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toiletwipes · 11 months

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Don't you see me? | ghost!wilbur

~1.9k words / hi hi hello this a piece written for @lillylvjy 's ghost au! There's only one part out but we've all had the rot since then and I couldn't help myself. [You move into a house and meet two ghosts who haunt it; Wilbur and Tom. You've endeared yourself to them. And now, you've bought a polaroid camera just so they have something of the two of them and you, in the event you ever move out. Written mostly in Wilbur's pov so emotions are on the raw side.]

[Title is from the song Fallingforyou by the 1975]

Wilbur's time nowadays is spent waiting for you and with you. (Of course, Tom is there so he's not completely lonely, but he's always had Tom. He used to never have you- used to live an after-life without you in it.) It wasn't always like that, of course, but you moved in and everything changed. For the better, he firmly believed. You made things better. For Tom, for him. You pulled the both of them into your life, even when they had anything but. Even when it was a painful fact. You brought joy and peace and laughter and the sun and the stars with you and he can't help the clenching in his chest, the way you smiled and he felt what it could be like breathless again.

Things changed for the better. And he couldn't help the way he wanted to cling to your side and never leave you alone, except he could do something about it. Sometimes he'd back off for days, feeling like he suffocates you more than he can handle. Other days he'd be a second skin- not that you'd ever complain. You never complained, not really, not when it came to him. But today…

But today's different. You had a day off and decided to stay home, turning on some music and pulling out a puzzle, the end picture being a pretty garden of flowers. You were so concentrated and he wanted to smooth out the crease in your forehead but he breathed out silently, flexing his hands as he turned to the windows. You're not his to touch like that.

Something catches his eye from the outside. Because as he was turning around to look out the window, a car drove up and left a box on the porch. And with his predicament, he moved a little too late and Tom was already calling for you to get it and open it, tell them what it was. But you stayed quiet as you ducked under arms, dancing away from Tom's prying hands. You land backwards on the couch, cradling the box as you adjust yourself, laughing to yourself a little.

Wilbur comes away from the window and he approaches the couch, leaning close to you as you fail to open it, giving him puppy eyes as you look up with the box in your palms. "Can't even open a box by yourself, how cringe. Where would you be without-" He'd been in the middle of teasing you when he'd opened the box, finding a polaroid camera, already put together with some extra film at the bottom, "-us?"

"I couldn't stop thinking about the other day, you know. I was thinking about giving you some of my baby photos but I figured it'd be better if you guys had pictures of yourselves and some of us together-" you rambled on, pausing to take a picture of Tom, who is literally snapped out of his silence by the sound of the camera printing out.

"What the hell, there's not even anything on it-" he complains but after you explain to him that he has to shake it a little for the picture to develop faster, he's shaking it as violently as one can shake a polaroid.

Wilbur can't say anything, he's surprised that you went this far and you stare at him, biting your lip before you move abruptly, turning the camera on you two and taking the picture with him and you in it. The picture prints and as you shake the picture, you show Wilbur how to take a picture. And when you do, he doesn't hesitate to take one of just you, laughing as Tom curses again. The laughter dies down as the camera prints for the third time, as Tom wields the picture hanging his head.

A blurry figure with no discernable features in your living room. The living room itself is clear. But Tom is blurry. The only blurry thing in the picture. Panic rises in your chest as you check the two polaroids in your hand, and sure enough, out of the three of you, you're the only clear person in the pictures. "I- I'm so sorry, I thought- if I could see you guys then surely I could-" but Wilbur knows the line of thinking you're going down. He ends it right there, pulling you into a quick, tight hug.

"I know." And he hears the shaky breath you release, struggling to breathe through tears he knows you're fighting back. Once you pull back from the hug, he takes the picture of you out from your fingers in a light tug, looking at it more closely. "I think this may be my favorite picture of you, yet." You roll your eyes as you laugh wetly, wiping under your eyes.

Tom then demands to know how the camera works and we'll you give in pretty easily and soon, the day is spent with everyone finding pretty things, pretty bugs and pretty pictures to take and Tom takes the one of the stray cat from outside, of the sunset over the fence, and a circle of three pairs of shoes. Two are blurry but you drew the details on so it's clearer. He hangs them by the window.

Wilbur doesn't show anyone the pictures he takes because they're all of you. You when you're cooking dinner, stirring a pot. One when you were looking out the window with a hand under your chin. While you were outside checking on the plants you've planted while you've been staying here. With the sun on your face. While you were reading a book he recommended you.

He didn't want a picture of anything else, not when you were just so damn amazing. Beautiful and caring and full of surprises. How can he ignore you at all when you devote your time to be his friend, to be there for him and his brother? When all he can think about these days, is you and you only?

He can't imagine the day you move out, if you move out. But he knows that if you leave, he'd stare at these pictures for the rest of his afterlife.

Even when you apologize again in private, about the pictures and the two of them not showing up, he shushes you. Reassuring you it's okay. The camera sits with Tom and his own set of pictures. The film he has of you and only you burns in his pocket, and it burns against his chest when he pulls you into a quick hug. "I mean it when I say this is more than I could ever ask of you. I appreciate what you've done for us." What you've done for me, he adds silently.

He'd stare at them now, but you were getting ready for bed and you were deep in thought and equally tired. So quiet. You tucked your back against the wall as you lowered the volume on the TV in your room, but he hesitated getting in bed with you. He wants more than anything to hold you, to kiss those bitten lips and bruise them with his own. He wants more than anything to feel your warmth and never let it leave.

However, he is cold. You needed the blanket to keep the warmth in because of how much he made you shiver without it. He is dead. He's sure kissing a dead man isn't the focal point of your romantic dreams. Sure that you'd puke at the thought of it but when you warily open your eyes to find him in the doorway, you tell him to close the door behind him and get in bed.

He thought about his earlier inhibitions of being close, of being too much for you. And throws it out a metaphorical window. For now. Because for now, you want him in your bed. And he'd do anything for you.

He climbs into your bed, letting you pull the covers over his shoulders and lean your face back into your pillow. His fingers twitch between the two of you. He can't fall asleep, watching you slip under the blanket of sleep. When your breath evens out, when he can feel your heart beating softly in your chest, that's when he speaks.

"Love, what you did today- I don't know how I can thank you. It meant a lot for Tom, and I know he loves the camera and the pictures more than the both of us but- for you to do this, to give us this. Words can't explain the gratitude I feel. I know one day, you'll have to leave us, and I won't be able to say these words out when you're awake so you'll never know truly how I feel, the… emotions that are so close to bursting, when I'm around you." He wants to say more. Wants to say just what's on his mind. But you're stirring, the crease coming in between your eyebrows again, and then your face relaxes as you sigh.

"Are you still awake, Wilbur?" You ask without opening your eyes. He murmurs a yes, feeling more as if he was plunged in a bath of ice. "Can you turn the fan off?" And just quickly, relief and a tang of disappointment warms his cold system. He turns the fan off like you asked and you reach for him as soon as he's under the blankets again. "Much better, thank you." And you tuck yourself closer to him, as if seeking for warmth. He can't say anything else, just taking the chance and wrapping you up in his arms. Hating the way you'd let out the occasional shiver.

He can't help being a ghost, being dead. He can't help the feelings he has. The ones about you and the ones about you leaving. It hurts every time he thinks about it, you leaving. You finding someone else. Leaving him behind. And in the end, he'd thank you. For being as generous, as kind, as- as loving as you were to him and to Tom. He doesn't know what to do with these thoughts, these feelings.

Towards the end of the night, when it seemed like the sun was about to rise, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head. And in his head, he finally figures out what he feels for you. "Thank you." He says into the air. He's not sure who he's thanking or what for. But you hum into his clothed collar bone.

"You're welcome." His arms wrap themselves tighter around you, a hand coming up to cup the back of your head. He knows soon he'll have to let you out of his arms and that one day he'd have to let you go and move out and forget about him. But for now. For now, he can pretend you want this, that you want him and his brother in your life, forever, and that you want whatever he has to offer. That you wanted him.

And it's enough for his eyes to mist over but no tears fall down. And they never will.

#c: wilbur soot #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #lilly's ghost au #au: ghost

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lillylvjy · 11 months

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Wilbur being jealous over the plushies is so cute and endearing to me I feel like it would also be hilarious if it was a pet like a dog or a cat, they would be barking and hissing at each other for your attention (with the 'pets can see/sense ghosts' thing)

Oh- this would be a funny sight. (I’m choosing a cat bc wilbur is a cat and it makes sense)

So imagine you come home one day, a box of a whole bunch of things. And like always- Tom is all over you and once he sees the cat tree he immediately stops and looks around.

“Where is it?” Tom asked with wide eyes as he continued to look around.

“Right here.” You said, pulling the cat out from behind your back, cradling it while it stared up at you and blinked.

“Aw hello there! How old are they?” Tom asked softly as he gently let it’s head.

“He’s about 3 years old, and he’s been in and out of homes. But I had to get him. He deserves a real home. Not a shelter.” You explained to Tom as Wilbur made his way to the kitchen.

“What the fuck is that?” You heard Wilbur ask as he stopped in the doorway, a frown adorning his face.

“Um- a cat? Why?” You asked confused. He literally was a cat himself.

“Nothing. Nothing. I’m glad you got another cuddle buddy.” Wilbur sighs out as he walks to the living room.

You scoff at his sad sigh and brought the cat over to him. “See- he’s like you. Now I’m going to set him down and see what he does.” You gently set the cat down beside Wilbur. Wilbur stared at it with anger and little bit of curiosity and the cat stared back with a bored expression.

“He doesn’t like me.” Wilbur deadpans as he breaks let from the staring contest.

“Oh shush he’s a cat- he does.” You laugh as you placed the cat tree in the corner along with the toys. “Who wants dinner?”

See if Wilbur didn’t hate the cat before dinner, he certainly would after. He offered to do the dishes while you got ready for bed, but he didn’t expect to find you curled around that cat when he came into the bedroom.

“I- what is he doing here?!” Wilbur asked in a bewildered tone.

“He’s sleeping with us!”

Wilbur huffed. “Fine- but at least place him on the end of the bed please.” You did as he said and he quickly got underneath the covers with you, wrapping you in his arms and kissing your forehead.

Suddenly Wilbur felt a swat on his arm and a hiss was heard. “What the fuck-“

“Seems like someone wants to join-“ you look at Wilbur with puppy dog eyes.

“No absolutely not, get back” wilbur hissed at the cat as it hissed back.

Now this went on for some time. Just them going back and forth, not giving up until the other one bows down. You tried so hard not to laugh at the beginning, but now you just want sleep and are super annoyed that Wilbur is letting a cat do this to him.

“Ok- Jesus Christ, Wil. Stop. Just let him sleep on your stomach or somewhere remotely around me.” You blinked up at him with a tired expression. Wilbur’s face softened as he nodded. You patted Wilbur’s stomach as the cat slowly walked on it and curled up around him. “See. He does like you.”

“Yeah. Yeah maybe.” Wilbur smiled down at you and then the cat. Maybe he will like this cat.

Oh and boy does he fall in love with it.

#this is kinda shit- but.#lilly’s ask #alex <3 #lilly’s ghost au #ghost!wilbur #wilbur soot x reader

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