime at work looking things up about ghosts, however. Most of the stuff you found was pretty fake from the looks of it, but honestly, up until you’d moved in, you never even thought about if ghosts were real or not. You found a lot of potentially good information too, though, about pendulums and spirit boards and how to make them at home.

When you got home, you opened the door slowly, humming as you walked in, “Hi, Tommy. Hi, Wilbur. I’m home.” There was a smile on your face. You didn’t get much of a response, not that you were really expecting one, but there was a knocking that let you know you were at least heard.

You went to your room, grabbing an old necklace. It was a simple necklace, a thin silver chain and a small guitar pendant. You also grabbed a pen and a sheet of paper. After a moment, you had an idea as well, printing out a morse code guide. You sat down in front of your coffee table, writing out a circle with ‘Yes’, ‘No’, and ‘Maybe’ written along opposite sides of the circle. You also put the morse code sheet next to you, sighing softly. Okay, communing with the dead. This is nothing. Sure. You can do this.

“So, if you’re ready, and want to communicate, can you move the pendant to yes?” You asked outloud, holding up your necklace over the circle. After a moment, the pendant started swinging to ‘yes’, and you took a slow breath.

“Okay, so for yes and no, we can use this. If you want to elaborate, you can knock with the morse code here, and I can work it out. Does that work?”

Once again, the pendant swung to yes.

You nodded, taking a deep breath.

“Who am I talking to right now? Is this Wilbur? Or Tommy?”

You got no response from the pendant. Instead, you heard knocking on the table, and you started scribing the knocking.

‘-... --- - ....’

You looked down at the sheet. ‘Both’.

You nodded, thinking for a moment, “Is it okay that I’m here?”

The pendant swung to ‘yes’, and you let out a soft breath of relief.

“Are you guys okay? I mean, it-it’s probably scary being stuck as ghosts and such, so…”

There was a long pause before you got any response.

‘.. / .- -- / -. --- - / ... -.-. .- .-. . -.. / .. / .- -- / .- / -... .. --. / -- .- -.’

‘I AM NOT SCARED I AM A BIG MAN’

Before you could even respond, there was more knocking.

‘... --- .-. .-. -.-- --..-- / - .... .- - / .-- .- ... / - --- -- -- -.-- .-.-.- / .-- . .----. .-. . / --- -.- .- -.-- / - .... --- ..- --. .... --..-- / ..-. --- .-. / - .... . / -- --- ... - / .--. .- .-. - .-.-.-’

‘sorry, that was Tommy. We're okay though, for the most part.’

You chuckled softly, “That’s good to hear. Sorry, Tommy, I didn’t mean any offense.”

‘.. - .----. ... / ..-. .. -. . .-.-.- / -.. --- -. .----. - / - --- ..- -.-. .... / -- -.-- / -.-. --- -- .--. .- ... ... / .- --. .- .. -. --..-- / - .... --- ..- --. .... .-.-.-’

‘IT'S FINE. DON'T TOUCH MY COMPASS AGAIN, THOUGH.’

“Oh, of course,” you hummed, “if you want, I can set up an area in the attic for you guys to keep more private things. Two areas, actually, so you guys have your own space. Does that work?”

The pendant swung to ‘Yes’ incredibly fast, and you chuckled.

“Alright, good to hear, then. Speaking of, is there anything you guys want me to do differently? Or maybe that you want me to stop doing?”

There was another long pause.

‘-. --- .. ... .’

‘Noise.’

“Noise?”

‘.-- . .----. .-. . / -- --- .-. . / ... . -. ... .. - .. ...- . / - --- / .-.. --- ..- -.. / -. --- .. ... . ... / -. --- .-- .-.-.-’

‘We’re more sensitive to loud noises now.’

You nodded, “Okay. When I put on the TV or music, just knock and I can turn it down. Or, if you’re able to, you can turn it down yourself. I’m not sure what I can do about my alarm, though… I need them loud to wake up.”

‘.-- . / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. / .-- .- -.- . / -.-- --- ..-’

‘WE COULD WAKE YOU’

“You could?”

‘.. / -.-. --- ..- .-.. -.. .-.-.- / -.. --- / -. --- - / .-.. . - / - --- -- -- -.-- / .-- .- -.- . / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.- / .... . / .-- .. .-.. .-.. / -... .-. . .- -.- / ... --- -- . - .... .. -. --. .-.-.-’

‘I could. Do not let Tommy wake you. He will break something.’

You giggled a bit, nodding, “Alright. Sure. I don’t have work tomorrow, so we can test it out, and if not, we can see what else we could do.”

The pendant swung to ‘Yes’, and you hummed happily.

“Alright, if that’s everything, then I’m going to make dinner. But, if you need to get my attention, just knock three times. Or if you have a better way, you can do that too, but still. This is your home before it was mine, and I want to make it be comfortable for you both. You guys are more just like… my ghost roommates. Okay?”

The pendant swung to ‘yes’ once again before you gently set it down.

You stood, going to the kitchen before speaking again, “Oh, and if you want to use anything that’s in the living room, feel free. I don’t mind. If it’s something in my room, just ask first.”

You turned on some music as you started cooking, keeping it low for their sake. You were in your element when you cooked, finding comfort in the motions as you thought about today. Ghosts were real. It was not something you could be indifferent to anymore. Ghosts are real, and not just that, you also lived with two of them. It was actually nice, though. You didn’t feel alone, at least.

You hummed to yourself as you cooked, leaning up on your tiptoes to try and grab a plate from one of the top shelves. You struggled, nearly dropping the plate before it carefully was lifted, seeming to float down from the shelf. Even if you couldn’t see the ghost, you could feel how close he was to you as he gently set the plate down on the counter.

“Thank you,” you spoke softly, cheeks tinted pink. You smiled, once again feeling relieved by the fact that you weren’t alone. In a house known for being scary, you’d never felt safer.

You finished the rest of dinner with ease, taking a plate and walking back to the living room. When you walked back in, you noticed something interesting. The seat on the far left of the couch, while still empty, had your Rubix cube floating, turning occasionally. You chuckled softly, sitting to the far right to eat your dinner. You looked back at the Rubix cube, trying to figure out which one was playing with it.

“Is there anyway for me to tell the difference between you both? Since I can’t see you?”

The Rubix cube paused in it’s movements, and for a moment, you almost wondered if you scared them off.

After a moment, the pendant you had been using earlier lifted, and you watched as the necklace floated to presumably be placed around a neck.

‘.-- .. .-.. -... ..- .-.’

You looked down at the paper. ‘Wilbur.’

You nodded, understanding quickly. “Hold on, I’ll get one for you, Tommy.” You set the plate down, hurrying back to your room and grabbing another old necklace. This one was simpler, a thin black chord with a small silver dog-tag on it.

You walked back in, moving towards the Rubix cube, “Here, Tommy.”

You felt a cold tingle on your hand as the necklace lifted, slowly being arranged around his neck as well. To you, it was just two floating necklaces. However, it gave you enough distinction that you could at least tell who was who.

You smiled, sitting back down to finish eating. You turned on a movie, though you didn’t pay too much attention. You were incredibly aware of the two ghosts sitting next to you. It was Wilbur sitting next to you and next to him was Tommy. It was almost weird how comfortable you felt with them here. Even if they’d been here the entire time, it was different now that there was actual confirmation that they were here. You didn’t know anything about ghosts. You felt completely out of your element. You knew that they could interact with the environment, since they could pick stuff up and put things on, but you didn’t know what else they could do. Could they make noises? Could they become full-blow apparitions? As little as you knew, you felt worried about asking. It took a few days just for them to actually let you know they existed. The last thing you wanted to do was scare them away in their own home.

Could they even leave if they wanted to? People only ever spoke about them being here in the place they were killed. They probably wouldn’t even want to stay here if they had a choice. It made you upset to think about, the fact that they may not have a choice in this whatsoever. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to yell or cry or hug them because of it.

You stood up and cleaned your plate, chewing on your lip while you did. You wished you could help them. If they wanted it. That was another thing you had to consider. Maybe they were happy here. You didn’t know, honestly, and you wanted to know. For now you wouldn’t ask, though. Maybe, hopefully, when you got closer with them.

You walked back over to the couch, sitting back where you had been before. The TV had changed to some ghost show, and it almost made you laugh. You went to grab the remote, but knocking stopped you.

‘- .... .- - / .. ... / -. --- - / .-- .... .- - / .. - / .. ... / .-.. .. -.- . --..-- / - .... . ... . / ..-. ..- -.-. -.- .. -. / .-- .-. --- -. --. ..- -. …’

‘THAT IS NOT WHAT IS IT LIKE, THESE FUCKIN WRONGUNS,’

You snorted, chuckling a bit, “Yeah. Most of these ghost hunting shows are completely made up.” You looked, noting that it was Tommy who had moved. “They fake everything, so they can keep making money, Tommy. It’s stupid. They’ve probably caused more harm than anything else.”

‘- .... .- - .----. ... / -.. ..- -- -... .-.-.- / - .... . -.-- / ... .... --- ..- .-.. -.. / .--- ..- ... - / .- ... -.- / ..-. .. .-. ... - --..-- / .- - / .-.. . .- ... - / - --- / -... . / .... --- -. . ... - / .- -... --- ..- - / .. - .-.-.-.’

‘THAT’S DUMB. THEY SHOULD JUST ASK FIRST, AT LEAST BE HONEST ABOUT IT.’

You sighed, nodding, “I agree. I mean, if there are ghosts there, they’re probably just annoying them. Or even worse, they’re probably scaring them.”

You got no response to that, deciding instead to change the channel to something more lighthearted.

You started getting tired, and you grabbed your blanket, pulling it over your legs. You spread it out as well, letting it cover both of the boys as well. You noticed and looked curiously as you could “see” their legs through the blanket. Obviously, it was just the outline of their – bodies? Ghost form? God, it was starting to confuse you a bit. You chuckled a bit when you noticed, though, smiling softly. At least you weren’t going completely crazy.

You leaned back a bit, leaning your legs on the coffee table as you watched the TV. You felt the cushion behind you shift slightly, a cold and tingly feeling coming across your shoulders. You looked to your right, seeing Wilbur’s necklace shift a bit. Huh. Did he- was his arm around your shoulder?

You felt yourself flush a bit, leaning into the sensation. The tingling feeling went away slowly, and you felt yourself relaxing more and more. It didn’t take much longer before you fell asleep.

When you woke up, you were in your bed. You didn’t remember how you got there. What you did wake up to, though, was a gentle shaking and a chill on your arm. Your eyes fluttered open, and you were met with the sight of a floating necklace. You almost laughed out of absurdity, blinking the sleep out of your eyes.

“Good morning to you too, Wilbur,” you chuckled, slowly sitting up. “Thanks for waking me.”

You stretched, and the only reply you got was a gentle knocking on your nightstand. There was no pattern or morse code used, just a few taps to let you know he was responding.

You stood and got started with your morning, and you noted the soft sound of the necklace Wilbur wore as he followed you out to the living room. It was harder to spot Tommy. What wasn’t hard to spot was the girl sitting in your living room.

“Uh… hello?” You asked, and the girl’s head whipped around to see you.

“Oh! Sorry! Tommy let me in.”

… What? “What? He did?”

She stood, walking over to you, outstretching her hand, “I’m Molly.”

You shook her hand, nodding, “Nice to meet you. Wait- I’m sorry- you know Tommy?”

She nodded quickly, and you noted a light blush on her face, “Yeah. I’ve been visiting this house for a long time, so I’ve known Wilbur and Tommy for a while. Tommy and I are really close.”

You nodded slowly, “Right. Okay. I didn’t realize they had friends.”

“Tom and I are a bit closer than that,” she blushed darker, rubbing the back of her neck, “Wait, you know about them, too. And you’re staying here?” “Yeah. It’s their house, I’m just living in it,” you shrugged. “You and Tommy are… dating?”

“Essentially. Sorry about just coming in, he said you wouldn’t mind.”

“It’s alright. I mean, bit of a scary way to wake up, to be honest, but if he trusts you, and you do this often, then I’m sure you mean no harm.”

She smiled, “I really don’t. I just liked giving them company at first, and then Tommy and I got closer, so…” the blush returned, and she leaned back into what you assumed were Tommy’s arms, now that you noticed his necklace behind her.

“Alright. Cool. As long as you don’t break shit, I don’t mind.”

Molly nodded quickly, “of course! I usually can’t stay long anyways. I just like stopping by on my way to work or when I have a day off from classes.”

“Alright,” you nodded, walking to the kitchen, “well, if you ever want, I can clean up the spare room for you to stay in if you need it. Do you want any coffee?”

“I’m good, thank you, though.” Molly smiled, moving to sit back on the couch. Wilbur was still behind you as you started brewing coffee, and you could faintly feel his hand on your back.

You grabbed a notepad, holding out a pen for Wilbur and whispering to him, “So, they’re dating?”

‘Yep. She’s really nice.’

You nodded, humming softly, “She seems so. Do you like her?”

‘Yeah. She’s good for Tommy. He would get pretty lonely when it was just me here and everyone else would leave due to us being here. Plus, it’s funny to watch him get flustered whenever she comes around.’

You chuckled, nodding. “Alright. I’m glad he has someone then. Are there others? Do you have anyone?”

‘There were others. We don’t know what happened to most of them since they all pretty much just stopped coming around. But if you’re asking if I’m single, darling, I’m very much available ;)’

You flushed, turning to grab your coffee, “I- I just meant if I should expect any other visitors or anything.” You took a sip as he replied.

‘Nope. Just her. And don’t get shy on me now, love. You’re too cute to hide your face from me.’

You choked on your coffee, face turning a beet red as you coughed.

Molly ran in, looking at you with concern, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, giving her a meek thumbs up as you calmed down, “‘m fine.” You coughed a bit more, slowly taking in a breath.

Molly looked down at the notepad, grinning after a moment, “Ohh, I see. You’ve caught Wilbur’s attention, then?”

“Guess so,” you rubbed the back of your neck, a blush still resting on your cheeks.

“No wonder he seemed so happy when he talked about you.” She giggled, turning.

“Wait- talked about me? You can hear them?”

She turned back, looking a bit confused, “Uh, yeah. I’m actually shocked they haven’t spoken to you yet. Though, it took them a long while before they started talking back to me too, so I guess it makes sense.”

“So, they can speak then?”

She snorted, “Yeah. Of course they can. Do you- you don’t know much about ghosts, do you?” You shook your head slowly, “I didn’t even know if they were real before this.”

“Oh,” she hummed, “Well, as I’m sure you know now, they are very real. Tom and Wilbur and most ghosts are really cool. They’re just kind of doing their own thing. Some can be less than friendly, but don’t worry about them too much.”

You nodded as you listened, “How do you know so much about this?”

She shrugged, “I’ve been talking with ghosts since I was a kid.”

“Huh. Alright, well, you clearly know more about it than I do. Anything you can tell me, I’d be glad to hear.”

She thought for a moment, “Tommy’s favorite color is red. And Wilbur’s is teal,” she perked up, “Oh! And Tommy’s birthday is April 9th, and Wilbur’s is September 14th,” she smiled. “It’s probably best if they tell you more about themselves, though.”

You nodded, “Right, well, thank you, though.”

She grinned, “Of course. Have fun with Wilbur,” she giggled, and it made your cheeks flush once again as she walked back out to the living room.

You took a deep breath, leaning against the counter. Wilbur was still by you, and you watched as the pen lifted once more.

‘Didn’t mean to make you choke. Sorry for taking your breath away ;)’

You snorted softly, “Oh, you very well meant it. But I don’t mind.”

‘Oh? Good to know then. I am glad you’re okay, though. Don’t need three ghosts in one place.’

For some reason, him wanting you to be okay made you flush more than any of his actual flirting.

A few weeks had gone by, and now, you had fallen into a comfortable routine. Wilbur was always ready to flirt, it seemed, whether it be through morse code, notes left around your house, or by using your phone to play romantic songs. It was really nice. Your week always followed a similar pace, you’d go to work on the weekdays, spend time with the boys when you got home, and Molly would come over on Saturday mornings and most of Sunday to hang out with you and Wilbur, but mostly Tommy. You learned more about her, learning that she was going to a University nearby, and that she’d moved to this town a few years back, where she quickly started visiting the boys after learning about the rumors of them in town. You learned more about Wilbur and Tommy too. Wilbur liked indie music and cats. Tommy liked songs that reminded him of being alive and video games, watching them and playing them if he could. You really enjoyed your routine, and you had grown to genuinely care about them.

The first time you hear Wilbur’s voice was an accident. It was late, about three A.M., and you couldn’t sleep. It was a weekend, thankfully, but you couldn’t stand just sitting there in the dark anymore. You got up, walking around the living room when you heard soft music playing. Curiously, you walked up towards the attic where the sound was coming from. You could make out the sounds of a guitar, and from outside the door, you could hear singing. And my god, it was beautiful. He had a soft voice, melodic but not too deep. After listening for a moment, you opened the door, searching for the sound.

While you didn’t see him, you saw the guitar perched up, so you knew it was Wilbur. You walked in slowly, as if treading on eggshells.

“Your voice is really lovely,” you spoke softly, standing in front of the chair Wilbur was on.

It was silent before you heard his actual speaking voice.

“Darling, what are you doing up? It’s late.”

You took a deep breath upon hearing his voice properly for the first time. “Couldn’t sleep, and I heard music, so I got curious, I guess,” You sat down in front of him, “You’re speaking. I’m sorry if I wasn’t meant to hear you, I just…” you couldn’t really think up more of an explanation, shrugging.

“it’s alright. I was mostly just trying to spare you from hearing Tommy talk your ear off,” he chuckled, and if his singing wasn’t melodic enough, his laugh alone definitely was.

You chuckled, smiling softly, “Well, I’ll make sure to be prepared for that in the morning.”

He chuckled once more, “Good. He’ll be wanting to say a lot now that he can.” He hummed softly, “do you want me to play for you? Since you can’t sleep?”

“That would be really nice,” you smiled, rubbing at your eyes a bit.

“Alright. Let’s go to your room then? It’s probably far more comfortable than sitting up here.”

“Are you sure? I mean, I don’t want to disturb you too much or anything.”

He nodded, “I only came up here so I wouldn’t wake you. Come on,” you watched as the necklace and guitar lifted, signifying that he’d stood up. You and him walked back to your room quietly, and you laid back down once you got there. You felt the bed dip next you, and you saw the guitar shift into a playing position. He started playing, and you heard him start singing once again. His gentle sounds quickly lulled you into sleep.

And if you woke up feeling a bit colder than usual, and more specifically a cold spot where an arm would have wrapped around your waist, neither of you mentioned it.

Tommy did talk your ear off that morning, excited to finally be able to talk to you, making comments about how “he’d wanted to talk to you weeks ago” and that “he’d only kept quiet because Wilbur said he had to.” Communication was a lot easier now that they felt comfortable speaking to you. There was a consequence to hearing them now, though. Wilbur’s flirting only got more bold. When you’d get ready for work, he’d always meet you outside your room with a smart comment about how “lucky those coworkers of yours are if they get to see you looking like that all day”. It was interesting, though, the little things you’d noticed about him. He was always more flirty during the daytime, but once it was night, he was more soft. You’d grown used to the chilled feeling that comes from his arms wrapping around you as he whispered about how glad he was that you’d stayed.

He didn’t really sleep. Neither of them needed it, but you found that Tommy liked to, so you always kept the bed in the spare room neat for him. While Wilbur didn’t like to sleep, he was protective of you. It was a bit odd at first that he wanted to be with you when you’d slept, but you found a great deal of comfort in feeling the chill from him pressed against you while you slept. Especially on some nights like tonight.

It wasn’t often you got nightmares anymore. They grew less frequent when Wilbur would hold you in your sleep, but he didn’t always do that every night. You didn’t know what he did when he wasn’t here with you, but you weren’t going to ask. He deserved his privacy, after all. Despite it, you did always miss the feeling of his arms around you. He wasn’t with you when you’d gone to bed.

You woke up screaming. Within seconds, you were pressed against your headboard, head pressed in your hands while you sobbed and gasped for breath, thumb placed on your pulse point. Tommy actually arrived first, your door flinging open and his necklace swinging wildly.

Before he had time to react, Wilbur was rushing in quickly behind him, going straight for you. You felt his arms wrap around you tightly, and the cold did a great deal to shock you out of the panic, leaving you just sobbing. You wrapped your arms around him, though it took you a second to process how he was positioned.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered softly, “you’re right here, you’re with us, it’s okay.”

You leaned into his reassurance. Eventually, you felt more movement on the bed, and Tommy’s hand rested on your back gently as both boys helped you calm down. Your hands gripped onto the feeling of soft fabric that you couldn’t see.

Wilbur continued to whisper reassurances and reminders that you were okay and that he wouldn’t let anything hurt you. When you stopped crying, Wilbur slowly helped you lay back down, never letting go of you for a second. He didn’t want you to think you were alone, even for a second.

You were exhausted when he laid you down, still wrapped in his arms. Your eyes opened, and for a moment, you could’ve sworn you saw the slightest bit of a faded blue sweater through bleary, tear-stained eyes. You didn’t think about it too long, and instead you went to bed in Wilbur’s arms with Tommy next to you, falling asleep quickly from the exhaustion.

(When you woke up, you basically had to wrestle to get out of bed between Wilbur holding you close and Tommy’s limbs strewn out over the two of you. But with a bit of wrangling, you chose to stay in bed and wouldn’t have changed it for the world.)

While your routine was good, there were still some rougher days. Work could go so well before things went wrong. Like today, when you’d fucked up an assignment and proceeded to get yelled at by your boss for about thirty minutes before hiding to cry in the bathroom. You calmed yourself down enough to at least look like you hadn’t cried, using some cold water to calm the redness down your face. You walked home slowly, opening the door, and you were quickly met with Wilbur’s voice chiming out from the living room.

“Welcome home, darling! How was work?”

You dropped your bag at the door, shrugging, “Eh. It was honestly quite shit. For now, I just want to relax a bit.”

He chuckled, “Well, I’ve got some ideas to help you relax.”

Instead of getting flustered, or having any major reaction, you just smiled flatly, sighing a bit. You could feel his concern, sighing again, “I’ll be fine, Wilbur. Just a bad day.”

You walked to your room, grabbing a notebook and a pencil case in the hopes that some drawing would calm you down. You walked back out to the living room, sitting on the couch next to Tommy, who was playing with your Rubix cube again. Wilbur walked over and stood in front of you, and you could feel his eyes on you as you set down your pencil case.

One of the more endearing habits that Tommy had was how he only liked his things near him. He always wanted his space to be the exact way he put things, and he would complain, loudly, if you moved things whatsoever. The most often way he complained? He would just smack things. Just completely push them out of his space and across the room.

And he did that now. You watched as you went to grab a pencil, and before you could, he smacked the pencil case across the room so hard it slammed against the wall before hitting the floor.

“Tommy!” Wilbur chastised, but before he could actually get on his case, you burst out laughing.

Full, genuine laughing, your eyes closing . Your life was so bizarre already, what with the whole living with ghosts thing. And after an absolutely shitty day, one of them just smacked your entire pencil case against the wall just because it was slightly too close to him. It was bizarre and weird and absurd, but it was your life.

You laughed until your ribs were tired. When your eyes opened again, still crinkled at the sides, you were met with a sight, to say the least.

You saw Wilbur. You saw him. He was looking back at you, face flushed and staring at you in awe. Holy shit.

“...Wilbur?”

He looked startled by the fact you made eye contact with him, and he struggled to find words. But god, he was gorgeous. Thick curly brown hair with beautiful brown eyes to match. He was tall, too, and he wore a faded blue sweater and plain black pants.

He didn’t have a chance to respond before Tommy did, and you watched as, within seconds, he went from being completely invisible to… Tommy. He had blond hair and blue eyes, and he was wearing a white t-shirt with red sleeves, and a pair of cargo shorts.

“Thank god, we don’t have to be invisible anymore. I was getting so tired of it, but of course Wilbur said we had to, didn’t want to risk scaring you off, as if you would be!” He barked out a laugh, and you chuckled as well, blinking a bit.

“I’m sorry, what? You- I can see you? And you can control that sort of stuff?”

Tommy snorted, “Of course you can see us. That’s kinda how ghosts work, innit?”

You gave them a closer look, noting that, although you could see them, they were still slightly translucent. “How the hell should I know how ghosts work? I’m not the ghost here!”

You laughed, and Wilbur seemed to finally gain some sense of vocal ability, “We can control it, but our natural state is like this. Well, kind of. There’s a more… accurate form, but we don’t really show that to anyone. We’ve found that it usually scares people out, so we tend to wait.”

You nodded, “What is the more accurate form?”

Wilbur leaned forward, ruffling your hair, “Don’t worry about it.”

You pouted a bit but nodded regardless, “Okay. Well, as weird as it is, it’s also… really cool. I didn’t think I’d ever be able to see you guys.” You took Wilbur’s hand, inspecting it carefully. Other than the slight translucent nature of them, they just looked normal. A bit paler than they probably would have been alive, but still just completely normal.

You let go of his hand, looking up at him, “Sorry, it’s just interesting.” Wilbur chuckled, and it was so different to actually see him laugh rather than just hearing it, “It’s okay. You don’t have to apologize, darling.”

You flushed lightly, and Wilbur took immediate notice, leaning in close to your face.

“Are you going shy on me, darling?” His hand gently cupped your chin, “Do you just find me that attractive?” Your cheeks flamed up, and as you stuttered out a response, Tommy groaned, smacking Wilbur’s shoulder.

“Take your flirting shit out of here, dickhead.”

Wilbur scoffed, sitting next to you instead, “Hey, I put up with your shit attempts at flirting with Molly for months, I’m allowed to have my fun.”

“I am not shit at flirting! And even if I was, you’re the one who taught me, so that would mean you’re also shit!” Tommy exclaimed, putting the Rubix cube down.

“You never listened to my instructions!”

“Because they were stupid”

You rolled your eyes as they continued to bicker, standing and walking towards your room. You waved a hand nonchalantly, “I’m going to take a bath. You guys just keep… doing whatever is it you do.” “Want my help in there, darling?” You flushed, flipping him off behind your back, “Unless you’re bringing me wine and leaving right after, I do not need your help.”

You walked into the bathroom and got a warm bubble bath ready quickly, getting into the water and relaxing as the heat soothed your sore muscles. You played music from your phone softly, closing your eyes and letting the water alleviate your troubles from the day.

After a few minutes, there was a knock on the door. You fixed the curtain to maintain your modesty, before humming out a soft, “Come in.”

Wilbur opened the door with a smug grin, a glass of wine in his hand.

You laughed, “Jesus, I didn’t even think we had wine in the house.” “We do, it was just too high for you to reach.” He chuckled, walking over to hand you the glass.

“Oh? And who put it up there then?” You took the glass, taking a sip.

“Hm, I wonder.” He chuckled, crouching down to be eye-level with you, “You feeling any better?”

You nodded softly, smiling, “Yeah. Just had a rough day, I guess.”

He sat down, nodding, “I figured. It took you longer to get home than usual, and you just seemed a bit down. I’m glad Tommy was able to make you laugh, even if the whole reveal thing wasn’t planned.”

You hummed, “It definitely was a shock. I do like being able to see you, even if I’m still just processing it. It’s easier to tell where you are.”

“Oh, I bet,” he laughed, “But sneaking up on you is half the fun.”

“For you,” you rolled your eyes, “I quite like being able to see my housemates. I’m almost offended, actually, that you hid such a pretty face from me for so long.”

It was an incredibly satisfying feeling to actually watch him get flustered, his cheeks turning pink while he looked away.

He composed himself, clearing his throat, “Didn’t want to scare such a pretty person away is all. Especially such a kind one.”

You flushed, taking another sip of wine. “Well, I can definitely say I’m not scared.”

He smiled (a beautiful sight to see), reaching a hand up to gently play with your hair, “Good. For a moment there I thought you’d just bolt when you saw me.”

“Honestly,” you chuckled, leaning into his touch, “You guys having a form I can see is the least weird thing I’ve dealt with since I’ve moved in.”

He laughed, “Yeah, I guess that’s true. We’ve just… grown to be a bit wary of showing ourselves to people. Molly was the most recent one, actually, and that was because she snuck in without us noticing. The first time someone moved in, we didn’t think to hide ourselves, and that’s what led to all the rumors and everything.”

You nodded, “Shitty exploitative people or people running for the hills?”

“We’ve had both,” he sighed.

“How do you guys know about all the rumors and stuff though? Did Molly tell you?”

He shook his head, “We can’t leave the house most days, but there are a few exceptions. We can leave on Halloween, and the anniversary of our deaths. Or if we possess someone.”

“Wha- okay, you can not just say that like it’s a casual thing. You can possess people?”

He chuckled, looking coy, “Yeah. We don’t do it often, only if we really need to or if we’re given permission.”

You nodded, “That’s respectful, I guess. When would you need to?”

He shrugged, “We’ve done it to protect people. There was a kid living in here with the last family, and he nearly drowned, so I had to possess his father to save him. The only problem is that, usually when we do it, people move out right after. But if we can stop another person from dying here, we’ll jump at the opportunity.”

“That makes sense,” you hummed softly, “Must feel weird to get possessed.”

He hummed, “I’ve heard it is. Tommy’s possessed Molly before so they could go on like pseudo-dates. She said you’re still aware of everything, you just can’t move your body yourself. She and Tommy were able to talk in her head, though so it’s not as scary as you’d think, as long as you know it’s happening. There are some side effects for a short while afterwards though.”

“Like?”

“She said that she felt freezing cold for a while after. She had a few bruises as well, but that could’ve easily just been from Tommy remembering how to manuver an actual body. That’s another thing, if you do it for too long, you kind of forget how to move your own body, so she had to sit to keep herself from falling.”

You nodded, humming, “that’s not too bad.”

“Well, yeah. That’s with permission, though. Most of the people we’ve possessed without permission haven’t exactly stuck around long enough for us to ask how they feel afterwards.”

You leaned your head on the edge of the tub, going silent as you thought. “We could do that one day, if you want.”

“What?” He stopped his hand, eyebrows pinching together.

“Yeah, like Molly and Tommy do. That way you can go outside a bit more and do stuff that you can’t do anymore.”

He grinned softly, “Is this your way of asking me on a date?”

You groaned, and he immediately laughed at your reaction. “I’m trying to be nice, dumbass.”

“I know, I know. But man it is so much more fun to flirt with you when you can actually see me. You get flustered so much easier.” “Maybe I’m not used to seeing cute boys flirt with me.”

He frowned slightly, and it quickly dissolved into a grin, “Well, you’ll get used to it soon enough because I definitely don’t plan on stopping. Unless it makes you uncomfortable.”

You smiled gently, “It doesn’t. I would’ve asked you to stop a long time ago if it actually made me uncomfortable.”

“Good. Because I am going to be so much worse about it now that I can flirt physically with you.”

“Oh, god.”

“I’ll make it good for you. Don’t stress.”

You chuckled, taking another sip, “I’m not stressed, more concerned about how I’ll ever be able to deal with a cute guy flirting with me all the time.”

“Well, I’ll take good care of you, obviously.”

You smiled, biting your lip softly, “Thanks, Wilbur.”

He smiled, running his hand through your hair once more. “Of course, darling. What do you want for dinner? I can start making it while you finish up here.”

You sighed softly, “I have no clue honestly.”

“So surprise you?”

You grinned softly, “Yeah. Just please don’t burn down the house. I like living here with you guys.”

“Alright, so don’t let Tommy into the kitchen, got it.”

You laughed, and he gave you that look again, the same one he was giving you when you saw his face for the first time.

“I guess so.” You hummed softly.

“Alright, well, I’ll go get started,” He stood, and he leaned over, pressing a kiss to your forehead gently before walking out.

It took your brain a moment to catch up before you felt yourself blushing deeply once more. It was a new but definitely welcome sensation, the feeling of his lips on your forehead left a gentle chill. You bit down a smile, but even if you really tried, you wouldn’t have been able to hide the gentle grin. You took a final sip of your wine, setting the glass down and letting yourself sink into the water.

You got out of the bath and got dressed, taking your glass and walking out into the living room. You weren’t quite used to just being able to see them, almost feeling startled as you saw Tommy sitting on the couch playing on your old DS, and seeing Wilbur standing in the kitchen.

You shook it off, walking to the kitchen and looking for the wine.

Wilbur looked over at you, smiling softly, “Feeling better?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “How’s dinner coming along?”

“Good,” he smiled, walking over and wrapping his lanky arms around you while you poured yourself some more wine. You leaned into his grasp, smiling softly.

“Yeah? House hasn’t burnt down, so that says something at least.”

He chuckled, wrapping you up tighter in his arms, “I still remember mostly what I’m doing. I used to cook for Tommy when our parents were working.”

“You haven’t spoken much about your parents.” You noted quietly.

He sighed, leaning his head on you, “No. I haven’t. I try not to think about them too much.”

You nodded softly and didn’t ask further. Instead, you relaxed in his arms and drank your wine. He swayed a bit, and you chuckled, closing your eyes.

“It’s still weird being able to see you.”

“Yeah? Like what you see.”

You chuckled, flushing, “Maybe. Is there a problem if I do?”

“The opposite, actually, darling. I think it’s absolutely lovely. But not as lovely as you.”

“Wilbur?”

“Yes, my darling?”

“Something is very much burning on the stove.”

He quickly pulled away, rushing to the pot on the stove and taking it off the heat.

“Oops,” he grinned at you sheepishly, “Sorry, love. You’re just so distracting.”

You flushed and rolled your eyes, “Maybe I shouldn’t have trusted you in the kitchen either.”

He scoffed, “I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. This was simply a method of cooking, I’m enfusing the food with smoky flavor.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes a bit, “You’re such a dork.”

When you looked back at him, he was giving you the biggest grin. He turned, grinning down at the counter as he worked on plating the food for you. He handed you the plate, gently kissing your head.

“I kept the burnt parts out of it.”

You blushed, smiling, “Thank you, Wilbur.”

“Of course, darling.”

You started eating, and he watched you as you did, waiting for your reaction.

“Holy shit, Wilbur, this is fantastic.”

He threw his arms up, cheering, “Yes! Oh, I’m so glad you like it. It’s been a long time since I cooked.”

“It’s amazing, seriously, thank you.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around you again, “It’s actually our mom’s recipe. She was the best cook, taught me everything I know.”

“Well, she taught you well.” You ate more, and Wilbur was absolutely beaming behind you.

The rest of the night was quite calm, just sitting with Tommy and Wilbur, watching videos and stuff. You got tired quite quickly, so the three of you retired to bed, Wilbur following you. You both got comfortable quickly, your head resting on his chest. His hand gently trailed up and down your back, and the sensation used to make you shiver, but now it just felt comforting. In the silence, you began thinking.

“Wilbur?” You spoke softly.

“Hm?”

“You’re very touchy,” you stated plainly.

He chuckled, “That’s true.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I like the feeling. Reminds me of being alive, I guess.”

“How so?” You asked quietly.

“Well,” he took one hand, gently placing it on your cheek, “it warms me slightly, same way it cools you. So it becomes grounding, after a while. Especially when I start to comprehend the reality of the fact that I am a ghost, I can’t leave, and I don’t know if I’ll be like this forever or if one day I’ll just suddenly stop existing. It’s scary sometimes to think about the fact that, at one point, I was living, and I got killed, and now I am undead, and I don’t know why. I don’t know if one day, just by saying something, I’ll fade. You weren’t wrong when you said ghosts are probably scared of their own situation because we are. There’s no rulebook to being a ghost, and I remember, the first few years, I was just so aware of my own… mortality, if you can even call it that. And it was terrifying. Tommy and I mostly stayed in the attic at all times because we didn’t know if we’d fully move on just by walking out the door. So, when I touch you, it helps pull me out of that fear. Because I remember that being alive was just as terrifying because there is no rulebook to living either. And it’s grounding. If I could do it once before, I can do it again. You remind me of being alive. Because you’re the first person to look at me, even when you couldn’t see me, and have empathy before anything else. So touching you and being around you, it makes me feel something other than the usual dread and sadness, and I will cling to that as much as I can while I still have time with you.”

You leaned into his touch, shifting a bit to wrap an arm around him. You didn’t really have a response. It was the most vulnerable he’d ever been.

You cuddled your head further into his chest, nodding softly, “If you ever need it, you know, i’m here for you. I don’t know much about ghosts or living, and I’d never given the things much thought before moving in here. But anything that can help you, I’m willing to help you with. Even if it means having you attached at my hip all day. You know better than anyone just how fragile life is. I could die tomorrow. So, we need to make the most out of what we have, I guess.”

He smiled, kissing the top of your head gently, “That’s all we can do. It’s what made life worth living, and it’s what makes being stuck like this worth it too. Just appreciating every moment, even if all we have is your living and my ghostly-ness.” He chuckled softly, and you did too.

You gently moved his hand from your cheek, solely so you could hold it. “Goodnight, Wilbur.”

“Goodnight, my love.”

You and Wilbur got closer seamlessly. You don’t know what made it so easy to talk with him or just be around him. Overtime, his flirting got bolder, but so did yours. You’d be lying to yourself if you were to say that you weren’t attracted to him. You absolutely were. You were just conflicted.

You didn’t know how human-ghost relationships worked. You knew they happened, obviously, Molly and Tommy were clear proof of it. But you didn’t really know how they worked. One person was dead, firstly, but there was also the concept that their spirit had a high chance of outliving you. You would grow older, but Wilbur would always be twenty-six. Unless you died, of course, but that would be a pretty major commitment to make, and it honestly made your head hurt to think about. Plus, that’s if Wilbur even would be okay with that which, based on the way he spoke about being dead, he wouldn’t be. The morals and mortality honestly gave you a headache. So you talked to the only other person who would possibly understand.

When Molly walked in that morning, you were quick to stop her from walking up to where Tommy would be.

“Molly! Can I talk to you for a moment?” “Uh, yeah, sure.”

You carefully pulled her into the backyard, sitting down on the concrete porch.

“I… have a few questions.” You spoke softly in case of any peeping ears.

“Oh?” She sat down next to you, “What about?”

You sighed, “You and Tommy’s relationship. How does it work?”

She chuckled, “What do you mean?”

“I just… I’ve been thinking a lot about like how a ghost-human relationship could work, and I just feel overwhelmed. I like Wilbur,” you admitted softly, blush rising to your cheeks, “But I keep thinking about how a relationship between me and him would work since it’s… unconventional.”

“Well, I’ve found your problem already,” she gave you a kind smile, “You think too much. With Tommy, we don’t think about it. We’re both aware of how weird it is, and how it probably won’t last forever, but we don’t mind. I mean, he and I have been dating for months, and I’ve never been able to tell anyone for obvious reasons. We just honestly don’t think about it. And maybe that’s not healthy, but it’s what’s right and what works for us right now. So that’s all that matters.”

You nodded, resting your head on your knee, “It doesn’t bother you? That you don’t know?”

“Honestly? No,” she shrugged, “It’s something about living in the moment, you know. Sometimes I think about it, but I know that there’s really nothing Tom and I can do anything about it. So, I just don’t think about it since I can’t find a solution.”

You nodded again, “Thanks, Molly.” She patted your shoulder, “Listen, if you want my advice, I say do it. Wilbur is absolutely head over heels for you. And even if he is blind to it, I can tell you are the same way about him. So, don’t think about it much, just do it. If it makes you both happy, then it’s worth it.”

You flushed, nodding, “I just have to figure out how. Thank you, Molly.”

“I have work off today, so I was probably going to let Tommy possess me so we can go for a walk, if you want some privacy,” she winked, standing and heading inside.

You sat there with nothing but the deep blush on your cheeks and the things she had told you.

You were thankful for the later privacy, though, solely because you didn’t want Tommy there when you confessed. It was nerve-wracking enough without Tommy there to potentially make fun of you.

After dinner, you and WIlbur were sitting on the couch like normal, but you couldn’t focus, too in your head about how to word everything perfectly and oh god, what if he says no.

“Darling, are you okay?” Wilbur asked, pulling you out of your thoughts.

You nodded, biting your lip. You turned, facing him now, and gently taking his hand, “I want to… talk about something.”

“Oh?” he turned, holding your hand tightly, “What’s up?”

Fuck, you really should’ve practiced this before hand. “It’s just…” here goes nothing, “I like you, Wilbur. I’ve known for a bit now, I just didn’t really know what to say or if it would be good to even bring it up until I talked to Molly today, but, yeah. I like you. And, if you’ll take me, I’d- I’d like to be your partner.”

For the first time in your little speech, you looked up to him. And he, god, he looked ecstatic. He had a soft smile on his face, but you could see in his eyes just how overjoyed he was.

“Darling, nothing would make me happier. I’d be a fool to not take you,” he squeezed your hand gently, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, and he brought a hand up, slowly guiding your lips together. The kiss was enchanting, and the sensation – a mix of cool and tingling – it reminded you of peppermint chapstick. You held onto his shoulder gently, kissing him back and putting just as much love into it as it gave you.

You both pulled away quickly, solely due to the sound of the door opening. Both of your heads whipped towards the sound, watching as Molly-Tommy walked in, and after a moment, you watched Tommy’s spirit separate, and he carefully held onto Molly, so she wouldn’t fall. Once he looked over, both of you red-faced and looking like you were clearly caught, he raised his free arm up, cheering, “Holy shit! Wilbur finally got bitches!”

Your relationship with Wilbur was surprisingly easy. Not much actually changed between the two of you, aside from kissing and making out more. He slept in your bed more often, though he still had those nights when he would disappear to the attic. He also tended to be more generally affectionate rather than flirty, now that he knew it was okay to kiss you when he felt like it.

There was something not-house related that popped up recently though. You didn’t notice it for the first few days, but by the fourth day it was glaringly obvious. Every day that you would leave your house for work, you noticed a man, around mid-fourties, sitting on a bench across the street. He would follow your path to work, but he would never interact. It made you feel uneasy, though. You told a few of your coworkers, and they all agreed that it was weird, but you refrained from telling Wilbur and Tommy. You didn’t want any problems, you just mostly wanted to figure out why this guy kept watching you.

Thankfully, it didn’t take too long to find out. On the second week of this occurring, he actually came up to you, holding a single flower out towards you.

When he spoke, it sounded as though he hadn’t spoken properly in about two years, and it sent a shiver down your spine, but none of his words were mean or harmful.

“Hello. I’m sorry to bother you,” he handed you the flower, a red chrysanthemum, before continuing, “it’s just, well, I used to be friends with the boys who lived in that house. Not a lot of people move in there, so when I heard you did, I got a bit curious.”

You accepted the flower, somewhat shocked by the plainness of his statement, “Oh. I understand the curiosity, the house has quite a reputation. It’s a lovely place, though.”

He nodded, “I loved being in there. I’ve heard the reputation it has as well, but I wanted to ask, as the current owner, do you believe in any of it? I’m not quite sure I believe in these ghost stories.”

You chuckled softly. You had gotten used to lying about your ghostly boyfriend and roommates, “No, I don’t believe in any of it. However, if it keeps my payments low, I don’t mind.”

That brought a laugh out of him, and it eased your nerves a bit. “I get that. Sorry if I weirded you out at all, It’s just- not exactly easy to come up to people and ask if they believe in ghosts.”

“People do it all the time now, actually,” you hummed. It wasn’t uncommon, these days, for anyone who knew you lived there to ask those types of questions. “But you said you were friends with the boys?”

He nodded, “Yes. We were good friends for a long time. It was tragic what happened to them, but I am glad to hear that you haven’t had any problems. I always worried that their souls may not have been able to move on.”

You gave a soft smile, “Yeah, I worried the same when I moved in. I imagine it’d be quite scary to exist like that. But, no issues, really.”

“That’s good, then. The boys were so kind, too. William and Thomas, their names were.”

“Oh, really?” You asked, as if you didn’t know.

For the next week, every day, that man would walk with you to work, telling stories about the boys, and every day, he would bring you a red chrysanthemum. It was nice to hear about the boys when they were alive, even if it was a bit chilling to think about how they lived before knowing what would become of them.

One day, the man brought a whole bouquet of the red chrysanthemums, and you accepted them with a soft smile. As he told stories, he spoke in a bit of a far-away tone.

“I’ve always wanted to go back in, actually. To see where we all used to goof off. I think it would be a nice way to get closure, after all that’s happened. The guy who killed them, he was smart, really smart, but he never got caught, so their story never got closure. I never got closure. I’m not sure, I’ve just always thought that, just walking around and seeing their rooms, it would help.”

That brought a thought to your brain. This guy used to be their friend, and Wilbur said that they always wondered what happened to all the people who they never saw anymore. It would be a really nice surprise for them!

“Well, if you’d like, once I get off of work, I can let you in, let you walk around a bit?”

He grinned, “Really? Oh, that would be lovely. You get home around six usually, yes?”

You nodded softly, “Yeah.”

“Perfect! Oh, thank you so much, it would truly be the best thing to be able to see in there again. You don’t know how much you’ve truly done for me.”

When you got home, he was waiting at your front porch. You smiled softly at him, waving as you went to unlock the door. You opened the door slowly, to give the boys time to go invisible when they realized there was someone in the house.

“You can just take a seat on the couch, alright? I’m going to put my stuff away and then I’ll walk the place with you.”

He nodded, taking a seat and looking around. You walked to your room to put your bag away, but the moment you closed the door, you were met with the two ghosts, startling you backwards.

“Jesus, you guys scared me,” you whispered.

“What the fuck is going on right now?” Tommy whispered harshly.

Wilbur just looked angry, the silent type of angry that honestly put fear in you as well.

“What are you talking about? Him?”

“Of fucking course, we’re talking about him! Why is he here?” It was weird to hear Tommy sounding so quiet and panicked.

“He said he used to be your friend. I wanted to surprise you guys,” you smiled a bit, not yet understanding why they both looked so upset and fearful and angry.

“That dickhead was not our friend.” “What? Tommy, what are you on about?”

“Love, that’s the man who murdered us.” Wilbur spoke for the first time, anger clear in his voice.

You felt a chill go down your spine, straightening, “What?”

“The bastard pretended to be our friend, talking to us, bringing us shit like gifts and flowers,” you felt your entire body go cold as Tommy continued, “All so he could fucking murder us.”

“He’s been giving me flowers every day.” You noted simply, and the two of them both lost all the fear in their expressions, now just looking purely angry and protective. They shared a look before looking back at you. Wilbur placed a hand on your shoulder, gently despite the ferocity in his expression.

“Go back out there before he gets suspicious, but if he wants to go to the attic, do not walk in first, let him go first. You hear me?”

You nodded quickly, and Wilbur pulled you forward, kissing you passionately, “I won’t let him fucking touch you,” he growled out softly.

You kissed him back, slowly pulling out from Wilbur’s grasp and heading back out into the living room, a bit more stiff than before.

“You ready to look around?” You asked, trying to sound as normal as possible. He nodded, standing up. You and him walked upstairs to the boys’s rooms, and the entire time you could feel Wilbur and Tommy’s presence behind you.

You went to both of the boy’s old rooms, and he seemed completely normal, talking about all the times he’d seen the boys in here. After Wilbur’s room, he spoke up properly.

“Can we see the attic? The boys and I used to hang out there at night.”

You gulped softly and nodded, “Do you remember where it is?”

He smiled and nodded, “of course! I remember sneaking up there with them all the time.”

“Alright, lead the way then.” You gestured for him to lead the way, but he shook his head.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t, it’s your house after all.”

“No, really, I insist.”

He tilted his head, smiling, and this time it brought you waves of unease, “Is there something wrong?”

Fuck. There were two ways this could go. You could say yes, and he could just kill you right here. Or you could say no and deal with Wilbur’s anger later.

You’d rather deal with Wilbur’s anger later.

“...No. Nothing’s wrong, um, follow me, I guess.” You started walking upstairs to the attic, and you practically hear Wilbur’s curses in your ear.

You opened the door and walked in, and the man walked in behind you. Before either of you had a chance to react, the door slammed shut and locked, and you were pulled into the chair on the otherside of the room.

You watched Wilbur reappear, standing over you protectively. Tommy reappeared after, standing by the door. The man looked around wildly at the two of the them, stuttering.

“You- you said they weren’t real!” He looked at you angrily, and he started advancing towards you.

Wilbur grabbed your hands, placing them on top of your eyes. “Do not open your eyes.” He ordered, and all you could do was hear for a few minutes as the sound of strange whispers filled the room. There was light coming from the center of the room that you could vaguely make out from behind your hands, and soon, there was the sound of the man screaming. The room felt heavy, as if every negative emotion you’d ever known was flowing into your body all at once.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you couldn’t help your curiosity as you peered between two fingers.

Tommy and Wilbur stood over the man as he sank into what appeared to be a portal into the floor. That wasn’t what really caught your attention, though.

What caught your attention was Tommy and Wilbur’s appearances. This must’ve been the true form they mentioned, you realized. They looked nearly decrepit, Tommy’s stomach covered in blood, and his neck showing a long open wound. Wilbur wasn’t much better, a clear stab wound going straight through his chest. If you looked hard enough, you could see through it. His face had a long scratch going down the side, hitting through his eye. There was another stab wound on him, a clear chunk taken out of his arm. Both of their eyes were glowing, Wilbur’s a haunting cold blue, and Tommy’s a deep red.

You gasped softly and quickly covered your eyes in full again. No wonder they didn’t want you to see it. It was entirely haunting to see.

A few minutes later, Wilbur walked over and pulled your hands off of your eyes. The light, the portal, and the man were all gone. You had started crying at some point after seeing them like that, and Wilbur quickly pulled you into his arms.

“It’s okay, he’s gone.” He whispered, kissing the top of your head and rubbing your back soothingly. You sobbed against him, gently moving a hand to the center of his chest to make sure the wound wasn’t there anymore even if you’d already seen him looking normal.

He seemed to realize what you were doing pretty quickly, but he never let go of you or seemed upset in the slightest, “You saw, didn’t you?”

You nodded, another wave of sobs wracking your body.

He sighed softly, just holding you closer, “I’m sorry, darling. I never wanted you to see that. I’m so so sorry,” he whispered.

You didn’t respond, just sobbing against him and clinging onto him desperately.

He helped you calm down, and after you got past the tears from processing their true forms, you had to come to terms with the stark reality that you would have absolutely been killed, the same way the boys had, if they weren’t there for you.

The house was mostly quiet the rest of the night, though Wilbur and Tommy were both clearly filled with a sense of relief.

You asked Wilbur about it later as you rested on his chest in bed. “Are you and Tommy happy he’s gone?”

He hummed, looking down at you, “He’s not gone, per se. Just in his own personal hell. It felt good, but, if you’re wondering why we’re both relieved, that’s not why.”

He got better at reading you as you two grew closer, and this was clear evidence of it, “Then why?”

“We didn’t know if that would be it for us,” he sighed softly, “There’s always been this idea that ghosts stick around due to unfinished business. We don’t know if that’s true or not, but we always assumed, if it was, it was because he was still here. So, there was a chance that when we got rid of him, we both would’ve just ceased to exist, or moved on to the afterlife, whatever. We’re relieved that didn’t happen. Neither of us could stand leaving you and Molly like that, with no clue what happened to us.”

You nodded softly, “But, wouldn’t it have been nice? To move on?”

“No,” he almost laughed, “Not without you.”

You held onto him tighter, nodding softly. “He would’ve killed me, if you two weren’t here.” You whispered.

He nodded, but he didn’t speak.

“If we let him, maybe I would’ve been here with you guys forever, like you are now.”

He looked at you, horrified, “Darling, don’t start with that. There’s absolutely no way we could’ve been certain of that, and I don’t want this for you. I want you to live a full life, and I don’t even want to know what would’ve happened if he killed you and your spirit didn’t stay. It would’ve been devastating for both of us, Tommy too. So, please, don’t start with that. I’m glad you are alive.”

You nodded softly, and his arms tightened around you, “I owe you both my life regardless.” He chuckled lightly, leaning down and kissing you gently, “Darling, the only thing you owe us is your happiness. All I want is for you to be happy. Nothing else matters to me anymore.”

You smiled, kissing him back lovingly.

“I love you, Wilbur.”

He smiled, eyes glowing the same blue, but lighter this time, as you exchanged your first ‘I love you’s. “I love you too, darling.”

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur #theres an alt ending :)#not written out but :)#i know what it is :)

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wlwmarvelenthusiast · 3 years

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Turn Your Luck

Summary: After a day filled with bad luck and a series of unfortunate events, Natasha manages to turn your day around

Pairing: Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Warnings: None

Words: 6,167

When you woke up in the morning and smacked your big toe off your bed frame, you didn't even think twice of it. It sent a jolt all throughout your foot, but after a few swear words, you were already feeling a little better. You didn't bother making the bed you'd just stood up out of. All your life you'd reasoned that it wouldn't be 24 hours before you just messed it up again. You grabbed a towel and moved into the bathroom. The hot shower made you forget all about the sore toe you'd been sporting only a moment earlier.

You were feeling great when you stepped out of the shower. The warm water had always instilled comfort into your very bones even this early in the morning. You wiped some of the condensation off the mirror to brush your teeth. The tube of toothpaste was completely empty, and the drawer where you usually kept the new ones was also barren. You rolled your eyes at your own irresponsibility, before brushing your teeth without any toothpaste and then using some mouthwash to try and compensate for it. You stepped out of the bathroom.

You got dressed in your favourite white shirt and black pants before making your way into the kitchen. You tossed your phone onto the counter as you passed it on the way to the small kitchen table. You were after the fruit bowl, which was already needing a refill. There were still a few apples left, though, and you were expecting to have one for breakfast. You were mistaken. You pulled the empire apple out of the blue bowl to find the bottom had grown immensely soft and was clearly not in any condition to be eaten. You were disappointed but tossed it into the compost bin and moved on.

Humming a soft tune as you moved, you popped a pod into the single-serve coffee maker and pressed start. You were moving toward the fridge in no time when a strange noise caught your attention. You whirled to face the coffee maker. Instead of the steady stream of coffee you usually got, it was spraying the hot liquid like it was a shaken pop can. You jumped behind the small island, using it as a shield. Thankfully, you'd managed to keep your white shirt safe from the wrath of the coffee. When it stopped, you finally dared step back into the kitchen. The dark liquid was dripping down every nearby surface. You huffed, running some paper towel across the biggest surfaces quickly.

You gave up on the coffee. It seemed you weren't going to get it anyway. You glared at the machine as if it had intentionally smitten you. Instead, you reached into the fridge instead and poured a glass of orange juice for yourself. You sipped it before setting it back onto the countertop. When your phone buzzed and indicated an incoming message, you reached for it. Your elbow hit your glass and it fell onto its side. The orange liquid spilled off the counter and into your white shirt. You gave the mess the middle finger, tossing a dishtowel on it to soak it up, with the intention of actually cleaning it after work. You already had to clean the coffee up anyway.

Any attempt at breakfast was abandoned. After the three kitchen incidents combined, you were convinced you'd be better off heading to some drive-thru on the way to work. Now in a new blue shirt, you grabbed your bag and headed out your front door. You unlocked your car, slid into the driver's seat, and hit the ignition. The car sputtered for a few seconds, before refusing to start. You tried again, and then again, before groaning, taking out your frustration on the steering wheel in front of you. You stood up and stepped back out of the vehicle, slamming the door behind you with much more force than necessary.

Then, it was off to the bus stop. You headed down the sidewalk to the nearest one, pulling out your phone as you walked so you could check your app to find out when the next bus was coming. When you saw big red letters informing you that the bus was halted until further notice, though, you had to refrain from throwing your phone hard into the concrete. You supposed you should have had a little sympathy for those in the accident that had halted your bus, but you couldn't find it in yourself right then. Your morning was not going well.

It was a good thing you hadn't smashed your phone against the sidewalk. It was the only thing you could use to get you to work now. You switched apps and ordered an Uber to come to pick you up. When the driver arrived, you climbed into the back seat and gave him the address of your place of work. He nodded and pressed his foot down on the gas. Your eyes had been glued on your phone, but your gaze flickered at the driver's movement. He was adjusting the mirror and you were absolutely sure he'd angled it to face you a little better. You could have puked when you realized the creep was checking you out. You didn't say anything, at this point just wanting to get to work and be done with it.

You practically sprinted into the building when you arrived. Security didn't seem to mind your rush, having seen your face every day for over three years anyway. You hopped up the stairs two at a time, faster than the elevator would have been able to carry you anyway. When you reached the meeting room door you took a few seconds to catch your breath, not wanting to seem too flustered in your professional environment. When you finally pushed the door open, everyone was rising to their feet. Their eyes all darted up to glance at you. You smiled sheepishly.

"You're late."

"I know, I'm sorry." That was honest. You might have been frustrated, but you hadn't wanted to inconvenience any of your coworkers as well. "I've really had a rough morning."

Your boss nodded. "We've all had those days. I'll send you an email and give you a summary."

You thanked him and left the meeting room with everyone else. You trudged into your office, throwing your bag to the floor, and refraining from slamming the door behind you. You collapsed into your office chair and closed your eyes for a brief moment. But you didn't have time for that. The paperwork on your desk needed your attention. You gave it. The hours you spent on all the files, emails, and documents were the smoothest thing that had happened all day, even if it was mind-numbingly boring and felt absolutely endless. It might have been smooth sailing, but it didn't brighten your spirits at all.

When your phone rang, you reached out blindly until you felt your hand come in contact with it. You shuffled it until it was upright in your hand. You were so completely absorbed in the document that was displayed on your computer screen that you didn't even bother to look at your phone as you fumbled to slide the answer bar. Only when the incessant ringing had finally ceased did you know you'd successfully answered the call. You hesitated before you slowly raised the phone to your ear, eyes still scanning the lines in front of you.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Hun."

Immediately you regretted not checking the caller ID before answering the phone. You could have kicked yourself. In fact, the move was so ridiculously and incredibly stupid that you could have beaten yourself to a pulp. The voice on the other end of the line was familiar, completely unwelcome, and not a surprise after having the day that you were having. You turned away from the screen, resting your elbow on the desk and massaging the migraine that was beginning to form in your forehead. You sighed heavily, sure she heard it.

"Hi," you stated. "What?"

"Hun-"

"Please stop calling me that, I already asked you."

You had asked her that. Multiple times. You'd broken up months ago after she'd broken your heart. Catching her in bed with someone else had left you shattered and unsure if you could trust anyone. You'd been okay for a couple months now after some comfort and reassurance from your best friend, who you were having dinner with tonight. You glanced at the time. Your attention was unfortunately brought back to the girl on the phone, though, when she sighed your name as if she were the one who was hurt. She had no right to be hurt.

"I just-"

"I'm working," you finally said bluntly. "Is it urgent?"

"No. No, I'm sorry. I... I can call you tomorrow."

You wanted to snap and tell her not to bother, but you didn't. You just nodded despite her not being able to see it, said goodbye, and hung up. Once more you were faced with the urge to smash the stupid phone. Once more you fought it, instead shoving it into a drawer so you could ignore it and work on the mountains of paperwork you had to get through before your six o'clock reservations. You got back to it. Soon enough, the information was able to push your ex far from your mind. You didn't want to think about her anyway.

It felt like it had been eons since you'd arrived at work, and yet, according to the clock in the corner of your screen, you still had over an hour until your reservation. You might have slammed your head down onto the desk in front of you had two things not stopped you. The first was the migraine that was still throbbing in your head, and the second was the ringing of your office phone. Even though you knew she couldn't call you on here, you checked the caller ID before you picked up this time. It was the front desk.

"Hey, Tamara. What's up?

"There's someone here for you. She said you're going to miss your reservations."

"Reservations? It's only 4:45."

Tamara hesitated. "Daylight savings. It's 5:45."

You had entirely forgotten about that and even if you hadn't, you would have expected the computer would auto-update something like that. But you had forgotten, and the computer hadn't jumped forward, and now you were going to be late, and you still hadn't turned in the file that you'd promised to turn in today. You groaned in frustration, but transferred the file to a flash drive, shoved it into your bag, and left your office. Clearly, everyone else had remembered the time change, as the office was empty.

You cursed all of your coworkers in your head. You made for the elevator. When you stepped on and hit the button to bring you down to the lobby, you actually crossed your fingers. With your luck, all of the cables on the elevator would snap and you'd plummet all the way to the parking garage and die in a fiery explosion. Thankfully, your little gesture of luck seemed to work, for the doors slid open safe and sound in the lobby. As you stepped out, though, your bag hit the door, and the company ID snapped off and slipped in that tiny little crack between the elevator and the floor and out of sight. You cursed loudly.

You didn't dare shine your flashlight down the crack to try and see how far it'd gone; either your phone would have gone down after it out the doors would have slammed shut on either side of your skull. Neither of those things were a chance you were willing to take. You abandoned your ID and continued to the front desk, letting Tamara know what had happened. She nodded in understanding before pointing out your best friend, who had come to collect you after you'd let her know this morning that you'd taken an Uber to work. You approached her and tapped her shoulder.

"Hey," she said brightly.

"Hey, Nat."

Natasha Romanoff was the best thing to happen to you all day. She was your very best friend. Too, maybe you wanted her to be a little more. She was the most beautiful woman you'd ever laid eyes on, the red waves on her head only accentuating her emerald green irises, which sparkled when she smiled at you. That was only her physical beauty. Though she was, to most everyone that knew her, a tough, scary Avenger, you knew it was a façade. Natasha was the kindest, most generous, selfless, and caring person you'd ever had the pleasure of knowing.

"Tamara tells me you forgot about daylight saving time started last night."

"Shut up," you grumbled.

"Irritable because you lost an hour of sleep?"

"Nat," you said, already feeling bad for snapping at her. You rubbed your head. "I'm not having the greatest of days."

That was how your friendship with Nat was. You both understood that not every day was a good day. She tried to convince you not to compare, but you especially understood that. Natasha had been through hell on Earth when she was a child and you wished with every fibre of your heart that you could bear some of that for her. But you couldn't, and you were sure that if you could have, she wouldn't let you. So instead, you understood the bad days, and in turn, she did too. When you stated that today was one of those days, she turned to you with concern sparkling in those beautiful eyes.

"You okay?" She asked.

Your heart fluttered when her hand took yours.

It was a friendly gesture, of course, but you couldn't help but wish it otherwise. You wanted to hold her hand and have it not be just as a friend. You wanted to be able to intertwine your fingers with hers and squeeze her hand tight and feel that constant touch against her. You didn't want it to be friendly, you wanted it to be more. You wanted it to be so much more. You wanted to call her yours and for her to call you hers. But she was just a friend, and it was far better than nothing.

You hadn't always believed that someone could fall in love without some sort of a romantic relationship leading up to it. Now you realized it didn't need to be romantic. You and Natasha were close. You were closer than you'd ever been with anyone before. Because of that relationship, you knew you loved her. You were head over heels in love with her at this point, and you'd realized that a little while ago when you caught yourself fondly admiring her as she drummed her fingers against the table, deep in thought. It was a habit that had once had the ability to drive you up the wall.

"Hello?" She tried again. Her hand squeezed yours.

Your stomach flipped. "Yeah. I'm alright. Just waiting for my bad luck to run out."

"What happened?"

"What didn't happen?" You scoffed. "My fruit is all spoiled, my coffee maker broke, I spilled orange juice on my favourite white shirt, my car won't start, my bus wasn't running this morning, my Uber driver was a creep, I missed my meeting, I almost missed our reservations, I lost my ID badge and... she-who-must-not-be-named called."

Natasha's eyes darkened, her hand gripped yours tighter, and her gaze moved to meet yours. You took a chance and swiped your thumb over the back of her hand to try and get her to ease the tension out of her muscles. It seemed to work, as she relaxed a little. Her shoulders moved back down, the crease in her eyebrow lessened, she loosened her grip on your hand and exhaled carefully. She nodded in thanks, green eyes once against soft and gentle as she searched your eyes. You knew she was looking for any hint of you being upset. You weren't, though. You were with her.

Natasha hated your ex-girlfriend about a hundred times more than you did. She'd begged you to let her sneak over to her house at night and slash her tires and egg her house. You'd given that a firm no, not wanting Nat to get in any sort of trouble. It was Natasha's idea to never speak her name again, and to burn a bunch of photos and clothes that were left behind at your house. She'd gone so far as to have the bench you'd once carved your names into removed from the park and replaced with a brand new one... on Tony's Starks card, of course.

"What did she want?"

"Dunno. I told her I was busy," you actually laughed a little for the first time that day. "It wasn't exactly a lie. I was swamped today."

"Hey, if Fury is overworking you, I'll kick his ass."

Imagining Natasha kicking Nicholas Fury's ass was utterly amusing. You had no doubt she could, but Fury was a force. She'd kick his ass and the next day half of S.H.I.E.L.D. would be at her doorstep to retaliate. But he was a good boss. It wasn't his fault you'd procrastinated your own work for days. That was on you, and you knew it. So, you shook your head no, he wasn't overworking you. She seemed satisfied by that, but the topic of your ex wasn't dropped yet.

"Next time she calls you can direct her straight to me."

"Tasha, you won't answer."

"Damn right I won't."

You laughed again. It brought a smile to her face too.

With that, you continued on down the street without another word of she-who-must-not-be-named. You had almost reached the restaurant where Natasha had left the reservations when you stepped on something that most definitely was not concrete. If Natasha hadn't had your hand, your leg sliding out from underneath you would have left you on your ass. She held tight to your hand, her other arm catching you around the waist. You had to force yourself from blushing red as a tomato.

You glanced down at what you'd stepped in and could have punched someone. The white paint that was being used on the storefront had spilled onto the sidewalk and of course, you'd stepped in it in your new, black shoes. You scraped the bottom of it off on the sidewalk, grumbling all the while. Natasha had let go of your hand when you'd tugged it away from her to wipe the excess paint on the side of your shoe onto the post of the 'no parking' sign next to you. It was still ruined, but at least you'd gotten enough off that you wouldn't stain the restaurant's floor.

"You weren't kidding with the bad luck, huh?"

You shook your head no. You motioned onward, though. She got the hint, and you closed the distance between you and the restaurant. You shifted your bag on your shoulder as you stepped in, hoping they wouldn't notice the wet paint you were tracking onto their floors. If you managed in and out without them seeing, you'd be alright. It was New York City. You were sure people had walked in with worse things on the underside of their shoes.

You watched Natasha closely as she gave her name for the reservation. You hated how the host eyed her even more than you hated how your Uber driver had eyed you this morning. You didn't want anyone to eye her like that. You wanted to be the only one allowed to look at her like that. You knew you weren't, though. You ripped your gaze away from where it had been travelling along her jawline just in time for the host to arrive and lead you to your table. You sat across from her, keeping your eyes down and you collected your thoughts.

"What are you having?"

When you looked up, her eyes were trained on you. Her eyes were your absolute favourite part of her. They always shone so brightly, and so clearly expressed whatever she was feeling. They sparkled like they could see into your very soul and were so deep you could get lost in them for hours. Even the colour was perfect. They were that amazing shade of green that had very quickly become your favourite colour. You often found you'd been staring into them for a little longer than what might be considered normal. Now was one of those times. You looked back down at the menu.

"I'm not sure. Definitely a drink," you hummed. "Though I might get poisoned."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't think your luck is so bad that your assassin will choose to poison you today."

No, because she would protect you from anything. She always had. You might have been a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent and perfectly capable of protecting yourself, but she was always stepping in front of you to defend you. You couldn't say you minded. You liked having her at your back. Some people had a physical location where they felt safe. You didn't. Natasha Romanoff was your safe place. When you were with her, you felt like nothing in the world could touch you. She wouldn't let anything hurt you, and you wouldn't let anything hurt her.

Soon enough the waitress was stepping up to your table and taking your order. You gave yours first, opting for a simple fettuccine alfredo. Natasha gave hers, unaware of the way you watched her lips moving as she talked. When the waitress left and she looked back to you, your eyes were cast toward the window, watching a young couple pass by, huddled close together in the cool March evening. When she called for your attention and you gave it immediately, looking over to her. She sipped her wine as you did.

"You said your car wouldn't start?" She said.

"Yeah. It keeps sputtering on and on."

"I'll drive you home and take a look at it tonight. I know a thing or two about cars."

It was a good thing she did, because you knew absolutely nothing about what was going on under the hood of the car. All you could think was that maybe the battery had died on you, but that wasn't possible. If you'd left the lights on, you would have been able to see it through the window in your bedroom the night previous, and you hadn't. There was no other reason the battery could have been drained. You'd driven the car yesterday from your house to S.H.I.E.L.D.'s New York location. You might not have known what the hell was wrong, but Natasha would figure it out in seconds. The thought of her bent over to study the underside of the hood made you shiver.

The image was pushed from your mind when the waitress returned with your food. She placed your pasta down in front of you and you thanked her politely. She set Natasha's down as well. The redhead smiled widely and after double-checking that everything was alright, the server left the two of you to your dinner. Natasha glanced up at you, a very amused smile playing on her lips. You knew exactly what it was about, too. You'd gotten the wrong order and said absolutely nothing of it. Honestly, you didn't really care. At this point in the day, you just wanted to eat.

"You could've said something," Natasha teased.

"It's nothing. I'm hungry and this is just as good."

"We can still say something."

"It's fine," you assured.

"Let's stop and buy you a couple hundred good luck charms on the way back to your place."

You laughed aloud.

Dinner was good, despite having gotten the wrong order. You suspected that was due to Natasha's presence. The two of you had been exchanging stores of the craziest missions you'd ever gone on. Of course, she was winning. She was an Avenger. Your missions as a S.H.I.E.L.D. agent were anything but boring, but they didn't compare to the alien invasion last year that Natasha had been at the heart of. You'd been helping from the edges of the city, evacuating civilians and the like, but you suspected she'd killed hundred more of the Chitauri than you did: one.

Before long you'd both finished, and the empty plates were cleared away. The server returned to you with the bill. You made sure your card was out before Natasha could even think about trying to pay. They collected your card, and you gave Natasha a very smug little smirk. She only rolled her eyes and thanked you softly. You thought all was said and done when the server returned. You prepared to leave but she shook her head, signalling you to stop what you were doing. She reached out, handing you your card back. You took it.

"I'm afraid the transaction isn't going through."

It seemed that your bad luck had struck again. You were fully confident that there was enough money in your account. There had been last night when you'd checked it, anyway. Either you'd had the misfortune of your card deciding to kick the bucket while you tried to buy dinner for Natasha, or even worse, someone had gotten into your bank account and cleared it out. That thought made your heart drop into your stomach as you reached for your phone, hardly noticing Natasha pulling out her own credit card this time.

You prayed for one tiny bit of luck today. Your prayers went unanswered. You logged into your online banking to find that someone had managed to get your credit card number and had been online shopping all day. Your card had long hit its limit and you were already dreading the phone call you were about to have with the bank. You huffed as you set your phone down roughly on the tabletop. Natasha glanced over at you as the server took her card this time. She raised an eyebrow. You were sure smoke was billowing from your ears.

"Luck isn't turning yet?"

You didn't answer that. "Thanks for dinner, Natasha."

She laughed. When the server returned her card and wished you both a good evening, she took your hand and dragged you back out the doors onto the noisy streets of New York. She was leading you back to S.H.I.E.L.D., where you knew she must have left her bike. When you got there, she scanned her ID and brought you both down into the parking garage. She brought you right to the motorbike and lifted the helmet off from where it was hanging on the handlebars. She reached out and set it on your head, doing it up underneath your chin. Her fingers brushed your skin as she worked at the straps.

"Normally I would never condone riding without a helmet, but I only have one. This head," she said, rapping her knuckles twice against the helmet on your head. "Is much more important than mine."

"Is not," you laughed. "There's hundreds of S.H.I.E.L.D. agents, but there's only six Avengers."

"And there's only one you," she insisted. "The helmet stays on that pretty little head of yours, and that's final."

That compliment seemed to awaken the butterflies in your stomach. They were still present when you both climbed onto the bike. They fluttered even more when Natasha told you to put your arms around her and hold tight. You could have stayed like this forever if she'd asked you to. You almost wanted her to ask you to, because you loved the ways your arms fit perfectly around her waist. Facing forward, she wasn't able to see the smile that was growing on your lips. Maybe all that bad luck was to make up for this.

Reluctantly, you took your arms off from around her when she pulled into your driveway. She put the kickstand down and took the helmet once you'd pulled it off and handed it back to her. You straightened out your hair a little bit in the reflection of your car window. Wordlessly, Natasha had moved to the hood of your car and tapped on the red paint to get your attention. You unlocked the car and popped the hood for her. She unhooked the latch and lifted it up, studying the inside carefully. That scene you'd been picturing earlier was coming true before your eyes.

"Start the car for me?"

You nodded. You dropped your bag on the doorstep, digging through the pockets until your hand had closed around your car keys. You withdrew them by tugging on the dinosaur keychain that Natasha had once given you after winning it at the arcade, where you'd spent hours at all the different games. You slid into the front seat, turning on the car when Natasha gave you the thumbs up. The car sputtered loudly. Then it made a sound you might have mistaken for a gunshot. The backfire nearly made you jump out of your seat. You quickly got out.

"You alright, Nat?"

"I'm good," she nodded. She moved away from the car. "It's probably just your spark plugs. When's the last time you had them replaced?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hell if I know. I drop it off for a tune-up and expect them to tune it up."

Natasha laughed. "I'll grab some tomorrow and replace them for you."

You nodded. You watched as she reached up and grabbed the hood of the car, closing it again. She rubbed her hands against her pants. You clicked a button on your car keys, locking the doors. The lights flashed to indicate that it was indeed secured. You fiddled with the keys in your hand to get the house key out, opening your mouth to invite Natasha in as well, but found you couldn't find the golden key. You growled at nothing and dug through every pocket in your bag to see if it had fallen off in there, but there was no trace of it.

"My house key is missing."

Natasha actually laughed at this. "Did you walk under a ladder this morning? Spill the salt? Break a mirror?"

You glared at her. "Can you help me get in through a window?"

She nodded. You both moved around to one of the windows that you'd left open last night, after telling her you weren't sure you had locked it when you shut it this morning. Indeed, she found that once you'd removed the screen, she was able to slide the window open. You linked your fingers together to make a spot for Natasha to use for leverage. You boosted her through the open window and then moved back to the front door just as you heard the deadbolt slide out of place.

"My hero," you grinned as she opened the door. "I owe you a drink. Come on."

"I still have to drive home."

"Stay the night," you offered. "If you don't, I could very well just get murdered tonight."

Natasha laughed. "Well, I'd better stay and make sure you're okay, then."

You smacked her gently. She knew her way around your small bungalow well, having visited what could have easily been a million times. She made herself at home on the couch, tossing her leather jacket beside her. You moved into the kitchen, only paying half a glance at the towels you'd thrown over the two spilled beverages. You poured the both of you a drink and then brought them into the living room, kicking back on the couch beside her. You grabbed the remote, clicking the TV on. The screen lit up the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed the beautiful face beside you that had been illuminated. You turned back to the screen.

"I can put Netflix on," you said, pressing a button. "What do you want to watch?"

"Can I test your luck?"

"What?" You responded, turning your full attention to her.

She didn't offer an explanation. You felt her hand touch your thigh. Your breath hitched and the remote almost fell to the floor. You managed to set it down on the table as your cheeks began to burn red. She left her hand there for a few seconds before it slid away, letting you take a moment to remember how to breathe. Her hand moved away and wrapped around her glass. You knew how obvious you were being when you watched her touch the rim to her lips and the slight movements in her neck as she swallowed the alcohol. You needed a drink too, but you were frozen.

"I just mean... I could either turn your luck around or just maintain the bad luck."

You still didn't know what she meant. She was setting her glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes searched yours and you were once again tossed into the sea of green that you were so obsessed with. When she leaned forward and connected your lips, though, you lost sight of emerald green. Her eyes had shut and only a second later, yours had fluttered shut as well. You put a hand on the back of her neck to hold her closer and moved your lips with hers. You wondered briefly if you were dreaming. You didn't have long with your thoughts. Your mind was so overcome with whatever was happening right now.

Natasha pulled back. Her hand had, at some point, moved back onto your thigh, and was resting there gently. Your hand moved to cover it. She flipped hers over so that her fingers could intertwine with yours and for the first time, it didn't feel like it was just in a friendly manner. It felt so much more than that, just liked you'd wanted it to. Your eyes moved from there up to her face. She had been studying you intently. You'd never seen Natasha Romanoff look nervous. Not until that very moment. You chuckled a little, nervousness in your chest as well, and let your eyes fall.

"You definitely turned it," was all you said.

"Yeah?"

"By a long shot. I mean, I think this amount of good luck was enough to actually balance out the bad luck."

You didn't know Natasha could giggle, but she did. The sound made a smile immediately spread over your face. You reached out and took her hands in your own. You leaned forward and kissed her again, infatuated with the feeling of her soft lips pressed against yours so rough and yet somehow so soft. One of your hands pulled out of hers so it could thread through the red waves on her head. You'd wanted to do that for so long. She only pulled back when you'd both lost your breath. Your forehead rested against hers and you could smell the whiskey on her breath.

"Do you know how long I've wanted that?" You breathed.

"I'd guessed it, but I thought it was just my imagination because I wanted the same thing."

You laughed. She put her hands on your shoulders, pushing your back down against the couch and then putting her knees on either side of your waist. Her lips were on yours again, a little hotter this time. You didn't complain. You just let her lean down over you and kiss you and run her hand down your side. You only raised a hand to her chest and pushed her away when you once more felt the need for oxygen burning inside your chest. She didn't move far, face inches from yours, studying you this time from above. You blushed under her gaze.

"I... I've felt really strongly about you for a while," you said, hand moving so you could trace your fingertips across her cheek. "You know what I mean?"

"Are you trying to tell me you love me without saying you love me?" She asked, the teasing back in her voice again. "Because you're not going to scare me off. You can say it if you want."

"I love you, Natasha."

"I love you, too."

You couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't funny in any way, but maybe it was the relief trying to find a way out of your body. The sound seemed to make Natasha's eyes, sparkle. Your heart softened and the laughter fell from your lips and you didn't move a muscle. Her face was so beautiful looking down at you like it was. You felt so right having her touch you like this and touching her the way you were. Her hands were holding her torso up above yours and yours were touching her face so gently. It wasn't like a friend touched a friend anymore.

"Thanks for turning my luck."

"Are you kidding me? I'm the lucky one."

"I think we're both really fucking lucky, Natasha. Thank you."

#natasha romanoff #natalia romanova #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #mcu #marvel #wlw #lesbian

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