#also when i say 'love' im not talking romantically so don't start with that

[smol-tired-binch-blog]

Opals and Moonstones

AKA Smol Once Again Uses Birthstones And Birth Flowers To Do Character Analysis. This time we have a twofer, as we'll be looking at Nishiki AND Kiryu! (with a bonus Yumi!) (this is gonna be another long one so please do check out under the cut)

Let's start with Nishikiyama.

His birth date is October 8th, 1968, leaving him with the birthstones opal and tourmaline (originally specifically pink tourmaline but now includes all types).

Now, apparently, tourmaline is the modern birthstone for October, and was made so in 1952 with the approval of the American Gem Society and the National Retail Jewellers Council. I will expand on this stone in another post, because it's the opals I really want to focus on (although it's worth noting that both stones are apparently good for emotional stabilisation, grounding, and healing. :) )

You see, the reason they threw in pink tourmaline as new birthstone is apparently because "In October’s case, the opal was seen by many to be too feminine in appearance and there were questions about its durability". Opals are a very delicate stone, with a water content of 5-10%, which leaves them very vulnerable to cracking under very dry conditions or sudden changes in temperatures. It can even cause them to shrink or expand, so they need a bit more care and maintenance (although you can apparently improve them by wetting them with a lil bit of water, which, idk, I find that fun because fish live in water, 'nishiki' is a koi, you get me?)

We all saw how Nishiki handled suddenly having most of his family and support network ripped from him plus the added pressure of running a new family full of people who very openly disrespect him and see him as some useless weakling they're all obligated to deal with. I'm not the only one who sees the opal parallels, right?

So, opals are a soft, feminine, easily damaged stone, but they also represent love, passion, luck, and healing, and associated with channelling strong emotions. In Roman times it was called the Cupid Stone, and was well-sought after, so overall has a lot of positive meanings and connotations...until a random-ass novel accidentally lead to them being considered bad luck. How dandy.

Now, Kiryu. And by extension, Yumi.

Kiryu's birth date is June 17th, 1968, and Yumi's is June 30th, 1971. (I find it very amusing that Kiryu forgot about Yumi's birthday when it's only a couple of weeks after his lmao)

This means that these lucky ducks actually get three birthstones: alexandrite, pearl, and moonstone.

Alexandrite apparently brings luck, intellect, and prosperity, somewhat similar to tourmaline (it can even be a similar colour to it). Pearls on the other hand symbolise wisdom, especially wisdom gained through experience, as well as calmness, integrity, and loyalty.

I think this is very fitting for our favourite dragon, isn't it? A man whose experiences help him grow from a naive kid into a man who stands by his principles and does whatever he can to help and protect his loved ones althoughitcanbearguedhowmuchhelearnsbutthatsapostforanotherday

But again, there's a particular stone I want to look at, which is of course the moonstone.

It's another stone associated with good luck and fortune, apparently considered sacred in India. It's also a stone of new beginnings and inner growth and strength. Again, fitting for Kiryu's return to Kamurocho after 10 years in the joi- behind bars. However, the reason it interests me is its connections and similarities with opals.

See, at first thought/glance, the two stones are very similar. They're (usually) a white colour but reflect an entire rainbow. And yet, they do so differently; moonstones has what's called 'adularescence', a faint glow akin to the moon shining on the ocean's surface, whereas opals are, naturally, 'opalescent', which is more glittering specks of colour.

Both stones are associated, of course, with the moon and the ocean (as are pearls). Both are considered good-luck charms, are meant to ground emotions, and are associated with femininity. Like, look at this:

Doesn't this sum them up? They're similar but different; Kiryu's calmer, grounding presence combined with Nishiki's more emotional, passionate nature. No wonder the two of them make such a great team!!!

And then I saw this:

:)))))))

It's just....if we keep up with the birthstone imagery/parallels, this means that the two people Nishiki loves the most are 'spiritually' incompatible. That, and the fact that opals are "softer and more easily damaged compared to moonstone" (see how Kiryu handles adversity vs Nishiki handling his struggles). Yknow despite this long-ass post I really don't know quite how to articulate what I'm trying to say, but I'm hoping you see what I mean?

The two men need each other and are stronger together however this strength is so amplified that when the two are separated Nishiki looks so much weaker in comparison, at least in others eyes. He cries, he gets overwhelmed, he lashes out and yells when he's angry, he makes his emotions known. He cares so much about image and how he presents himself to the world, but he has the bad luck of being next to a man with freakish levels of raw brute strength and a naturally stoic outward appearance that he just isn't as impressive in comparison, even though he's NOT unimpressive or incapable! I'm pretty sure that of the two, Nishiki actually knows what the fuck he's doing!

And that's the thing, people think Nishiki is nothing without Kiryu, himself included, but what is Kiryu without Nishiki? The man loves his brother, and I think he's the only one who seems to have an inkling of Nishiki's worth. The two banter and he's like "oh, like you know so much" about being a yakuza and how one should act, but I do think Kiryu trust Nishiki. He goes along with what he says for the most part because he 'knows' that Nishiki knows what he's talking about. He looks up to Nishiki. He sacrificed his freedom to protect him. After those 10 years he wanted to see his brother again.

Unfortunately, a lot changed in those 10 years. The opal cracked under the pressure. Its power and influence grew but its sense of self and stability shrank, leaving it both far too big and far, far too small for its setting. All it needed was a bit maintenance, a bit of care. But it didn't receive that. And instead, the moonstone ended up alone.

#smol plays yakuza #smol speaks #akira nishikiyama #kiryu kazuma #yumi sawamura #long post #i will make one with all of the info like on Yuko's post later #also when i say 'love' im not talking romantically so don't start with that #ALSO ALSO sorry i got oddly prose-y with that last bit unfortunately i am a pretentious bitch sometimes. maybe. am i? idfk man lmao #look i thought about this months ago and im finally writing it up. 5 likes and i'll make the zodiac charts like Yuko's #i wrote this up cause i finished Kiwami again and i am SORE i am UPSET this somehow hurts MORE

[begginmonty]

working with mike

(this doesn't follow the plot directly and mike works like more than just 3 shifts, also this is legit 2k words long i got so so so carried away im just so in love with mike, apologies!! its also not been proofread sorry <3)

before mike is hired alongside you, steve raglan had given you the job a week or so ago after you had lost your last job over a silly customer dispute (the customer is never right) and steve was your last hope at job, and bingo he had one. here you are 2 weeks later, waiting by your car outside the rundown pizzeria, waiting to train the new guy whose supposed to help you

a car pulls up and out comes a very pretty, but very tired/drained, looking guy, you introduce yourself with a small smile and he doesn’t return it, and is like “im mike”, you give him the benefit of the doubt that he hasn't smiled at you, new jobs are stressful.

the first shift goes fine, you tell him the basics and show him the training video tape, which alongside your commentary of making fun of some of it and nit-picking little things finally gets an amused smile from him. you can see him ease up a little. he doesn’t talk as much as you do but he seems to enjoy your ramblings. 

you show him the showtime performance after he looks confused about ‘animatronics’ . watching his reaction of the animatronics rendition of talking in your sleep by the romantics is a little amusing to you but you were the same way when vanessa had shown you originally.

“its something isn’t it?” he doesn't reply, he just stood looking in disbelief. 

when morning rolls around, you show him how to lock up and then give him his own key that steve had given you. 

“wasn’t so bad was it?” 

“it was..different” 

the second shift alongside mike is different but a good different. he’s running a little late and walks in on your blasting an 80s hot pop hits tape over the old speakers, vacuuming the main dining area. a smile, that melts his heart a little, lights up your face as you see him walk in.

“im sorry i’m late the babysi-”

“hey, dont stress it. you still made it!” 

he is not used to someone being so nice and friendly to him??  its foreign but he finally cracks you a small smile, watching you as you turn on the vacuum and continue listening to the music. (i need to hug him i stg)

he hasn't met anyone as nice as you in a long long time, it’s refreshing for him

and not in a creepy way !!!!!!!!!!! but he watches the cameras and watches as you just listen to the music as if the world isn’t there and continue to clean the area. 

“need a hand?” 

mike speaks up as you take a break leaning against a table, facing the main stage, the curtains open (as your next task is going to clean around the animatronics, it’s getting too dusty), music turned down quietly. he comes and leans against the table with you. you start small talk, saying something about the animatronics and you guys talk a little.

“so, you said something about a babysitter, do you have, like, a kid or something? sorry if im being too nosy, please tell me to shut up or something” mike cannot get over how nice you are

and then mike explains his living situation, and then the two of you get into a discussion about how families can suck and be shitty ect

and mike really likes how you don't pry or ask him lots of questions like others have done in the past, this man is really liking you and he’s only know you for two days

“this guy…must’ve been on something to make this place” and mike laughs a little !!! for the first time you got him to laugh !!

“yeah it’s something isn’t it..” both of you are sat against a table just staring at the animatronics in front of you

the two of you make small talk as you wipe down the dust covered tables but you can see how tired he is, he’s yawning a little bit.

“hey, you know, you can like sleep on the job by the way?” he looks up at you from the table, “sometimes i take a good couple hours nap in the office, no ones breaking into this place anytime soon”

he tries to protest and mentions towards the cleaning products and you brush him off, “go, you need it”

mike feels a strange warmth in his heart the hasn't felt, maybe ever? and he naps for a few hours whilst you continue to clean around. cleaning isn't in your job description but honestly you’re worried about the level of dust entering your lungs y'know

a loud thud and chair scraping noise comes from the office and you run to it and see mike on the floor, he looks confused and you help him to sit up. you ask if he’s okay but he seems out of it, “mike, whats wrong?”

sitting on the floor together, mike explains everything to you and opens up to you about a little brother he had, and tells you about his dream issues and sleep issues and you can see he’s upset and shaken by this dream. He shows you the sleeping pills and he explains the dream theory he’s been reading about.

“this is the part where somebody usually calls me crazy” 

“you aren’t crazy, mike” mike notices how kind you eyes are and how warm your voice is, “i’ve seen crazy. you are far from it” you joke a little and he has the faintest smile tug at his lips. 

finally home time woo !! as you lock up the gate, you watch as mike goes to his car, “mike wait!”

he turns around almost instantly at your voice as you run up to him, you pull something out from your hoodie a fazbear security badge and hand it to him, “you’re officially security now” he takes it from you and thanks you with that small smile. 

3rd shift passes (you could’ve sworn foxy was standing in a different spot and bonnie’s hand placement looked completely different) and vanessa comes for her weekly visit and meets mike. when you aren’t with them, vanessa brings up the fact that you’re one of the kindest and nicest people she’s ever met and mike agrees. 

next shift goes by and another and you guys have a long conversation about everything and you tell him more about yourself. hes never really been romantically involved with anyone but somebodysss got a crush (its him and well, you do too). and then you let him sleep and decide to tackle the old kitchen. (you could’ve sworn you heard someone walk down the hallway but you double check and no ones there)

mike dreams again and you swear you hear a groan and you walk to the office to see him, out of breath, breathing, clutching his arm and theres blood coming from it and he looks up at you trembling. “oh my god mike, what happened?”

you sit opposite him, patch him up and make him a hot drink, and he's explaining everything to you and you can tell he’s really getting bothered by these dreams. (you also think hes hurt himself from falling off the chair somehow..unbeknownst to you)

he’s tearing up a little and you just hold his hand in yours, and he's looking at your kind eyes and he doesn’t know how to react to being touched, he stops talking (mike is incredibly touch starved oh my god) and, carefully, you lean forward and hug him very gently.

he’s stiff at first but you can feel him relax into the hug and he wraps his non-injured arm around you and grips onto your back, “its okay mike. you’re okay” you can tell he really needs this hug and you can tell no one has really hugged him in a long time.

when the shift ends and you say goodbye for the day, your car just refuses to start. you cannot start it at all. you get out the car and look at it in a huff, but lucky for you mike hasnt driven a way yet

he gets out his car and you explain to him about your car, and he offers if you want a lift home or at least back to his house (his house is much closer than yours) and you can call someone about the car and you agree.

the drive is nice, you notice he has a great taste in music

meeting abby!! mike excuses himself for a shower whilst you're ringing the mechanics for your car, and he accidentally falls asleep on his bed after. when he wakes up (a good hour or so later, which you really don't mind) he walks into the living room to see you and abby sat on the floor colouring together with a cartoon on the tv, and you guys are really getting along and she’s wearing your security guard vest and badge. (her friends told her to trust you)

“uh abby, why dont you get ready for school?” mike speaks up, causing you both to look in his direction. 

you can't fight the fact that he looks hot with joggers and shirt on, looking sleepy as hell aHHH

“okay” abby smiles and gives you back your stuff and runs off to her room to get ready for school. 

he walks over to you and sits down on the couch, “im sorry for falling asleep-”

you sit next to him and place your hand on his arm and smile, “its fine, mike, really. your sister is lovely”

mike looks up from your hand and looks at your face. he looks sleepy and gorgeous and you look gorgeous to him and your eyes are so kind and theres a moment. some sort of magnetic force kinda pulls your faces closer together.

“im gonna be late!” says abby running into the room.

mike drops abby to school and you stay in his house, waiting for the mechanic to eventually call you back like he says he will. you feel a little awkward sitting on his couch watching tv but you have nothing better to do.

he comes back he offers you a shower and some of his clothes as he feels bad for you having to sit in work clothes. 

the way his heart feels when he see’s you walk out to the bathroom and back to the couch next to him wearing one of his sweatshirts and a pair of his joggers as well hMMMMMMMMMMmmmmmmmm (too early for love?)

he smells good

you must both drop off to sleep, as a few hours later mike opens his eyes for a minute to the TV showing some drama show, and then he notices a heavy feeling on his chest. there you are, passed out, in his clothes, head on his chest peacefully asleep. 

this is something he’s never felt before !1!!1 

he blushes (thank god you’re asleep) and brushes a hair out of your face, staring down at your sleeping face (uh oh someones in love) before grabbing the worn blanket from behind him and throwing it over your exposed legs.

you stirr a little, your arm wrapping around his lower half and he's so flustered and sleepy and aHHHH

he wraps his arm around your shoulders gently and passes out again (PART 2??)

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #five nights at freddy's x reader #fnaf movie #fnaf movie x reader #fnaf movie imagine #mike schmidt imagine #five nights at freddy's imagine #william afton #movie ver

[lvvcian]

hello!! :D this is my first request ever so im sorry if i worded it or did it wrong. also english is not my first language so im sorry if this makes no sense.

i have a request for The disastrous life of saiki k with a romantic saiki x reader(gender neutral) pairing.

Heres my idea! so aiura and toritsuka start seeing some girl constantly following saiki during school and aiura and toritsuka are like “😨⁉️ lets help him get away from this stalker!” so aiura and toritsuka start doing dumb goofy stuff to sabotage the reader from following saiki and in the end it is revealed that saiki and the reader are dating so reader and saiki have been talking telepathically so it just LOOKS like the reader has been tailing saiki. so yea basically crack fic💀

maybe as a little bonus you could include some fluff between saiki and reader<3

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☆ aaah the famous trio <3 also first Saiki fic, very happy about it c:

☆ I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG :'C it's 1:33am here, so I'm sorry if the ending is shitty , no energy fr but wanted to finish this today ":/

☆ (tw! slight bulling and not cool jokes ; swearing) ; gender neutral reader , fluff, crack fic ; Saiki has longer hair in here! Just a lil bit :)

☆ saiki talking normally ; saiki speaking in your mind ; your thoughts

☆ enjoy <3

"Do you think we should tell some people about... y'know" You looked up at Saiki. It was a normal sunday and you two were supposed to have a so called 'date' (which was sitting in comfortable silence at some cafe and enjoying each others company). But the weather had some other plans and once you stepped outside it started to rain. Of course Saiki could've change it in matter of seconds but he suggested to stay at home. They were too many people from his school on the mainstreet anyway.

"And draw attention to ourselves? Definitly not. We just have to keep the distance between us for school time ..." Saiki looked down at you. Who would've thought that Saiki out of all people would be the first to have a partner. "Enjoy while you can... I'll teleport you on the roof if you hug me at school..." you just giggled and snuggled up closer into his chest.

It couldn't be that bad... right?

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Monday mornings weren't your favourite, at all. Shitty weather, cold shower and not so great breakfast. It was all making you fell even worse then you felt already.

It wasn't something natural for you to wake up in the middle of the night, but today your body felt extremely stressed. Something didn't let you sleep, your thoughts were going miles per hour and you could feel your whole body getting colder with every second (which was weird 'cause the temperature in the room was pretty high).

So you got up, rolled yourself in a blanket and went to close your window hoping it would get at least warmer, but as you walked up to it and started opening it...

"Holy shit..!" You backed away from the wall and fell on your back. There's was something standing right outside your window. It was horrible, like a ghost or a monster. It didn't matter at that time, you quickly run up to to window again and looked around your backyard.

There wasn't a single soul, just a stray cat walking around. You sat down on the floor and hold your face trying to calm yourself down.

After few minutes you were finally feeling better and decided to go back to sleep. At least try.

You were near PK Academy when you saw your lovely psychic and two other people. If you remember correctly one was a medium and the other... fortune teller?

"Its... Aiura and Toritsuka if I'm not mistaken. Should I say hi? Or just-"

"Don't do anything. They're already being very suspicious of you. Just walk past us as normal as you can. I'll meet with you at lunch." It wasn't something new for you to hear Saiki in your head. You didn't know why he was communicating like that, but you accepted it after a while.

"Sure, see you later then. I love you!" you saw Saiki close his eyes and shake his head a little, but you could see a faint smile forming on his lips

Giggling you walked past the trio with a small smile and went inside the building. Quickly you changed your shoes for school ones and headed to your classroom. You greeted some people on the way, saying 'hi' or just nodding at them.

Soon you saw Saiki entering the room too with Aiura. He looked at you, gave you a soft and quick smile and sat not far away from you.

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Around 2pm lunch break started. Saiki immediatly left the classroom, avoiding his friends and went to your meeting spot, which was next to vending machines near the caffeteria.

As he got there, you were nowhere to be seen. He saw you packing your things and leaving right after him so he thought you would be there in few seconds.

Few seconds turned into few minutes and then into half of the break.

"Where are they... they couldn't forget about it, right?" Saiki checked his phone for second time, scrolling through your messages and refreshing them. Even if you'd be late he would got a text about it, but there was nothing.

He tried to focus on your thoughts, but it was immposible with so many people around. He sighed at went to bathroom, locked himself in one of the cabins and used his 'crossed eye thingy' as you called it.

"What...?" He got up and teleported to you, making sure no one was around. You were sitting on the ground, all wet and cold, in one of the hallways. Your clothes were all soaked which made you shiver and Saiki knew you'd be sick in few days.

"What happened? Why are you sitting here all wet?" He said and kneeled next to you as he took your face in his hands, holding it gently. "Are you... crying?" He asked, but your lack of answer told him everything. He took your hand, helped you get up and brushed off some of wet hair from your face.

He held you tightly as he teleported you to your room. Saiki went to your wardrobe, grabbed some dry clothes and a towel and then went back to you. He started to gently dry your hair and your cheeks from tears. You were looking everywhere but not him, which made him worried.

"y/n, what is it? What happened, please tell me." He kneeled down and looked at you with soft gaze. You looked away and closed your eyes.

"I went to get some documents for teacher... I forgot to tell you about it. I-I don't know how... some stupid bucket of water was on the door to the class." Saiki noded and rubbed your back as he sat next to you. He thought for a second and shook his head.

"Just... stay here, ok? I'll go make you some tea" Saiki got up and went to the kitchen. He didn't care about school right now, he would deal with that later.

Day passed with sometimes even worse 'jokes' and incidents. Sometimes it was missing shoes, sometimes weird notes. At night you felt this weird feeling of being watched as cold air got into your house. You woke up with cold sweat on your face from nightmares and night terrors.

Saiki heard about everything, comforting you day after day. He didn't know why it happened, weirdly he couldn't find any person with thoughts of making another prank to you. It pissed him off a lot.

"I'm staying at home for few days... you can come meet me after classes." You said to Saiki as you covered yourself under the blankets. The temperature in your house was incredibly low which made you wear your warmest hoodie and cuddle into the softest and thickest blanket at your place.

"I'll be there soon..." Saiki answered. His voice was cold , but you could swear you heard some concern in it. You chuckled and buried yourself in the blanket.

Saiki was getting closer to the bathroom, making sure no one followed him or saw him. He could become invisible, but that would take too much time.

As he went inside one of the cabins, he took out his phone and checked his messages. There were few of yours, he could tell you were really bored, one from his mom and one from Aiura.

"Aiura? What does she want now...?" Saiki opened the chat, read the message and sighed. She wanted him to help out with something. "Good grief, right now?" He grumbled while texting you that he would be later.

Future teller told him to come behind the school. He got there and looked at her with bored eyes. It was a really pain in the neck to help with some irrelevant things...

"What is it?" He said with neutral and cold tone.

"Oh! Finally you're here! We need some help to... hang something." She said as she looked up.

"We?" Pink haired boy asked, quickly realising who was the other person. He rolled his eyes annoyed. He should be there with you by now... but no, he's stuck with two idiots behind the school. "Nevermind... I don't care, it's your problem."

He started walking away, not listening to Aiuras pleading and some offers (although they did grab his interests for a second or two). He shook his head and was already next to school corner.

"Saiki it's for your good! We're doing this to help you!" Kusuo heard another, not really pleasant, voice from above. "We've seen someone smiling and looking at you all the time! It's giving a creep vibe, you know?"

Toritsuka looked at Saiki from the top of the rooftop. Psychic stopped walking and looked at them both with confused look. "Stalking? What are you talking about..?"

"You didn't see it? There's this one creep whose staring at you in every class! They smile randomly when looking at you and sometimes even blushing! It's just... Ew!" auira said as she got closer to saiki. He frowned a little.

"Me and Mikoto have been making some pranks from time to time. One time we've scared them at night! I asked some ghost for help and spooked them!" Toritsuka chuckled, remembering the look on your scared face.

Saiki didn't say anything, he only grabbed his friends by the shoulders harshly and teleported them to your place.

"O-Oi Saiki! What are you doing man?" He didn't answer, only knocked gently on your door. He could've teleported directly to your room, but he didn't want to scare you with... his nuisances.

You jumped a little as you heard soft knocking.

"Probably saiki." You got up, still cuddled up in a blanket and went to the door. "Finally you-" You cut your sentence as you saw your boyfriend holding his two friends by their shoulders tightly. " Kusuo why are your friends with you?"

He didn't say anything, just got inside your place and leading his friends to the living room. You didn't know what was going on at.all. Saiki never brought his friends. Even Kaidou or Nendou which were much closer to saiki then Aiura.

you walked behind the three of them. Saiki dropped them near the couch and looked at it. You sat down and started asking questions.

"What's going on? Is everything alright? You could've told me you were bringing your friends, I would prep-"

"They're here to apologize to you." His friends looked at him surprised. Saiki sounded like it was an obvious intention.

"Apologize? Saiki, this person was-"

"They're my partner. We've been together for... some time now." Saiki said, looking away. He thought this 'announcement' would look different. Well he didn't thought about those two..

"Partner? Saiki actually pulled someone?" Toritsuka said, but he got quiet right after his head was hit with one of the cans from the table. "What?! You never told us about having someone! How could we know!" Toritsuka said rubbing his head.

"R-Right! We thought it was some kind of stalker or a creep...!" Aiura wad explaining their motives to Saiki and you thought about all the stuff that happened 'cause of them.

"Saiki it's alright, they didn't know. Maybe you should let go." Even tho you wanted to see what kind of punishment those two would get, you couldn't bring yourself to. Damn your good nature and big heart.

Your boyfriend looked at you and sighed. He loosened his grip and let his friends go. Saiki didn't expect that to happen. He really wanted to send Aiura and Toritsuka on deserted island and leave them for few days. But that would be against his principals... unfortunately.

──────────────────── ☆

"I told you we should have said something..."

It was pretty late when you and Saiki cuddled together on his bed. The night was peaceful with clear sky and bright moon. It was nice and warm, even if it was middle of February.

You had your head on saikis chest as he played with your hair. He had his eye closed, resting them a little. His pink bangs fell on his glasses covering his nose and tickling his cheeks. He looked peaceful and relaxed. Finally after a week he wore his ring so there was no thought in his head. No annoying ideas, thoughts or questions. Only silence.

"Yeah... sorry I didn't know sooner.." Saiki looked at you with soft look. His eyes were half closed and his face was decorated with gentle smile. Kusuo being the 'tusndere' he is doesn't really smile often, but when he does toy cherish those few seconds. "Could've stopped them and prevent this whole thing..."

"Don't be, at least they know now." You looked up and placed few kisses on his jaw and face. He hummed in response, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. "Thank you for looking out for me.." You said as you finally planted last kiss on his lips.

"Always..." he smiled and cuddled you closer to him. He made the lights turn off and closed the curtains. You were finally able to have a peaceful and good night sleep and he would be damned if Saiki didn't try making it even better for you.

"I love you.."

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reblogs are very much appreciated<33 thank you for reading ☆

#anime #saiki x reader #saiki kusuo #tdlosk #the disastrous life of saiki k #saiki k #toritsuka reita #aiura mikoto #psychic gang #psychic trio #crack fic #saiki k x reader #saiki headcanons #teruhashi kokomi #fluff fic #shun kaidou #riki nendou #live laugh love saiki k #I GOT SO DISTARCTED WHILE WRITING THIS😭😭 #reita toritsuka #kusuo saiki #love of my life #saiki k imagines

[spideyhexx]

all of my ideas tonight include stitching up wounds after fights. so now im just thinking about taking care of billy after a fight. and you’re speaking to him in such a soft, soothing voice. and you two keep making eye contact. and after you’re done stitching up a cut on his temple he just mumbles a small “thank you, darlin’” and OHHHHHHHH…….. THE ROMANTIC TENSION IM CRUMBLING

I LOVE IT (and you, hugs) I AM ALSO gonna write this for my saccharine series CAUSE I HAVE TO

for more, saccharine

fyi, you don’t need to read the other parts of this series to enjoy this🫶

fem!reader

Billy comes into the camp his gang had set up for the next few weeks, stumbling, his nose bloodied, his knuckles red, the cut on his temple making him wince.

His eyes are squinting, and he almost rubs his bloody hands into his eyes, but he stops himself. No one seems to be awake until his eyes lock with you.

Once all the men were asleep, you took the opportunity to bathe in your lonesome. It was nice and relaxing to finally scrub some of the grime from your skin and the sweat from the day. Your head felt heavy with sleep already. You were walking to your little tent when you locked eyes with Billy.

Your heart drops at the sight of him, and a burst of energy flows through you as you drop your dirty clothes and run over to him.

"Bonney, what did you do? What happened?! You're bleedin' still, what did you-"

"Sweetheart," he stops you from talking, his voice low, gravelly almost. You forgo the blush that rushes to your cheeks when he uses that name. He usually only did when he was mocking you or playing your game back at you, but now his eyes looked dazed, out of it. You nod your head a few times, almost like you can't stop it.

"Okay, okay, uh, c'mon," and you take his arm, dragging him more into the camp and sitting him down on the log near the burnt-out firewood.

He sits down with a grunt, his mouth parting to say something to you, but you're running off before he can even speak. Billy sighs at it, shaking his head, but all it does is make him wince in pain again.

You come back with some supplies, your canteen falling out of your arms to his feet, but luckily not spilling the water as you rush.

"Easy, sweetheart," he says, his voice is so soft, it's unnatural to you, but you can't even take the time to appreciate it. Billy is both annoyed and thankful you're up. Annoyed because of course it's you that is still awake. Thankful because he knows you care. And care enough.

Despite his words, it's hard for you to slow down. You clean his hands first, at least the knuckles, kneeling on the ground in front of him, your brow furrowing at the sight of them. "These are gonna bruise a lot," you mumble more to yourself than him, but he still replies.

"'M aware." You glance up at him, and Billy's eyes look blank, tired. Your own soften and as you clean the remainder of his hands, you try to be gentler, dipping your rag into the water and cleaning the blood.

He keeps still, but his fingers twitch when you get to one of his fingers. Once you finish cleaning it, on instinct, you lean down and kiss his knuckle, your lips more ghosting over his skin than a firmer kiss. Billy's breath hitches slightly, but he doesn't comment on it, almost too stunned that you actually kissed him. Kissed a part of him.

"There, those are all clean," you say, mustering up a smile as you grab a new rag and start cleaning the blood on his face. His eyes bore into you and it makes your heart stop.

"You have an eye contact problem," you murmur, your face inching closer to his, but only to clean his nose better. Only for that reason.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he says, his voice dripping in sarcasm and it quirks your lips up a little. You will yourself to look into his eyes, the same dazed look present in his.

"What happened?" You don't want to pester him about how he ended up like this, though your impulsivity tells you to. So you promise yourself that you'll only ask him this one time. Deep down, you felt as though you knew his answer would be vague, or he'd stay silent, so you prepared for it, to accept it and move on.

"Bar fight. This guy was pickin' on me. He started it," Billy replies after a moment, and he takes a deep breath. You feel his jaw clench slightly as your cleaning continues, but you still. He actually answered your question.

"Somethin' wrong?" He searches your eyes, your expressions are always pretty easy to read, but he doesn't have the full capacity to ponder right now.

"No," you tell him, taking a deep breath of your own before continuing. You're almost done, but you can't seem to take your eyes off of his. You've never had to tend to him like this before. You've thought about it, those times after hearing how he got a bloody nose or a nasty cut, but never did you think it would happen. Or that Billy would let you. Maybe he was softening up on you. Or maybe he doesn't care, he just needed help. You'll overthink it later before bed.

When you're done, you're about to stand when he grabs onto your wrist, turning his head slightly and you see the cut on his temple.

"Billy....shit," you say, moving to inspect the cut, holding his head in your hands and he feels his cheeks warm. He prays you don't notice.

You do. You rifle through your bag and sit with him, cleaning the cut the best you can before you attempt to stitch it. He winces, his hand jutting and grabbing your knee, making you both still.

"Sorry," he mumbles, retracting his hand and you shake your head.

"Squeeze it if you need to. 'M a strong girl." You get a slight, breathy chuckle out of him. It satisfies most of your nerves as his hand returns to your knee. You work again, stitching his cut and he sucks in a breath, "'s okay, you're doin' good, Billy."

His heart wants to twist and turn at the sound of your voice, so soft, so soothing. "Almost done, then you can go rest," you coo at him, his hand squeezing your knee tighter. He swallows hard, breathing through as you finish, giving him your smile.

He doesn't return it, but instead looks at you, piercing his gaze into your eyes without really meaning to. Your smile starts to drop a little at how intense his look is, your hands settling into your lap. Your mouth parts to speak, but you stop when he pats your knee.

"Thank you, darlin'," he breathes out, his gratitude different from the sarcasm he used earlier. His eyes almost looked teary in the moonlight but there was no way in hell you would mention it.

"Any time," you whisper, hesitantly putting your hand over his, patting the top of his hand. You've never felt this genuine with Billy and you longed for it to last. But you find yourself nervous, too anxious to move closer to him even though your body is aching for it. You swear that you see his eyes flit to your lips, but you determine it was your imagination. Your dreams getting in the way of reality.

Billy doesn't know how to handle himself either, but he knows that he likes his hand on your knee. That he likes your hand on his. Not that he'd say that.

When his head shifts in the slightest of movements, your senses kick back in and you take your hand away from his.

"You know, you're real dumb for gettin' in a fight while all alone? Or gettin' in a fight at all," you jab at him, resorting to your teasing to cover up the sensitivity of what occurred.

He rolls his eyes, but his stomach is fluttering from how quickly you jump to this side of yourself. "You're one to talk, sweetheart, didn't you fight that-"

"Don't turn this on me, Bonney, at least I walked away unscathed," you interrupt him and he turns more to face you.

"No, you didn't. You had that cut on your lip," he argues back, but a slight smile makes its way to his lips.

"No, I didn't." He was right, and you had forgotten in the moment that you did get hurt a little, but you didn't feel like giving in to him.

"Yes, you did, sweetheart. You were complainin' about it. For days," he counters, glancing down at his knuckles, before returning his gaze to you. To your lips. But only for a second.

The eye-roll and scoff you give him before you speak makes him smirk a little more, and he knows he won't be resting just yet.

#billy the kid #saccharine #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid 2022 #billy the kid smut #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid x you #william h bonney x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x you #william h bonney smut #william h bonney imagine #william bonney x you #william bonney x reader #william bonney #william bonney smut #billy the kid fanfiction #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader

[savannahsdeath]

TEACHER!ELLIE WILLIAMS X STUDENT!READER

PART 1ONE

part 2two

mdni please<3

summary: you stay with your teacher - ellie because youre sure she didnt grade your exam correctly. she turns out to be easy to spend time with, even though youre her student

warnings: 18+ please!!

writers note: calling ellie 'miss williams' kinda cringes me but ig thats how it is.. before yall attack me or smthn reader is not a minor so its all legal also i imagine this is like the last grade of highschool?? i dont know what age it is in usa since im polish and yeah it would be legal for us but maybe not in america so idk😭😭

Ellie Williams was a teacher in your college, most students' favourite. She wasn't boring or too strict although she was serious about her lessons and she always made sure everyone listens. The point is, everyone wanted to listen.

You loved how passionate she is about her job. You could tell sharing her knowledge with next generations makes her proud. The rest of the students mostly liked her for her looks. She was attractive, even for you, especially when she was looking at you from under her glasses. Oh, god, her glasses... And the way she adjusts them with her slim fingers... Yes, she was definitely attractive. And pretty young, as for a teacher. But the way all of those stupid frat boys made clearly sexual comments about her was making you want to throw up.

You never missed her lessons and you were her best student. You could tell she appreciates the way you look honestly interested in her lessons. That's why you were surprised when you suddenly got a D from an assignment.

You stayed after class to talk with her about it. Something was off. You stayed the whole night to do it, with blood, sweat and tears.

You found her in her office, reading some papers. After saying simple 'good afternoon' you sat in a chair in front of her desk. She dropped the papers that turned out to be your assignment.

"I was just about to talk to you." She sternly said, not looking in your direction. "Why are you helping him?"

You had no idea what she's talking about, so you stayed quiet, letting her talk.

"You've always been so responsible - straight A's, making the presentations in time. Did he pay you? Be honest, I won't report it anywhere. Luke wouldn't do that himself."

You frowned. "I'm sorry, I don't understand. What does Luke has to do with this?"

Luke was your talking stage. You weren't interested in him but he was in you and that's it. Your opinion didn't matter. He was popular and you wanted to have good reputation so you allowed him to do... whatever.

Miss Williams showed you two papers. One was yours, the other... based on the handwriting - Luke's.

"Look at the signatures." She ordered. "How did it happen? No bullshit."

They were swapped. Luke's work, graded for a D, had your name on it.

"That's an interesting word to use for a teacher. Umm... Yeah, I don't..." You started stuttering, not knowing what to say. You often helped him out but not this time.

"Just admit you helped him and I'll give you your A. Easy as that." She finally looked up at you. Her glasses reflected the light in a way that made it hard to look her in the eyes, so you wasn't able to tell what she's thinking. Was she judging you or are you just paranoid?

"I told him to give you my assignment since he was staying in your class longer, I swear, I didn't-" You sighed. "He had to... How could he..." You continued mumbling.

"Sh, shh... I can tell it's your handwriting. I just thought you did it on purpose." She said in a reassuring voice.

"Will he have any problems? It's not a big deal, so if we could just..." You looked at her with your doe eyes, nervously biting your bottom lip. The way she was looking at you made you understand why were the other students all over her. You took a deep breath, trying to gather your mind, embarrased you even thought about her in a... romantic... way.

"Okay, my dear. Here's your well earned A." She showed you a new copy of the assignment with an A grade written at the top. You also notice her fingers slightly grazing your hand as she does so. the same fingers you used to imagine touching you in such an intimate way "Now, if it's not a big secret, why are you even worried about Luke? For him, a better grade is more important than you. But if you really like him, I may group you both together in the next presentation."

"No, I don't, it's not that..." You quickly explained. "It's just... I don't even know. He's just everywhere I go."

You could tell something was off when Miss Williams mentioned Luke. She never did speak poorly about any of your classmates, not even once - it's simply unprofessional. But, this time, she seemed irritated, perhaps even annoyed.

"I'm glad to hear that, he's no good for you. He obviously wants more than an assignment swap." She put all of the papers back into her file. Suddenly, she leaned in towards you. Not too close, but way closer than she was before. "You look nervous."

"I am." You admitted quietly. Your heart starts beating fast. She's never been this close before. You both met after classes before and she was friendly, sure, but never this... interested. She made it to the point you didn't saw her as a professor anymore, just a woman, maybe even potential... girlfriend.

"I can help you with that stress if you'd like." She says, her voice barely above a whisper.

You couldn't resist her. She leans in closer, until your faces are so close together that your breaths become one and if it wasn't for the desk, your bodies would be pressed together. The moment she touches your cheek, you can't resist anymore and kiss her back. She takes your hands and presses them against the back of her head, pulling you closer as she deepen the kiss.

You never felt this way before. This doesn't feel wrong, it's... exciting. She's exciting.

You hear a faint sound from outside. Someone trying to open the door.

Miss Williams quickly straightens up: she straightens her clothes, fixes her hair, and picks up her papers. Then, with a deep breath, she answers the knock.

"Hello... Can I help you?" She opens the door.

It's Luke, standing there with a wide smile on his face.

"Luke? What are you doing here?" Your eyes flicked from Luke to the teacher and back again, not understanding what's happening.

"I just realized I forgot my bag at class today, so I dropped by to pick it up. But I see you have company." He looks at you and gives you a subtle wink.

"Oh, don't worry. I was just giving her assignment back an A. The A she deserves." She says with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, exactly, Luke. I know you swapped our assignments." Your eyes lingered at him for longer this time, as you saw he knows something so you tried changing the topic to more formal one.

"I... uhh... no, I didn't do that." He replies nervously, his tone and body language giving him away.

Miss Williams looks at you with an expression that conveys "I can't believe this is happening."

You continue; "Look, Miss Williams found our assignments mixed up. Mine... with your D grade on it... and yours, with my A on it."

Luke shifts uncomfortably, realizing he's been found out. "Oh... well... I guess I'll just be on my way then." He says awkwardly.

"Just take your bag and go before I change my mind and not be so nice." Your teacher said, making eye contact with you instead of him.

Luke quickly grabs his bag and scurries away.

Miss Williams sighs and closes the door. "What a little... trouble maker." She says with a smile. She walks towards you and stands in front of you, facing you directly. "I hope he didn't bother you too much." She says softly, her tone carrying a slight flirty vibe.

You smile and shake your head, even though the truth is he did.

"You should go now, I don't want your parents worrying. Visit me here from time to time though, 'kay?" She smirks, stroking your hair.

"Yes, ma'am." You reply, trying to be playful but failing in your nervousness. "I will... umm... see you at class tomorrow."

"I'll be looking forward to it." She replies, a grin on her face as she stares deep into your eyes.

As you leave, you try to remain composed, but you're melting inside.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie tlou #ellie williams #reqs open #wlw smut #imagine #fanfic #fan fiction #ellie the last of us #professor!ellie #professor!ellie williams #professor!ellie williams x reader #professor!ellie williams x student!reader #student!reader #teacher!ellie #teacher!ellie williams #part 2? #teacher!ellie williams x reader #teacher!ellie williams x student!reader

[ecstacy-appleofmyeye]

jason grace headcanons<3 (some x reader too)

a/n: my boy needs more love 🥺 also i haven't read all the books (im lazy) so if i miss something important that's why. also, reader is intended as male but i'll use they/them or you/yours pronouns

general hcs;

i don't think he's as macho/buff as some ppl make him out to be.

he is strong, obviously, but im sure as hell that he isn't 80% muscle . he's lean—skinny but muscular—and tall, very tall(193 cm, 6'4''—in canon) with lots of scars all over.

hates going to the doctor and getting stitches.

with all the fights and quests he's been im sure he made lots of visits to the infirmary and hated equally every single one.

he's scared of roaches, especially the ones that can fly (tbh who isnt afraid of them)

hugs ppl when he's excited (i think it's canon too? i may be wrong). he'll have to restrain himself from choking the air out of his friends and you. but he's respectful if someone doesn't like touching.

his glasses break at least once a month. he's not clumsy, but sometimes he forgets and fights with them. usually they just fall amd someone accidentally steps on them.

he loses them a lot too for some reason??? he'll just leave them on his nightstand to sleep and the next morning they're gone. where did they go? who knows

kinda afraid of nyx kids. they don't get along very well but he's trying to be friendly.

isn't afraid to fight someone if they insult his friends.

i saw a hc that roman demigods don't have dyslexia (cuz they use english to read, instead of greek) BUT they have dyscalculia instead 'cause of roman numerals.

and it makes sense. tbh i always thought of jason as more of an english type rather than maths.

neatest handwriting ever.

he has selective mutism. it stems from his anxiety and trauma from when he was under lupa's care—and extreme training. he also has migraines, thanks to lupa—again—and her anxiety-inducing training.

it wasn't uncommon for him to have panic attacks and have trouble talking—like the words couldn't get out of his throat—during his first quests. he was all alone too, so that didn't help at all.

i think reyna would be the first person he consulted for help.

after chb and camp jupiter united he would spend more time with hypnos kids, since their relaxing aura helped ease his mind.

very clingy in his sleep

he and thalia shared a small wolf plushy when they were younger.

whenever she visits camp and he happens to there they usually go to the lake and listen to thalia's music (i hc that music lovers have adapted and started using mp3s to listen to music).

he eats everything. he was a picky eater when he was younger but he grew out of it and eats pretty much anything that isn't molding. if it's not something disgusting (human flesh, scat, these things) then he'll probably eat it.

he's not photogenic at all 😭

dude is literally so handsome but you can't take a good picture of him to save your lives.

he's ticklish on his palms and elbow. aND HIS WRISTS!! someone will try and grab him by the wrist and he'd start giggling.

he Never shouts or yells. for any reason. jason always tries to talk calmly. he doesn't like it when he's being yelled at, and definitely feels bad if he does it to someone.

he doesn't like conflict. some times he'll just agree with anything just so he doesn't start a fight.

he's pretty awkward at the start of your friendships, but when he opens up more he's very talkative.

if you are the type of person that like to share your food, he always eats some of it. he can't say no to food.

he might look like he doesn't gaf about anything but it's just his resting bitch face.

he also doesn't express his emotions a lot but he's trying to get better at that.

romantic hcs;

cuddler!!!! he loves cuddles!!! my boy craves physical intimacy (intimacy in general but anyway)

his favourite position is either him laying on top of you (or the opposite) while you play with his hair.

not that romantic most of the time ex. bringing flowers and chocolates or stargazing/going to a cafe/going out in general for a date. but he can be sappy some times.

i think he'd probably prefer for him and you to sit in a room together and they do something without necessary talking to eachother (literally my idea of fun)

he will make you food tho.

not an amazing cook but he's trying his best <3

also not that big on pda. he'll be cuddly in private but never in public. hand-holding is as far as he'll go.

at first he's insecure because, what if he messed up their relationship? what if he upset his s/o? he needs lots of reassurance.

like. he grew up in a world where everyone expected him to be the perfect leader that saves and helps everyone anytime, doing the oh-so-noble-thing of selflessly sacrificing himself for others. he was forced to grow as jason grace, the son of jupiter but never just jason (there are other posts here that describe what im saying better

ahrm anyway

his perfectionism makes him second guess if he's doing anything wrong, he always tries to be perfect for his partner :(

they need to remind him that he's perfect just the way he is. he doesn't need to change himself for anyone, that they love him for being him <3

his love language is quality time. being a praetor means that he needs to sacrifice his personal and private time for his duties. at first it was alright, but now that he has a partner he values any time he gets to spend away from his job with them.

loves it if his partner's love language is words of affirmation.

im imagining them cuddled in his bed, both ready to fall asleep any second and his partner murmuring how much they love and appreciate him while playing with his hair.

he'll literally melt in their embrace. he needs someone to remind him that his mistakes are human.

jason definitely likes sparring with his s/o. sometimes he likes a more intense spar, other times he likes it so he can spend time with them.

he's so sweet and respectful and nice and understanding if you don't like physical touch.

he was raised by wolves so im 100% sure that he bites (take that however you will).

likes it when before you kiss him, you gently caress with your thumb the scar on his lip, kissing it first and then you kiss his lips.

🦋🦋🦋🦋

the butterflies in his stomach are going around in circles.

your affection in general makes him feel dizzy. like, gods, he loves you so much and you're being so sweet he'll faint.

overall he's an amazing boyfriend <33 he'll always be there for you but you also need to be there for him

#the-tower's-archive #jason grace #jason grace x reader #male reader #gn reader #jason grace x male reader #jason grace x gn reader

[ot3]

sticking under the cut because i am just gawking at a long and deeply perplexing random post i saw in the ace attorney tag

anyway so this post starts out like this

and i was totally prepared to be like. 'okay yeah for sure. phoenix and iris.' because i mean. i try to read most posts in good faith and to me that's the character dynamic you would talk about if you wanted to talk about overlooked heterosexuality in ace attorney. i dont know Why you want to go to bat for Heterosexuality In Fiction so badly but if you were going to go to bat for it in ace attorney i feel like that's the part of the narrative where it has the most weight. especially because OP is directly invoking authorial intent here. so i was really blown away by the post continuing like this:

this just.... is not true. like i'm not even going to bother talking about simon and athena because like hell if i paid enough attention to dual destinies to have a take there. but i just... don't think this is true??? i feel like the world 'culturally normative' is doing an insane amount of heavy lifting here because. well i mean the great ace attorney is set in the meiji era. i don't think the writing being done there is the same 'culturally normative' as whatever 'culturally normative' perspective the hypothetical american moviegoing audience would bring in here.

and also why is the american movie-going public the measuring stick for what the correct/obvious interpretation of a. japanese visual novel series. should be? i don't understand... i don't understand thsi take.... this is just so surreal to me.

yeah i guess age gap pairings are pretty normal and romanticized and when a general hetero audience sees Any Man and Any Woman have a close relationship to each other their interpretation is often a heterosexual one. but also i feel like at least in the trilogy. i feel like aa1-4 do a pretty specific job of establishing phoenix and maya's relationship as distinctly Not romantic. pearl thinking theyre in love just because they care about each other is kind of a running gag. im just so confused here. i dont think there's romantic subtext between phoenix and maya i think they have a close relationship that some people Could choose to view as romantic feelings if they wanted which is just absolutely not the same thing.

like i said earlier the fact that theyre specifically saying 'this is more in line with what the people who ace attorney is written by think' is really whats doing it for me. i dont think thats the case. i simply think if shu takumi had wanted romantic tension between maya and phoenix or ryuunosuke and susato then he would have made very different writing choices than the ones he did

[dykefaggotry]

[image id: an ask from @harbingerofskulls that reads: "im gonna b real i only knew the jerking off i would love to hear you elaborate more if you want to go on the whole situation" /end id]

answering here so i can save as a draft without risking the ask disappearing bc tumblr's been doing that lately but

oh god </3 for everyone else- it's talking about this post. sooo i'm gonna go through each one bc i've been feeling insane for several weeks. i'll do my best to cite my sources lmao

i don't know (johnny johnny)

this is referring to this unreleased VERY early beatles track from 1960. the audio quality is absolute shit & as such unfortunately people love to put words to it that don't make much sense in either direction (i.e a lot of mclennon fans want to hear "you're in love with me" and a lot of people that hate mclennon will just make up the weirdest lyrics that make 0 sense so it's Not Gay). some of the lyrics that ARE clear make it obvious this song is about the two of them running away together- at one point i'm fairly certain paul says "how am i gonna tell my father that we're leaving town?" probably referring to them leaving to hamburg. which would be fine but some of the other lyrics areeeee..... very..... Hm. like multiple times paul refers to john as "my boy" and there's bits of them talking about not knowing what to tell their friends & wanting to just run off together alone. if i were the other members of the band having to record this i would have killed them with hammers <3 also the entire end is just paul going "oh johnny" like 1 million times. okay. sure. also since the lyrics ARE so garbled i mean i guess people could be right about it saying "how am i gonna tell my father you're in love with me" but i just don't hear it. still, a very gay song about running off together and getting away from everything and everyone, complete with moaning the other's name </3

2. paris

this one is a huge part of McLennon Fandom Lore lmao but for good reason. not citing sources on all this bc it's one of those that's just Fact & can be found in like any beatles biography or thebeatlesbible.com (my savior) but. for john's 21st birthday, he got 100 pounds from a rich relative. instead of taking his girlfriend or any of his other friends, he decided to use the money to take paul to spain. but they stopped in paris on the way and just decided to stay there. which i mean like. taking your best friend over your girlfriend to the city of love is a little weird but it's not THAT weird. it's everything else that makes people want to chew glass about it. including some of the other things on this list. like this audio of john just goofing around singing about paris and paul, with such hits as "my cheri, my pau pau my pau paul." which is :| okay best friend. and paul has this picture hung up in his house that he took of john sleeping in paris. okay. sure. why not. (although ig there's some doubt about if the photo is from paris? either way it's a picture paul took and has framed in his house which is incriminating enough my man). also NOT in the original post but may pang, a woman john had a brief affair with in the 70s, wrote a book called loving john. in it, there's this quote:

After a late lunch, Linda launched into a long paean to the joys of living in England. When she was finished, she turned to John and said, “Don’t you miss England?”

“Frankly,” John replied, “I miss Paris.”

okay! also in an interview once he said:

The thing was all the kissing and the holding that was going on in Paris. And it was so romantic, just to be there and see them, even though I was twenty-one and sort of not romantic. But I really loved it, the way the people would just stand under a tree kissing; and they weren’t mauling at each other, they were just kissing.

(interview with david scheff for playboy in september 1980)

3. if i fell

this one i already made an insane post on that started my spiral into posting about the beatles publicly </3 but, essentially, the song "if i fell" by john is..... well it's most likely about paul. he said it wasn't about his wife but that it was auto-biographical and he never really had any public affairs that weren't flings, certainly not a lover. but most damning is he wrote the complete lyrics for the first time on a valentine's day card addressed "to paul with love" with some hearts and arrows pointing to where the lyrics were written. absolutely insane. made me insane.

4. oh! darling

rawest paul song of all time if i do say so myself lmao. but it's just.... Highly Suspicious, that's what it is. a Lot of beatles fans/historians will admit this song is most likely about john but they won't admit that it's fucking romantic if it is. like.

like that is so blatantly romantic idk what to say other than that. also, in the official recording on abbey road, there's Several points where paul says "darling" that sound more like he's saying "johnny" which is what he called him. people brush it off by saying it's his accent, but there's a very clear difference between when he's saying "darling" and when he's saying "johnny". i mean the Lore behind this is that it was written right when things were splitting up between them (& the rest of the band) so it makes sense and it's why most people are willing to accept it's about john. it's just insane to me that they'll accept it's about john without considering the implications of that.

5. the real life demo

this one made me want to light myself on fire i won't lie to you. but here it is! john had a song called "real love" and this is a very early demo of it. but instead of the lyrics that came to actually be in the song (which are thought to be about yoko but let's not get into the fact that it was on a tape labeled "for paul" but whatever), it includes john fucking crying as he sings saying:

"was i just dreaming or was it only yesterday? i used to hold you in my arms. and now a baby and another on the way... la la la la farm..."

which can quite literally be about no one else but paul, as this demo was recorded when he'd just had two children with his wife linda and linda was pregnant with their third child. they'd moved to a farm in scotland. hearing this audio clip did genuinely make me want to lie down in the dirt for a week. also "i used to hold you in my arms" just... yeah. god. when people think it was unrequited idk what to say, really.

6. If Paul Were A Woman-

shoving these two together but. in april of 85, paul said in an interview about john and yoko's relationship:

"I mean, I couldn’t stand in the way of someone who’d fallen in love. You can’t say, 'Who’s this?' You can’t really do that. If I was a girl, maybe I could go out and…"

okay bestie <3 and what would make your relationship different if you were a woman? interesting! and yoko had something similar to say. in this audio, she says:

"I’m sure that if he had been a woman or something, he would have been a great threat – because there’s something definitely very strong between John and Paul."

just reminds me of being a kid and telling my best friends "if i were a boy i'd date you" lol. incredible. does anyone here know about bisexuality.

7. stuart!

not much to say here except that john had a best friend, stu sutcliffe, who died young & before that had been the bassist in the band. paul fucking hated him sooo much oh he SEETHED. a lot has been written on that relationship but it was.... very interesting to say the least. it could have just been about the band, or just jealousy over john's friendship, but take that with a lot of john biographers suspecting john had feelings/even a sexual relationship with stuart and it paints a very Interesting picture to say the least

8. john's bisexuality

here's a compilation of quotes about it, but john was more than likely bisexual. which has nothing to do w paul, really, but more to do against people that like to claim they were both Heterosexual Men. although an interesting quote in this compilation is him saying he's "had paul" lmfao

9. paul's post-beatles work

there's just.... there is so so so much here i don't even know where to begin. @ringompreg has a good compilation of paul songs here. a lot of them do take a bit of Lore but like..... it comes down to the fact that both him and john have/had admitted many times to using their lyrics during The Breakup Years to talk to/reference each other and sooooo many of these lyrics are insanely blatant. the two i mentioned were tug of war and let me roll it, both of which are acknowledged to be about john by most people WITH NO ONE BOTHERING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE IMPLICATIONS OF THAT which..... tug of war has this:

we could stand on top of the mountain with our flag unfurled? dancing to a beat played on a different drum? this is what gaylors think gaylor conspiracy is but paul mccartney is really out here saying this shit.

and let me roll it is so fucking blatantly romantic but every reviewer is like haha! what a cool song that's "making fun" of john and clearly in his style! like are straight people stupid genuinely. anyway:

bonus to that but about JOHN'S solo work :)))))) he wrote a song called "watching the wheels" and when you consider he very much responded to MANY of paul's solo stuff it's :)

which as a response to let me roll it would just be... so devestating but it may be a stretch idk if i'm onto anything there it's just worth Mentioning

and there's a lot of others, a lot of them in that post up there. like far too many where paul mentions falling in love with a friend like Alright.

10. paul's first lsd trip with john/"i know" "i know"

this one is less blatantly romantic but it is just insane. here's an article. and a quote from george martin about it. the first time paul tripped on acid w john was bc john accidentally took some and he took him home & then took acid w him bc he didn't want john to be alone on the trip :( but, notably:

"And we looked into each other’s eyes, the eye contact thing we used to do, which is fairly mind-boggling. You dissolve into each other. But that’s what we did, round about that time, that’s what we did a lot," the singer recalled, "And it was amazing. You’re looking into each other’s eyes and you would want to look away, but you wouldn’t, and you could see yourself in the other person. It was a very freaky experience and I was totally blown away."

he also apparently saw john as the, and i quote, "emperor of eternity" during this trip??????? okay

SOMEWHERE i can't find it rn and i'm getting lazy but somewhere they (i think paul?) talk about the fact that they used to just stare into each other's eyes and then say "i know" "i know" which. considering john's song "i know (i know)" makes me crazy

11. in my life/i will

these are really just some devastating songs with lyrics that make you really raise your eyebrows. for in my life, written by john, it's just an incredibly romantic & sweet song that is again, not about his wife. given that the lennon estate is still out here posting pictures of paul to those lyrics i have to say it's a liiiiittle suspicious. and i will is...... it's one that paul insists is not about his girlfriend at the time, jane asher. and when you look at the lyrics vs how him and john met.... like. the song goes:

and the story of how they met was that paul saw john repeatedly before they ever met, when he didn't know who john was other than that he thought he looked cool & admired his sideburns (lmfao). and when they did finally meet, it was when john was singing at a garden fete (party) and paul was in the crowd just Mesmerized. so. well. you can see.... you can see how fitting that is. makes me crazy makes me want to chew glass actually

12. "we were each other's intimates" and other insane quotes

"we were each other's intimates" is a paul quote about john which is just insane but that's not even the tip of the iceberg. here's a ton of quote compilations.

13. "literally everything else"/honorable mentions

some honorable mentions go out to: john going on stage w elton john & playing i saw her standing there and introducing it as "a song by an estranged fiance of mine" okay! the "just like starting over" demos. okay! which isn't even to MENTION the fact that paul locked himself away in the studio listening to "just like starting over" on repeat for DAYS after john died like???? john saying repeatedly that he considered paul & yoko to be his two major partners in life including in an interview the literal day he died. a whole ass rpf movie where they kiss & talk like they're ex-lovers and dance in central park (two of us) made by the same dude that made the let it be movie like. he knew them personally? he worked with them closely? and the only thing paul had to say about it was just essentially that it was what he wished would've happened like???????? i can't find a super reliable source for this so take it w a grain of salt, but apparently paul referred to mclennon fanfiction as "beautiful stories" and doesn't mind them being written. paul also had a cat that had kittens & he named two of the kittens pyramus and thisbe after fictional lovers he and john played and he gave pyramus (the character paul played) to john :|

and literally so much else like all of this and it's not even all of it. it's not even close to all of it. i didn't even get to talk about the way in "get back" the documentary, paul started talking about john leaving the band for yoko and how john would choose her over them and then he got teary eyed, started choke laughing, and then started singing "build me up buttercup" before looking at the cameras and stopping. what the FUCK was that about! IT'S NOT EVEN GETTING INTO THE SONG "TWO OF US" THAT'S SO OBVIOUSLY ABOUT JOHN THAT IT HURTS. it's. it's not even scratching the surface. they were just genuinely insane about each other.

#mclennon #this is long but it had to be to expand on every reference i made in that post FJADJFASDF

[autisticbokutoenthusiast]

person who is sooooo normal about ray talks about the end of episode 10, what it confirms, what it introduces, and what it may even promise:

"can you please forgive me?"

starting off with this line.... there is a specific brand of betrayal and hurt reserved for the people who feel like the only ones in the world that can make you feel loved. we've seen ray get angry and even lash out at the other characters before but we haven't seen him breakdown the way he did in the sandray apartment fight. i think i took ray saying that he finally was starting to understand his feelings more in episode 9 too lightly, because it seems he meant more then just "i think i like you too" kind of thing, i wouldn't be surprised if ray realized the love he felt as well, and not just romantic love but the "you've seen so much of the ugliness in me but still stayed" kind of love and, if im gonna be bold, acceptance.

"you can be angry or hate me all you want"

lines like this tell me two things, the first being the guilt ray feels over the way he treats people and the second being how much pain he thinks he deserves for it. though i will say this time it feels different then in episode 4 where ray asks sand to call him a burden, because before he wanted sand to hurt him back (a bit of retaliation a bit of self-harm even) but this time he is asking for sand's understanding and forgiveness. he still thinks he deserves it, but now its more then just asking for someone to hurt you in order to reconcile (we will get to the fact sand isn't really there don't worry) there is a sort of emotional growth is what im trying to say.

"i know now that you want nothing from me"

this is also such a huge line for me. we know ray views himself as worthless, he would rationalize why anyone would want him (this is why he was so hurt about sand accepting money from his dad but that's already been meta'd to death so i won't get into that), so him not only thinking but verbalizing that sand is someone who is kind to him without expecting anything in return is huge for ray's ability to see himself as more than a burden or his father's money. in fact, i'd say him admitting this here means he is already beginning to gain a sense of self-worth.

"though i've been nothing but an asshole to you, you are always there for me"

this is the part where we really see ray break. im not good at reading other people's emotions so im not gonna comment on what emotions the actor is trying to portray (tho he is portraying some big ones goddamn), from a text stand point, im interpereting this as pain. I talked before a bit about guilt but i'd say at this moment the realization that someone can care for him so deeply that the parts of himself he's sure are not only unlovable but hurtful won't drive them away, causes him a lot of pain. as someone who is bad feeling cared for or appreciated as a person and sometimes acts like a dick about it, i too would break apart at this moment.

"please understand me"

now this is the line that inspired this post in the first place. he struggles with the connections he has with others but you can see how lonely this man is. like he has been told he is a burden, he interperets his life events and the way other people treat him as proof he is fundamentally unlovable and bad luck for anyone he gets close to, and he is a self-fulfilling prophecy about it.

when he asks sand to understand him he's asking sand to look deeper then his self-sabotoging and attachment issues and see the love and care he has that he struggles to understand and feel and express. he is filled with so much pain how could it not start to infect everyone around him, but from what we see of him, he probably never wanted to hurt other people in this way to begin with.

i think the reason this line specifically broke my heart is that, so much of his behavior at times can be interpreted as a subconscious cry for help, help he won't except but help he needs anyway. i knew any arc involving ray addressing his addiction would destroy me because there is the pain experiencing the things i mentioned above, the pain in thinking you're helpless to them, and then the pain in doing what it takes to try to move forward from them, like this shit is hard. the clarity ray is able to adress imaginary sand with is so incredible even though its in his head, especially given how stubborn he'd been about admitting any issues in the first place.

"being with me requires some patience"

all that i said above and more... i don't think ray will get over that feeling of being a burden any time soon if he ever does because it becomes so ingrained in your worldview and the way you interpret other people's behavior. i like the way this line is phrased (i know its a translation but still) because it alludes to him feeling that he is capable of being loved, it'll be hard but not impossible.

"but if you don't want to put up with me anymore, that's alright. i get you"

remember how i just said i think he now believes he's lovable... well actually i still mean it. he's been constantly told and shown how his behaviour and mentality are hard to deal with, like he thinks his existence is so burdensome it killed his own mother BUT he now knows sand is different. he won't blame sand for not wanting to deal with him, he's always been aware of his shortcomings but can now honestly address the effect his actions have on others, and at the same time he knows that its possible to care for him.

this is why i think sand is his motivation for going to rehab, he's shown ray what is possible for him in ways no one else before sand has.

"but please know this"

there is something so special about the impact sand has had on ray that i think goes beyond their relationship. sand made ray see the value in having a future, in being loved, in being happy. in episode 8 ray tells sand that he's finally happy when they spend time together, and it may seem like he's repeating it here but again this sand is imaginary. he's not saying this to get sand to answer his texts or hang out with him. he's imagining his reason for wanting to recover from addiction. like the weight this scene carries at least triples for me everytime i remember sand isn't really there. this was such a beautiful choice to make imo like ray saying these things to sand would probably be good for their relationship but it wouldn't have the same impact on ray's character arc.

my conclusion is once again don't know why i rambled on besides, ray as character was manufactured in a lab to drive me insane. like i've triggered my mood disorder twice over the course of watching this show but i wouldn't take it back for even a second. i love ray, i love what we've seen of his mentality and backstory, i love that we're seeing him making the decision to address his addiction, i go numb with the thought of where his arc will go next, but i especially love seeing everyone come together to scream about this character that means so much to me (not at all subtle reference to the fact i've read hurt and grieve but don't suffer alone by @jgyapologism what three? times now) anyway hope we all continue to scream about him this week. 🫡🫡

#only friends the series #only friends meta #sandray #oh ray #ray only friends #ray pakorn #only friend analysis #ofts

[straighttohellbuddy]

what you love you devour {c!Wilbur Soot}

Summary: As someone who is chronically honest and the self-appointed court jester of this world, your place in any conflict or situation had always been whichever place to be amused you the most; being on the side of the grown-ass man who put time and effort into waging war against smartass kids over discs? Of course. Immediately switching sides to join the child as he and someone you've never met before start a drug empire? Of course. Except said newcomer seems to know exactly how to keep you entertained; your place becomes by his side, and you quickly come to realise that no-one else will ever compare.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: She/They Reader. Villain!Reader. Past, toxic c!Quackity/Reader, established platonic c!Dream & Reader. Set during the DSMP timeline. 

A/N: 25,323 words. this has been about 2 years in the making, which is why i haven't tagged the few people on the taglist but anyways, i finally came back and reread what i had and was like.... this actually holds up pretty well as is. so yeah, i've added and subtracted a few things here and there in the last few hours to make it all make sense overall, but holy shit im so happy to have it out there. is it possibly the wankiest/dramatic thing ive posted in a while? yes. but its also 25k so eat up. and if you wanna talk to me about it! PLEASE DO!!

Warnings: VILLAIN!READER, discussions/implied suicidal ideation, violence & blood, implied and joked about smut, heavy psychological/emotional manipulation, romantic obsession, betrayal, murder, implied torture. it gets pretty dark at times, just take care.

Citrus Scale: 💚 LIME 💚

{ full playlist }

"You've created capitalism, good job," sarcasm dripped from your words as you leaned against the side of the Camarvan while Sapnap attempted to arrest Tommy and the most recent newcomer, a brunette with a way with words that you found yourself admiring.

"I didn't create capitalism," Wilbur automatically defends himself, turning on you like he had the words on the tip of his tongue, simply waiting for someone to bring it up. Though he was playing at being innocent, you could see he was holding back a smile.

"What do you mean?" Tommy, behind him, frowned, before spluttering, "you know what, who cares- Wilbur, buddy don't listen to her, she'll say anything to get a rise out of people," he grumbled, but you just talked over him, addressing the newcomer.

"I'm not implying that you, new boy -"

"Wilbur," he corrected you automatically.

"- you, Wilbur, were the theological creator of capitalism," you rolled your eyes, but couldn't help your own smile at the situation, "I'm saying that you're trying to have a monopoly on potions and the ability to brew them, so you can inflate the price to whatever you want with no competition that people would be able to buy from, all that artificial supply and demand bullshit."

"Don't know what you're on about," but Wilbur's back was to the others as he said it, lips twisting into a grin, "this is but a humble hotdog van."

"A humble hotdog van!" Tommy added resolutely for emphasis, which you yourself repeated, much quieter, turning the words over in your mind as you narrowed your eyes and looked over all of them, "oh get lost, go run back to Dream," Tommy huffed, before turning on Wilbur, "why are you even giving her the time of day? She's in his guard, she's probably here helping Sapnap."

And that's when your gaze finally flicked to the man himself in full diamond armour, who was glowering at you, bow half raised. He stays quiet.

"He doesn't seem too keen on her," Wilbur points out, looking over his shoulder, giving the faintest smile to the kitted-out guard.

"It could be a ruse!" Tommy insisted.

"I'm simply a court jester -" you tried, hands raised defensively, but Tommy cuts you off.

"You shot me!"

"What's a humble court jester doing at our humble hotdog van?" Wilbur asks, turning back to you. At this prompt, however, your whole face lit up and you stood up straight, frantically digging around your pockets, searching, until you offer a small stack of blaze rods, like it's an offering.

"Playing along," you tell him, eyes alight with mirth and mischief.

"Why?" But he takes the blaze rods and you give a shrug, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"It's the funniest option."

---

"It's not capitalism, it's a drug empire," Tommy grumbled under his breath the moment they bring you into the Camarvan and shut the door behind you, before he added, "and I still don't like that you're here."

"It's not my fault that the concept of a grown-ass man going to war with literal children over two discs is deeply funny," you raised your hands in mock surrender as you sat on the counter in the hotdog van.

"Then why were you on his side?" He demanded, and you schooled your grin into something seriously.

"Thomas, Thomas listen to me -"

"Do not call me Thomas," Tommy told you flatly, and for a moment you couldn't help your sharp smile.

"Listen, Tommy, my boy, I was on the side of the grown-ass man who was waging war over discs; you're a kid, dude, being on your side would make too much sense and would be far less funny."

"One, you're a terrible person," Tommy says flatly, and you can't help but laugh not exactly inclined to disagree with him, "two, I'm not your boy, and three, if it suddenly becomes fucking funny for you to turn on us, I will kill you a lot, okay?"

"Okay," you nod, conceding, and though he's still frowning at you, mistrustful, you can't help but follow it with, "but I think you underestimate how much I appreciate our new friend, whose first thought, after finding his way to us, was 'I'm going to build a drug empire and recruit Tommy-goddamn-Innit as my first ally'; very few things can top that, honestly."

Wilbur, who was kneeling by a chest a few feet away and had been quiet this whole time, snorts a laugh. Good.

"Does Dream trust you?" However, when he spoke, your bright mood evaporated. Then he stands, turns, and leans his hip against the chest he was just rifling through, cocking his head to one side as he regards you, "it's not bait, I'm not asking you if you're a double agent, I trust you -" though there was something behind his eyes that contradicted his words, "- just, does Dream trust you?"

"Dream and I have... an understanding," you said carefully, "I understand that he is incredibly powerful -" Tommy made a derisive noise in the back of his throat at that, "- and he understands that I am simply a court jester."

"I don't remember many jesters with enchanted netherite axes," Tommy mutters under his breath. For the barest moment, when he looks at you he sees you looking right back, something dangerous, something like a warning in your eyes that vanishes so fast he’s half concerned he imagined it. No-one else seemed to have seen it, judging by how Wilbur’s continuing on. You’ve already looked away.

"So he may expect you to turn on him?"

"Eventually," you agree, "but he also knows I'd turn back to his side with the right incentive," you knew no good could come of trying to hide your nature, especially since it could lead to others actively attempting to win your loyalty, which you couldn't deny was pretty nice. Tommy was actively glaring at you after this particular admission, however Wilbur hums thoughtfully, regarding you with an expression you can't quite read, one that makes you feel like he's evaluating you; you sit a little straighter.

"Would you steal his potion supplies for us if he had any?" And suddenly, Wilbur's tone was light, as if he were asking for you to run an errand rather than commit treason. While Tommy was flabbergasted at his bluntness, you nodded emphatically.

"Oh, absolutely."

----

"Could you be more subtle while robbing me?" Dream frowned the moment he saw you up to your elbows in a chest in what he considered to be his base of operations.

"Not my fault you're bad at hiding your stuff and good at finding me," you huffed in return, not even bothering to look up, even as Dream peered over your shoulder to see what he'd left behind that you were currently looting. Tortoise shells and empty bottles, not much, but it's something.

"I don't appreciate you stealing my shit for Tommy," Dream pointed out, and you snorted a laugh, beginning to pocket your findings. He sat beside the chest, watching you, "I'm going to stop him."

"You're going to try."

"I thought you were on my side," but even as he said it, he wore a grin that was all teeth; you both knew he was joking, "you'd tell me where the discs were if you knew, wouldn't you?"

"In a heartbeat," you agree without hesitation, sitting back on your heels and finally looking at your sort-of ally, "but we both know Tommy doesn't trust me as far as he can throw me."

"He's a smart kid," Dream's smile gets tight at the edges for just a moment, and when you look to him, he’s looking back at you with a shallow gaze - you ever take something from me like that again and I’ll fucking kill you; you hear your own voice in your head, and wonder if Dream’s thinking of that same moment, of your violent, possessiveness rearing it’s head, your axe pressed to his chest in the dead of night. Back in the present, his gaze clears and he looks at the chest you’re currently elbow deep in, pointedly, "you are robbing me." The memory passes from your mind.

"You weren't here and I'm not using actual force; this is looting at best," at your indignance, he rolls his eyes, looking away, and you open the chest again, taking the remaining items, despite their meagre value. "I'm not doing this for Tommy; Wilbur's the one who suggested it."

"The new guy?"

"The new guy," you confirmed with a nod, "the first thing he does after getting here is commit crimes; I think I'm in love," you tell Dream flatly, mostly joking.

"Sounds like a man after your own heart," Dream points out, not even trying to hide the teasing edge to his words; how deeply bizarre this interaction would be if anyone else were to walk in.

With all of the chest's contents safely in your pockets and satchel, you sit back, eyes narrowing as you give Dream and his mischievous smile a look as you finally try and figure out what this whole interaction means. However the teasing does well to hide the faint notes of apprehension in his voice.

"'s the reason I sided with you in the first place;" you said slowly, "you know how chaos gets me going," your tone was flat, clearly conveying that you hadn't deciphered the nature of this interaction, but your actual words were enough to have Dream himself laughing despite this, the air clearing. "You here to stop me?"

"Does anyone else know where my base is, and are you going to steal anything else from me?"

"No and yes," you answer bluntly; if you were anyone else that answer would be two death sentences, one right after the other, "blaze rods," you quickly elaborate, wilfully digging yourself deeper as Dream opens his mouth.

"You can't have my blaze rods," he says, though he's smiling faintly at your well-worn antics.

"Agree to disagree," you stood swiftly, trying to step over his legs to get to the next chest. Dream grabs your shin with one hand, stopping you in your track as he's sighing deeply.

"Go away, Y/N," he says firmly, letting go of you to get to his feet, beginning to push you to the entrance of the bunker, even as you whined; the fact that he let you take as much as you already had was not lost on you however, and you let yourself be nudged to the door, only putting on a show of protesting.

The timer that had started ticking the moment he'd found you in his bunker had finally run out.

"Get better security," you told him, and he gave you a wide, toothy smile.

"Love you too," he responded, "and keep me updated if you ever find those discs." At that, you give him a quick salute and head back in the general direction of the Camarvan.

----

"L'Manberg?" You said, not even trying to hide your scepticism.

"L'Manberg," both Tommy and Wilbur reiterated, sounding completely sincere in their dedication to the ridiculous name.

"L'-Man-Berg?" You said, slower, squinting at them, waiting for their sincerity to crack.

"But don't worry, Tommy himself said that 'even women can work here'," Wilbur said, corners of his mouth twitching at Tommy's various irritated exclamations, "like... in the hotdog van... with us; we're not implying that women have to work to be here, this isn't- this isn't communism -"

"You've made that abundantly clear," your scepticism broke in the face of his floundering, "I remember you brought capitalism to the Greater Dream SMP, Mr Soot," you were desperately trying not to laugh, though Tommy was fairing much worse than you at that.

"I mean- I mean- I mean-" Tommy spluttered through his laughter as it died down, trying to get himself back to being something resembling serious, "you also- you can't be on Dream's side if you're with us."

"I'm not," you answer honestly and easily.

"So you're on our side?" He clarified, though you had to hum at that.

"No..." you said carefully, before finally looking him in his eyes, "I'm on my side, I just happen to like," without breaking eye contact with Tommy or your serious facade, you pointed directly at Wilbur, to his left, "him." Tommy's outrage at your answer was predictably hilarious, hence the main reason as to why you gave it, and Wilbur's delighted 'that's good enough for me' and accompanying smile was enough to solidify your loyalty with them, at least for the time being.

----

"I knew it would be you," they've taken no chances with you when they started taking people prisoner; Tommy was the first to go, and you happened to show up right as Fundy was being lead away. Wilbur and Tommy had both sent you messages, letting you know people were being arrested, and while they probably meant for you to stay away, you had other ideas.

So now, here you were, with Sapnap's crossbow bolt between your shoulder blades as you were being unceremoniously shoved to the courthouse.

"Stop talking," he muttered, poking you probably harder than necessary, but it did little to dim your smile.

"I've barely said anything," you shrugged, the nonchalant movement only serving to remind you, as if you could forget, about the weapon at your back, "but I'm flattered, really; I knew it would be you."

"Stop. Talking."

"They've got several people escorting Tommy, and even Fundy has Eret and Tubbo," you kept chattering away, despite your guard's grumbling, "but we've fought together, you know what I'm like, and so does he," you gave a faint laugh, "they knew I'd listen to you; you're the only one besides Dream himself who could get me to go peacefully."

"Why then? If you're going to keep talking, can you explain why? Why are you going peacefully, why with me? Are you actually saying you would have put up a fight if I were anyone else?"

"Would you trust anyone else to bring me to jail on their own?" You asked simply.

"I think you overestimate how challenging you are -"

"So that's a yes, you'd trust... Tubbo to lead me to the courthouse alone?" Your tone was sly and heavy with implications, "or Ponk? Or what about Eret? I don't know him but he seems nice. I'd like to get to know him, if you're saying you'd like to swap -"

"I don't trust you," he cuts you off, words forced out through gritted teeth.

"But you trust you," you hum thoughtfully, "because you know you're the only one up for it. They're sweet kids, but they're still kids, aren't they? If the right person talked for long enough they'd believe anything. This is why I knew it'd be you taking me to court; you're better than that," you're better than them hangs in the air, unspoken but still so loud, and you're glad he can't see the way you're grinning.

Then, you give a self deprecating chuckle, shrugging again.

"Honestly I'm probably giving myself too much credit here, I'm unarmed and unarmoured, you're easily overkill as my escort, but again, I'm flattered," the pressure between your shoulder blades lessens until the sharp bolt is gone, and you hear Sapnap's footsteps fall silent. Intrigued, you turn, and you see him scowling.

"Don't do that, don't be cute, don't be coy;" he frowned at you, at how your expression had been schooled into something tamer than the delight you were feeling, "you won't trick me; I remember Dream in that warroom, you remember, we were all planning and he assured us that you were your most dangerous unarmed and unarmoured -"

"I can't believe you remember that," you huff a disbelieving laugh, hoping the delight in your eyes didn't give you away.

"Yeah, well I do; don't coy, don't be shitty, okay? I was sent here for you for a reason, me, alright Y/N? I'm the one with the crossbow," already your words were working their way into his psyche, the bestowing of compliments, building him up, only to undermine it all. Whether he realised it or not, the praise you hid amongst your teasing and self-aggrandizing felt good to hear; you're just glad he believed it.

And so you walked with a crossbow bolt nestled between your shoulders, in silence for the rest of the way, being shoved into a cell beside Tommy, who'd been sitting on the bed provided, chattering away loudly to the other guards.

"What took you so long?"

----

The jacket you're given doesn't fit quite right; it's close, but maybe the arms are a little too long, and it sits strangely when you button the front with more than one button, but you wear it with pride, grip tight on the lapels as you spin on your heel, waiting for an approval from the others.

"Looks good on you," Wilbur's voice is carefully neutral, though he nods, his slight smile betraying him.

"Now will you finally admit you're on our side?" Tommy asked, brow pinched as he looked you over.

"What do you mean? She's with us, of course she is," Tubbo voices his confusion, and you finally, finally relinquish.

"Yes, Tommy, I'm fighting for L'manburg," you inclined your head towards him, smiling faintly.

"Say it, say you're on my side," Tommy demanded, "because I wanna remember this moment when you inevitably double cross us."

"Tommy," you said carefully, trying not to show how amused you actually were.

"Don't patronise me," he warned.

"Tommy," you shifted your tone to something a touch more respectful, but the boy's mouth remained set in a firm line, "I'm on your side as long as you're on Wilbur's side."

"Of course," Tubbo pipes up brightly, "we're all on the same side, for L'manburg," and he so cheerfully misses the subtle nuance in your words that it seems to convince Tommy. Wilbur's smiling to himself, genuine, whole face scrunched up and pleased.

"Seems like an overreaction," Eret, who you were yet to get a proper read on, looked over the four of you with interest; he hadn't been here long either, "they robbed Dream for us, they got arrested too -"

"Y/N is a trickster spirit at the best of times," Tommy tells him, "you can never be too careful, trust me."

"I'm just a jester," you raised your hands in a placating gesture, gaze dipping if only to hide the spark of mischief that found its way to your eye every time you found yourself underplaying your abilities.

"A revolutionary jester," Wilbur corrects, and your gaze snaps to him, your smile growing a touch wider, a shade sharper.

"A revolutionary jester," you agreed.

----

"You should have a home here," you hear Wilbur musing as he's chopping wood with a distracted energy, "do you have a home?" He quickly follows it with, and you snort loudly.

"Christ dude, of course I have a house," though you take a moment to reconsider, "well I have a bed in the savannah," you paused, "near... near Dream's Mountain." You admitted. There's a hum, and when you look to Wilbur he's regarding you curiously.

"Still?"

"Dream doesn't operate out of there anymore," you told him candidly, "but I like it; lots of sand," you added, and Wilbur actually paused.

"Can I ask you something very frank?" He asked, leaning against the handle of his axe where it was pressing into the dirt. You nodded, "what incentive would it take for you to turn on us, and on L'manburg? If Dream offered any number of weapons or diamonds or armour, would you take it?"

"I have everything I need," you told him honestly, "and I don't think Dream could offer me enough incentive to turn against L'manburg the way it stands right now," you shrugged, but he tipped his head to the side, frowning.

"So what would it take you to turn on us individually?"

Your mouth fell open, unused to being properly listened to, properly understood.

"You listen too much," you muttered, unused to being caught out in the way you would twist words. Wilbur, seemingly surprised at your reaction, grins from ear to ear.

"You know, while you were all being arrested, I heard something; I heard someone say that you're at your most dangerous when you're unarmed and unassuming, and I think I'm starting to get it-"

"If I find Tommy's discs, I have an obligation to give them to Dream," you let the words fall from your lips in an effort to derail that train of thought, gaze on your hands as you pluck blades of grass from the ground, twisting them in your fingers. Wilbur carefully lowers himself to the ground, to your level.

"From what I understand, that seems perfectly reasonable, in your mind at least," he says with a half smile, looking to you, expression somewhat unreadable, his pause harbouring something quietly hungry; "and what about me?"

Mouth opening and closing at a sudden loss for words, you find yourself unable to look him in the eyes.

"I have no pre-existing reason to turn against you," your voice is quiet, is flat, but your forgetting fingers betray how antsy this particular shred of honesty made you.

"So, Tommy's the only one you'd throw under the bus?"

"Its up to you," you shrugged, "and I'd only steal Tommy's disc and hand them over, I wouldn't hurt him."

"Are you lying?"

"I don't lie;" your tone was harsh, looking to him with a fire in your eyes, "I will not betray them, or Tommy in any other way, so long as they are all... aligning... with... you." There's no pretty way to twist your words around it, and you can't help your faint, flustered embarrasent, "my word is my bond." Then, softer, heart in your throat, "stop looking at me, Wilbur."

"That's a lot of power you've given me there," he said with a faint laugh, "so if it's no longer in my best interest to align with them-"

"It depends on if you mean that they're no longer allies, or if they're actively hostile," you point out, "because the ways in which I would betray them if they are not my allies are... varied. If they're my active enemy, then that's more of a straightforward fight, you know?"

"And if I decided it's no longer beneficial to be allies with you?"

"You'd be smart," you tell him, knee-jerk reaction, which startles a laugh from him; you give a faint, self-conscious apology, "honestly I'd respect it, it'd be an incredibly funny move after the things I've said, you know?"

"But, no, if I betrayed you, what would you do?"

"Are you planning on betraying me?"

"Not currently," he shrugged easily, and you blinked slowly at him.

"I don't know what I'd do, not yet, but I can get planning," you said with an almost teasing air, while he splutters in protest, "yeah I know you just said you weren't planning on it, but I'm pretty sure you've lied to every single question I've asked since getting here," you paused, smile growing wider, and strangely fond, "actually I think you've lied more than you've told the truth in general since you arrived."

A second passes, then another, then finally he breaks out into laughter.

"And you accuse me of listening too much!" His expression was frankly delighted.

----

You follow them into the dark, down the stairs, listening to the way they were joking about Eret managing to come up with a nuke. The night is unassuming. Spirits are high. 

But they bring you all to a small room full of  chests. Something is wrong. You stay with Eret by the door, and he's got a hand on your shoulder - you can't run. 

"The chests are empty-" you hear Wilbur's confusion, right before Tommy asks what the button in the middle of the room does, and before he can even press it, his fingertips barely contacting the wood, you step forward -

"Easy now," Eret's voice is a gentle murmur, only for you, grip tight on your pauldron. When you look at her, a moment of silence amongst the others' confusion, his expression is… unreadable. Ice cold now, there's a sword through your chest, you can feel it where you shouldn't, followed by the searing heat of blood filling your lungs and windpipe -

"Y/N?!" Wilbur's eyes land on you as Tommy presses the button, you fall to your knees, choking on a mouthful of blood, and when your gaze locks with his, the reality of the betrayal sets in. There's horror in his eyes, and you see Tommy and Tubbo turning before you're suddenly gasping awake in your bed in L'manburg, shaking, eyes wide and goosebumps rising along your skin as you hear your comrades screaming and shouting for help, horrified at Eret's betrayal, all coming in tinny through the communicator still on your hip. You don't properly know what happened after the button was pushed, and you think that was a conscious decision.

Your first life is taken quietly, not with a bang but with a whimper.

There's something inevitable about it for you, at least in your mind, but the others didn't deserve this, didn't deserve that betrayal. You can still feel the sticky heat of the blood in your lungs, your throat, ice cold sword where it had pierced through your back, slipped between your ribs, and come out the other side. 

"It was never meant to be," Eret sounds like they’re smiling as they say it, as the others are yelling, and you realise that they're probably reviving in their own homes. You want to ask, want to demand answers, but your hands shake, and when you find your voice, all that comes out is a furious growl, low and full of venomous malice the likes of which the others had never heard from you, judging by how your voice cut through the chaotic mess of shouting.

"What the fuck did you do?" 

Eret leaves the communication channel. The silence rings in your ears.

"He betrayed us," Wilbur said, tone flat, thinly veiling his own fury at the situation, "she had us killed by Dream and his men," and then, "he killed you." Like it means something, like he's worried your apathy, or even your connection to Dream, could sway you from your anger. Like he knows betrayal of your nation means little; like he knows you well. Something about this catches in your mind; you knew it was only a matter of time before you were betrayed, but the rest of them cared - Wilbur cared enough about you to know you, and Eret had him killed too. 

Your communicator vibrates for a moment, and you look down to see a message from Wilbur himself; Where are you?

Your life was of little consequence, the same could not be said for your comrades.

"They killed me," you said softly, before you swallowed hard; home. Dig the ground by the corner of the walls near the river, you send back. "You died too; you all died. Who was there?"

"Who do you think?" Tommy cut in, loud and brimming with rage.

"It was all so fast, but I saw George, and Sap, and Dream," Tubbo cut in, voice a little shaky, bring Tommy's fury down somewhat.

"Punz was there too," Wilbur said carefully, "they have our things." And you stay quiet as they rage, as you sit in your bed, unable to get up, mind moving a thousand miles a minute as you try and figure out how to process all of this, what it all means. It doesn't take too long before there's sunlight streaming into your little, cosy hovel, followed by Wilbur climbing down the ladder provided, packing dirt into the hole he'd made to keep your location secret. 

When he gets to the bottom of the ladder, he takes a deep breath - Tommy and Tubbo are chattering away, audible over both your communicators. Making eye contact, finally, he doesn't quiet seem to know what to do, or where to go. You turn off your communicator. Everything tastes like iron. You don't move. He leans against the wall by the ladder, closing his eyes tightly for few moments, and slowly sliding down, sinking to the ground. 

"Wilb- mate are you alright? Where are you?" Tommy's voice rings out from the communicator still on Wilbur's hip, and he sighs deeply.

"I'm fine, I'm fine, just need a few moments, I'll be with you soon," and he turns off the communicator before getting a response. 

Silence. Deafening silence.

"I'm sorry," your voice is a whisper, but it's clearly audible in this little room. 

"What?" Tone immediately defensive and sharp, Wilbur's eyes snap open and he looks to you with a glare.

"No, I- I've had betrayal coming for a long time, but you- you all didn't deserve that," you clarified, hand on your chest, feeling the raised, tender scar tissue where the sword had come out - it had slid through your sternum like fucking butter, it had been so cold, even as the points where it had touched your clothes caught fire, even as it melted through the metal of your armour - your hand starts to shake. Everything tastes like iron. 

"What happened?"

"What did Eret say to you?" His question surprised you, and when you look to him, his gaze is hard and cold.

"Easy now," you remember, "held me back when I went to step forwards, and ran their sword through me before the button had even properly been pressed -"

"I saw," Wilbur's voice was softer.

"I'm sorry, I should have warned you -" your lip was trembling, shake in your words as you drew your knees up to your chest. 

"You didn't know, you couldn't have-"

"I could have done more, I could have done something -" the tears start to fall.

"Dream's guard were laying in wait, and the button was their cue to ambush us," Wilbur explained carefully, "but you…" he swallowed hard, "I watched you die." He sounded furious and disgusted, looking at his own hands, twisted into claw-like shapes, ruminating on his own helplessness at the situation.

"You're the only one who noticed," you said, barely audible, "I don't think you were meant to notice."

"What the fuck does that even mean?"

"I wasn't meant to see what happened, and it was meant to be assumed that I died in the skirmish," you said, tone flat and bitter, before your tone grows malicious, "because Dream is a coward."

"I wasn't meant to notice?" He asks, voice weak.

"No-one was; dying in the skirmish is less targeted, but if I had glimpsed any of their team killing -" You swallowed hard, dropping your gaze, "any," you push the word to hide that it's not exactly the truth, "of you… Dream knows I am more than capable of exacting revenge." There was a dark truth to your words that Wilbur couldn’t even begin to fathom, a history he was unaware of.

"I do notice you," Wilbur says, and you're brought from your bitterness momentarily, surprised by the earnestness of his words. He stands, "and I've never heard you speak like this before." 

"There are rules," you tell him, watching him cross the room to your bed, to sit by your side, "and I don't expect the same level of honesty that I give, but I expect- I expect- I-" but you can't find the words for what you're trying to say, sitting forward scowling at your hands.

"You would have let him betray us all still if you'd know, wouldn't you? You would have even let her kill you," Wilbur's tone is alight with realisation, and your mouth drops open with surprise; yes, yes of course you would, how did he put it into words like that? He doesn't even sound particularly hurt by that realisation, more fascinated.

"I absolutely would have," you answer.

"But you had no idea," its not accusatory in the slightest, his tone matching yours, alright with bright interest, "which is why- why- why you're so- why you're reacting like this," its like he's trying to piece together how he sees you out loud, "you need to know where all the chess pieces are, what moves are being made, you're not playing as much as you are a spectator delighting in the chaos of it all, with a front row seat." But he's grinning from ear to ear. Your whole body is alight with the instinct to reach out and touch him, to prove he's real and not something you're imagining, because no one else has even cared to figure you out like this, and no one would even come close to reacting so brightly about it. 

"I'm sorry I'm like this," you say with a momentary huff of disbelieving laughter, but he reaches out and puts a hand on your knee. The contact burns. You look down at his hand like you can't quite believe it, head swimming, trying to process this all. 

"Don't be; knowledge is power and you never lie," he pointed out, "you're a good ally to have." Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest. Wilbur Soot I'd die for you; the words press against your teeth until it's almost painful, and his hand is still on your knee. You grab it - he's real, he's here, the things he's said are real too!

"I won't betray you," is what you say instead, and Wilbur's expression turns to surprise in the face of your earnestness, your seriousness. You never lie; the thing he's said is playing on both of your minds at this moment, of this you're sure.

"You shouldn't say things like that," he says very carefully.

"Then you understand the full extent of what I'm saying, don't you?" You take his hand now in a handshake, palm to palm, "Wilbur Soot, I will never betray you."

"You have never lied to me," he said, voice low and serious, demanding an answer. You meet his gaze.

"I have never lied to you," you affirm, before adding, "you know me." And you're fairly certain he doesn't quite understand the importance of that, that his understanding of you is the reason for your loyalty. "You don't have to extend the same sentiment, don't worry, like I said I don't expect the same lev of honesty -"

"I will not willingly betray you, Y/N," Wilbur says, matching your earnest seriousness, "and I will attempt to only be honest with you." 

----

“What is it about you?” There was a strange quality to Dream’s voice as he voices a question that had seemingly been weighing on him for a long while. Wilbur, where he was trying to fit all of his friends’ equipment on his person to carry back to them, snaps his attention to Dream, brow furrowed. 

"What?" 

"Loyalty is the one thing Y/N covets above all else, and yet for some reason they’ve given it freely to you -” Dream’s voice was smooth and thoughtful, like he’s not quite aware he’s speaking out loud. 

“Maybe it’s because I respect them -”

“I respected them, but still...” he trailed off; again the idea of a darker shared history between you and Dream makes itself known. Wilbur's scowl deepened, "I don’t think they genuinely respected me... or anyone, before you. They get possessive, like dangerously possessive, but you’re different." 

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You know the thing they do, the way they can talk around people and topics without even lying, and make it look, you know, like it’s easy?” And the minute the words leave Dream's mouth, Wilbur's gaze drops; of course he'd noticed.

"They’ve got a way with words," Wilbur's agrees, slowly, eyes narrowed. At the defensive notes in Wilbur’s voice, the smile dropped from Dream’s face. He’s seen this loyalty before, but never before in someone you yourself were loyal to in turn. This is uncharted territory. This suddenly feels like a dangerous conversation to be having. 

“Everything they’ve done is to amuse themselves, so you make no sense to me; what about you is so compelling that they find entertainment in playing revolution?”

“Maybe,” Wilbur says, tone light but clearly well thought out, “someone who is used to listening to everyone else finds a certain novel charm in being heard.” His gaze is icy, but he’s not looking at Dream; he’s standing at the end of the room, gaze hard as he looks at the door, as if focusing intently on something in his mind as he spoke; “I think you assume everyone believes in the ideals that their side stands for, and I also think,” he narrows his eyes, still staring into space. Despite not being the target of his glare, Dream, for the first time in the conversation, feels a strangely familiar powerlessness, “that you underestimate an individual’s loyalty to another individual, rather than to a cause,” he paused, “or a nation.” 

“I’ll fight for you, of course, but I can’t kill any of those kids -” in Dream’s mind, he’s taken back to the moment he’d recruited you to his side after he’d stolen Tommy’s discs. You’re looking up at him from where you’re leaning over a grindstone, sharpening your axe. When he’d asked why, you blinked slowly at him, “I’ve barely spoken to them; I can’t discern if they deserve it.” There’s something cold in your eyes as you look at him, and he hears it clear as day without you needing to say it out loud; I don’t kill people I don’t know.

Something about Wilbur in this moment reminds Dream of you. He feels the faded scar on his collar bone ache faintly; the part of him that had wanted to somehow warn Wilbur of your true nature was quickly growing quiet in the back of his mind.

Then, Wilbur looks at his own hands for a moment, before digging through his bag, through the various belongings he was now carrying. He pulls out your axe, and looks back up at the space by the door. Then, to the button, before finally looking at Dream, your axe still in hand, but it rested by his side, nonthreatening. Dream can’t look away from the weapon.

“You were laying in wait for us in the name of your nation,” Wilbur says, tone strangely neutral; he looks back at the door; “you complain about a lack of respect but won’t warn them when they’re about to die.” This is where he’d watched you die; that, atop the various other insights Wilbur has shared here have Dream’s blood running cold. Dream wants to argue that you would have tipped them off, but his words die on his tongue; he at least knew you better than to interfere in a good plan, an entertaining plan, where you would be able to watch the effects of a major plot twist play out in real time, even if it meant you too had to be sacrified... And Wilbur knew this about you too.

“I see,” Dream muses, trying to hide how shaken he was by the moment that had just passed, “you’re starting to make more sense now.”

“And you know what,” Wilbur said, unsettling tension breaking as he grinned, “I think you’re making more sense too; Y/N’s willingness to still bring up their loyalty to you does at least.”

“Their loyalty to me?”

“They still look out for Tommy’s discs on your behalf,” he said candidly, “we all know, but they’re yet to find them so Tommy’s yet to have a proper go at them.”

“It’s always sunny in L’Manberg then,” Dream says, dryly. 

“It’s... amusing, to try and see the world the way you see it,” Wilbur’s chipper, but there’s something almost malicious in his bright tone, and Dream’s hair stands on end. His own words haunt him, your loyalty called into question; did you simply help him because you found him trivial and amusing? While it doesn’t exactly surprise him, it stings in a way he didn’t expect. Looking back at Wilbur, it’s clear that at least some of Dream’s feelings about this particular revelation showed on his face, despite his best efforts. Wilbur’s grin was cheshire-esque. Even his smugness somehow had an echo of yours. 

He leaves. Dream feels sick, alone in the final control room.

----

"Can I ask you something?" Wilbur asks tentatively, and you look away from the furnace you'd patiently been waiting to smelt your iron ore.

"Of course."

Another long pause; you approached him where he was sitting at the table, watching you with reservation. 

"What happened between you and Dream?"

Surprisingly, your expression dropped to something blank in an instant, gaze going glassy. 

“He’s my friend,” you say flatly, turning back to the furnace, but not before Wilbur caught a glimpse of your grimace.

“I think he was trying to warn me against you,” Wilbur huffs a faint laugh, but it’s more to test your reaction; when you turn back, your expression is wide and innocent, almost pleading.

“What did he say?”

“That I’m the first person you’ve shown actual respect to,” Wilbur says, tone light but words blunt; it surprises you, which he can read on your face, and you hesitate for a moment, not wanting to confirm or deny as much. His smile grows wider, grows endeared, “and he did say you tend to get possessive.” Your gentle, flustered nature turns into something colder at that, and you look to your hands.

“He says a lot of things,” you mutter, with an air of bitterness. It’s interesting interacting with you; half the time you still seem to try and put on an act around him, though the other half you seem to let yourself be as honest as you’re able, “he says a lot of things to the people I like, then they like me less.” Then, suddenly, you look to him, defiance in your eyes, “I don’t care what he said, I’m not using you, Wilb-”

“Hold on, he never said anything like that,” he holds up his hands, defensive, placating. Your eyes go wide and your mouth snaps shut; you can’t look at him, sitting down, hunching in on yourself. 

“Sorry,” you mutter, sighing deeply enough that your shoulders sag, “Dream is my friend, I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but I thought... he’s taken things from me like this before, things I, well...” you can’t quite put it into words, but Wilbur sits back, watching you, when something in his mind clicks.

“Covet.” His voice was soft with understanding, gentle as he asks “who was it?”

You blink slowly; there was something visceral and feral burning through your veins. You’d spent so long intricately designing the way the world would see you, this single moment feels like you’re on the knife’s edge trying to figure out if having him understanding you is endearing and heartwarming, or cloying and dangerous. He promised he wouldn’t betray you, but he’s not as honest as you’ve trained yourself to be. 

But you promised not to betray him, and you’ve become someone defined by your word. All you can do is leave, if that’s what you want. You can’t lash out, you must let him live with the way he knows you, with no promise to keep it to himself. Self preservation is the way your fingers flex, aching for your axe.

“I’ve given you too much power over me,” you swallow hard, hands in fists. 

“You won’t hurt me, though.”

“We both know I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“And you do want to,” he says it like it’s a fact, all light and neutral. You keep your mouth shut; you can’t lie if you don’t speak, no matter how sweet you know it would taste to lie. “I have never felt fear or anger like I felt when I watched you die,” he breaks the silence. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter through clenched teeth, staring intently at the floor.

“You’re not to blame,” he says easily, “none of us deserved that; you didn’t deserve that.” 

“You didn’t deserve to see that,” you corrected automatically. 

“I thought you wanted to hurt me.”

“Well I can’t.”

“You won’t,” he says, tone still light. You glance a look at him, only to see him resting his chin in his hand, regarding you with a gentle smile. The distinction stings in your mind, the way he clearly understands your internal conflict, it sets your teeth on edge, “you knew what you were getting into when you offered your loyalty; Dream was confused, you know, about why you’d given it so freely when you covet it -” that word again, your expression twists into something frustrated as you drop your gaze back to your hands, “- but he doesn’t really get you, does he?”

“He likes to think he’s like me,” you mutter, “but then he acts like he’s better, like he’s building a family from this war, but he’s going to be left with people filled with resentments. I was aquiring resources, but he didn’t like my methods...”

“Who?” Softer this time, Wilbur asks.

After a very, very long time, you look to him, gaze shallow.

“I thought Quackity was like you, I thought he’d understand.”

“Understand you?”

“Understand the world, the truth,” you wet your lips for a moment, “but he clung to pretty words without question; I could see he had potential, so I kept him around, and it was easy - it was so fuckin’ easy -” You recount how you’d set your sights on loud-mouthed, brash, desperate for recognition Quackity, and how you’d made him your whole world, bombing him with affection and attention, making him feel understood, like the place he belonged was by your side. Quackity had always looked for somewhere to belong, that hadn’t changed, though you muse that you may have made it harder for him to trust it when he finally found a place where he felt like he belonged. 

“Everything I fed him was a lie I’d laced with something that sounded close enough to love and sincerity that he’d believed it,” you looked down at where you were tracing shapes on the back of Wilbur’s hand as he listened intently, “I gave him nothing, but made him believe he had everything, until... until I wanted to see how far I could go. I wanted to see if he’d die for me... and he would have, until Dream decided to grow some morals.” You stood, sudden fury burning through your veins at the memory, “he had to sew the fuckin’ seeds of doubt in Q’s mind, had to pick holes in my lies -”

“You lied that much?” This seemed to genuinely shock Wilbur, and you stopped your pacing to look to him.

“It’s why I don’t lie; it’s harder to pick holes in the truth, harder to undermine me,” your lip curled, “Q lost faith in me, stopped trusting me, and there was fucking nothing I could do about it; it was my fault, honestly, so I don’t lie anymore. I’m upfront about who I am. I only keep people around if they’re useful, or they’re entertaining, because that’s the other fucking thing I learned; nothing fucking matters more than keeping me happy, because everyone gets too serious for their own good in the end. Dream was fun before he- he- he-”

“So am I useful or entertaining?” Wilbur asks, and you freeze. Then, slowly, you take a deep breath.

“It was novel to feel understood.”

“And now it’s bloody terrifying you,” he says gently, “because as much as you want to, you can’t trust anyone as much as you trust yourself.”

“I understand people, Wilbur, and no-one I’ve ever met has understood the inherent benefit to honesty the way I have.”

“But you still promised me your loyalty.” He says. You swallowed hard, nodding once. You meet his gaze, refusing to break it, refusing to back down, waiting for him to elaborate. “And I promised you mine, as best I could,” he pauses gives you an evaluative look over, “I can’t trust people, obviously, but I know I can trust you.”

“People don’t like me when they realise I can pick them apart, that I can rewire and reprogram them like I’m an engineer,” and Wilbur regards you curiously as you say this, like he’s going to try and counter it, but you square your shoulders, “even you, Wilbur; do you think, when we met, you’d still trust me if I was upfront about this?” And he closes his mouth, thoughtful, “I wanted so desperately to keep around the first person to halfway understand me, you’re impressed rather than fucking terrified like you should be. Because you know it’s true.”

“Are you trying to push me away?”

“We both know you won’t go,” you say with the faintest, self-deprecating smile, “a stalemate of respect, of our own design.” Then, your expression turned serious, “I have never felt fear or anger like I did when I realised you watched me die.”

Then, very slowly, his gaze meets yours, hard-edged and dark.

“Do you trust me as much as I trust you?” It’s a loaded question; he’s never been given any reason to doubt you, mostly thanks to your honesty and loyalty, but you’d never been afforded that same assurance. But in this instance, it didn’t matter, you knew your answer without a shred of doubt.

“Yes, absolutely.”

----

Its said a shark can smell blood in the water from a mile away, and you, you know there's a traitor living a peaceful life up in the castle. It irritates you, sets your teeth on edge; it's not that they killed you that bothers you, it's that they were careless about it, they let the one person you never wanted to hurt watch you die. The event had shaken Wilbur; the taking of your life was not the matter you cared about. 

"You okay?" Others had noticed how distracted you were; in your mind, all you could see was the shocked horror in Wilbur's eyes, and the feeling of the blade in your back. Blinking quickly, back to the present, you smiled brightly at Tubbo, or as brightly as you could manage.

"Of course." 

You watch the others sparring and training together and your hands ball into fists, as if aching for a fight. But you've got an image to keep up; you're not the brawn here, you're a jester, you're meant to keep those who you care about smiling. 

"You ever wanna hold a sword to my neck like that..." you tone is suggestive as you trail off, grinning at Wilbur, who's got his sword poised beneath a training dummy's chin, glaring at it with ferocity. The moment you call out, however, his focus break, and you see him fighting back a smile as a flush works its way up his cheeks.

"Come test your luck then," he calls back, and you blinked quickly.

"I don't want to fight you, Wilbur," you tell him, quieter, hoping it comes off as soft, as something endeared.

"You should know how to fight," he points out, lowering his sword, digging the tip into the dirt as he leans on the pommel a little.

"I know how to fight," you counter, and a long moment of silence follows as he considers that.

"How have I never seen you with a weapon then?"

"You have, you just haven’t seen me use it as a weapon." You tell him rather pointedly, voice low, and though you’re still smiling, there’s something sharp at the edge of your voice that’s unfamiliar to him. It takes him aback, and for a long moment he’s silent as he regards you with a newfound seriousness, “I’m just a jester; what’s a jester want with a sword anyways?” You half laugh, a little louder now, gaze flicking to the others milling around nearby. Nobody outwardly acknowledges you, nobody apart from Wilbur, who just frowns. His gaze is trained on a spot just past your head, where you know the hilt of your axe sits. 

You know you need to act soon, the idea of Eret living in the lap of luxury after everything that happened has your blood boiling. It's getting out of hand. It's getting distracting. 

"You're very observant," you note, tone fond as you come back to the moment. Wilbur surfaces from his memories too, his own smile turning all kinds of fond.

"Out of necessity," he points out, making his way over to you. There's something about his tone that is fond, is knowing, and it melts your heart a little, those hints of understanding that no-one else had bothered to afford you. The person who'd betrayed the only person to understand you had been crowned king; soon, your retribution would come soon. 

"What's bothering you?" Quiet enough that no-one else could hear, Wilbur reaches out, fingertips gentle on your cheek as he tips your face, has you look him in the eyes. You wonder what he sees when he looks in them, because for a brief second, for a flash, again you see the memory of silent horror as he'd watched you lose your first life. You swallow hard, and close your eyes, leaning into his touch for the briefest moment. 

"I keep thinking about what Eret did," your voice is barely more than a whisper, giving only the truth, no attempt made to obfuscate it, like you usually would. Wilbur was quiet. You didn't want to open your eyes, didn't want to witness his reaction, but he's quiet. 

You don’t tell him what you’re going to do, what you’re planning; there’s no need for him to worry unnecessarily. If you survive, you survive, and if you don’t, well you have another life to fall back on. If you wake up in bed with a new scar and one less life, that was your decision to make. No-one should worry on your behalf, but Eret needed to know that their actions would have consequences. 

So you choose a night where the moon is overshadowed by clouds, and take your axe with you. 

You’ve always been one to make an entrance, and even now you don’t disappoint, laying in wait for as long as it takes, hours spent dead silent and idle, simply waiting.

"You should be very careful if things don't go exactly to plan," finally your voice rings out through the throne room, and Eret, all dark hair and pale eyes, stops dead where they'd been passing through. Slowly, so slow its almost painful, they turn to look at you. You, draped in the throne like you own the place, axe leaning carefully against the arm of the seat. Your name escapes her mouth like a curse.

"It did go to plan," she hisses, tone guarded. 

"If it had gone to plan, I wouldn't be here," you say, shifting a little, sitting a little lower, "if your timing had been better," you paused with a shark-like smile, "I may have been the only person in L'manburg to have no issue with your betrayal," and finally you look at him, watching his face as he tries to piece together what you mean, why you're here, "on paper I admire you." You tell them callously. Their lip curls in derision.

"Dream said you'd see my side," they say carefully.

"Dream says a lot of things to a lot of people," for a moment, your expression darkens, "I'm sure he told you to kill me first."

"To avoid…" she trails off, frown deepening. Your smile returns, wide and dangerous.

"You broke something of mine, Eret," you tell him seriously, a mad glint in your eyes, "and part of your plan worked like a charm; I won't go after anyone else because I've got plausible deniability, I didn't see who killed who in that skirmish." 

"Then why the fuck are you here?"

"Because you killed me, and Wilbur watched; it's all he could do. It was a cruel thing that you did, making someone feel helpless like that."

"You're not here because I killed you?"

"Why would I be? I'm a court jester," you huffed a little laugh, smile turning cruel, "but you used me to make Wilbur sad, and someone's got to take the blame for upsetting the thing I like."

"If that's true, why spend all this time talking? Why not just kill me?"

"Because I like to make sure you get my message; Dream's heard my message, he tried to tell you," this is where you stand, finally, rising, gaze shallow, picking up your axe as you go. Slowly, you descend the steps of the throne, and Eret draws his sword. There's uncertainty in his eyes; he's close to where you want him.

"You're stalling."

"The more I talk, the more you try and remember what people have said about me, don't you? But they don't talk about how I fight, it's never been the most impressive thing about me," you give a low, guttural laugh, axe low in your tight grip, "I'm most dangerous when I'm unarmed and unarmoured, right? That's what they say, right? What do you think that means, really think about it?" 

Eret swallows hard.

"It means that you're all talk," he's trying to put up a confident front, but you watch him tighten his grip on his sword. You raise your axe.

"Not quite." 

There's nothing elegant about the way you attack, movement uncharacteristically blunt with speed that surprised the King before you. Teeth bared, you slash and duck and weave, playing dirty, tripping them up. You take hits and lash out, snarling and spitting with anger until there's no mirth, only malice, and you bring your boot down on their hand, knee pressed to their throat. There's fear behind their glasses. There's a cut above your brow, blood trickling down your face, slashes along your arms, certainly a few on your chest, but Eret's on her back on the cold floor of the throne room.

"You have no fucking idea of what I'm fully capable of," you snarl, leaning in close to their face, applying pressure until they drop their sword, hissing in pain, "this is your only warning; if you hurt- if you fucking touch my things again, I'll make it stick-" and leaning back, you use your axe to separate their head from their shoulders, taking their first life. 

And you're alone, breath coming out shakily, gasping as the adrenaline courses through you. Somewhere in the castle, Eret is waking up with your words echoing in their head. You should leave. Standing slowly, you cast a derisive look to the blood stain on the floor, the only proof of the altercation. Someone else's problem. 

You leave through the front doors, still carrying your bloodstained axe. Really, he should have better security. 

At the doors to the castle, you pause, casting a derisive look over your shoulder; this all could have been avoided. You pull out your communicator, flicking through your contacts.

[keep your things on a shorter leash] you send to Dream. He should have chosen more carefully, or been more insistent. But that was his problem; if he kept up like this, you may have to start questioning your friendship with him. 

But there's something cathartic that comes as the adrenaline is depleting. It's said that revenge doesn't provide the cathartic relief that one hopes for, but you weren't looking for revenge as much as you were looking to send a message. And you're fairly certain that message was thoroughly received. Eret had been afraid, deeply and truly afraid; you'd seen it in her eyes. It made up for the fear you had seen in Wilbur's. 

You breathe a deep sigh, letting your shoulders relax for a moment; you head home.

There's static in your ears as you travel back to L'manburg, and you don't quite register that you're back on your nation's soil until you hear shouts. Tommy, Tubbo; the children, they spot you covered in blood that's both yours and not, and they're full of concern. You smile. The wound on your head starts to ache a little, the adrenaline wearing off fully.

"Don't worry about me -" you try, unable to keep the fondness from your voice.

"Wilbur!" Tommy hollers, because he knows. Everyone knows. You've staked your claim enough that even your allies know where to turn when you're acting out of character. It has you laughing, quietly at first - Dream had tried to warn Eret, how stupid must they be to ignore that, to not follow his instructions to the letter? - but your laughter only gets louder as Tubbo takes off, also calling for Wilbur ad Tommy, genuinely concerned, asks what the fuck happened to you.

"I'm a jester," you laugh, eyes a little wild as you look to the child, "I'm just a fucking jester! A messenger! Can't kill the messenger," there's something wild, something feral about you, covered in blood with a grin that's all teeth, bloody and bruised and covering a bloodstained axe. Tommy takes a step back, wary and quiet. His eyes are wide as he looks to your axe. 

"I thought you used a bow," he says quietly. Your smile grows wider.

"I'm a bad shot with a bow," you tell him seriously. He blinks slowly, processes your words.

"You shot me," there's apprehension in his voice. He's getting it. Perhaps you should take more caution here; you don't want to break the illusion of you he sees.

"I didn't know you then," is what you say, and see the confusion and vague horror as he tries to figure out what you mean by that. But he's interrupted.

"What did you do?" Wilbur doesn't see the humour in your appearance, he seems like he's barely containing rage. When all you do is grin, giving a slight shrug, he turns to Tommy, tells him he'll take care of you, that the boy should join Tubbo. Tommy looks between the two of you; he tells Wilbur to be careful. You laugh again, bright and loud, and Tommy and Wilbur both frown at you, but at least Tommy follows Wilbur's directions.

With the kid gone, Wilbur turns on his heel, making a beeline for where he knows you've hidden your living area, and you follow him without question.

In your house, his voice turns softly malevolent;

"Who did this to you?" Oh. Your heart catches in your throat, and the surprise must read on your face; despite his furious expression he's gentle when he takes hold of your wrist, leading you to your basin.

"You don't need to worry about me," you tell him softly, though you obligingly sit on the edge of the basin. You lean your axe up behind you.

"You're covered in blood," he points out, gaze flicking for a moment to meet yours as the water runs, filling the basin up. 

"Only some of its mine," you try, endeared by the care he was showing, "I just had to deliver a message, that's all."

"You look like you had to go through hell for it," he muses.

"You don't need to worry about me, Wilbur," and you reach out to take his hand where he's dousing a washcloth in the water. He goes still. 

"What message?" He asks, finally conceding, tone finally soft. He flips your hand, carefully wiping the blood from it. 

"People need to be more careful who they use me against," you say idly, and Wilbur is quiet as he works diligently away, cleaning the blood from your hands, from your arms when you offer them. 

"I kept seeing the moment you saw me die," you tell him softly, voice barely more than a whisper as he's rinsing the blood from the cloth. He gives pause; you continue, "I expect betrayal, but I can't imagine how it must feel to have to watch that and be unable to do anything; I suppose that's why Dream told them to kill me first. If their timing wasn't perfect, I'd see one of you slaughtered - I could have seen you slaughtered," you muse, looking down at your hands, at the blood beneath your nails. Carefully, Wilbur finally lifts your chin so he can gently dab at the wound on your forehead, looking as though he was holding back a fond smile. "But I think what happened was worse; I never want to be the source of your unhappiness, on purpose or not," then finally, you look to his eyes, to how he's focusing, and your heart beats hard against your ribs, "I don't want you to worry about me." It's barely more than a whisper, far more honest than the candid way you'd said as much earlier. 

"What did you do?" It's fond now, much lighter than the situation at hand called for, and for a moment he meets your gaze, smiling ever so slightly, your face still in his hands.

His eyes are so dark, you never want him to stop looking at you like this; these feelings are already becoming dangerous, on the verge of swallowing you whole. You need him closer. It had been a blood sacrifice to atone for that look in his eyes.

You will never have the words to tell him all you’re willing to do for him. 

"The king is dead," you tell him, "long live the king." 

----

"Surprised you weren't optioned as their VP," Quackity's smile was all teeth as he slid into the booth, across from you. 

"Surprised you were," you fired back, glad for his company; the two of you don't talk like you once did, but you'd always held a fondness for him.

"POG2020 here to drown their sorrows at losing?" He asked, tone edging on something almost mean, but stopping just short.

"Those of them that can drink," you'd grinned, gaze turning to the bar where Wilbur was glaring into a half drunk pint, "he promised me a drink half an hour ago," but you're tone was fond. Quackity makes a noise of sudden understanding.

"That's why you weren't his VP," he says, sitting a little lower in his seat, expression smug, but eyes alight like a tiger with his interest piqued. You make a noise like you have no idea what he's talking about, "poor form, really, looks bad if he's sleeping with his VP."

"You dirty fuckin pervert," but your grin gets wider as your tone gets flustered, "we're not fucking!"

"But you want to," his grin gets wider, "late nights at the office, just the two of you, all alone, its stressful, it's a tough job you know-" his tone is low, teasing in a way that means you can't meet his eyes, but his tone shifts as he seems to hear what he's saying, "hey do you wanna come work with me?" It's mostly a joke, smile turning to something genuine with the way it crinkles by his eyes, and the tension from mere moments ago disappears, and you lean forward, resting your chin on your hand with a sly smile.

"Depends on the benefits," you match his earlier tone, teasing and low, and he mirrors your positioning, face now close to yours, close to the middle of the table.

"I'm sure I could talk Schlatt into something reasonable for the other benefits," he's still smiling, still mostly joking, as were you, though you couldn't deny the thought of being Quackity's assistant and part of the Jschlatt Administration was deeply amusing given your recent history.

"You really in the market for an assistant?" Your tone was brighter, far less joking, and for an instant, Quackity flushed an amusing shade of pink.

"I could be- this was meant to be a bit-" 

"You here to rub my nose in it, Quackity?" Wilbur's voice, when it joined the pair of you, was accusatory, and though you don't move from your surprisingly intimate moment, Quackity's eyes slide to the side, to watch Wilbur side effortlessly into the seat beside you. 

"Former President Soot," Quackity grinned, but instead of watching Wilbur's reaction, he looked back at you, raising a single, almost challenging eyebrow. Wilbur, at the very least, ignores the comment.

"You conspiring against me?" He asks, mostly directed at you, and while Quackity tries to snort and play it off, you can feel Wilbur's hand slide down the length of your back coming to rest at your hip, arm now around you, and you lean out of your moment with Quackity and into his touch.

Something in Quackity’s gaze turns cold, like he’s awash with memories long past, like he’s quietly mad at himself for losing himself in the moment with you, for forgetting any part of what you’d put him through. 

"Not in a technical sense, but I also hadn't agreed to anything," you tell him, finally looking at him. As you settle into the space beside him, his arm moves to wrap around your shoulders, fingers resting gently on your upper arm; it's a clearly possessive gesture. Something in your heart bursts with warmth.

Looking to him, you see he's looking back at you, expression burning, question in his eyes; was I interrupting? Your grin turns sharper. If he had been interrupting, you're more than capable of telling him to fuck off, but just having him around reminds you that this is better than any alternative. 

"Oh," Quackity's voice was alight with realisation, breaking the moment, and you turn to him as Wilbur leans into you a little more, "you would have made the worst VP," he practically crows, tone more mocking than it was light, "you wouldn't have made it a week."

"Don't be a prick," Wilbur scowled, "if they'd wanted the job they of course would have been more than welcome to it -"

"Good old fashioned nepotism," Quackity, sounding especially smug, did little to brighten Wilbur's mood, who was set to mumble something else snide before Quackity's eyes fixed on you, "wait, you didn't want to be VP? I was actually right, wasn't I? You knew exactly what would happen, yet somehow he doesn't?! Have you even seen yourselves? How does he not - Ow!" You kick him in the shins under the table. Hard. 

"What the fuck are you on about?" Wilbur asks, as Quackity brings his leg up to rub at his sore shin. He's still fucking grinning. Asshole.

"Keep your dirty little mouth closed, Q," you warned. 

"Don't worry, I know its not my dirty little mouth you're interested in- fucking ow, Y/N!"

"Good," Wilbur's voice in your ear is warm and pleased and he's leaning on you now, solid and tipsy with his forehead against the side of your head, "he's being a dick, you have terrible friends you know."

"You'd be the worst," you murmur back, voice syrupy and full of affection as Wilbur actually giggles, not even bothering to try and contradict you. Quackity, across from you and still rubbing his shins, mimes gagging. 

"Go be Vice President, Quackity," Wilbur sneers.

"Don't be a salty bitch, Mister Former President," Quackity's lip curls. 

"Kick him in the shins again, my love," the nickname alone, Wilbur in your ear, it has your heart in a vice-like grip, and Quackity must see it in your eyes how eager you are to follow through because he draws his knees up to his chest with gusto, flipping you both off. You laugh.

"Love you, Q," you tell him with sincerity, out of habit. When he tells you to shut up, there’s nothing joking in his tone in that moment, gaze avoiding yours as he’s shimmying from the booth.

"You're so generous with your words," Wilbur's voice is a gentle sigh, something wanting, something almost forlorn. For a moment your breath catches in your throat, but before you can respond, before you can even think of a response, he's already talking again, "what was he on about anyways? Talking shit about you like he has any right to, you would have made a great VP, I asked, you know I asked -" he sits up, as if worried that you think he thinks less of you, but his arm is still around you.

"Will your the only one who wanted me to be VP," which isn't a lie, but in your trademark fashion, it also wasn't the whole truth. 

"They don't trust you with a nation," he sounded so bitter, and for a moment your heart stutters in your chest. 

"They shouldn't," you tell him softly. 

"Do you like Quackity more than me?"

"I think I probably like him more than you like him, yes."

"That wasn't what I was asking and you knew that," then his voice drops, something in his eyes as serious as you've ever seen, "do you like Dream more than me?"

"Wilbur…"

"I know- I know you're close, I know, I just… I need to know, you know?"

"Will…" and as you say his name, voice a hesitant murmur, he cups your face.

"You don't have to- to be worried if you do, I just need to know, for me, it's selfish but I need to know for me; I'd understand, of course of course I'd understand, you two have history-" and his gaze is boring into you, eyes wide and dark and you can't find the words for how much you want him to hold you close, hold you tight and never let go. 

You hesitate. You drop his gaze.

"You do," he sounds heartbroken, his grip on you grows slack.

"I have never lied to you, Wilbur," your tone is nervous and hesitant, "but I'm afraid of answering, I'm afraid of what it means."

"You'd… you'd betray me for him?" Drunk and emotional, he sits back, but your hands are shaking. 

"Wilbur, I'm afraid of answering because… you're wrong. It's you. Over Big Q, over Dream, over everyone… Wilbur I-" your voice caught in your throat, words too honest by half, so you swallow them, choose safer ones, "will choose you," you let out a shaky sigh, "you have my loyalty." 

His eyes were wide as saucers, shiny and overwhelmed and emotional and then he's holding you so tight it's like a vice, face pressed into the crook of your neck.

"You've always had my vote," you tell him faintly, and he holds you tighter still. 

"You," he whispers incredulously, not even your name, just, "its you." And your mind hears them said like a mirror, like he himself can't quite believe your honestly. 

----

“They’re exiling you,” you hear Quackity before you see him; they’ve got you locked away, and probably for good reason, but also probably at his insistence.

“It’s better than the death penalty,” you say, huffing a laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be like this,” his tone is gentle but reserved, and when you finally look up from your hands, elbows braced on your knees, you see him leaning on the bars of your cage. It’s too dark to read his expression, but you can tell from his voice, “just play nice with Schlatt and you can stay a citizen.”

“Play nice?” You asked with the faintest of smirks, “what does that entail exactly?”

This is where he grows quiet, crouching down and looking at the floor, mouth in a thin line.

“You’re good at playing nice, it shouldn’t be hard,” you can’t mistake the bitterness in his voice, and you give pause, “just say it was an act, your loyalty to that dictator, Wilbur.”

“Lie, so I can swap out one perceived dictator for another?” You asked softly.

“Helping run a campaign for the former president only to admit that you don’t actually give a shit, and stay loyal to the man who won by forming a coalition with the two losing parties, that sounds exactly like something you’d do,” he pointed out, and there’s something in his voice you can’t identify, something akin to faint desperation, though you can’t quite understand why. But still, something catches in your throat. 

“Isn’t it funnier to stay loyal to the former president who lost after the two losing parties formed a secret coalition? To the point of exile?”

“Can’t you just play nice? Can’t you just lie?”

“You wanna keep me around that bad?” You asked, faintly teasing edge to your words, but as soon as he stands, as soon as he speaks, you can hear him growing defensive.

“I’m the Vice President trying to offer an olive branch to a potentially skilled ally,” he sniped, “don’t get it twisted.”

“I’m not going to lie to try and play nice with the dictator who stole the nation from the person I’m loyal to,” you tell him, blunt. Quackity is quiet for a very long moment. 

“Dream ‘ll be heartbroken,” his voice is suddenly strangely rough, “someone’s knocked him out as top fuckin’ dog in your little, black heart -”

“Q,” it’s finally clicked, and you don’t know what else to say. 

----

“I want you to know what I’m capable of,” you say softly, looking up at the stars. Then, slowly, you look at Wilbur, who’s regarding you with interest, “everyone ends up afraid of me,” you tell him, “and it might be self sabotage, but I want you to fear me too. I’m not used to love, I’m not used to understanding.” 

“More honest than usual tonight,” he muses with a gentle smile.

“If I’m not feared I feel like I’m being underestimated.”

“It sounds like self sabotage.”

“I feel violent today,” then, looking up at the stars you take a deep breath, “I love you. I don’t think I’ve said that before; I love you, Wilbur.”

“You love me and you want me to fear you,” he says slowly. His gaze follows the tense set of your shoulders, “not used to loving someone?” You shake your head. 

“I want to cut off your head, just so you know I could,” you tell him, hands behind your back, gaze skyward, “I think I want to fuck you, but I’m not sure, I’m really not used to loving someone, not genuinely. I don’t think I know how to love you in a way that makes sense.” 

Finally, you turn to him, expression neutral, while inside you were alight with nerves. He’s watching you, dark eyes thoughtful. You swallow hard.

“I’m trying to push you away,” you tell him without hesitation, “because I’ve given you too much power over me, and I-” you voice catches, your façade cracking, and finally you drop your gaze, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m like this.”

Even your honesty was it’s own kind of dishonest mask, and there was nothing more fear inducing than genuinely letting it slip. Your image is a house of cards and you keep handing Wilbur fucking fans. 

“You know at some point I am just going to leave; I don’t want to, but if you keep pushing -” he pauses, as if expecting a rebuttal, but your mouth remains firmly closed, which causes him to frown, “- I’m going to end up leaving. Do you want me to go? I’m just going to ask, because you keep pushing, you keep doing this, I’d rather you were just honest with me.”

“I’m always honest with you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t want you to stay around me out of some sort of moral obligation,” you tell him.

“That’s not an answer.” 

“And I can’t answer because you can’t guarantee you won’t end up fucking fearing me like everyone else! I can’t answer because I am not going to be responsible for someone else’s feelings; if you stop caring about me I don’t want you to feel like you should still be around me, and just go on to resent me!”

Squeezing your eyes closed, face scrunched up, you force the words through your lips, “I would give you the fucking world, Wilbur, but I don’t expect- I don’t want to expect anything in return,” your jaw clenches for a moment, but you relax your face, eyes still closed, “obsession,” you sigh gently, “is safer if I am sure it is not reciprocated. Especially obsession like this...”

“Like this?”

“The things I obsess over... they’re just that; things. And I want to keep them safe, but I don’t... I don’t actually love them like I love you,” your lip curls, and you look at the ground, slowly sinking into a squat as you contemplate, “it’s fucking obscene,” you spit, as if disgusted at yourself. “Love makes me feel fucking filthy; it’s always funnier when I’m the object of desire.”

“You’re still trying to push me away!”

“And yet you’re still here, so who’s the real idiot!?” You snapped, lip curled in a sneer as you shot him a venomous look; the shock of it all was plain as day on his face, but you don’t let the faint guilt you feel show on your face as you look at your hands.

“I love you,” he says faintly, still sounding surprised, like he can’t quite realise what he’s saying, “and I’m just tired to trying to fight you on that, I don’t know how to prove that what I say to you is the truth; you don’t have a patent on honesty, and I just don’t know what to do to get you to believe me.” And then, coming back to himself, anger returning, “it’s not filthy to be in love!”

“It is when it’s obsession,” your answer comes out more like a growl.

“Y/N, my drug empire turned into a nation, I think more people should be obsessed with me,” he says with surprising levity. Something protective, something jealous flares up at that suggestion, but you keep your reaction to yourself, looking up at him as something close to hope flares bright in your chest. “You act like you’re the only one here, like you’re the only one allowed to worry about me, like you’re the only one willing to- to die. You killed the King for me, you have Dream’s respect, if I was going to be afraid of you it would have settled in by now,” then, “the only reason I haven’t killed Eret for what he did to you is because you got there first yourself. Do you believe me when I tell you that I love you?”

The question hangs in the air between you both; you think you can almost see it there, catching starlight. You look at your hands instead.

“I believe there’s something wrong with the type of people who fall in love with me,” you admit, barely louder than a whisper, “and part of me believes you’re better than that.” 

“Listen to yourself,” he gives an exasperated chuckle, “there’s something wrong with you.”

“I know that,” you say almost immediately. Silence lapses out between you, and finally Wilbur sighs, stepping in close and wrapping his arms around you.

“I think it might be why I love you.” 

There’s never been a more dangerous feeling in your chest than in this moment, in his arms. You want to tell him you’d kill for him, you’d die for him, but it’s more than that, more than you could explain or do justice with words alone, so you hug him back, and never want this moment to end.

“There’s something wrong with you, too.”

----

He is silent; cold and unmoving and your hands start to shake. 

"You did what you had to," your tone is flat, no distress, nothing, just flat. Phil is quiet. Neither of you move. You can hear your heart beat in your ears. "We should move his body."

"Yeah…" and then, softer, "actually, no, it won't be around for long… but we can set up a gravestone."

"What do you mean?"

"Bodies here don't stay, they move on-" and as Phil speaks, as you step towards the body on the ground, hand outstretched, it begins to fade to ash, to dust. Only his things were left behind. Your fingers curl into a fist and you lower your hand, "are you okay?" His voice has the barest shake, like he still can't believe what just happened.

"It was never meant to be," you tell him instead of answering truthfully, forcing yourself to smile as you finally look up to the father of your best friend, your- "are you okay, Phil? I'm sorry you had to do that, I'm sorry-"

"You're okay." He sounded deeply concerned by what he'd perceived to be your response. Looking out from the room to the crater, you see Withers flying overhead, and hear shouting and confusion.

"I should go," you say softly, "I'm the only one left who could take the fall for that," you muse, jaw tightening for a moment, though noone can see your expression. When you move past Phil, you pause, and tell him quietly, reassuringly, that he did what had to be done, and that you were sorry. 

"Was he just a means to an end for you, just another joke? You'd gotten better, you'd gotten kinder-" his voice finally betrayed his distress; his son was dead by his own hand and you'd just watched, "what happened?"

It takes you a long time to formulate your response, terrified of letting yourself be vulnerable; you'd been the villain too many times to not expect an opportunist to use your vulnerability against you. Phil may not be that opportunist, but you know better than anyone what dangers may lurk behind a kind face and sincere veneer.

"Whatever I may have felt is no longer relevant, to you, me, or anyone; he's gone, as is L'manburg."

"Did you even care about him?" Phil asks gently, "don't talk your way around me, please, Y/N." Your breath catches for a moment; he's giving you an imploring look, holding your wrist carefully; outside, someone, possibly Tommy, is hollering both yours and Wilbur's names with fury. 

"Care is a very weak word for how I may have felt," you tell him softly, holding his gaze. Your tone is flat, but you see it in his eyes when he catches your meaning, how you can't bring yourself to admit out loud that you loved Wilbur, "not that it matters now… not that anyone would believe you if you told them." You said, tone dismissive. Phil lets you go.

----

"Oh hello, Quackity!" You hear Ghostbur cheerfully greeting someone as he peers out the window, leaning far enough out on the sill, pushed up on his toes, that you're half worried he'll fall. You hear violently loud shushing outside your house and your blood runs cold. Why was he trying to sneak up on your house?

You’re intrigued by it all, and don’t try and put up a fight.

"I suppose the kangaroo court is now in session," you mused, peering up at the precarious contraption above you, "can you at least tell me why you're dropping an anvil on my head?"

"Because you're a threat to society," Quackity grumbles, though he can't bring himself to look at you.

"Because you drove my father to madness, helped him blow up half the land, then you killed him once he'd outlived his purpose," Fundy was unflinching as he levelled a glare at you.

“They didn’t kill me,” it’s Ghostbur’s voice that joins the foray, amid the shouting, while you’re hopping from one foot to the other, looking up at the anvil, the gentle reverb that accompanies his soft speech cuts through the din.

And suddenly the madness stops; all eyes on the Ghost.

“Don’t kill her over me, if that’s your reasoning;” he paused, nervous, “or just don’t kill them…” he trailed off.

“Don’t you get that they’ve already made up their mind?” Quackity’s rolling his eyes, standing by the lever that decides your fate, “if they wanted someone to release them, they could have convinced one of us by now-” and he looks to you, eyes dark and cold, and the moment you’d shared back at Wilbur’s grave surfaces in your mind ‘you’re getting better at hearing the truth’.

"Quackity-" you breathed, alight with intrigue at this development, unable to help yourself. There's an old, familiar flicker of misguided desire, for lack of a better word.

"Keep my fucking name out of your mouth," he muttered, only loud enough for you to hear, "and quit it with that tone." He can't look at you; you delicately wrap press your hands to the glass of your cage.

"Q, what tone, I don't-" but even you could hear the giddy notes that bleed through in your words.

"You're about to die; I'm about to kill you, but you're hear acting- talking like you did when you pretended to care about me-"

"I have cared about you from the moment I met you," you fired back defensively, "I have always cared about you, Quackity."

“God I really fuckin’ preferred it when you lied, then I didn’t have to try and figure out what the fuck you mean when you talk like that,” he snapped, before making his way from the podium, “I’m sick of them, someone else pull the lever.” He called out; he’s taking a stand, trying to block you out, keep your words out of his head. This was the Quackity you’d been so captivated by when you’d met him, the man who intrigued you, who you thought could challenge you, whose very nature excited you. Heart beating in your ears, you press your hands to the glass of the cage, looking out past him, to the others.

“I was not responsible for what happened to Wilbur,” you called, looking to Fundy, who you’re pleased to see looked conflicted, “what happened to L’Manberg wasn’t my fault- I fought with you. I fought with you all,” there’s the faintest notes of desperation in your voice. You had already made peace with your fate, now you were simply intrigued as to whose hands your blood would be on.

“Fine, Fundy if you’re conflicted because they didn’t kill your dad, you can stay out of it,” Quackity’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, but you can see the hard, tense line of his shoulders.

“It feels like our actual execution reasons... aren’t there anymore,” Tubbo points out, “and as a leader, I feel bad killing someone for being a nuisance, and not even a nuisance to me or anyone else.”

“This feels kinda personal,” Ranboo adds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, “which is fine, but they don’t seem like a threat to the country.”

“Did you fucking forget she became Wilbur Soot’s right hand?!” Quackity demanded from them, stepping forward again, “ she may not have been responsible for pressing the button, but she had ample opportunity to stop him; hell, she had ample opportunity to not be a dick. How can we even believe what she says?!”

“People do some fucked up things for love,” Ranboo gives a simple shrug.

“And Y/N doesn’t lie,” Tubbo pointed out, looking to you. In this moment, time freezes; his words buzz in the back of your mind as you look to Quackity, trying to decipher how he’s reacting when you can’t see his face. Because he can’t give it away, can’t bring himself to admit the power you once had over him, the sliver of power you still have, can’t make himself look weak, and it’s killing him.

They’ve only known you to be honest, and for that you’re glad... but Quackity knew you before.

Perhaps your begging, your desperation, had worked too well.

----

“You gonna give the people a show?” Your heart is beating in your throat as you find yourself waiting in your cell, hands restrained behind your back as Dream himself paces in irate silence outside your cell.

“I gave you the option to come back, to join me to not go down this road,” he’s seething, hands balling into white-knuckled fists and unballing again and again, “I don’t understand you, I don’t fucking understand you, Y/N,” and he stops, pulls off his mask to run his hand through his hair in irritation. Then he looks to you, and you’re looking back, expression thoughtful, or at least, you hopes it comes across as thoughtful, rather than betraying the way you’re heart is hammering against your ribs.

“It’s not your fault it’s more amusing to be on the side of revolution,” you told him, lips quirking into the faintest smile, “they called it L’manberg,” your smile widens, unable to help your own laugh, and his distress becomes more evident. Then, smile slowly fading, you meet Dream’s gaze, giving a slight frown.

“You didn’t have to do this,” you tell him seriously, “you could have picked anyone else to do this, you didn’t have to volunteer.”

“If I had picked anyone else,” he swallows hard, looking at the ground and taking a deep breath, “you would have talked your way out, and it would have made them look weak, but there would be a target still on your head and you’d be hunted.”

“And you?”

“You’ve never done that thing you do with me, talk circles, trying to get me on your side -”

“You’re already on my side,” you say gently, but his expression turns pained.

“They know - everyone knows I’m the only person on the side of Pogtopia you haven’t attempted to talk your way around, but I’m also the only person who could convince you to go into exile, to not fucking let yourself be killed, and have the others not hunt you furiously when they find out.”

“Dream the Great and Powerful,” you smile, tone fond and frankly adoring, he winces again.

“You’re a pain,” he mutters, mostly to himself, before he lowers himself into a squat, as if to centre himself, gaze lifting to you finally, “you can go; join Tommy in exile, you don’t have to… to… you don’t have to die, dude.”

“If I die, in their eyes I’ve atoned for my crimes,” you try to sit back, settling in a little against the wall, “you and Tommy will never see eye to eye, but like you said, that thing I do, the way I talk my way around people, that has affected more than just you,” you took a deep breath, “the only person I really respected apart from you died, Dream, the only person who truly vouched for me apart from you is dead, Dream.” Your smile grows tight, and suddenly you can’t look him in the eyes; respect, it was so much more than that. Your heart grows warm at his memory, the mere thought of his smile, before growing cold and sad as he demanded that Phil kill him. It must show on your face.

“Wilbur protected you,” Dream said, tone knowing, but you couldn’t help but bark a laugh at that.

“Wilbur was my limiter,” you corrected, and Dream’s eyebrows rose, momentarily broken from his distress, “I respected him, I… anyways, so if he asked me not to fuck with one of our allies, I wouldn’t - except to give you Tommy’s discs,” you clarified, and for the barest moment, Dream’s lips twitched into something almost resembling a smile.

“You’re kind of awful,” he says gently, “you’d fuck with your allies? Just change sides, don’t mess with the people who trust you and expect them to keep trusting you as such.”

“My ally was Wilbur, the rest of them were on his side,” you explained, “I’m on my own side before anyone else's,” you reminded, and he nodded seriously, looking to the floor, bouncing on his toes.

----

"I- I mean I'm not sorry," Quackity muses. You don't look up, but you hear him sit on the other side of Wilbur's Tombstone. 

"I don't know why you would be; you're not responsible for what happened to me."

“Oh,” Quackity frowns, giving pause, “no, I meant about him,” and he slaps the side of the tombstone with one hand.

“Not your fault either,” you shrugged.

"He did it to himself," which is right, but not in the way Quackity means it. He thinks Wilbur blew up. He doesn't know what was asked of Phil. You're quiet, and finally Quackity speaks; "did you actually love him or was it another one of your stunts?"

"Love is a strong word," you respond, tone devoid of inflection. He can't hear how badly you want to confirm, you want to holler how fucking wide the sky has gotten in Wilbur's absence. 

"Can you just teach me how to not fucking care? Because how is it so easy for you? How do you wake up and decide you're going to ruin lives and stand by while the world goes up in flames?" 

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“It’s just a side effect of who you are as a person,” he says derisively. 

"You find what you love and let it kill you," you tell him, voice quiet. 

"You find who you love and let them kill you," he says, knowingly, "you followed Eret into the control room because of Wilbur," he said knowingly, "and we all saw who gave you that mark on your neck," he laughs humourlessly. "But you can't even entertain the idea that I could hurt you, can you?" He asks.

"Find who you love and let them kill you."

"What then?" 

"Hope your love for them dies too; severing attachments takes great personal sacrifice." 

"You sound like Dream."

"I've known him the longest, you know?"

"He's your best friend, I remember," he tells you derisively, "so did your love die?"

"My attachment to him is situational at best." 

“But does it die?” He asked quietly, “you severed the attachment, but does the love die?” His tone is hollow, and you swallowed hard. 

“You’re getting better at hearing the truth.” You give a humourless laugh, and he responds with a non-committal hum

“I liked you better when you lied," he says quietly.

"I almost got you killed," you tell him flatly, and he huffs a faint laugh.

"Correction, I almost died for you."

"What's the difference?"

"Intention," you can hear his faint smile, "find what you love and let it kill you, after all." Then, quieter, "you should finish the job."

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Give me that kind of power over you," you tell him flatly. 

"You should finish what you started," he scoffs, the mood shifting more and more with each word, "you're the one who wanted me to die for you; if you're learning to be all honourable and noble and shit, you should learn to take accountability -" he huffed in frustration, "can I be perfectly fucking honest with you for a moment?"

"I'd appreciate it," you tell him. There's a few moments of silence that follow, and finally you shift, peering at him over your shoulder to where he's leaning against the headstone, legs kicked out in front of him. He looks at you, eyes dark and tired.

"I'm so tired of giving a shit about you."

You know there's something selfish in how you miss seeing his smile in this moment. But then again, did you miss his smile, or did you miss what it represented; his love and loyalty. 

----

"You're getting rained on," Ghostbur said quietly, looking at you with his wide, cloudy eyes as you held an umbrella open and aloft above him.

"I'll live," you said pointedly, and at Ghostbur's smile became faintly strained, but he accept the umbrella. You, however, didn't move, sitting beside him on the log that you'd found him on.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, shuffling a little closer, if only to try and shield you too with the little umbrella. Instead of looking to him, you look at the grey, drizzling clouds looming overhead.

"I saw it was clouding over," you told him, "and no-one I spoke to had seen you for a while..." you trailed off, shrugging, as if that was enough.

"You've always been a lovely friend, I remember that, I remember..." but his own voice trails off, dies in his throat; you look at him with interest, and after a beat he looks back at you, "I remember the good times, the happy times, and you, in the beginning you were a wonderful friend, but I don't... they say I blew up a nation, you know, and I don't remember that, but I don't remember a lot leading up to that either. It -" he hesitates before backtracking, choosing his words carefully, "did something bad happen between us?"

Your understanding of the word, of the time you spent with Wilbur, it was all shattering in your mind at once. His eyes were wide and full of concern when you look back at him, and he reaches out gently, wiping away a tear you hadn't realised had fallen; you hear the hiss of the water against his thumb and move out of his touch.

"Sorry," he says softly, genuine apology in his voice, "was it because of what I did to L'Manberg?" He asks gently. Around you, the rain was getting heavier.

"I thought we were happy," it came out barely louder than a whisper, and you quickly wiped your eyes, despite the rain now coming down hard enough to hide your tears, "I should have... I know I should have said something, but I thought we both just knew, you know? I should have..." and you turn, bottom lip trembling, "I'm sorry, Ghostbur, I know you're not him, you keep saying that, but I never got to tell Alive-You that I... you know," you swallowed hard, "that I love him. You? Him? I never actually got to tell him properly, in a way that makes sense. But I did. I do. And I thought... Fuck," the word comes out in a harsh breath, and you find yourself scowling and looking away, "probably for the best that I didn't say anything if he - you, I guess - weren't - wasn't? - happy."

"I know he cared about you, as much as I can remember, he never stopped caring," Ghostbur's voice is quiet, and finally, you look at him. His face is scrunched up with concentration, but there's small trails of steam -

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry," you're genuinely apologetic, and he looks shocked when you look up, as if he hadn't even noticed.

"Just because I don't remember doesn't mean... well a lot of things were not good memories towards the end, but that's because of everything going on up here," he was wiping at his eyes quickly to dispel the tears before he taps his temple with two fingers, "and if what you're saying is true, he wasn't unhappy because of you, he was just unhappy, and it... there are months missing for me, and that's no-one's fault."

Oh... well you supposed you could understand that, still, it was difficult to process this whole conversation and all it's implications.

"How is this the most amusing option, if you don't mind me asking?" He suddenly speaks up, and you look up with confusion.

"What do you mean?"

"You're upset, I don't think I've ever seen you upset -"

"Well it probably wouldn't be a good memory if you had," you reminded, to which he conceded.

"But I remember clear as day when we met, and you told me and Tommy that you simply did whatever amused you the most, this... this doesn't seem particularly amusing."

"I don't operate like that anymore," you told him frankly, staring at your hands.

"Oh," he muttered softly, before asking, voice tentatively, "why did you think to come find me?"

You take a moment to deliberate, to consider your own reasoning and motivations, still looking at your hands, fingers twisting and curling and locking into inconsistent shapes.

"You used to do this near the end," you said softly, "used to run off and sit near the button and think and think and think but never do anything," you paused, "and I never cared about the land like I cared about you, so I was all for blowing it all up, but it... I could see it was doing something to you. The election, everything that was happening, it did something to you; you were spiralling, and I knew if I didn't know where you were, you were by the button. Awful and fucking beautiful, and dude, I'm- I'm so sorry I didn't tell you but, Christ, I was so in love with you, Wilb-" looking sharply at him, your voice died in your throat, and you corrected yourself, "him. Not... you're different. Right. Ghostbur." He blinked at you, a little taken aback by the sudden passion of your outburst, of your explanation. You cleared your throat. "No-one else had the balls to acknowledge that the land no longer functioned by the ideals it was built for, and I loved your passion; I could listen to you talk down there for hours. Sometimes I did. It was like a prison and a safe space all at once, and I don't know if it made things better or worse, but when he couldn't stand to see what the world had become, we'd sit in that room with the button and talk."

Finally, you looked at him, seeing him and not the man he used to be.

"And today I couldn't find you, and I knew it was going to rain, and... I know rain hurts you. There's no button, but you don't spend time in town anymore, so I looked for Friend." You looked at the little, blue sheep who'd been happily munching on some grass during your conversation. Then a faint, cold pressure in your hands, and you look down to see Ghostbur pressing a vial of a thick, blue liquid into your hands.

"Have some blue," he said softly, "it'll make you feel better." And then, much softer, he thanks you for finding him, he takes your free hand and laces your fingers with his, "thank you for talking to me."

"Thank you for talking to me." You mumble, giving his hand a squeeze, feeling a touch guilty for unloading all of this on him. No-one else would listen, or if they would, they didn't care; people had gone from not trusting you because you refused to be completely loyal to any thing but yourself, now they hated you for staying loyal to what they deemed to be the wrong thing. Allies were few and far between, and Ghostbur may see himself as separate to Wilbur, but you weren't going to stop yourself from caring about him too.

----

"You're in here," Tommy's voice is quiet where he's thumbing through a notebook you half recognise. Making a noise of interest, you look a little closer at the notebook - What I Remember. Ghostbur's notes, you feel yourself growing tongue tied.

"I don't- you shouldn't be reading that."

"You suddenly decided to grow a conscience?"

"Shut up," your lip curled, "and I'm not in it."

"Who else would be the Favourite Jester?" He asked, turning the book around, but you covered your eyes. 

"Don't be a sook," he sneered.

"Does Ghostbur know you have it?" You asked, and he grew a little antsy at that, to which you simply growled at him to give it back. But still, you catch a glimpse of it;

“Its you.” - in the notebook, in Ghostbur's neat scrawl - you chose me when no-one else did.

----

"I think Tommy trusts me," you told Dream, frowning at your brewing stand. Dream, for his part, finds the humour in your statement where he's sitting at your table, leaning back, his feet on the table.

"Tommy, I've changed!" Your tone shifts to a mocking imitation of your earlier conversation with the boy, "death has changed me!" And you dropped the act with a snort, "getting a scar doesn't make me a different person," you rolled your eyes. Dream clears his throat.

"Sorry about that, again," he muttered.

"No hard feelings, dude, obviously," you grinned over your shoulder.

"So you- you're okay with my plan; the two of you fought side by side for your nation -"

"I'll be by your side until -"

"Until something better comes along," Dream nods in resignation.

----

“I’m sorr- Ghostbur I’m so sorry,” you sniffled, angrily rubbing at your eyes, frustrated that he had even seen you get so emotional, “I’m not- you shouldn’t have seen that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, crying’s normal,” he said, voice a gentle echo of the one you loved, “do you want to talk about it?”

“Not with you, Ghostbur,” though you’re shooting for light, it doesn’t land, and instead, he looks to the floor, apologising. You wipe the tears that refuse to stop spilling from your eyes.

“You still miss him so much it moves you to tears?”

“You caught me in a moment of weakness.”

“I didn’t think you were capable of those,” he says with a faint laugh, and you look at him, see his quietly fond smile, and for a moment you see the memory of Wilbur himself, and your expression crumples. Immediately as you bury your face in your hands, you feel him by your side, apologising, trying to lay a comforting hand on your arm. The touch is cold but familiar, and you reach out instinctively and grab his hand.

“Ghostbur, my life is a fucking joke and I’m not laughing anym-” he kisses you quick when he gets the chance, his mouth on yours so close to being familiar, but not quite. It knocks the wind from you, and for a moment you let yourself fall into it, grabbing his sweater and pulling him closer. 

“Does that help?” He asks a little breathless when you part, and you can’t look him in the eyes, only at your shaking hands balled up in his perfect, yellow sweater. 

“You’re not him,” your voice is a shaky whisper.

“I...” his words get caught in his throat, “I think right now I’m close enough. Does this,” and he holds your face with one hand like it’s porcelain, like he’s afraid you’re about to shatter, “does this help?”

“Why?” You can feel how weak you are in this moment, unable to let him go, knowing the truth of the whole situation. 

“I don’t like seeing you sad.”

“It’s not your job to make me happy, give me time and I’ll be alright,” but you don’t let him go, then, “tell me you don’t love me, please.”

“It seems dangerous to even entertain the idea; I’m not Wilbur,” he says gently, and finally you look at him, meeting his gaze, leaning into his touch. 

“Do you even want any of this?” Your voice is barely a whisper, “me, or anything like this moment?” Ghostbur visibly hesitated.

“I don’t want you to be sad,” he said with a surprising firmness, “I want to do whatever makes you happy,” then, his voice goes quiet, “even now, I forget sad things, people tell me sad things and the conversation ends, and I just... lose whatever they said,” he gives a faint smile, “but even in time that aren’t... aren’t the happiest, I haven’t forgotten you; something about being around you makes me happy, happy enough to remember you. All I want is for you to be happy too.”

“Did you lie to me?” Your voice is barely more than a whisper, and you can’t look him in the eyes, so you watch his lips twist into something thin and unhappy, before stumbling over his words, trying to deny, “did you lie about not remembering me? About not remembering... not remembering how close we were?”

“I thought...” his expression reads apology, his hands coming to cover yours where you can’t bring yourself to let him go, still holding him close by his sweater, “it would be easier for you to let go, to move on, if you didn’t know.” 

“But you don’t care about me like he did.”

“I care about you,” his eyes go wide and concerned, “but I’m not him. You understood him better than anyone and- and- and- he needed you- uh, your company,” he correct, faint blush rising on his cheeks at his own implicit wording, “more than anything else. You’re the one who stayed.” 

You swallowed hard, huffing a humourless laugh.

“And he’s the one who got away.”

“Y/N...”

“This feels...” you look to your hands still holding him close, then to his mouth, then his eyes, taking a shakey breath, “self destructive, for us both,” and his expression reads shock, reads apology, but in that instance you cave to your need for contact, leaning into him, to find what comfort you could in him. A shiver runs down your spine as you make a snap decision, “I know you’re not him, but I still love you,” you lie; he’s not the one you promised to always be honest with, but for now he’s as close as you’ve got, and you can’t let him go, “please don’t go.” 

----

It’s been a long time, relatively since you’d seen Q when you run into him. You’re not looking for him, you’re merely roaming on an overcast day, but he looks like he’s on a mission. He seems surprised to see you, right before his expression turns dark.

“Figures I’d run into you out here sooner or later,” his words genuinely confuse you, which he seems to pick up on, because at least for a moment, he seems confused himself, before clarifying, “Dream’s in prison.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t ‘oh’ me.” His audible irritation makes your own smile grow just a touch wider, “you know you should be there too.”

“Cruel, Q, they’ve already killed me for my crimes once,” you practically sing, amused smile stretched from ear to ear, “haven’t I suffered enough?” His smile was thin and mean.

“Not even close.”

“You make me miss being a bad person,” you say with a hint of self deprecation.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Quackity snorted, “you’re still terrible.”

“I like you standing up for yourself; self confidence is a good look on you.”

“You like anyone who actually challenges you,” he rolled his eyes, “which makes me feel fucking stupid for ever caring about you like I did. You don’t give a shit about simps, I get it now.”

“You’re better than that,” you tell him, which is a metaphorical slippery-slope, a half truth, since you only half-believe it, but your tone is low, is sincere, and he blinks quickly, surprised. 

“I- yeah, I know,” he scowls, but turns away. 

“Good, it’s good you know your worth,” you tell him seriously, “you have...” and you huff a faint laugh, tone awed and gentle, “so much potential, Q.” And for the barest moment, his expression softens. Carefully, he steps up to you.

“This is how it started last time,” his tone is low as you feel the feather-light way his fingertips ghost up your arm. He’s in your space, gaze locked with yours, searching for something in you that you can’t begin to guess at, right before he grabs your chin hard enough that it hurts, “you try and  build me up so you can tear me down - I’m not doing this again.” 

God damn it, you can feel your heart beat against your ribs at the sight of the fury in his eyes. 

“Q-” you try, soft and a little helpless. For a moment, both his grip and his gaze softens, and you know that look, that faint gentleness, from a time long passed, “I never spoke poorly of you, you just lost faith in me.” 

The look in his eyes before he storms off gives him away; he hates that in a twisted way, it’s still the truth.

----

“I’ve always appreciated your honesty,” Ghostbur muses; night is falling over the snowy biome you’d decided to call home, the house Dream had built for himself that sat abandoned since he was taken prisoner. Ghostbur is sitting on a bench, looking around, ankles crossed wearing a sunny smile.

“It’s the only thing I’m consistent about,” gave a wry smile, not looking up from where you were crouched in front of you brewing stand; everything started because of these brewing stands, just look how far you’ve come. You try not to dwell on that.

“Consistently inconsistent,” his tone was bright and fond, but then he hums, “you’re consistent in a lot of ways; you’re loyal -” he points out, but you’re so quick to respond it doesn’t even register at first. 

“Only because I love you,” then, silence, and you scrunch up your whole face with regret, “him, Wilbur,” you sigh deeply, “don’t get me wrong, Ghostbur, I care about you, probably too much by my standards, but...” and you trail off, a touch apologetic.

“Everyone keeps telling me that I did, or well, he did, all these terrible things; I just... I just want to know why.”

“Why what? Why he did what he did?”

“Why you still loved him when he did all those things,” Ghostbur clarified. You freeze.

“You want me to be honest?” Your voice is soft, and when you look over, you see he’s drawn his legs up to sit cross-legged on the counter, tearing apart a loaf of bread for something to do with his hands. 

“You’re always honest,” his tone is earnest, but he can’t look at you, before you can speak, however, he goes on, tone softer, “I remember bits and pieces, more and more as time goes on. More of you is always coming back; more of us, and I thought not remembering would be the most painful part about being around you, making you sad because I can’t remember what happened to make you feel so close to me before... before I died, but I think remembering’s worse,” he looked up, “because I’m not him. Like I’m borrowing someone else’s memories even though they’re mine, because I don’t think like he did; I don’t think I understood you the way he does. I don’t...”

“Everyone’s so quick to tell me what terrible things I’ve done - my son, Fundy, I spoke to him, he’s- he’s- he’s not happy with me, you know? Nor is Tommy, I mean most people just need me to know how awful I was, but you... you speak his name with love and honey on your lips and I don’t know how or why, you make all the terrible things sound like miracles and I don’t know why.” 

Slowly, you get to your feet, stretching a little, as your words begin to fall from you and you make your way over to Ghostbur, his pale form golden in the candlelight.

“I don’t know how to put it, but I don’t... I never feel quite real, not - for lack of a better word, given the nature of everyone here - human enough, and I look around and I see Tommy and Tubbo and George and Puffy and -” you rest your hands on his knees, gently, as you watch his hands tearing apart the loaf of bread, “and they’re all effortlessly people, they’re good, they’ve got dirt beneath their nails and a sparkle in their eyes, and I tried being good and noble and honest, and the only part I liked was being honest but being too honest somehow made me the villain; no-one understood. Dream came the closest, he felt like another amalgamation of interactions pretending to be human, but he knew his power and his place and his role, and he didn’t understand that I had no interest in playing the same part over and over again; consistently inconsistent, apart from my honesty and my loyalty. He liked my honesty and loyalty, so he did his best to accept the rest of me that came with it.”

Looking him in the eyes, finally, you could see it dawning on Ghostbur. Your fingers tapped a gentle, inconsistent rhythm on his knees. 

“But Wilbur... you - he - he... he...”

“He loved you,” Ghostbur’s voice was gentle, but after all this time, the confirmation from his returning memories, it was enough for your voice to catch in your throat. Then, he nodded again like it was a confirmation, “he loved you.”

“He loved me,” you said, voice barely more than a whisper, “not despite who I was, but because of it, loved all of me, at least, that’s what it felt like... I’d never felt that before, and I... I never wanted to let it go,” he’s putting the bread to the side, slowly sliding off of the counter and into your space, “he was staying true to himself, and they hated him for it, but I never could, and I never will.” You murmur, as he wraps his arms around you, holding you tightly in the dimly lit room. 

“It’s you,” you whispered against the fabric of his sweater, echoing your words from what feels like a lifetime ago, “above everyone else, I choose you. You have my loyalty.”

A moment of silence; he swallows hard, presses his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s you,” he whispers back, just as Wilbur had those months ago; at the time you though they were an incredulous echo of your own thoughts, but now you know it’s an admission, a return of affection, a declaration; you have my loyalty, he’d been trying to tell you. 

You can’t tell Ghostbur you love him, you can’t tell him you love him, you cannot tell him you love him, no matter how much you want to. He’s not Wilbur. He’s not the Wilbur you fell in love with. 

You tell him anyways. Whisper it like it’s a secret. 

“I love you. I’m sorry.”

His answer comes whispered with a kiss at your temple, a small token of comfort.

“I know.”

----

The world had fallen still in a way you had only felt before natural disasters. There was quiet. There was peace. Something was wrong. Your conversation with Dream played on repeat in your mind, over and over and over.

"You will owe me a life." You can't forget the gravitas with which he'd said it, eyes dark and eerie as he sat cross-legged on the floor of his prison; you will owe me a life.

The phrasing had caught you off guard, because what in the hell did that even mean? It could mean anything, hell he could claim your first child if he wanted to, but you'd been desperate enough to not question, to just accept.

"You really do love him, don't you?" He'd said softly as you'd sat opposite him, when he'd jokingly asked if you'd take his place in the prison in exchange for Wilbur back.

"Of course," had been your serious answer to both questions. Dream had laughed, equal parts fond and weary, his gaze drifting up to the impossibly high ceiling.

"Its a nice thought, though I doubt Sam would simply let you switch with me," he mused, adding, "you know Ghostbur won't be around anymore."

"But Wilbur will be alive," you insisted, and finally he looks at you.

"You trust me," its not a question.

"I've always trusted you," its not a lie. Dream blinks at you, surprised by your honesty. He should be, somehow everyone overlooks your defining trait being brutal honestly. Moments like this remind you why you need Wilbur back so desperately; he understood you in a way no-one else did, not even Dream.

"I killed you," he says, almost to himself, like he's just remembered that fact.

"I know," you nodded, "and I trusted you then, and I trust you now. Everything happens-"

"Don't say for a reason," Dream gritted his teeth with irritation at the phrase, but you gave a faint smile.

"No, I was just going to say that everything happens. We live, we die," you shrugged.

"Then why are you asking me to bring him back?"

"I didn't realise your book of necromancy was purely for decoration," there's a slight edge to your words, lip curling in knee-jerk defensiveness. Dream looked back at you suddenly, eyebrows rising at your tone.

"Is that why you trust me?" There's something betrayed in his voice, and he sits back, away from you, something dangerous in his eyes.

"That's..." you tried to find a way to talk your way out of the situation, but your inability to lie was more of a hindrance now than anything else, "so reductive," you settle on. But you're fidgeting.

"Then complicate it for me," he's practically ordering, and if he weren't the only way to bring back Wilbur, you wouldn't be complying so easily. Then, like a bolt of lighting it hits you; you look up, gaze unwaivering as you meet his.

"Kill me."

"What?"

"Kill me. Don't bring me back," you yourself are almost ordering, tone leaving little room for argument.

"What the fuck; why?" He hissed in confusion, and you knew, in that instance, that your point would be clear.

"Why not?" Something amused and sinister curled at the edge of your lips as you regained the upper hand in the conversation, "if you'd prefer, I could kill myself; walk straight into the lava until my lives run out," and with that, you carefully get to your feet as he frowns at you. Sauntering over to the flowing, molten walls, you stick your hands in your pockets, looking pensively at the liquid rock.

"Wouldn't it kill two birds with one stone? If I'm dead, maybe I'll find my way back to Will, and you won't have to revive him. That's what the kids call a win-win, right? I won't ask you for anything, but, you know, I won't owe you anything either."

When you look to him, you get to watch in real time as it dawns on him. The way his face contorts with bitter anger makes your own, imposing, gloating stance soften, even as he looks away, refusing to look at you.

"I don't..." you sighed deeply, "I don't trust you because I know you can revive me, I trust you because you're a pragmatist, Dream, and as long as I'm useful to you, well..." you trail off, coming back to him.

"I don't understand you," he said, finally, voice terse, "you've fucking commodified your existence and sold your allegiance to the highest bidder; how do you stand it? I get it, you think I'm controlling, fucking news flash, so was Wilbur, so was fucking Techno, so is everyone. We're a bunch of cruel, self-canalising, power-hungry assholes masquerading as heroes and villains trying to make ourselves feel better for the atrocities we commit."

"And what currency am I selling myself for?" You snort, despite his serious tone; when he looks at you, as if he can't believe you're laughing at his rant, you tip your head and regard him thoughtfully, "while I appreciate that that seemed to have been weighing on you for a while, I'd advise you to not project your shit onto me; have I ever cared about having power for myself?"

That's actually a good point, he seems to realise, and finally, his expression softens, and he gets to his feet.

"Do you care about anyone other than yourself?" Surprisingly, it's not judgemental, it's intrigued, like he has a sudden understand of you that makes everything else make sense. Your smile is so soft and unguarded as you gently cup his cheek with one hand, fondly rubbing your thumb across his cheek.

"You know, you might be my best friend," you told him instead of answering, "and I trust you." He takes a deep breath, expression going serious as you can almost see the cogs turning in his mind.

"Despite... fucking everything, and who you are as a person," he said with the faintest smile, "I actually trust you too," but he hesitates, the slightest crease forming above his brow, "but I don't think I can still say that if Wilbur comes back -"

"Dude -" you're surprised by Dream's honesty in turn, but you do respect it as he clarifies himself.

"He's the one you care about, the only one besides yourself, I know, I've seen it," he gives a faint smirk, "we're still friends, of course, there's no doubt about that, but if I asked you to kill someone that Wilbur would rather have alive, or if I asked you to, say, join me on an adventure with a low survival rate, if Wilbur asked, you'd choose him, wouldn't you? You'd do whatever it takes to make him happy."

"Dream... I -"

"Your loyalty is absolute, but selective; you put yourself first, then Wilbur, and maybe I'm overestimating my place in your life, but I think I may be below him, but above most others..."

"What are you saying? What do you want?" You asked carefully.

"I'll bring back Wilbur, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but I'll bring him back, but you'll owe me a life," and you can't even begin to properly process what he's saying, "not his," Dream clarifies, "I wouldn't do that to you, but in one way or another, you will owe me a life, and when I ask for it, however that may be, you need to uphold your end of the bargain, or I'll send him right back to where he is now."

I'll bring Wilbur back. I'll bring Wilbur back. I'll bring Wilbur back. That's the four words he'd said that you're fixating on, that're playing through your mind on repeat, and you practically crush Dream in a hug as you agree, breathlessly thanking him. He hugs you back, and you can feel his smile against your shoulder, laughing somewhat fondly at the notes of relief in your voice as you mutter that he's your favourite.

"For now," he snorts when you step back, and you give a sheepish smile, ducking your gaze.

"For now," you agree.

----

"Who let you- does Sam know you're in here?" Quackity's voice is dangerously quiet, a strange smile on his face, like having you here is a boon rather than a terrible mistake.

"Q, what the fuck?" You rubbed at your eyes, forcing the sleep from them. Dream is already scrambling as far as he can from the newcomer, anger and fear in his eyes. He tells Quackity to fuck off.

"What are you doing here? You planning an escape for my favourite little war criminal?" He paused, "have you moved on now that your favourite little war criminal is dead?" Everything about him seems sharp, seems cruel and threatening; something about it is thrilling, like a challenge, and you find yourself standing to your full height, refusing to drop his gaze.

“Big Q,” you take some small pride in the fact that your voice doesn’t shake, “you’re looking markedly more malicious today.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been coming here for a while, looking for one simple thing, and your buddy there really hasn’t exactly been helpful,” there’s a faintly manic gleam in his eye, but your blood is hissing and spitting in your veins, conflicted and delighted in equal measure -

“He was your friend you fucking asshole!” The words burst from you, disgusted as you wear a manic grin. 

“I was your friend, you fucking piece of shit!” He hollers back, “I was more than your fr-” but his mouth snaps shut, expression one of seething rage, “don’t fucking talk like you still trust him, like you care about him;” the curl of Quackity’s lip is cruel, the look in his eyes cold as he shifts his grip on his sword; a humourless laugh escapes him, “except, of course it’s you who still cares; first Dream, then Wilbur, the only people you actually care about are just like you,” and there’s so much derision in his voice that it almost stings, almost, if he wasn’t right. How can he not see the way his cruel tone delight you? How can he not see the irony in his words in this very moment; “now fuck off, you’re in my way.” He sneers.

“I’m not letting you hurt him,” you refused to move, and his eyes widened, disbelieving laugh escaping him.

“Look at that! Did the wizard finally give you a fucking heart?” 

“Look at that!” You mirror his tone, though your own is acidic, pushing, you’re pushing him now, the way you know best, “did you finally get over your pathetic feelings? You finally getting smart enough to see me as a real threat?” And you’re in his space, in his face, refusing to back down, waiting for the moment he snaps.

“I never cared about you, I cared about the fact that you paid me attention; note the difference,” he snarled; it’s a lie, you know it’s a lie, can remember the way he’d looked at you, how he’d almost died for you, and it’s fucking intoxicating.

“You’re so good at hearing the truth, but you’re fucking shit at obfuscating it,” you tell him with a cool confidence, “I hung the stars in your sky, Quackity,” his jaw clenched tightly at your change in tone, the look in your eye, “but tell me again about how it was all an act for you, say it in a way I’ll believe this time.” It’s designed to cut him, and you can see it in his eyes when it does. Fight back, damn it! 

“Maybe I’ll give Dream the day off, kill you instead,” he tries, but you can tell his heart’s not in it. 

“This isn’t fun for him like it is for you,” Dream pipes up, and Quackity shoots him a surprisingly confused look, while your look over your shoulder, faint disappointment in your eyes. Dream, however, exhausted and paranoid with Quackity in his cell, still has enough wherewithal to understand you better than almost anyone else.  

“I wish you would,” you don’t look away from Quackity. Your voice is cold in the wake of Dream’s revelation, and when he looks back at you, Quackity looks... uncertain. A dangerous state to be in considering his opposition.

“You’re down to your last life, don’t fucking test me,” Quackity warned, but his heart’s not in it like before. As you approach him, he raises his weapon, but your confidence strides never falter, “Sam wouldn’t give a shit if I killed you, no-one would.” 

“You would,” you tell him snidely, finding yourself growing sick of the sound of his half-baked cruelty. 

“Are you just here to let what you love kill you?” He gives a mean, humourless smile. 

“Bold to assume I love you, Q.”

“Well, seeing as the only bastard you ever knew how to love was so eager to off himself, I figured I might be all you have left to get back to him,” there’s faint triumph in his eyes when he can see his malicious words touched a nerve, but he wasn’t playing your game right, and you were tired of not having fun.

“It’s not my fucking fault you look for a home in everyone who’s halfway nice to you,” something in you snaps, and your tone is cold and unwaivering, “don’t blame me for your fragile sense of self; you were so ready to believe anything I told you, but when I did what people fucking do - when I let you down - you had to go and let it shatter you,” you sneered.

“You being a shitty person is my fault?” He scoffed, and you stepped up to him, emboldened. You barely even feel his sword at your throat.

“Before breaking your cheap, little heart, I hadn’t been honest a day in my life; everyone had told you as much, you chose to ignore them; did you think you could fix me?” You gave a harsh laugh, stepping forward, crowding him into taking a step back, expression irate, trying to keep up his strong front, “Actually, I guess, wow, you did; since you, I haven’t told a lie,” and you gave him a derisive look, “because fucking you up wasn’t a challenge, making you fall in love with me wasn’t a challenge, getting you to the point where you’d die for me? Not a fucking challenge, Quackity. You offered me your life and it fucking bored me.

Talking to me makes you want to be a worse person? Good luck with that; you will always be better than you fear, better than you fucking hope or wish you were, because you couldn’t fucking stomach killing me once, you couldn’t fucking stomach being a truly terrible person.

You want my blood on your hands? Your hands were mine, and I couldn’t have given less of a shit, so no, if I have any say, you’re not gonna hurt Dream, because you’re hurting him to get the thing that’s going to bring back the person I actually fucking fell in love with. I can’t believe I ever wasted my time on you when he was out there.

I’m tired of trying to be amicable with you when you’re still - fucking still - picking up the pieces and trying to figure out who the fuck you are; God, I fucking hope you kill me, I hope it brings you peace, I hope it brings you clarity, but you better make sure it counts, you better make sure it fucking sticks!” 

----

"You do things that hurt you because you don't know what else to do, even if you don't enjoy them," Ranboo's voice is flat, and your expression twists to something derisive, though you attempt to regain your composure.

"Incredibly presumptuous of you," you respond, still alive, if burned.

----

"How many more?" Ghostbur's touch was light on your forearm, tracing the shiny, healed scar of where you'd thrown your hands up to protect your face as Quackity had shoved you into the lava waterfall that surrounded Dream's cell. It hadn’t killed you; he hadn’t been able to go through with it, and the lava curtain parted as the bridge approached the cell at Sam’s command. But it had still left it’s mark.

"What?" You surfaced from your thoughts as his cool hand stilled against the memory of the burn.

"How many more until you see him again?" He asks, and he doesn't look sad often, but he can't look you in the eyes. Then, gently, his hand comes to rest on your shoulder, thumb brushing against the scar that stands out on your neck, a perfect circle, a perfect reminder of what you’d lost the second time you’d died.  

And you meet his gaze, can see the nerves hidden just behind his eyes - is this why you do this? Am I… not enough? What a dangerous thought, dangerous territories; how cruel you were to let him fall for you, even a little, even when both of you knew it was a terrible idea. 

Dream's voice was in your head - Ghostbur won't be around anymore - and you'd answered without flinching - but Wilbur will be alive. 

"One," your voice came out hoarse, "one life and I'll see him again." You can't look him in the eyes, even as he holds your face; he has no idea what to say to that. It's the truth, but not the one he realises. 

"You don't love me, right?" You asked, clearing your throat, moving carefully out of his reach.

"You shouldn't kill yourself for him," Ghostbur tells you with uncompromising sincerity instead of answering, "you're worth more than that."

"I need you to tell me that you don't have feelings for me, Ghostbur -"

"Seems like a very worrying thing to be asking given the circumstances," again he tries to deflect, but there's something close to guilt eating you up inside, and you stand, moving out of his space, Dream's voice in your head.

"Do you love me or not, Ghost of Wilbur Soot?" You demanded, and his expression turned hard, so unlike his usual self.

"I'm not him," he said carefully, but his gaze dropped; he couldn't look you in the eyes, "and I don't think it should matter either way, because you've made it abundantly clear that he's the one you want; I'm not going to say I don't and let you kill yourself."

"I promise I'm not going to fucking kill myself!"

Ghostbur went very quiet. 

“Any answer is dangerous, really, so it doesn’t matter either way,” he’s pulling his sleeves down to cover his hands, to fiddle with, trying to distract himself, “I love Friend,” his tone was aiming for something light-hearted, an attempt to change the topic, and it did it’s job well enough; your lips twisted into a grin.

“First a Salmon, then a Sheep, your tastes are -” but he looks at you, giving a strangely amused little smile.

“Questionable?” He finishes your sentence, and you find yourself less amused with the situation; he brings up a good point, including you all the same, though you’d been meaning to say bestial, but fuck, what does that make you? For a moment, you find yourself in crisis, wondering if you were technically in a polyamorous relationship with a ghost and an actual sheep. But you push it to the side -

“It’s selfish,” you hear his voice in your head, see him looking at you with wide, shiny eyes in the dim light of a pub, but you can’t help but repeat the words that had been said to you, “but I need to know for me -”

Ghostbur could say anything, and you see the realisation dawning on his face; he knows what you’re asking. He could be silent, he could brush you off, he could say anything else -

“It’s you,” just the way you’d said it to Wilbur, confirming what you feared; Ghostbur drops his gaze when he says those words to you, when he means to say I love you, how can you not see that?

Those two words hang in the air between you, like they always have. You should leave. You should go before you develop a conscience. But you can’t... there’s something familiar, something intoxicating about this moment, his loyalty; you’ve seen this before, you’ve craved this before. 

You step up to him, and as if on instinct, he rests his hands on your hips, leaning into your touch when you hold his cheek gently. 

“I love you,” your murmur, and his eyes fall closed, breathing deeply, “I love you.” It’s easy, it’s too easy, to fall back into this, to let him rest his forehead against yours, your arms around his neck, knowing in your heart that his loyalty, his love, was a means to an end; “I love you.”

He trusts your words, even now. 

“Please don’t go,” he whispers, pulling you close now, moving to press his lips to the crook of your neck. So you stay. Your time with him is limited, though only you know that, so you will enjoy it while you can.

----

"This was your plan," Tommy muttered, horrified, as the realisation dawned on him, "you're the one who pointed out that killing Dream in the prison didn't break any of the prison's rules," he whispered, before turning on you, eyes wide, Friend's leash still looped around his wrist, "you're the one who suggested using Ghostbur as a decoy, because no-one would suspect him."

"You set him up," Ranboo was horrified. One by one they were turning on you.

"You knew Ghostbur didn't- he didn't want to be revived!" Tubbo exclaimed, hurt and betrayed, "I thought - Y/N I thought you loved him, how could you -?!"

"Wilbur and Ghostbur are not the same person! How do you all keep forgetting that?!" You snarled in response, expression contorting to one of rage; that was enough to shock them into silence, taking a step back as they regarded you with a new kind of fear.

"We were happier with Wilbur gone, we liked Ghostbur and he liked us!" Tommy exclaimed, before his voice dropped to something soft and betrayed, hurt in his eyes, "Ghostbur didn't fucking deserve that; you're a terrible person," and your expression dropped to a smirk that didn't reach your eyes.

"I'm sorry about Ghostbur, I am, but the ends justifies the means; do you remember what I told you when L'Manburg was first forming? I told you I'm not on Dream's side, but I'm also not on yours," and you paused for a moment, before looking to the heavy remains of the button room, through which you knew Wilbur himself would finally be returning any moments now, "I'm on Wilbur's."

----

Then you see him, and oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck this is real and you owe Dream a life and Wilbur is alive. You're frozen in place. He's talking to Tommy, who sounds frankly horrified that Wilbur is back, but you're frozen. Heart beating in your throat, the sunrise that’s coming brings with it a warmth, though to you it feels closer to vindication. 

And there’s yelling and horror from the others who’ve accompanied you, but you can’t hear them, approaching slowly, with measured, even steps.

Then, his eyes meet yours and something in his expression softens. When he smiles at you, every terrible thing you did was worth it for this moment. Having the others there is too much. You don't want an audience, you don't want anyone there to judge you and your choices, the things you've done to get to this moment.

"This," Tommy turns on you, "this is what you bloody well wanted; now you're acting all shy? " His lip curled, and your expression turned flat and unamused.

“Don’t mistake respect for shyness,” you tell him bluntly, with a cool confidence that was unrecognisable to the blonde, who hadn’t known you well enough before he’d begun starting conflict to know the depths to which you could sink. But he was beginning to learn. 

“She’s part of the reason I’m here at all,” Wilbur reprehends him, while Tommy physically recoils at his tone, "Dream himself said as much." And then he's offering you his hand; nothing else matters.

"I can't be here," there's disgust in Tommy's voice, but its enough that the others leave, giving you and Wilbur peace. Finally.

"You're a sight for sore eyes," you tell him, taking his hand with a sharp smile, which he mirrors.

"Thirteen years I was stuck in that train station, and you're just as stunning as when I last saw you," he muses, and you reaches out to run your fingers gently through the unfamiliar white strands of his hair. His eyes study your face, your expression, drinking you in; you'd missed how dark his eyes could be, and when you look back at him, meet his gaze, you see a hunger there.

"Don't leave me," escapes you, but it comes out as a demand, insistent, “don’t ever fucking leave me again,” and you see him swallow hard, then slowly, he smiles.

"Never again," and he's kissing you desperately, mouth on yours with an intensity you relish. I missed you, I missed you, I missed you - you can taste it on his tongue, sticky sweet and somehow sharp and you dig your nails into him, maybe trying to keep him here, keep you both in this moment. When the kiss breaks and you're breathing hard, you don't let him go, though he doesn't either.

"You lied for me," he muttered, something akin to delight on his face, which shocked you enough that you stepped back, or at least tried to, though he held you tight, "no, not-" he tried to clarify, "I won't leave, I don't plan on it, but- I love you." Your heart is beating in your throat, still not quite sure what he means, "I've loved you for a long time," he added, and reaching out, he cupped your face in his hand, "I remember this," he murmured, "Ghostbur - you're scared I didn't love you because he couldn't remember, but I loved you so much, for so long, I just knew... knew what I was going to do. I knew I was going to leave you, I loved you but I was so doomed, so he couldn't remember."

When had your vision gone cloudy, when had tears started to sting your eyes.

"Don't cry, my love," Wilbur murmured, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours as your breath stuttered from your chest as he soothed the biggest fear that had been plaguing you for months.

"Were you worried that I didn't love you because of him?" He asked, like he enjoyed hearing you bare your soul. Of course he did. You remember kissing Ghostbur, his cold lips and soft apologies when you'd pulled away, and you wonder if Wilbur had those memories too.

"He's not you, no point trying to fret about your feelings based on his actions," you huff a watery laugh, finally letting go of him with one hand to wipe at your tears, “he didn’t understand me like you did, but he...” you swallowed hard, “I’m glad to have had him around in the interim.” Wilbur’s lips twist into an amused smile, and his gaze clouds over for the barest moment; you wonder if he can see your resolve cracking in Ghostbur’s memories, taking comfort in his when he’s the closest thing to Wilbur himself that you can find, the lies you’d told to keep him by your side in your moments of selfish desperation.

“I think he loved you, in his own way,” Wilbur said gently. However, as you made a vaguely guilty noise in the back of your throat, he continues thoughtfully, "though, you know, when Dream came to pick me up on that train, when Ghostbur took my place, Dream made sure we both knew, you know; she's the reason you're here, Ghostbur, he'd said, and said that makes you part of the reason that I'm coming back at all," he muses, strange quality to his voice that you couldn't quite place, though when your eyes were dry, you looked at him definitely, challengingly.

"He's not you," you reiterated, firmer this time, "I cared for him for what he was, but he's not the one I want; I love you." You said without hesitation, before you realise what you've said, and you go still, before taking his face in your hands, making sure he's looking you in the eyes, "I think I’ve loved you from the moment I met you, Wilbur; I love you, I fucking love you -" and he's endeared by your declaration as you wrap your arms around him and bury your face against the crook of his neck, whispering the words like you're hoping they'll find a place on his skin forever.

"I didn't tell you before and I'm never making that mistake again,” you admitted faintly; “it’s you.”

“Above all others, I choose you,” his smile is warm, and something bright lights up in your chest. Grinning, elated in this moment that you’d worked so hard to finally get to.

“You have my loyalty, my love.”

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[kenlvry]

omg i just read the “getting caught making out” and was wondering if you could do it with craig’s gang aswell🙈

craigs gang getting caught making out

an: HELLOO!! i am back from vegas, my brother wasted 300 on gambling and i have never been so motivated to kill someone, also i tried wine and.... yeah idk how to feel oh also i am not making jimmy bc like i said idk how to potray him im so sorry :( also like always 16-17

clyde

hes so mad at you rn, how could you!! while he was out in the field sweating his ass off you were on the bleachers talking so gently to a boy.

he looked over to you and the boy had his arm wrapped around you while you laughed at his joke. but thanks to you he played well, out of jealousy and anger. after the game that they won, cheers could be heard and only then did you realize you literally missed your boyfriend's game. so now here you two were beside the bleachers making out, after the game he sulked and you reassured him with a kiss but one thing lead to another and you two are making out.

your back pressed against the metals while his hand hold your head so you don't feel the metal, his other hand cupping your face holding you close, it was slow and wet, he kissed so well you loved it when you maked out with him or kissed him he was always so experienced.

since you two were on the side bleachers that was far away from everything nobody could really see, stan and craig was searching for him because coach wanted to take a team photo for him to display, searching everywhere and giving up sitting on one of the bleacers. "dude where the heck is he" stan groaned leaning backwards on his seat. then they heard small pants

they looked at each other in somewhat shocked "are they doing what i think their doing?" craig said and peeked thinking it was some perv doing nasty shit but it was his dear friend making out with his girlfriend "clyde?" stan called out and you two jumped staring at the other two, stan looked annoyed and sighed loudly "just say yr jealous stan" clyde winked tilting his head to stan "celebrations can wait, coach needs you" craig said and went down pulling him by his clothing basically dragging him "call me babe!" you laughed lightly knowing if you dont call he'd show up infront of your house

tolkien

you loved this moment right here, you and tolkien making out without a care in the world. it started with him asking you to come over, thinking he wanted to play games or something but when you arrived he wasn't there, checking every corner still no tolkien. then you checked the backyard and there he was in a suit standing while holding flowers and behind him a table for two people.

you laughed at the sudden surprise, him coming to you grabbed your hand and kissed it "mlady" you laughed again at the fancy name he gave you. walking to the table "if i knew we were having a dinner date I would've worn something more fancy" , he wanted to go somewhere more fancy but this town is far from fancy so he resorted to the next best thing. he pulled your chair and you sat while he slowly pushed it.

it was the cutest thing ever, you two had a nice time and before you know it you two were making out , it was so romantic his kisses were delicate. he held your waist gently and the other holding your back so you don't fall over from him leaning you downwards trying to be romantic, your hands held his face not breaking the contact. he holds you so dear and making out with him makes you feel like you two are a married couple growing old tgt

but before you could feed onto your delusions even more, you could hear a familiar voice calling out on tolkiens voice, it was his mom and dad. you both quickly broke the kiss and greeted them, tolkien said they weren't gonna come home until tmr but they stopped by to grab something and you thought you were going to be bribed 10 million dollars to break up with him but you saw them converse with smiles on their face.

leaving the house with a "invite her for dinner next time sweetie" you blushed a little "now where did we left off?" he said and pulled you for another kiss

tweek

boy oh boy does he look stressed rn, he is a cash register, waiter and the one making the coffee at the same time . every minute his twitching worsened, you laughed at how cute he was from the glass door, entering with a ding caused by the bell, tweek shouted "welcome to t-tweek bros!" from the counter while making coffee and when he saw who came he smiled so brightly

keeping professional and trying his best to not hug you tightly while crying about the shitty customers he just smiled while waiting for you to order. "just a water babe, dont wanna stress you out more" you smiled and he smiled back making the water and giving it to your table "how long til your shift ends?" you question while drinking your water "ngghh five minutes!" you hummed at the answer and he walked away

his shift finally ended so now here you two were making out in the break rooms, it was suppose to be him complaining abt the customers today but i guess he had other plans, it was sloppy, it seem as though he didnt even want to kiss you. you smiled at how rushed he was and pulled away, your current position is being pinned onto his locker while he cups your face, your hand on his shoulders pushing him. he looked slightly confused on why you pushed him but you flipped him over so he was pinned against the locker you being shorter grabbed his face and tip toeing to kiss him and he just hold your waist not knowing were else to place his hands

when it seemed like it was getting steady and he wasn't twitching as much the doors opened with a bitchy voice followed "tweek your shift ended right? lets pl- the fuck" tweek jumped at the sudden intrusion " argh! this isn't what it looks like! i mean it is! i mean!" you placed your hand on his shoulders and the rest of the boys walked in "damn tweek i didn't know you were kinky like that" kenny said making the others laugh "shut up!" tweek said as you all walked out, they continued to tease tweek abt this for a couple of days (by they i mean cartman and sometimes jimmy) until you forced them to stop, tweek always kiss at home now, specifically your house, hes too nervous someone will disturb you two.

craig

you dont know how it lead to this but uh here you two are in his kitchen making out... i know how though. you came over to hang out with him......maybe you shouldve come a little later bc rn red racer is on and he refuses to talk to you until after red racer is over. that show is sooooooooo boring to you, you can't say that though.

and damn how long is this show on?? its been 20 minutes now and you two are halfway through the episode. attempting to talk to him again he shushes you and says "wait until red racer is over" for the 100th time you sigh knowing you have to wait even though craig knew impatience is one of your strong personalities.

you decide to go to the kitchen to relieve your thrist, opening the fridge literally eyeing it for a drink and opening and closing it hoping a drink will appear. finally you see water right infront of your fucking eyes,you drink some then put it back, closing the fridge and when your about to turn around someone hugged you. the smell of the cologne was easy to identify, craigs dad.

jk its craig , he wouldn't let go even if you tried, "craig." you said sternly in defeat "sorry, red racer is over now what did you want to talk about?" laying his head in your shoulder, his breath on your neck. you sighed and just when you were about to run he flipped you over to the counter, he picked you up by your thighs and placed you on the counter his hand trapping you in "my parents aren't coming home for awhile" he winked "so?" you said in confusion and he just kissed you so yeah now you two are making out

his kisses was lovingly, and sensual... although he doesn't seem experienced he's good at kissing, you put your hand on his shoulders and his hands now on you waist one of them travelling further down to your thigh. as you two were enjoying the moment the door opened, quietly though. you two of course didn't hear it and kept making out and you hear something drop. you two looked over at the door to see almost every boy in the 4thgrade (the relevant ones ofc) butters has dropped his book and was in shock he ran home muttering smthn abt we can only kiss after marriage.

everyone just stood there staring at each other "so are you js gonna stand there?" craig broke the silence "do you want us to come to you then?" cartman said in a sarcastic tone which made craig flip him off "leave" and they left, wow. "isn't that too rude? poor them" you said pitifully looking back at the door. "forget them, your focus is me, where were we hm?" he said as his hands gently pulled you to look in his direction.

#clyde donovan #sp clyde #south park clyde #clyde donovan x reader #tolkien #sp tolkien #tolkien black #tolkien x reader #south park tweek tweak #sp tweek tweak #sp tweek #south park tweek #tweek tweak #craig tucker x reader #sp craig tucker #craig tucker #sp craig #south park x y/n #south park x you #south park #sp

[charlewiss-writes]

make damn sure / charles leclerc

masterlist

day 19: wonder (part of one-word november prompts!)

word count: 1.5k.

pairing: bff!charles x reader

summary: being the hopeless romantic that you are, you've been dreaming about your special other your whole life. you're talking to your best friend pierre about the dream guy. what if you already knew him?

author's note: not proofread, so for sure many errors lmao. hope its still understandable (? also, im sorry for the delay! will try to have day 20 ready soon but its one prompt i really like so i dont want it to be short :( ill see what i can do! thanks for sticking with me through almost 20 days already!!

since being childhood friends, charles, pierre and you were inseparable. going to school together, joining them on their karting days, them joining you in your school plays. you were always there for eachother, without doubt. so when things started to get complicated at your house and you decided to move, they were 100% in. and that's how you ended now, two years after living with them, in the couch while talking to the frenchman.

"don't you wonder sometimes?" you had started the conversation, voice dry after hours without saying a word. it went like that sometimes, all too busy with their stuff: sometimes, even though you lived with two other people, thanks to their jobs, it seemed like you lived on your own. pierre straightened himself a little on his seat and turned his body towards you, so he could look into your eyes as he said "about?".

immediately regretting your decision to bring this topic to the table, you tried to back off. "well of course you don't, you already have a girlfriend" jokingly, you said. that only seemed to interest the boy in front of you more, being one that didnt like to leave things unresolved. "what are you talking about?". after knowing you for so long, they already knew you were a hopeless romantic at heart, but still, it made you nervous to talk about it out loud, being aware that it could seem ridiculous to others. "promise you won't laugh about it".

"when did I laugh to you?" he said, tilting his eyebrowns like you were telling him something unbeliavable. but you two, having the brother-sister relationship that you had, knew that he was blantantly lying as he always made fun of you, as you made fun of him too. seeing your glare, he laughed before saying. "fine, I won't, i promise". still, you took a bit of time before actually telling him what had been on your mind all day. "I don't know, I started to think about how everyone has met their significant other but I can't seem to find them".

"what if you did already? you know plenty of people".

you fully laughed at him, with no means to offend the frenchman. it truly seemed hilarious to you that he would believe that. "I think I would have realised if a certain person with all the qualities that I look for passed in front of me, pierre. I'm not dumb".

"you sure?"

and if look could kill, you would've been charged for murder. "you're being awfully mean to me today, pierre".

"it's cause you're so blind sometimes, like you purposely don't want to see". he looked pissed off now, and the change between his playful tone and this much colder one threw you off. "see what?" you asked.

"the way he looks at you".

it was a common discusion betweet you two, ever since you realized that you didn't love both boys the same. and although yeah, you cheered for their wins and stood through their hard times the same, the smile that adorned your face was different when you were greeted at the other side by the grin of a certain monegasque, who you also lived with. but for you, he was completely off limits. and you were okay with that, with being alone on the sidelines cheering for him, not expecting anything else from him. "oh shut up. you know we're just friends".

"if telling yourself that lets you sleep at night, go ahead. but you have to know that its okay to fall in love. if it goes wrong, i'm sure we can figure it out: you won't lose us. but what if it goes right and you're wasting your time? won't you like to know?".

"know what?".

the voice of a certain someone startled you. it wasn't like you didn't know he was in the house, but after a few hours asleep you had forgotten about him at all, otherwise you wouldn't be talking about this topic in the middle of the house. "know why she likes to talk about deep topics when we should be asleep" he quickly managed to answer, and even though it wasn't a lie, it felt wrong to lie to charles like that. "but why don't you two continue with the chat, eh?, i'm sure charles as more answers than i,he's smarter after all". the monegasque laughed at that and punched his arm in his way out, while he entered the room and started to get comfortable in the same couch that you were sat in.

"i love talking about deep topics, why don't you ever talk to me about it?" he sounded genuinely hurt, like the fact that you preferred to talk about certain stuff with pierre over him really bothered the ferrari driver. "thought you were asleep, charles". and it wasn't a lie.

"don't you trust me?"

"don't be silly, cha. I didn't want to bother you, that's all"

"you could never bother me".

after a few moments in silence, where he directed his eyes towards the ceiling instead of looking at you, he said, softly this time, like he truly didn't want to wake pierre up with his tone. "pierre's right. we need to talk. i want your opinion about something". at that, you clearly became more interested in whatever charles had to say. it had been a while since you two really talked, since he was always away, and when he wasn't, you were the one with the busy schedule. "it's really really really complicated, but i think i like a girl, and i don't know how to talk to her about it".

ah, that's it. that's your worse nightmare coming true, once again.

obviously, being the pretty boy that charles was, always so well manered and the perfect boyfriend that a mother could ask for his child, it wasn't the first time that he had a partner. but as the time went on, you knew he was getting more serious about the whole dating thing, and it scared you to think about him settling in for someone lese. someone that wasn't you. so, after all the years that passed, it still hurt quite a bit to hear him talk about other people in the same way you wished to be talked about.

after a few minutes where you didn't say anything, too stunned to actually answer him, you started to get self concious. obviously, he for sure saw how your face dropped when he told you that. would he realize that you had feelings for him all this time? would he feel betrayed? after all, he thought that you were only his friend, and thats why he was telling you this in the first place.

"you don't get it, do you?"

you furrowed your browns, now confused at what he was implying with that last sentence. "what do i have to get?".

he laughed about it and took your hands into his, to gently brush your fingers over your palm. "i'm talking about you, silly".

"what do you mean? why?".

his deep greenish blue eyes looked straight at yours, and it was impossible to pull away from his gaze. he softly started to answer your question. at least the one you had told him about, since your brain was already a mess with all the questions you had for him. since when? how didn't you see it before? did pierre knew about this? was that why he always talked to you about it?

"cause i've been in love with you for my whole life, more or less. i was just too scared to ruin things between us, but pierre talked me into it. said our friendship is bigger than anything that life could throw at us. and im confident we can work things out, you know? we have known eachother for so long. i know you like the palm of my hand. and you know me the same. please, don't tell me you didn't think about it, at least once, y/n".

you smiled, knowing about the endless times you had fallen asleep to the thought of you two together. wondering exactly this, if you could ever work out. how, each time, pierre and you talked about what you were looking for, you were, knowing or not, describing the boy that was in front of you, looking lovingly into your eyes. "i think about it all the time, cha".

"and why didn't you say anything before?" he reached for your face, gently caressing it with his right hand. "cause we're both dumb, i guess. but i think it's for the better, no? we've grown so much. we know how to make this work"..

"i'm gonna make damn sure, love".

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #charlewiss writing challenge #one word november prompts #user charlewiss #f1 x y/n #f1 x yn #formula 1 imagine #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc blurb

[lynxrq]

—Radiant You—

➶➶ Fem!reader x Toji Fushiguro

➶➶ I love you so.

a/n: I don't know what this is but anyways.

Toji Fushiguro was a romantic, everything changed when his one and only love, the mother to his son, the reason he smiled everyday, vanished like nothing from his life. Leaving like a cold breeze, as the leaves started falling, as his life was slowly crumbling. Leaving behind her only son with her lover when she left.

Megumi needed motherly love, someone who will love him the way he does. For him he decides to marry once again. Unknowingly it was you that came into his life, his childhood friend, that he forgot but you didn't. Because he was the one you loved all along in your past.

'I loved this man, he was tall and muscular, I liked to run my hands through the soft hair of his. Even though it was when we were younger. I still remember how he cried, big gobbles of shiny tears started to pour from his eyes while he tried to keep up the stern look on his face, when he tripped over his leg and cut his lips, that didn't seem like it would fade when healed. I didn't bother helping him, for some reason I knew he wouldn't like that. And tripped myself intentionally when he turned my way to see me lying on my face on the ground as he laughed like he didn't trip in the first place. Getting myself up, we were both laughing at the end. I wonder if he remember this too? Maybe he doesn't.'

Even looking at him fills your heart with warmth you craved from him. Everything changed when he moved away but you were still hooked on him, wondering how this feeling would fade away soon, It did not. Maybe it was fate how it led both of you to this situation.

“You need to marry her, Toji” the rough, worn out voice from old age told him in an admitting manner while the old man looked up to meet his gaze

“Just because my wife died doesnt mean I have to marry again.” The muscular man said, trying to fight back for himself. He didn't want this.

“I'll manage by myself” he added.

“Megumi’s turning 2, you know? He needs a mother.” The old man said while looking down. Toji didn't have anything to say to that. He knew Megumi needed a mom, he needed to understand the love of the parents, unlike him. Megumi deserves it.

The geezer tapped Toji’s shoulder in an assuring way and left him there. The big house felt like it was the loneliest it ever was when the elderly man left. Lost in thoughts, silence all around him.

He made his decision, For Megumi.

As he was walking back to his room, his mind was occupied with so many things about how he will make all of this work. He couldn't see himself with another woman other than her. He couldn't do this to her. He came to a stop when his mind was screaming that this wasn't the right thing. But in a corner of his mind, the darkness that will wrap around his son, scared him. He would do anything for him. After all he is his blessing. His Megumi.

When he reached his room, he saw Megumi playing with his toys. He was also biting one of those small racing cars, quickly bending down to pick Megumi up, Toji took the car away from his small but strong grasp. Megumi looked at his father before his eyes filled with tears while holding himself back from crying.

Toji closed his eyes, his brows furrowing, his forehead bumping gently to his son’s while he held him closer to him as he whispered softly, “Im sorry, Gumi.”

“I'm here!!!!” Shoko barged inside your room, yelling, while you were halfway through the make up. The make-up artists gave her a look when she startled them including you.

She rubbed the back of her head as she bowed at them. She tiptoed to your side and started talking, “Aren't you excited??, It's finally your marriage!” she squealed like she was the one getting married.

“I thought you were going to die alone” she joked while she threw her head back and laughed. You couldn't help but chuckle looking at her.

The thought of being with your long lost love was like a dream come true for you. Like the true love that was meant to be, like in fairy tales and novels. It was a fuzzy feeling that bubbled up inside your chest.

You had heard about the death of Toji’s late wife. Which left you devastated, because you knew how much he loved her. The last time you saw him was with her. With the brightest smile plastered on his face. When he left to be with her, he was the happiest he ever was.

'He was always hard on himself. Trying to learn better, do better, be the first at everything by himself. I was only a friend to him, but now i don't know if i was even a friend. When she appeared in his life. She read him better than I could ever do. To him, she was a whole book written only for him, I was a mere chapter in his life. Which was left unread.'

You thought he was better off without you interfering in his life. After all, you couldn't even tell him about how you actually felt. You didn't want to take her place, it wasn't supposed to be like this. This didn't feel right, He loved her. Not you.

The smile that was visible on your face slowly faded when you remembered what it was like back then.

“You okay?” Shoko asked you, which snapped you back to reality. The smile coming back to your face as you nodded at her.

“Are you nervous? Of course you are! I would be if i were you!” She scoffed, and let herself lay down on the couch beside her. Shoko was that one friend you needed your whole life. Who lit up your world just with their presence.

The make-up was done and you were finally ready for the marriage, physically, but mentally you weren't so sure. She was right, the thought of facing Toji again makes you nervous and tipsy. It was only some days before your marriage that you understood that he had a 3 year old son named Megumi. You weren't surprised that he had a son but right now you were looking forward to seeing the little guy more than his father.

You were already so nervous and your heart was beating fast as you took each step forward. When the drapes opened, as the light spilled towards you, revealing the man you were expecting to see, the same dark eyes just like how you remember, looked up and stared at you. With the black suit that fit him well, the smooth black hair falling over his eyes, the same scar on his lips took you back to your childhood. As you looked down to see, the baby boy who was holding the finger of his father so tightly as he looked at you in wonder, his eyes widening.

He looked so much like him, you thought as you got closer and closer to him. To your new life and world.

You saw a woman taking Megumi away from Toji, he was calm, just like his father. Toji stretched his hand towards you and you took it, holding the dress up to step up on the platform.

As the ceremony went smoothly, you still couldn't shake the thought of how his lips freezed before he kissed you and the feeling of the ring on your finger felt too foreign and strange. You stood close to him, both of you standing still as both of your families did the talking.

Someone handed Megumi back to Toji. He picked him up, Megumi’s eyes were on you, asking who this woman was? You found yourself looking up at him, it was too hard to ignore him that you ended up smiling and waving at him. Megumi waved back quickly, that gesture made your heart flutter because of how cute he was. Toji quickly noticed you staring, raising an eyebrow when he looked at you. Not knowing what to do, you smiled falteringly.

He let Megumi down and Toji nodded at him when he looked up at his father like he needed to say something before he came up to you. You sat down on your knees, looking at him, you smiled. Maybe he was afraid, afterall you are a stranger to him.

Toji did the same and sat down beside you, “It's okay buddy, come here.” he assured his son, Megumi came up to his dad, when you stretched your palm up to him, he hesitated but he took it. When he did, your eyes widened and you shook his small hand, a faint smile appeared on Toji, as you mumbled some sweet things to Megumi but it disappeared just the way it appeared.

Everything happened fast you would say, Megumi was still afraid to get closer to you, he hid behind his dad, peeping at you through his legs, but when you noticed him, he would go back to hiding. He would grab onto the fabric of the cloth his dad is wearing and follow him wherever he goes and eventually Toji will pick him up.

After the long day of marriage, the day was ending. Handful of flowers and gifts on both of your hands, praises all around you while the two of you nodded and smiled.

He was the one who was riding the car, you assumed you were finally entering his life, as his wife. If you were your younger self at this moment, you would've passed away already but right now, you couldn't even understand what you were feeling.

You could see Megumi sitting inside the baby car seat, dozing off. He looked adorable while his eyes blinked slowly, almost falling asleep.

Toji took a turn and pulled over and exited the car, he looked around his pocket for the keys and opened the door of the house and came back to open the trunk of the car and carried some of the gifts inside the house as you got outside and closed the car’s door.

You wanted to help Toji with the stuff but you didn't want to leave Megumi alone, you picked him up gently as he was fast asleep to notice who picked him up. You held him closer to your chest and walked inside the house.

Toji eyed you as you came inside with his son clinging on to you. He quickly put the stuff down and appeared in front of you and said,

“I'll tuck him into bed” he hurriedly took his son from your hands and mumbled something under his breath that you couldn't make out but you nodded anyway. After the whole marriage, since the moment you met him again, this was the first time he talked to you after all these years.

As you were standing and looking around, Toji came back, walking up to you. He suddenly started talking now,

“This marriage was for Megumi. Only for him.” he admitted.

“I know that was sudden but, I hope you understand.” he said as he avoided eye contact with you. You nodded again, not knowing what to say. What were you expecting in the first place anyway?

Toji wanted a mother for Megumi, not a wife.

'Of course, he still loves her. I would’ve loved her too if i was him.'

He introduced you to the things that happen in the house and about Megumi, most of the conversation was awkward and broken.

Your first relationship, first marriage, you realised you were back to the person who you once were in your past. With the same person who caused you so much trouble and happiness.

#toji fushigro x reader #female reader #jjk angst #toji x you #jjk toji #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk fushiguro #fushiguro toji #light angst #second chance romance #ignore this

[00belle00lovely00]

Well, since poly ships are now an option, curious to see how you'd view DogDay x CatNap x CraftyCorn 🫢

(I don't personally ship those three together btw. Just curious 🧡💜🤍)

OH! OF COURSE! I've noticed as of late that this ship in particular is VERY popular.

And yes! Poly ships are very much welcome since I'm poly myself. And to be completely honest with you, the majority of the ships I mention don't specifically fall into my favourites, but boneless I still love these concepts you'll give me! Hey, even you could say it helps me improve my writing skills!

🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️

PLEASE... BY ALL MEANS.... THIS SHIP GOTTA BE CALLED FLOWER BOUQUET. IT'S LITERALLY THREE TYPES OF FLOWER SCENTS IN A SINGLE SHIP. Wait is vanilla a flower?- no?- yes?- no?- eh. Same thing

shy x extrovert x introvert

Wouldn't it be downright hilarious to picture Catnap and Dogday being Craftycorn's muses for paintings? IT'S A CUTE CONCEPT, YOU ALL KNOW IT.

Could we all just agree that she carries and costume-made diary everywhere she goes?

Both Dogday and Catnap in my head would've probably intimidated yet striked Craftycorn's interest in every way. Catnap, even though somewhat too quiet or too lazy to go on with the day, is a very calming type of person who rarely gets angry at others or anything for that matter. And as for Dogday he's legitimately a sunrise and smiles kind of active guy, which in a way Craftcorn found them both endearing. And BECAUSE of that, she would've had a crush on them both at the same time and battled with her own feelings the whole time in who she liked the most, or in some way, even hoped she didn't since her nerves would be the end of her.

Craftycorn would too take her feelings out in drawing, just like in anything for that matter, and what would be her biggest fear? Catnap and Dogday seeing the things she has drawn at the end of the sketchbook.... don't ask what it is. We all know what it is.

Their date? Literally a cosy sleepover.

Their favorite activity? STARGAZING!

Wanna know what's ironic? While Craftycorn would be all insecure and overthinking about the whole situation, Dogday and Catnap would be noticing these patterns of nervousness and literally girl failure, and start to equally agree that they find that strangely attractive. And amusing. But that's Catnap talking.

They both also think she's pretty as hell.

And yes. they talk about it all the time because ✨communication and consent is the best romantic gesture✨

Even though Craftycorn is a very shy and soft-spoken girl, she's SURPRISINGLY VERY capable of defending herself and others she really cares about. And I'm talking both verbally and physically. She'd be able to pull out a punch on whoever complains about ANYTHING related to Catnap, Dogday or even her. You go, girl!

Okay... actually, changed my mind. She would do it but feel INCREDIBLY guilty later.

They watch My Little Pony and Carebears together on a date. Change my mind.

Could you all imagine how GOOD it would smell the air of their houses was every time they hung out? Like- you're telling me the air would be jasmine scented on one corner, vanilla to the other, and then lavender in every cushion? MY GOD.

I wonder if they do PDA. Craftycorn and Catnap would be most likely to do it but very lowly (like holding hands or wrapping an arm with each other), while for Dogday he would WANT TO... buuut he doesn't want to cross boundaries. So he'd keep it to himself. And probably crying inside not to pounce on top of the two of them into a tight hug.

They love it when Catnap helps them to sleep, especially lullabies.

OH IMAGINE THIS. What if Craftycorn knew Spanish and called Catnap "Lunita" (little moon) and Dogday "solsito" (little sun). NO- IM-... IM NOT SAYING THIS BECAUSE I'M HISPANIC AND I ADORE HEADCANON CHARACTERS THAT RELATE TO MY COUNTRY- THAT IS NOT-

Okay, that or "my sunshine" and "my twilight". IT'S CUTE OKAY- I KNOW IT'S CORNY BUT WE GOTTA LOVE CORNINESS FROM SOMEONE WHO DOESN'T SHOW IT MUCH

(for context to the next headcanons):

Catnap in my own interpretation is a selective mute. All due to the 'red smoke incident' that occurred a few nights ago. He was so terrified of how not only his lavender gas was transported into that horrendous gas that made his friends laugh ever so hysterically and dementedly, but his body acted in a way that made no sense whatsoever. His movements were strange, creepy, and terrifying. So much so that it scared Catnap beyond thought. Even though all argued that it was just a 'collective nightmare' they had due to the circumstances of the storm. It didn't change anything Catnap went through. Everything he saw...

And at the end of the day, he decided to make a silent vow. Where he wouldn't let that smoke ever come out of his mouth again, even if it cost never to open his mouth. Never to speak again.

Why all that lore dump? WELL. IMAGINE. CATNAP KNOWING ASL/SIGN LANGUAGE. IT IS THE COOLEST THING EVER.

DogDay and Craftycorn after hearing about Catnap's vow, they were EXTREMELY worried about him. On some occasions, they tried to speak some sense into him about the mere thought of never talking again, but at the end of the day, they had to respect Catnap's decision. SO IN EXCHANGE, THEY WANTED TO LEARN ASL TOO! AND IT IS SUPER CUTE AND- KAINFIYLIAHDFCHASKDCFHNAKSJDCFHALNKUH-

Craftycorn also thought of teaching Catnap how to draw, with of course Dogday coming in to learn well. Since it was an alternative and temporary idea on communication while everyone else was catching up on Bubba's lessons on ASL.

OH NO... CRAFTYCORN- I JUST REALIZED SHE DOESN'T HAVE FINGERS- SHE HAS HOOVES! THEREFORE SHE CAN'T THEORETICALLY DO ASL. OML SHE'D BE ASHAMED ASF.😭

For some reason, singing doesn't accidentally make the scents of any of the Smiling Critters out of their mouths. So whenever Catnap can, he tries to open up from his comfort zone (with the encouragement of the others) to sing them to sleep with a nice lullaby.

🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️🌙🎨🧡💜🤍☀️

I swear to god my AO3 fans are out for blood now. They probably gonna be mad asf if they find out I'm wasting so much time on this than the fanfic chapter I'm writing.

EVEN MORE NOW DUDE- THEY GONNA FIND OUT I WANNA WRITE ANOTHER FANFIC 😭

THIS IS GONNA END UP LIKE WHEN I HAD MY WATTPAD ACCOUNT... PLEASE... MERCY ON ME YALL... MERCY

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #poppy playtime 3 #catnap #dogday #smiling critters #craftycorn #DogDay x CatNap x CraftyCorn #Craftycorn x CatNap x Dogday #Catnap x Dogday x CraftyCorn #Craftycorn x Dogday x Catnap #DogDay x Craftycorn x Catnap #Catnap x CraftyCorn x Dogday #craftycorn x dogday #dogday x craftycorn #Craftycorn x Catnap #catnap x craftycorn #dogday x catnap #catnap x dogday #STOP UNDERRATED SHIPS #the sillies #so sweet

[gh0stsp1d3r]

If you want you should definitely make a part 2! :3

The second part could be where male!reader shows Willy how he makes the toys and then they chould chat for a while and the rest is up to you! You don't have to do part 2 if your too busy or anything else! But Im really happy that you could do my request! :]

𝒯ℴ𝓎𝓈𝒽ℴ𝓅 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ

part 1

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

a/n: I’d love to! Also sorry this took awhile to finish, was trying to do some school project and some work and I was on a trip ): thank you for being patient 😽

“So, do you make them or..?” The man inquired suddenly, looking around your shop again. He was curious to know more about you, he felt something he’s never felt before with you.

“I do make some, actually.” You smiled. “Let me show you something..” you stood up, and he followed behind you and into a back room.

“This, is my workshop.” You opened the door, and he was marveling at it all. The machines working and putting them in boxes, it was like a child’s dream in here.

“It’s amazing in here..” Willy said, looking back at you now. He looked into your eyes for a moment, and his face grew hot when you looked back at him with a smile he found so sweet. He turned his head and his cheeks were now tinted a pink.

You noticed, smiling to yourself. You both walked back outside and he was going to leave before he turned around and started talking.

“You can say no, but I was just wondering if you wanted to go to dinner someday..? Sorry. It’s random-“

“Willy.” You tried to stop his rambling.

“And I’m gonna go now-“

“Willy. I’d love to.” You said, his embarrassment washed away when you said those words, a large smile on his face now.

“Thank you. Would uh… Friday work for you?”

“It’s perfect.”

“Okay. Okay. I’ll see you then.” He said, mostly to himself.

“See you.” You said, he turned around and walked away.

You laughed to yourself as he walked away, whisper yelling to himself and happily walking down the street.

———————————————————————

And Friday came, he visited you the day before that and you both had hung out. He felt happy when he was with you, he felt something he’s rarely felt. Although he couldn’t put his finger on it…

He found himself always wanting to be with you, and you him. You knew you liked him, you knew the second he had walked in asking for help.

“You ready?” He asked you, you nodded.

“You look great.. by the way.” He said, once you both started walking to the restaurant.

“Thanks. You do too.” You said, turning your head to look at him again. You gave him a smile and you both looked ahead again.

He opened the doors for you, motioning for you to enter and you thanked him with a smile. Such a gentleman.

You both got a table and you sat down from across from him, the candles lit and the orange glow coming from the lights made it all the more romantic.

“If you don’t mind me asking, I was just wondering, why did you decide to come here out of all places?” You asked him after a while of talking. You both had begun to eat now.

“It all started with my mom, really.“ he talked about her for a little, you were enamored by his his storytelling.

“I just wish she were here, to see what I’ve done, you know?”

You nodded.

“I’m sorry she couldn’t be. I’m sure she was a lovely person.” You said.

“She was. I think she would’ve loved you.” He said with a small laugh, and eating again.

Once you both finished, you both knew a lot more about each other. And Willy was happy, happier than he thinks he’s ever been.

“Thank you.” You said when you both stepped outside, he gave you a small smile and you gave one back.

“I’ll see you around..?”

“Yeah..” You said. Suddenly feeling bold, you couldn’t help yourself when he looked into your eyes. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, just for now.

He stood stunned as you said goodbye, he mumbled out a goodbye and watched as you walked away.

#willy wonka x you #male reader #willy wonka x reader #timothee chalamet wonka #wonka x reader #wonka movie #wonka #wonka 2023 #timothee!wonka x reader #timothee chalamet x you #timothée x reader #timothee x reader

[ughgoaway]

Yes so many constant teacher reader thoughts! What about early dating when she's had a really hard week at school, maybe she's been staying behind for parents night or something and is absolutely exhausted. She's not replying to Matty as much or just giving him short ideas and him being Matty starts to worry that she's having second thoughts about their relationship

Omg people having thoughts about my au is so cool… and this is such a good thought. 

You and Matty have only recently started dating, maybe a month and a bit? And matty thinks it's been going perfectly, but he can't help but feel insecure about the relationship. He is so madly in love with you and has been for so long. He can't help but be nervous he's going to lose you. And he can't bear the thought because he's only just managed to get you. 

You reassure him when he asks that you want to be with him, that you were also pining over him for months, and that this is exactly what you wanted that whole time.

And Matty believes you, for the most part. But there's always that sneaking thought of “what if”. What if she hates me? What if she regrets this relationship? What if she thinks im wrong for her? What if this is all wrong?

////

it's been a stressful week at work. You have parent evening at the end of the week, which means it's lots of late nights preparing everything you're gonna say to each parent. It might seem easy to talk to parents about their kid's progress, but it's one of the worst parts of being a teacher.

It seems parents either think their child is an angel on earth or the spawn of Satan. You say one thing they can improve upon, and suddenly, a parent is jumping down your throat, “How could you? My little Amy is perfect!!” or they start scolding the child in front of you “You are useless! Why can't you just focus for 5 bloody minutes??” 

So you've been fucking exhausted all week, and you've cancelled on Matty twice. You had a date on Monday, but you saw the pile of work on your desk and messaged to reschedule for Wednesday.

Matty then didn't hear from you all of Tuesday or Wednesday, so was already nervous you were mad at him. But when you text to cancel on Wednesday? His heart fucking dropped.

You must be second-thinking this whole thing. Maybe you decided the risk to your job was too much, or maybe Matty isn't how you wanted him to be. 

But in an attempt to stop himself from spiralling too much, he texts George and details his worries. Of course, George simply calls him a twat and says “Trust me, she likes you. It's sickening being around the two of you for more than 10 minutes.”

Matty wants to tell George he and Charli are no better, but he leaves it for today and takes his friend's words at face value.

So he texts back saying it's fine and that he misses you. and each minute that passes by with no response is killing Matty slowly.

After 45 minutes of silence, you just reply “<3”, which doesn't exactly help Matty’s mental state. 

He texts you every day, and each day, your responses get shorter and shorter. Until it's Sunday, and he hasn't heard from you since Friday evening. 

It's then he decides you must be rethinking this, rethinking him. there is no reason why you would be ignoring him otherwise. And it fucking shatters him, he goes into break-up mode before any break-up even happens.

He drops Annie off at Hanns and stops at Tesco, grabbing ice cream, red wine, and tissues. He wants to feel like a girl in a shit romantic comedy, so he's gonna do just that. 

2 bottles of wine later, Matty thinks it's the perfect time to call you… despite it being 3 am. Needless to say, you don't answer. But Matty being Matty, he leaves a wine-drunk voicemail. 

“Heyyyyy y/n. It's Matty. Your boyfriend. I think… anyway, im just calling to say you can just dump me, you know? You don't have to be nice or anything. I won't turn Annie against you. But I don't think I could even if I wanted to, m’ pretty sure she likes you more than me already. But whatever… I've had a few bottles of wine and just thought I should call and tell you im fineeee. Totally fineeee. So yeah, if we’re over of whatever, you can let me know. Because im fine. Like so fine…. Okay, bye.”

And with that, he passes out on the sofa, spilling wine on his rug that he will be forced to scrub tomorrow.

///////

It's 7 a.m., and Matty's head is banging, so much so it sounds like someone is hammering on his door. Oh, wait. Someone is hammering on his door.

He stumbles off the sofa and catches a glance in the mirror, his eyes are hollowed, and heavy bags sit beneath them. Half his curls are flattened and stuck to his head, whereas the others are sticking on end like he had been electrocuted. 

“Ye-” he starts to speak as he opens the door, but you storm in talking before he can even get one word out. 

“BREAK UP WITH YOU? WHY WOULD I BREAK UP WITH YOU?” You stand in Matty’s front room with your hands on your hips. clearly, you had stormed straight over here from your flat, not even bothering to get out of your Halloween pyjamas (it is like May btw <3).

Matty rubs at his eyes and blinks a few times, “what?” he asks, coughing as he finishes because Jesus Christ, his throat feels like it's full of sandpaper. 

“...do you seriously not remember?” you shake your head at Matty with wide eyes, and he nervously shakes his head, and he swears he can almost see the steam coming out of your ears. 

“Matty. You called me at 3 in the morning telling me to dump you. Why the fuck would you think that? Why would I ever dump you?” your voice is softer now and you've come closer to Matty, and he can see any rage you might have had was never really anger.

It was fear. Pure fucking fear. 

“Oh.. that,” Matty says shyly, rubbing at his face and pulling it down. 

“Yup. that,” you say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Okay, im so sorry about that,” Matty starts to explain, desperate to get you to understand his fucking crazy brain, “I had a few bottles of wine and my stupid anxiety took over. You hadn't really spoken to me this week, and you cancelled our date, so I convinced myself you were having second thoughts. And drunk Matty thought the best course of action was a long rambling voicemail reassuring you that you can dump me.”

You nod slowly, and Matty seemingly can't stop his word vomit, “And you can if you want to! But I really don't want you to. Like at all. Im actually kind of obsessed with you, if im honest” Matty steps closer to you and pulls you into his chest. 

Your arms remain limp at your sides for the first few seconds, and Matty wants to die. But just before he pulls away, your arms slip over his shoulders, and your fingers wind into his curls at the back of his neck.

You burrow your head in his neck, and Matty can feel you nodding, “Okay. That makes sense” he breathes a sigh of relief. Thank GOD you didn't dump him then and there. 

You snap back and look at him intensely before saying, “But just so you know, I was planning for parent's evening this whole week. That's why I was so quiet. And I would never break up with you just by ghosting you. And if im being totally honest, I would never break up with you in the first place. or ever, really."

Matty nods and can't help the smile that comes on his face, you don't want to break up with him. ever.

You snap your fingers in front of his face before he can get too happy, “Hey don't you start smiling. I’m still pissed off at you… but you are especially cute in the mornings, so I feel you’re trying to manipulate me into forgiving you... are you?”

“Well that depends, is it working?” he teases

“Maybe... Shut up.”

#love the idea... not so sure about my execution #but oh nervous matty #like babe. im literally beyond obessed with you #there couldnt be less to worry about #teacher au! #anon!