let the festival begin

mikey ;; xviii ;; he/him (okay with they/them) very in love with wilbur but the in love list grows everydayREQUESTS: OPEN

[mikeyinnit]

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[mcytmushroom]

Lady Whistledown 1st Edition

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word count: 268

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[mikeyinnit]

LETS GOOOOOOO

[strawberry-fields-things]

▸ THE HEIST OF A LIFETIME

pairing: thief!wilbur soot x fem!reader ; prince!dream x fem!reader

ALTERNATIVELY TITLED: being a known thief along with wilbur and sneaking into the royal palace.

WARNINGS: stealing, mentions of weapons, wilbur and the reader being a chaotic duo, one barely noticeable rust!wilbur reference.

A/N: it’s not really a headcanon because it has a lot of dialogue + description but at the same time its not what i’d consider an imagine??? idk its somewhere in between — also this is the embodiment of you’re an idiot (affectionate)

To say that both of you have been a criminal duo for a while would be the understatement of the century.

You’ve known each other since your early teen years, when he made the mistake of trying to pickpocket a royal guard.

A dumb, rookie mistake.

Thankfully for him, and before the guard could seize him, you had already picked up your pace and intervened.

You locked you arm around Wilbur’s, willing the brightest of smiles onto your lips. You blinked your eyes up at the guard, “Oh, Saints, forgive him! My very— very blind brother, always stumbling around.”

The curly brown haired boy stared at you in confusion, before quickly sticking to your lie and pocketing the silver coins he had stolen. He simply nodded as you called out to the guard, “Have a nice day, sir!”

Before the guard was non the wiser, both of you were already long gone from the scene.

After being sure you weren’t being. followed, he asked for your name.

In turn, you asked for half the money he had pocketed.

“I’m Wilbur,” a younger, much shorter version of him had told you as he extended his hand and —reluctantly— handed you four silver coins.

You still can’t quite decide whether telling him your name was the best or worst decision you have ever made.

With time, both of you grew to perfect your techniques— now not just pickpocketing from lowly soldiers, but from crowned aristocrats.

Not that any of it matters— all your heists have been leading up to this very night.

“A masquerade?” You had asked him earlier, his brown apron still stained with flour. His cheeks and tips of his curls were dusted with the white powder as well— not that he seemed to care.

Wilbur only grinned at you as he leaned against the counter. “Not just any masquerade. It’s one of the princes’ birthday.”

The kingdom the two of you inhabit has the pleasure of having two princes in line for the throne. As it happens, it’s the eldest’s birthday— the builder.

At least, that’s the name he’s made for himself, and they say that ever since he became of age, the capital city has never looked more beautiful.

Of course, little to no change in the smaller villages like yours.

“Can you imagine just how many rich pricks are gonna be there to kiss the prince’s ass?” Wilbur says, unbridled excitement hanging from his voice. “Not only the richest, but chances are they’ll be wearing their most priced things. Necklaces, earrings, rings… you name it.”

You must react in some visible way. Wilbur has always known how to pull your strings— how to sway you towards a heist he’s got his eye on.

You gnaw at the inside of your cheek. “I don’t know, Wil. If it’s the prince’s birthday, doesn’t that mean security will be, what? Tripled, at the very least?”

Wilbur only scoffs. “Since when have you backed down from a little danger?”

You don’t know why or how he got you to agree. Wilbur, you’ve come to learn, simply has a way with words.

After a quick visit from Niki and Fundy —both of whom have aided in past heists of yours— you find yourself wearing a really, really expensive dress.

And holy shit. Fundy really outdid himself with this one.

A dark blue gown crafted from soft silks hangs from your body as you stare at your reflection in the mirror. It’s a dark color for the most part, save for the skirt, where hundreds of silver flecks have been sown into it.

You look like a starry night. You look—

“Whoa,” his voice comes off as a breath, and Wilbur’s reflection comes into view from your mirror.

His brown eyes meet with your own through the reflection, before you spin on your heel and ask, “What?”

Wilbur blinks back at you. Once. Twice. “You— You look…” he releases a soft breath. “You look beautiful.” Heat rushes to your cheeks. Then, as if realizing he’s spoken out loud, Wilbur straightens, inhaling sharply. He offers a smile.

“Shall we go?”

With fake invitations forged by Niki and clothes worthy of royalty tailored by Fundy, getting inside the palace was easily the simplest part of Wilbur’s plan.

You both have sneaked into various events over the last few years— most of them hosted by neighboring kingdoms. Yet this one?

This one takes the cake.

The whole palace —already beautiful in on itself— is decorated as if it was taken straight out of a fairytale. Different colored lights glint off every corner of the ceiling, creating a rainbow mirage onto the dance floor.

Your arm hangs from Wilbur’s as the two of you stand at the edge of the room. He fixes his black mask —which, similarly to yours, has wisps gold on its edges.

He looks like a dream, a voice hums inside your head, making heat rush to your cheeks. You shake your head and gather your thoughts.

This is not the moment for distracting thoughts.

Wilbur’s nonchalant brown eyes meet with yours as he murmurs, “What do you reckon is the best course of action?”

You weigh your options for a moment. “The same one we did back in that ball by the coast?” You straighten, mimicking the body language of a important-looking woman standing by the edge of the dance floor. “I’ll cause a distraction, you gather the valuables, yeah?”

Wilbur responds with a matching grin. “Sounds great to me, dove.”

You’ve reached a point in your friendship when you’ve long since given up on correcting him.

You’re not exactly sure where the nickname itself first came from. All you know is that he seems to adore just how it gets under your skin.

Figures.

Regardless, as soon as Wilbur slips away, you turn to the ballroom, eyes carefully scouring the area.

What would be the best way to cause a distraction? Maybe tug the tablecloth away and make the table fall to the ground. It’s a safe maneuver, and you’ve done it before. Or, perhaps, you could pretend to faint, cause a scene, so you might as well—

“Care for a dance?”

The voice catches you off guard, and you reprimand yourself for not picking up on the sound of the man’s footsteps approaching you.

Anyone else in your position would’ve appeared like a deer in headlights. After all, the last thing you need is attracting unwarranted attention before you can cause a distraction.

You, however, are not just anyone.

You turn around to face the man. Gingerly, effectively downplaying your surprise.

The man that stands behind you is tall—granted, not as tall as Wilbur, but tall nonetheless. He’s got golden hair, and emeralds for eyes that lie behind a green mask.

He stands… differently. As if with the gallantry of a young lord. And the more your eyes linger on his partially masked features, the more familiar he appears to be.

A sort of familiarity you can’t seem to place.

You purse your lips, ready to decline to his offer, say you’re already with someone— which would only be a half-lie, after all.

Before you do, however, you catch a few looks on you, mostly from the rich partygoers.

Strange. They were barely interested seconds before, why—

Then, as your eyes meet with his emerald green once again, it hits you.

Your lips part with a small breath. You do your best attempt at a curtsey, and respond, “Your grace.”

He quirks a brow, the corner of his lip twitching upward. “You know who I am.” He says, not as a question, but rather as a fact.

You offer him the most practiced and perfected of smiles. Not the type you would share with Niki, with Fundy, with Wilbur— but rather the type you’d see in a painting.

A manufactured image— one carefully crafted with experience.

And with that smile, you respond, “Well, it’d be hard not to, would it not?” You turn your eyes away briefly, quickly surveying the crowd around you. Too many people have their ears perked up and their gazes curious. You turn back to him. “It is your birthday, after all.”

Something you can’t quite place briefly crosses the prince’s green gaze before it is concealed once again.

The prince chuckles, tilting his head as he glances towards the top of the stairs, a small balcony where the queen sits, talking to her other son. The other prince.

“Not mine, I’m afraid.” He hums. You follow his gaze, not missing the way the more fellow partygoers seem to stop and watch the youngest prince dance with a mysterious girl.

First mistake. You inhale. “Your brother’s.” You muse, your tone missing the apology any other noble would have thrown at his feet.

The boy on the balcony has hair as dark as the night. If he’s the one being celebrated then that makes him Prince Foolish. The builder.

You once again turn back to the prince with hair as golden as the sun. If that’s Prince Foolish, then that would make him—

“Prince Dream.” You say, voice dripping with something deceivingly soft. Perhaps, in his ears, it sounds like adoration, when it is merely realization.

The younger prince, not who you originally believed him to be, but a prince nonetheless.

The eyes still linger on the two of you. Murmurs and gossip ricochet within the marble halls of the palace— who is she? Why does the prince seem so interested in her? Is she a royalty as well?

Despite his presence being an uninvited one, he’s doing a much better job at what you were originally tasked to do— causing a distraction.

You become increasingly aware of the ever growing whispers as you tilt your head slightly. Is she a princess? She must be. Isn’t she that one king’s daughter?

The prince simply hums, as if unaware of the theories being commented mere feet away from him. “Well, you know my name,” he starts, his eyes carefully tracing your masked features. “I believe it’s only fair I learn yours.”

He offers his hand, and the voices seem to quiet for a moment, expectant, awaiting.

You must admit— the prince, as intimidating as he may be portrayed as, is as handsome as a hero from a novel.

And yet, something about the way his lips quirks up into a smirk should seem more dangerous. Not very hero-like.

It is precisely why he becomes all the more alluring.

You take his hand, and he guides you to the center of the ballroom.

Your name. Now, handing that over might just be as dangerous as handing a royal guard your address with a list of your crimes. So, you simply respond, “Perhaps another time, your highness.”

“Dream.” He corrects, his fingers wrapping around your waist. “Call me Dream.”

“Dream.” You hum, and as he spins you, you check the ballroom for Wilbur and his bounty. Much to your dismay, you are met with a few other couples — the highest nobles, you guess— joining you and Dream in the dance.

Saints, Wilbur, you mentally reprimand him, This is your one chance to score riches. Don’t waste it.

You must appear distracted, and Dream’s fingers tighten for a brief moment. You turn to him, only to be met by that perfect smile of his.

“Where are you from, then?” He asks, a strange sort of curiosity dripping from his lips. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you here before.”

You’re distracted. And despite knowing that you should be focusing all your attention on the boy with the eyes of emeralds, you can’t help but seek the one with hairs of earth.

That’s your second mistake.

You realize you’ve yet to respond, and stalling, you slowly link your arms around his neck. “Ah, too many places to call a single one home.”

At your response, however, the prince’s jaw seems to tense, the hand gently holding you by your waist tightening in the slightest. A tiny gesture, but it’s enough to make you wary.

It’s only now that you take note of the sword by his belt. His gaze looks sharp. Maybe too sharp.

You’ve heard the rumors of Prince Dream, and while his brother has been called the builder by many, he has been called other names— the fighter, the warrior, the hunter.

You feel your heart skip a beat. If he catches a scent of what you’re doing, engaging in combat is not an option.

You’re being too vague, you realize, disappointed by the fact it doesn’t take only a pretty face to distract royalty anymore. “Although,” you quickly add, “I do have the pleasure of currently staying within the bounds of Kinoko Kingdom.”

He twirls you again. “Have you come with Prince Sapnap, then?” He tilts his head slightly. “I do hope he doesn’t mind me stealing you away.”

It’s easy to tell what a trap looks like once you’ve been caught— the real test is seeing it before you set foot in it.

And this one? Well, you could’ve seen it from a mile away.

They’re friends. You know they’re friends.

And you know that because you remember seeing the princes at the distance when you last went to Kinoko for a heist along with Niki and Fundy.

It’s a test.

The corner of your lips twitch upward. “Not at all.” You say, sheepish, “I would hope to meet his grace someday, but I’m afraid we are not yet acquainted.”

As the crowned prince brings you closer to him as the two of you dance, your partner in crime watches within the crowd, hand slipping in and out of people’s pockets as if he was never there to begin with.

Wilbur’s even managed to steal a few necklace right off their necks. Dumb, rich idiots.

As he weaves through the crowd, however, he realizes he’s yet to hear the sound of plates crashing. So, he turns to were he last left you, only to find the spot empty and the table intact.

Okay, a different type of distraction this time. After all, Fundy did say the dresses were expensive and had to be returned intact. So where—

And he sees it.

The crowned prince, with his hands wrapped around your waist as he guides you through the dance floor.

His heart lurches inside his chest before plummeting to his gut.

What the hell?

Wilbur can feel a foreign, acrid feeling expanding across his body— and, at plain sight, you look comfortable. Too comfortable.

For the first time in history, Wilbur Soot feels his pockets are full enough.

There. Done. Time to finally leave.

Your arms wrapped around the prince’s neck — much too close to be considered proper for royalty — while his hands remain by your waist. You smile, and laugh, and talk of things that don’t manage to reach his ears.

You look beautiful— so, so beautiful, and it shouldn’t be a surprise a goddamn prince chose to engage in a dance with you. And while you may have drawn the eyes of the crowd, it doesn’t seem to be your style.

Despite looking radiant and, Saints, ethereal— something feels off. And it certainly, most definitely, isn’t that sour feeling rolling down his gut.

Jealous? What does he have to be jealous of? Some dumb prince, with a dumb smile and an even dumber crown?

Psh. Wilbur is many things, but jealous is not one of them.

Still, something else tugs at him. Call it that sixth sense he’s grown to develop when it comes to you— but something feels odd.

The boy with the brown eyes, now concealed behind a black mask with golden edges, stills for a moment. He lets his eyes wander the prince’s frame— and, to any onlookers, perhaps he looks curious.

Curious, yes, save for the evident distaste that pulls at his lips.

Wilbur circles the ballroom, keeping a close eye on you and awaits the moment to intervene without drawing too much attention onto himself.

After all, he may be cautious of the prince, but he’s still got pockets filled with expensive trinkets and jewelry.

Prince Dream chuckles lightly as the two of you turn in a circle. “You’re quite the dancer, Miss.”

You only smile in response. “Well, you’re not to bad yourself, your highness.”

“Dream,” he corrects.

“Dream,” you repeat.

Dream looks away, before turning back to you. He looks harmless— with golden hair and green eyes, and freckles that hide behind a mask. But beneath the innocent façade, there lies a certain sharpness to him. Shadows that border around the edges of his face.

The prince smiles another one of those smiles from before— and, now that you look closer, it seems a lot like your own.

Practiced. Perfected. A little too sharp around its edges.

Not noticing it earlier is your third and last mistake.

The hand that had been gently holding onto yours tightens ever so slightly. He simply tilts his head, unfazed, as he asks, “Who sent you?”

You misstep, and the first genuine emotion of the night bleeds onto your features. Confusion. “I’m sorry?”

But the prince doesn’t look confused. If anything, he almost seems amused. “I asked who sent you here for my brother’s ball.”

His voice feels colder, yet his expression remains wholly unchanged. He still looks as golden as the sun, his tone light and harmless.

He’s the type of danger you only understand once you’ve been caught by him.

He draws you closer. You blink back at him, falling back into the lie you’ve been playing since the start. “I’m afraid I don’t quite understand, your grace.”

Dream chuckles, and this time, you feel it vibrate against his chest. The corner of his lips twitches upward as he leans closer to your ear to whisper, “Oh, lovely, you may be an exceptional dancer, but you’re nowhere near an exceptional liar.”

You nearly scoff. There’s the sharp wit you’ve heard so much about.

And yet, his whispered comment makes realization set within your gut. He saw through the cracks —the fading, barely visible cracks to the naked eye— and he knows.

You try to ease your heartbeat, his breath fanning against the shell of your ear and neck and he continues, “Your little game is over.” He taunts. “Was it Prince Technoblade that sent you? King Philza?” His expression darkens for a split second. “Or was it Emperor Quackity?”

He must feel your body tensing. Not because of his guesses— Saints, he couldn’t be more off.

But getting caught for crimes you didn’t even commit? Now, that’s just embarrassing.

Dream smiles again, pearly white teeth looking a less like a prince’s and more like a hungry wolf.

His green eyes drop to his sword, and his grip on your arm doesn’t waver. And despite his accusations, he looks so… calm. It’s chilling.

He stares back at you with what other nobles may confuse with a lovesick look— it’s disturbing, really. How in control he seems to be.

“So?” He asks, almost passively. “You look pretty, not dumb. Answer me.” His voice finally sharpens, those final words with a dark edge.

You’re not given time to react. Instead, just when his hand is reaching for the hilt of his sword, a hand places itself on the small of your back.

Dream lets go of you at the sudden intrusion— perhaps, for the first time in the night, caught off guard.

The hand behind you stabilizes you, and as you look up to see whether you’ve been saved or damned, your eyes are met with his brown.

“Are you having fun, my darling?” You blink up at Wilbur, heart still trying to settle with a steady pace. His white wisps of hair fall over his black and gold mask. Your breath gets caught in your throat.

Wilbur turns to the prince, his smile wilting. His voice sounds strained when he talks. “Your grace, it is a great honor to make your acquaintance.”

Dream stares at Wilbur with something you’re unable to read. He narrows his eyes. “You know this woman?”

Wilbur chuckles, and all you can think is that, up close, he doesn’t look like a prince. He looks like a poet.

“I’d hope so,” Wilbur says calmly, his arm comfortably snaking around your waist. His chin settles over your head. “as she happens to be my bride to be.”

Oh, bastard, you think, ignoring the way his words pull at your heartstrings.

If either of them notice a reaction from you, neither speak of it. Instead, they stare into each other.

Wilbur, challenging.

Dream, doubtful.

The prince looks the picture of calmness. To any other guest, he is merely making polite conversation.

To you, however?

You’ve already seen him up close. Already noticed the hidden shadows that linger on his features. You’ve noticed the sharpness around his gaze and now can make sense of it.

And Dream looks calm. At ease, even. Yet there’s a hesitation in his eyes. A swimming doubt— one that, if not handled carefully, it might not end good for the both of you.

His hand still lingers near his sword.

Green eyes return to you, and this time, you notice the challenge behind them. He raises his chin almost defiantly. “Is she?” He asks, not even side-glancing at Wilbur.

You feel Wilbur’s arms tense around you. And while you can’t see his expression, you can imagine his jaw clenching and unclenching.

Fucking prick, Wilbur curses behind a forced and stiff smile— if you can even call it that anymore.

He exhales sharply, deliberately, and his arms finally abandon your waist.

“Pardon me, your grace, but I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.”

He takes a step forward, and now— well, now it looks like a challenge. Not because of his tone— if anything, Wilbur has been doing a surprising job at keeping his silver tongue in check.

He towers over Dream— and while the prince is by no means short, he barely reaches Wilbur’s jaw.

Wilbur extends his hand. “Lord Ishmael Ashtray.”

You have to physically bite back a scoff.

Idiot. Absolute idiot.

Dream furrows his brows behind his emerald green mask. Confusion and distaste start to bleed into his previously marble-like façade. “Lord Ashtray?”

Wilbur only hangs his head, as if sorrowful. “It’s a family name, I’m afraid.”

Absolute bastard.

Dream’s lips part to speak, before being taken aback by Wilbur’s sudden interjection,

“Now, if you would excuse us, your majesty,” There’s a mocking edge to the title that the prince must not sense —or, at least, he doesn’t address— but it nearly makes you grin. Wilbur turns his back to the prince, his lips pulling into a wide grin as he meets your gaze. “I’ve been looking forward to a dance with my bride.”

It’s strange, isn’t it? The way those words are merely a cover, another lie for a job.

And yet.

And yet, as Wilbur says them, all while staring at you through his black and gold mask, your heart skips a beat.

It’s the adrenaline, you justify, surely.

Wilbur reaches for your hand, in a similar gesture Dream did minutes ago.

You don’t hesitate this time. Your hand is gently intertwined with Wilbur’s, and it feels… different.

It feels right.

“It was an honor.” You say offhandedly, eyes meeting with Dream’s now glacially cold gaze. “And I do hope all misunderstandings won’t stain any future encounters, Dream.”

You say his name deliberately, mockingly.

And, just like that, Wilbur leads you back to the crowd of dancing nobles.

Once you’re certain you’re out of earshot, your lips part. “Ishmael Ashtray?” You quote, rolling your eyes. Of course— he thought he was being smart. As usual. “You’re ridiculous.”

Wilbur grins wildly as his arm settles on the small of your back. You can’t tell if him pulling you closer to his body is purposeful or accidental. “You can just say you missed me, dove.”

You click your tongue against the roof of your mouth. As much as you want to look away, you find it that you don’t have it in yourself to do so.

So, instead, you simply stare up at him, and your heart does that weird thing again.

Together, and due to the gown and suit Fundy tailored for the two of you, you look like a starry night sky. Blends of dark blue and black, with edges and glinting reflections of golden.

His white wisps of hair look like the moon, you think, and heat rushes to your cheeks.

Pull yourself together.

Wilbur clears his throat. Unbeknownst to yourself, the boy had been caught in a similar daze.

“So, dancing with the crowned prince.” He begins. His voice drips with something bitter, before he hides it with a raise of a brow. “You know, when you said you were gonna cause distraction, I gotta say, that’s not what came to mind.”

You almost, almost tell him it wasn’t your idea at all.

“Well, it worked nonetheless, did it not?” You challenge.

Wilbur scoffs, shaking his head with something briefly reminiscent of resentment. “Yeah, barely.”

With a graceful smile, you allow him to twirl you, and before you can step back into rhythm, you set your weight on one of your legs and step on Wilbur’s foot.

He winces, struggling to cover it up. His lips part to complain when you beat him to it.

“That’s for calling me your bride.” You bite, and instead of complaining or groaning, he grins.

It’s not the type of grin you’d see on royalty— much less on a prince.

It’s the only giveaway as to what Wilbur actually is— not an aristocrat of some distant land, but a son of a farmer. A liar. A thief.

He’s as perfect as anyone can get.

Wilbur leans closer to you, lashes nearly tangling together as he stares down at you, lips curled upwards, mischievously, “Do you not fancy becoming Mrs. Ashtray? I think it quite suits you.”

He’s close. Closer than he’s ever been before. Closer than he’s ever allowed himself to be.

You can feel his breath against your cheeks. His hand around your waist. The other one gently holding yours. The way his nose crinkles, his brown eyes that border golden beneath the lights.

“Bastard,” you say, but its different this time. It’s a whisper, a murmur, barely audible above the melody the palace musicians play in the background.

Wilbur blinks once, twice, before inhales sharply. His eyes flicker towards something behind you.

“Speaking of.” His voice drops down to a whisper. “I think your little crowned friend caught on to us.”

You struggle to process the words he says. His lips are closer, and they look a pretty, pretty pink.

You look up at him, breathless. “What makes you say that?”

Wilbur snaps himself out of his daze. He licks his lips, tilting his head slightly. “Well, he’s coming this way,” he purses his lips, scrunching his nose. “along with five other guards.”

You can’t help the wide grin that spreads across your lips. “Are you suggesting we run, Lord Ashtray?”

Wilbur mirrors your expression, raising his chin slightly. “And risk ruining your dress? Now, that’d be scandalous.” The corner of his lip twitches into a smirk. Distantly, you hear trinkets clinking inside his pockets.

You’ve both stopped twirling around the ballroom. Instead, he now holds out his hand, not for some royal dance, but for something else.

“Your highness.” He bows his head, expression unbelievably bright. “Shall we take our leave?”

You gather part of your dress in one of your hands. With the other one, you accept his. This time, not with some delicate, gentle grasp, but rather a decisive one.

You glance back at the soldiers. Your eyes meet with his brown.

“We shall.”

You both start running before Dream can call out an order to apprehend you. Somehow, the longer you run, the less you care about whether the guards are following or not.

You’re still holding Wilbur’s hand.

The two of you laugh and shout unintelligible things at one another. Wilbur curses at the guards, you throw one of your heels at them.

At some point during your escape, the two of you catch each other’s gaze once again. You both grin at each other.

Saints, you’re going to be the death of me.

A/N: hi hi hiii!!! i hope you enjoyed this :DDD please be sure to reblog and tag your thoughts!!! i love to read your thoughts <3 also!!! if you’ve got any other royalty au!headcanons let me know!!!! i love this au so much ksjwjsjsj

TAGLIST: @nonsensicallynarnian @sushisoot @krazykupcakes113 @god1ngs @dukina @bubblezbee @graymoon2 @aash-nah @scootersmccall @wingedghostpepper @toodeepintofandoms @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @fightertown-usa

[strawberry-fields-things]

▸ REMEMBER ME LOVE, WHEN I’M REBORN

pairing: passerine!sapnap x fem!reader

SUMMARY: a poet and a traveler meet in a tavern. sounds like the beginning of a joke or a romantic tale… but why does it feel like they’ve met each other before?

WARNINGS: swearing, slight passerine spoilers, mentions of violence, pretty regular stuff on the surface until its not, mentions of arson, multiple mentions of murder and blood, slight derealization, really cryptic realizations and then not addressing it, dream pulling the strings basically, a few passerine + shrike references, this was very self-indulgent i’m sorry if it sucks.

WORD COUNT: 5.2k

NOTE: hi hi hiii!!! this imagine is based on the aerie series, more specifically passerine’s prequel shrike. it’s so twisted and obscure i love it so much you guys should definitely read it :))) nothing bad will happen in it i promise ha ha :)

Keep reading

[mikeyinnit]

just checking in to see how you feel <3 please drink some water and stay safe!

Thank you sunnie <3 I am dealing, you drink water and stay safe too!

[mikeyinnit]

ive only just seen this but thank you ari

[mikeyinnit]

Mikey comeback when👀

Mikey comeback soon!! I have a Karl fic and chapter two of sound of strings in the works!!

[mikeyinnit]

manhunt

Paring: Criminal!Dream x Detective!GN!Reader

Summary: After a string of robberies by the DTeam in your city, you’re put on the case. 

Word Count: 1.1k words

Notes: it is technically still the 25th for me shh. This is part of @dreamwvrld ‘s one year event!! I rewrote it like a billion times and still have an alternate ending I adore but I am ultimately happy with it. Small bits of swearing. Congrats Kay!!!!

Tagging: N/A

ANOTHER BANK ROBBED BY THE DTEAM

The newspaper found its way to your desk—thrown by your boss, more specifically, and you only had to see the third word before you knew what it was about. The goddamn DTeam. A group of bank robbers that have been hitting a string of banks and art galleries all around the city. Honestly it was ridiculous how they got away so quickly. It wasn’t even as if they were elaborate in their stealing, or even used brute force. Witnesses said they were charming more than anything, and many said they didn’t even feel scared. But what really made them interesting was the escapes of the ringleader, he pulled off the strangest things that shouldn’t even be possible and yet, he’s running off with a Rembrandt and the police are unable to do anything.

That’s why your boss was assigning you to the case. If there was anyone that could finally catch these guys, it was you. Best detective on the force.

So, you reviewed the footage. The hours and hours of footage. The quick escapes before traffic cams lose sight of them, it was admirable, really. Of course, you can’t say that. You can’t openly admire how good these criminals are but, can you help it? The boys were charming, though none as charming as the leader. You could just see his grin under the smile mask as he would swerve around security guards and make it through the door.

But they must go somewhere, right? So, you tracked as far as you could, even switching for traffic cams that were on streets just nearby, trying to see if there was some way they escaped through an alleyway. And just to your luck, the van everyone was following on the cameras wasn’t where the money was. They stopped and discreetly climbed out, looking different than their outfits at the robbery and carrying different bags. The leader was wearing a green hoodie, one had white sunglasses on his head and the other had a skateboard in one hand with one of the backpacks they all had. Most likely having some of the money.  

They were gone after that. No sign of where they went. No amount of footage could show them again, they just disappeared into the crowd. Which was unbelievably frustrating. However, there were shops nearby. Maybe, someone saw something. So, you grabbed your jacket and left, texting your boyfriend to let him know you’ll be late for dinner.  

Unfortunately, nearly all of them saw nothing. Only one person saw anything similar to the men you were describing, a man named Charlie.  

“So, you said they were talking about…something bad?” You weren’t following, hoping he’d give more information.  

“No no no, Bad sounded like a person. Like a secret code name or something. The one in green said they’d meet Bad later.”

There was a bit more information, but nothing that really pointed to anywhere specific. The man gave a better description of the three though, the one with a skateboard had some facial hair and spoke the loudest. The one with the white sunglasses spoke the least. And the leader had a piercing laugh. But he said they all seemed very familiar with each other, he just assumed they were some college frat kids or something and didn’t think anything of what they said. So, you thanked him and went back to the precinct. It was late, so there really wasn’t much more you could do until morning. And unless you get a good lead or they try selling one of the artworks, there may not be much you could do at all.

You were exhausted when you got home. So, when you were greeted with the smell of fresh food, you grinned.  

“Dream,” The smile was evident even in your tone, “you didn’t have to wait for dinner. You could have eaten without me.”

He kissed your cheek and gave you a hug, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t wait? You’re a busy detective, you deserve a good dinner.”

You both made your way to the dinner table, it was nice. You always enjoyed this time with Dream.  

“So, anything you can share about the case?”

“It’s nothing. Just the DTeam robberies, I don’t really have much to go off right now.”

It was small talk for the rest of dinner, but then Dream said he had a surprise for you and left. When he returned, he had a box in his hand and told you to open it. But once you did, once you saw the beautiful and expensive bracelet, some tears started to fall.

“Oh, babe, I hope those are happy tears. I’ve been saving up, I thought you’d like it.”

You shook your head, eventually holding back the tears enough to speak.

“Why did it have to be you, Dream?”  

He was confused as you stood up from your chair and turned away from him. His attempt at putting a hand on your shoulders resulted in a shove from you. You weren’t crying now. You were angry.

“Why the hell did it have to be you! Robbery? Are you serious? You think I’d believe that your job at the fucking gym let you save up for that?”

“Babe, listen, I think you’re just stressed from today. Do you hear yourself? You think I did those robberies?”

“I saw the sweatshirt that I gave you on the traffic cams when the robbers left the van. The only witness I have talked about a boy with a piercing laugh. With a quiet boy with white glasses and a loud one with a beard and a skateboard. George and Sapnap I’m guessing? That mentioned someone named Bad. And then suddenly you have a nice bracelet for me? How could you do this to me!”

He was caught and he knew it. But he didn’t seem to be too upset.  

“Babe, listen, I did it for you. Okay? The money is for us. Ant knows people who could get rid of the paintings, I was going to surprise you with a vacation when we were done.” Dream held your hands, and this time you didn’t push him away. “This wasn’t going to be forever, Y/N. Just so we can be comfortable. Sap is doing it for Karl and Quackity, we just needed the others to help us. We’ve never hurt anyone.”

You didn’t know what to do. You knew what you should do, turn them in. It’s your job. You’re supposed to catch criminals. But what about when the criminal is the man you love?  

“Y/N, please don’t turn us in. There’s only one more, okay? One more art gallery and then we’re done. Then we have enough for whatever we want to do.”

Karl and Quackity would be crushed if Sapnap got taken away. Or did they know about this too? It all felt so confusing but, they were good at this. They haven’t gotten caught and they never hurt anyone, like Dream said.  

So, with a breath, you just nodded.  

[mikeyinnit]

Hi Mikey! :3

Can I pls get added to Sounds of Strings' taglist?

this is actually terrible i swear I responded but ofc ofc

[mikeyinnit]

MIKEY

IM NOT REALLY ACTIVE ANYMORE BUT I READ SOUNDS OF STRINGS AND PLEASE DO ADD ME TO THE TAGLIST AS WELL EVEN THOUGH IM NOT A MALE BUT IM REALLY EXCITED FOR THE FIC<3

YES NEPTUNE OFC I WILL ADD YOU

[mikeyinnit]

ca i be added to your sounds of strings taglist pls!!

Absolutely! Just added you

[transphilza]

hey girl your geography teacher is kinda skrunkly

[dreamwvrld-deactivated20231015]

holyyyyyyyyyyyyy shit

[mikeyinnit]

can I be tagged for the sound of strings? :)

Of course! You’ve been added

[mikeyinnit]

⇀ THE SOUND OF STRINGS MASTERLIST

pairing: wilbur x male!reader

SUMMARY: Y/N L/N is the manager of the newest rising star in music, the Crew Boys. Fresh off of their first cross-country tour, he meets a new band at the studio and begins forming a “totally platonic” relationship with Dream’s newest rival, Wilbur.

GENERAL WARNINGS: cursing, warnings will vary from chapter to chapter

NOTES: divider is from @firefly-graphics​ and general masterlist layout inspired by @daninotfound​

chapter one: moving through the limelight

⇀ cold coffee, studio session, meeting a cute guy | word count: 2k words

chapter two: 

⇀ sibling relationships, pouty singer, babysitting | word count: tbd

chapter three: 

⇀ girlboss bonding, helpful advice, date interrupting

...tba

Taglist: (just send me an ask to get added!) @axeofwars @honeyoat-sfw @neptuneofthesky @ravenxd

[mikeyinnit]

⇀ 1: moving through the limelight

Paring: Wilbur x M!Reader

Summary: Coming back from a tour is tiring, but you still manage to come to the studio on time and since your band is late, you meet another.

Word Count: 2k words

Notes: first chapter of the series!!! and also my first time posting since october which makes me very nervous!!! no warnings for this one, just excited to see what you all think of the chapter

Tagging: N/A

PREVIOUS | SERIES MASTERLIST

“Thank you so much for a great show tonight, you guys were the best audience we’ve had all tour and I know I speak for all the guys when I say that it’s so good to be home. GOODNIGHT LOS ANGELES!”

The crowd went wild, the same way they did every time one of the boys spoke. But the ending statement from Dream definitely got them cheering and begging for an encore.  

“Think we have time for an encore?” Quackity asked the group, but they all knew it was mostly directed to one person, who checked their watch before answering. 

“You might be able to squeeze two more songs in, I’ll get the crew started so we can clear out and make it back home in time to sleep. Not that George needs any help with that,” the comment made said boy roll his eyes, though it was noted that he didn’t deny it, “get going boys. We have a studio session tomorrow and don’t want to be late.”

The Crew Boys are currently one of the biggest names in music, and Y/N was lucky enough to not only be their manager, but also their friend. Tonight, was the final night of their little cross-country tour and it was obvious that everyone was a little exhausted. Still, the rush of performing meant the boys were very open to an encore and it gave Y/N time to coordinate with the crew so they can start packing up what they can and get everyone home quicker.

Morning came and, as usual, Y/N was at the studio first. He had 5 cups of coffee on the table next to them, his own cup already empty and in the trash, as he waited for his boys. Y/N was still a couple of minutes early, so they weren’t worried, it usually took the band a bit to get up in the morning after a concert. Especially after their first tour.  

“Excuse me,”  

Y/N looked up from his phone, the text to the group chat going unfinished, and their eyes met a pair of brown ones as the man continued his sentence.

“Could you point us to studio four?”

He didn’t work at the studio, but luckily, he knew exactly where it was. And in this business, it was always better to be helpful. You never know who a connection for the future could be, “Of course! I’ll show you all.”

A different voice responded, “Thank you so much!”

It was only then did Y/N look at the rest of the group—there were four of them, three men and a woman, the woman was the one who thanked them. Y/N hadn’t seen them before, but they could have been signed while he was away on tour, the studio was always getting new talent, and even if they weren’t new, truthfully, Y/N was usually too busy getting things together for the Crew Boys to notice who comes in and out.  

As they lead the group down the halls, the first man spoke once more.  

“I’m Wilbur, that’s Jack, Niki, and Fundy. We’re Camarvan.” He gestured to each member behind him as he introduced them, all of them giving him a wave in return.

“Y/N. Are you new to the studio?”

“Sort of. We just had our first recording session here the other day, but it was in a different studio, still getting used to the layout of the place. What do you play?”

So, they came while Crew Boys was on tour, just as he first suspected. However, the question of him being a musician made him laugh.  

“Oh, I’m not a musician. I’m a manager for one of the bands, I leave the music to the professionals.”  

Y/N spoke to the band for the rest of the walk, he learned that Wilbur was the lead singer and guitarist, Jack was the drummer, Niki was the bassist, and Fundy was the keyboardist. It wasn’t much longer until the group of five reached studio four. He was going to leave the band there and head back to the front to see if the boys showed up yet, but studio four’s sound engineer caught his eye through the window of the door and with a large grin, he decided to enter with the group.  

“Charlie! I thought we had you today. Q’s going to miss his best friend.”

Charlie grinned and hugged the manager, “I had these guys in their last session, I didn’t want to give them up yet. How was the tour?”  

“Tiring. We’ll have to bring you along next time; the boys get nervous with other sound guys.”

That comment seemed to make the man feel good, but he didn’t really get the chance to respond because Y/N felt their pocket buzz, the boys must have finally shown up. “That’s me. I’ll see you later, Charlie.” with one more look at Camarvan, they grinned, “Have a good session guys, break a leg. Let me know if you need anything.”

Then it was back to the halls and the front of the studio to see their band. The first one that spoke was Sapnap after he took a sip from the coffee still on the table, “Gross, it’s cold.”

“Well maybe if you all got here on time, it wouldn’t be cold.”  

No argument. Though, they rarely argued with Y/N. So they went to their usual studio, studio three.  

“Hey, where’s Charlie?” Quackity was the first to notice that their usual sound engineer wasn’t in the studio, and Y/N was the only one with an answer.  

“He’s next door, a new band at the studio is doing their second session and Charlie likes them. You guys can survive one session without him, I promise.” Y/N was already getting comfortable on the couch, he didn’t really need to be here while the boys recorded but honestly, the whole group liked him being here and giving their input.  

The session had been going on for about an hour and a half when they took a short break, and Y/N decided to visit Camarvan and see how good they were. Especially since Charlie liked them enough to not work with the Crew Boys fresh off their tour.

When he arrived, Y/N learned that they were good, really good, actually. Y/N could see why Charlie wanted to work with them. “What do you know about them?” Luckily the band couldn’t hear Y/N and Charlie talking about them behind the soundproof glass, Y/N doesn’t even know if they noticed that he came in, all of them focused on their song.

“Not much, honestly. Wilbur, the lead? He’s really specific with what he wants. Not in a diva way, you just can tell he really wants the band to sound good, and he knows what he’s talking about.”

Y/N grinned a little and nudged him with his elbow, “No wonder you ditched CB for them, sounds like a sound guy’s dream.”

His eyes went back to the band, it was clear they all were genuinely enjoying what they were doing. They all had a passion for their music and their instruments, none of that was more obvious than in the lead singer. Wilbur was truly giving it his all, almost as if he were performing at Madison Square Garden in front of a sold-out crowd of thousands instead of two people behind a soundboard. Honestly, it was intoxicating to watch. All he could say was a breathy, “Wow.”

“I know, right? The guys have some serious competition, honestly. You know I’m all team Crew but, you gotta admit, Camarvan might be the next one with a big tour.” Charlie had said, and Y/N had to agree. Not that he felt threatened, he loved new musicians, but the Crew Boys would be very displeased if they knew he thought they had competition. Dream in particular, the lead vocalist would be blasphemed if he thought Wilbur was as good as Y/N thinks he is.  

The band had decided to take their own break, stepping out of the booth while Wilbur was talking to the others and not even looking at the two in the sound booth as he was walking backwards. However, Wilbur was the only one that didn’t notice, as Niki gave him a wave and Fundy actually spoke. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” That was when their leader turned around, seeing the manager that helped them here in the first place.

“I wanted to hear you guys, make sure you’re treating my boy well.” Y/N patted Charlie’s shoulder as he spoke and for some reason that statement seemed to make Wilbur light up like a Christmas tree. Though the reason became apparent as soon as he spoke.

“What did you think? I know I was a little pitchy during the bridge and Jack came in a little early at one point but that’s easy to work on.”

Charlie wasn’t kidding when he said that Wilbur was a perfectionist, as much as Y/N’s listened to music intently because of the Crew Boys, he hadn’t noticed any pitchiness from the man. And he told him as much, “I thought you all were great! Seriously, your guys’ sound is so cool. I didn’t hear the whole song but what I did hear had no pitchiness or early drumming. And Niki, your bassline was killer.”

The praise was welcomed by all of them, enough that once they were in the hallway so Camarvan can go grab more coffee, Wilbur offered for the band to treat him to lunch so they could talk more about the song. Unfortunately, before he could even answer, his own band had apparently gotten lost without him and came right up to the group.

“Y/N! We’ve been looking for you, where did you go? Who are these guys?” Karl was the first to speak, a bright grin on his face whereas Dream seemed to already have an idea of where he went and who the group was.  

“You must be the new band.”

Dream was territorial with his studio, bandmates, and music. Their manager was included in that. But thankfully it was only noticeable to the ones that have known him for years, which was good for Camarvan as Niki spoke.

“Yes! Y/N showed us to the studio earlier. I’m Niki, it’s so nice to meet you guys!”

Introductions continued, but that was as far as they got into conversation before Dream spoke again. “He can’t do lunch today; we have some important Crew Boys business.”

Well, they probably did. But usually it was Y/N reminding the boys of the business, not the other way around. Either way, manager duties didn’t stop.

“Raincheck on that lunch? I’ll give you my number, we can figure it out later.”

Wilbur almost seemed disappointed that lunch couldn’t happen, but the phone number seemed to satisfy the brunette and after a quick exchange, Camarvan went off for their drinks and the Crew Boys were once again alone.

“You were listening to another band?”

Dream sounded so serious that Y/N couldn’t help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.  

“I wanted to see why Charlie liked them.”  

“And?”

“They’re great, I think the studio just got another great band.”

“So, they’re competition? How good are they? As our manager, you must tell us.”

Band rivalries were ridiculous, Y/N decided. “Finish your session. I’ll tell you all about the last half of a song I heard if you all buy dinner tonight.”

Quackity got excited at that, cheering and shoving George, “Sleepover at Y/N’s!!!” Which wasn’t even remotely what you said, but it got the boys back into the studio and they invited themselves over often so, it was fine. They’ll at least pay for the pizza you no doubt will get.

Then you can talk to Wilbur about rescheduling lunch for tomorrow. Without your ridiculous lead singer knowing, of course. Seeing him pout would just damper everyone's moods and they needed a relaxing day after coming back from tour.

[blanknamed]

literally WHATTT 😭 THANK YOU FOR 800 FOLLOWS????

i will be honest with all of you, i had a very rough time with my mental health for the past three months and haven't been enjoying my writing capabilities until recently since everything around me seems to be at a bit of a standstill for now and there's a sort of peace going on.

all those pushed deadlines were not only for the sake of school but also for my mental health so thank you to any of you who decided to keep following me even when i went radio silent for the longest time ever.

i'll still be writing and have been writing, just not in public view and still have so much planned when i get the chance and energy to post.

i'm gonna be tagging mutuals who have either been motivations for my writing, had made put a smile to my face when i was at my lowest, or were just there and present with me when i didn't need to ask:

@redhoodsoot @genesisrose74 @blueboopbop @disgustingtoast @mcytmushroom @cherios @luvlorn @inniterhq @earthtooz @nettherite @mikeyinnit @mitzimania @strawberrymilkgeorge

[mikeyinnit]

WOOOOO ARI

[mikeyinnit]

now i am still going to post my band fic chapter one either today or tomorrow but i was just struck with an Idea for a karl fic?? pog??