kayla

[sootburn]

PARTY! PARTY! PARTY!

wilbur soot x reader

first person POV

IN WHICH: you’ve had a crush on your roommates boyfriend, wilbur, since as long as you can remember. when you see him smoking in the backyard of a party, what will happen? ;)

CONTENT WARNINGS: cheating, wilbur a bit of a dick, morally gray characters, smoking, kissing.

AUTHOR NOTE: hi! this is my first fanfic, i hope it’s okay! i didn’t have much time to proofread so i hope there’s not many mistakes. my asks are open and im taking requests! also, let me know if i should make a part 2 or leave as a one shot! HOPE YOU ENJOYYYYY!!!!

you knew he’d be in the backyard, even if you told yourself he wouldn’t be.

you wanted to see him, even if you told yourself you didn’t.

you told yourself you just needed some air, that you just wanted to get out of the sea of sweaty-drunk college kids.

but the truth is, you knew he’d be there. at every college party you ever saw him at, when the clock strikes 11:00 pm, he makes his way to the backyard for a cigarette.

so there you were, standing at the backyard door, 11:10pm, hand hovering over the doorknob.

you pushed open the door. the air was cold, too cold for your party outfit. the air stung any part of your body not covered by clothing, which, unfortunately, was a good chunk.

you gulped as you saw wilbur. he was sitting on the wooden stairs that lead up to the porch, smoking a cigarette. god, he looks so perfect.

you knew him, kind of. he was your roommates boyfriend, you’ve had the fattest crush on him since seeing him in your dorm for the first time sitting on the couch with her, your roommate, stella. his girlfriend.

he must’ve heard the creaks of the wooden floorboards from your footsteps, because he looks behind him. you can tell the moment he recognizes you because he smiles.

“you scared me.” he says, letting out a rough exhale, but not an unkind one. you can’t help but smile back, a small chuckle leaving you.

“sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” you say, biting the inside of your cheek. wilbur chuckles but you’re sure it’s just to fill the awkward tension that fills the air.

he nods his head, patting the open space next to him. an invitation.

“do you smoke?” he asks, looking at you. his hands offering the cigarette wedged between his middle and index finger.

“no, not really.” you say, shaking your head and shrugging your shoulders ever so slightly.

the sky is pitch black, the only light was coming from a flickering porch light which casted a yellow hue onto wilbur’s face.

you’re so sure he’s never looked more beautiful than he does right now.

silence falls between you two, and you can feel yourself wanting to hear his voice again.

“i saw you— i saw your band- uh..i saw your band play at the bar last saturday.” you say, a blatant attempt at trying to make a conversation. which makes wilbur smirk.

“yeah?” he nods, “that was a good set. did you like it?” he asks, smirk still slapped across his face. he flicks some cigarette ash on the ground and looks up at you, running his tongue over his bottom lip before taking a drag of the cigarette.

and the truth? wilbur’s small college band was nothing more than mediocre. but of course to you, they were everything.

“yeah—“ a nod, and then “yeah, amazing. you guys always are.” you give him a small smile, tucking some hair behind your ear.

wilbur places the cigarette to his lips, blowing smoke out as he speaks, “come to a practice, then.” he says, returning the smile. his eyes flickering down your body like he’s studying you.

“with stella?” you ask, feeling stupid for even asking because why wouldn’t it be without stella? of course he means come with stella—

“No.” the word falls out of his mouth roughly.

you’re so sure you can feel the tension in the air thicken the second the word left his mouth. your smile falters, just for a second. eyebrows furrowed slightly, “what?” you say, an awkward half chuckle leaving you.

all he gives back is a shrug, “why not come alone?” his smile doesn’t falter, if anything it almost grows wider; as if he knows you wanted this since the moment you saw stella bring him into your dorm.

you let out a shaky breath. you don’t answer, so lost in confusion.

“..unless.. you don’t want to.” he tilts his head to the side, letting out an exhale and a light laugh at your flustered expression.

“look..” he adds, cocky smirk still not having left his beautiful face. “i’m not forcing you, it’s just an invitation. god— you’re acting like i asked to kiss you or something…” he laughs softly, throwing his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

“sorry.” you finally speak, clearing your throat, “yes, of course i’ll come to one of your practices, thank you.” your words come off robotic, awkward.

he nods, and silence falls between you two until—

“i could though, couldn’t i?” he says, interrupting the comfortable silence. his eyes not even looking at you, it’s as if he’s speaking to the backyards fence.

your eyebrows furrow again, “could what?” you question, turning back to look at him.

he lets out a huff, “ask to kiss you.” he clarifies, his voice raspy. he finally looks over at you. his eyes look at your lips, and then meet your eyes again.

you shouldn’t entertain this, but your stomach seems to twist in a sickeningly addicting way. the two of you tip toeing the line of friendly and flirting…you shouldn’t entertain this. shut this down, tell him he isn’t thinking right, that this isn’t right.

but you don’t.

“you could.” the words leave your mouth fast, as if you’re scared to say them. you look at the ground, kicking your feet into the grass path in front of the two of you.

“do you want me to?” he asks.

you fall silent for a moment, eyebrows twisting in confusion, for what might’ve been the millionth time that night.

“to..kiss me?” you question, because how could you not be questioning your roommates boyfriend asking to kiss you?

“yes, to kiss you.” he says, repeating your words. he sounds awfully relaxed, you wonder how he’s able to be so relaxed about this, doesn’t he know what he’s doing to you? doesn’t he know how badly you’ve wanted him?

“you’re making me nervous.” you bite the inside of your cheek harshly. letting your hair fall in your face as if it’s protecting you from him seeing just how much his words affect you.

“you don’t have to be nervous, you don’t even have to answer.” he laughs, he shakes his head slightly. his eyes never leave you, even when your eyes leave his.

“i do.” you say, pausing, “i do want you to kiss me.” you finally answer, letting your selfishness win. your terrible, awful, selfishness.

“then look at me.”

you look at him, eyes leaving the patch of grass they were lasered on. your eyes meet his. your eyes move down to his lips, and his lips move to yours. he leans in.

he kisses you, and you kiss back. you can taste the cigarette on his lips— you wonder if it’s a sign. a sign that this is bad, that kissing him will only lead to addiction. an addiction you won’t ever be able to quit.

and when you finally become brave enough to pull away? he almost looks disappointed.

his eyes flicker all over your face, every inch of you consumed by his eyes. he looks at you, really looks at you. observing everything, every part of you. the mascara that’s lightly smudged under your eye, the hole in your tights, the concealer that’s creased ever so slightly under your eye, and the fading lipstick on your lips.

he’s looking at you in the kind of way that says: i’ve never looked at you like this before, so just, please, let me look at you now.

you bite the bottom corner of your lip, eyes looking away from him when his gaze feels too much to handle.

you squeeze your eyes shut when your guilt inevitably sets in. you curse yourself for being so stupid. i mean, sure, you weren’t exactly friends with stella— but surely you owed her some type of loyalty.

“i shouldn’t of let you do that.” you stated in a whisper, shaking your head.

but what really made you feel guilty? is that you didn’t really feel that guilty.

“probably not.” he says, his shoulders scrunching up into a shrug. he sounds so casual you almost want to slap him.

a beat, and then:

“but did you like it?” he asks, his eyes locking onto yours.

your tongue presses against the roof of your mouth, thinking. you should walk away, you shouldn’t answer, you shouldn’t feed into this. but you’re a weak woman, a weak, weak, woman.

“yes, so much.” you whisper, as if you’re telling him some huge secret. and, maybe you are telling him a huge secret.

“so then don’t feel too bad about it.” he says, before getting up. adjusting his jacket before turning away from you.

but just before he leaves, he turns his head, looking over his shoulder.

“i’ll see you tomorrow at rehearsal, don’t be late.”